Will's Coffee House

John Dryden, Dramatist, Critic, Poet Laureate, and my ancestor, frequented a coffee house called Will's almost daily, where he would hold forth on sundry subjects with great wit and aplomb. Same deal here, only without the wit or aplomb.

Location: Large Midwestern City, Midwestern State, United States

I am a stranger in a sane land...

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Harriet, We Hardly Knew Ye

But that was kinda the problem, Harriet. We didn't know who you were, and you didn't want to tell us, either out of some reasonable but incredibly awkward loyalty to executive privilege and to the man who holds that privilege at the moment, or because there wasn't anything to tell, and the silence of your answer would be agony for you as much as for us. Regardless, you did the right thing.

One gets the sense, if I may say so, that you never really wanted the job in the first place. I haven't seen a single photograph or news clip from you where you didn't project a sense of self-effacing unhappiness. You really didn't think this was what you should be doing, and you were right. The Supreme Court is not to be taken lightly--and shame on your boss for putting you in a position where you became the source of contempt and scorn, rather than he. Bush did wrong by you, and I hope you see that.

Harriet, he's no good for you. You come across as a nice, largely shy and quiet soul, someone content to follow a path merited by your talents (which are not non-existant, but you're a Triple-A player who will never ever be ready for the majors)--and he shoved you into the spotlight you've avoided all your life because you like privacy and hate scrutiny. I share that trait with you, Harriet. I really do--this blog to the contrary, I'm quite private and I like it that way.

So know that you'll be happier now--know that people will treat you with sympathy and kindness, and then go back to leaving you alone. And that's really all you wanted in the first place, right? Be well, Harriet. Be well.


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