Hells A Poppin’ After FBI Reveals 4,500 Tips About Brett Kavanaugh Shortstopped By White House

Person’s responsible must be accountable for their Dirty Deeds.

The FBI had been requested to do a *criminal* investigation of Kavanaugh, because of all the questions before the hearing started. *Somebody* prevented that from happening.

I guess I don’t see what the big deal is: open up an investigation, on the “investigation”, on the accusations of sexual assault. Kavanaugh is not through with anything and he had better be looking over his shoulder for that axe that’s coming for him. I can see no reason for him to be able to hold his seat as a S.C. justice if ANY of these accusations hold water. Of course, I found Ms. Ford’s testimony to be credible and that didn’t keep him off of the bench.

Any democrat in the house or senate not jumping on this little nugget needs to be drummed out of office. You hear that Tester, Manchin, and Sinema?

When the time frame for the additional FBI “investigation” was announced I assumed it was going to be a nothingburger. It was a PR stunt and though Democrats on the Committee said as much I was bothered about why they weren’t raising holy hell. I know that’s exactly what the GOP would have done had the roles been reversed. Of course, they would have had an entire network at their disposal, where the rest of the big name outlets were, as they were during the runup to the Iraq invasion too cowed by conservatives backed by a GOP President to do their fucking jobs.

Yes, there were various stories indicating not all was taking place as advertised, but what really pissed me off then and (and now it’s all come flooding back) are the Democrats on the Judiciary Committee who “brokered” the “investigation working harder at playing the bi-partisanship game (charade is more like it!) than getting the truth out. They KNEW as it all was happening that it was a bullshit exercise, a way for the GOP to buy time to muddy the waters. Coons and Feinstein in particular piss me off.

Well, that’s all water and some bad (even devastating) rulings under the bridge.

My outrage however is matched by fear. Fear for Dr. Blasey-Ford. She again has to fear for her life, but this time the threat is far greater. And she once again is being forced to relive the worst experience of her life, and event that quite literally altered it forever and has led to virtual estrangement from her parents yet again. If she had to deal with it for months during the Kavanaugh confirmation, it will be for much longer this time. With all the MAGAts out there who are itching to vent their anger with bullets I truly fear for her and her family’s lives.

And Fox will, along with the lesser outlets that don’t own prime 24/7 TV space be painting that target on her. Of course, they will hide behind the “We are just journalists reporting and asking questions” veil. And if murders happen they will “tut tut” and “condemn” such violence, and profess being “SHOCKED! SHOCKED I SAY!” that anyone thinks their rhetoric had anything to do with inciting one (or more) of what’s now an army of lone-wolves out there to have done such a thing.

I never doubted Dr. Blasey-Ford. What sickens me and cost me some rekindled if not friendships then acquaintanceships with people from back home was my pointing out to them something they didn’t want to hear. If you recall a BIG tool in conservative’s woodshed in trashing her and her account of that attempted rape were the gaps in her memory. Despite he EXPERT scientific accounting of how the brain and memory works, why some parts of a trauma are burned into memory and others wiped out for good the gaps were enough for them to paint her whole account as unreliable.

Here’s a story about a trauma from my past, that I didn’t understand until years later.

My mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer in late September, 1975 when I was in my first semester of college. Back then that was even more serious shit than it is now. Not exactly a death sentence in those days but in a sense an ICU level type thing with a grim prognosis. Still, even back then there were treatments that could be tried when both lungs would have had to have been removed, and the cancer was already in the lymphatic system. Needless to say, and given how much more my mom had been there than my dad during crucial years growing up I wasn’t doing well psychologically to begin with.

In any other year without that going on, the extended “Indian Summer” would have been even more wonderful than the typically glorious fall common in southern Illinois. Mom had been sent to a hospital up in Centralia for radiation therapy. I’d driven up one afternoon to see her and was shocked at how “burned” the part of her chest I could see was from the treatments which still had a ways to run. Coming home, I fell back on something that has helped ease my mind in so many situations. Listening to music and my sister’s car had an excellent stereo. So by the time I was approaching the outskirts of town I was in a much better state of mind. And taking in not just the details of driving but the sun putting on a show with the cumulous clouds as it was getting close to sunset. I came to an intersection at the edge of town, one that wasn’t at right angles. To proceed across the highway (I was about three quarters of a mile from home at this point) my car pointed some to the left, meaning the road north angled a little behind my right shoulder instead of to the side. It was getting almost to dusk and the shadows were quite long. In addition to that, a temporary, and large (construction announcement) sign obscured part of the road to my right.

I looked both ways and saw no traffic, and I should note I had incredible eyesight with uncanny peripheral vision (which had suited me so well already on the basketball court) but the timing was perfect. Or not depending on how you consider what happened next. Again, I saw traffic a quarter mile away to my left, and a van with a couple of cars behind it on the other side of the intersection but I’d arrived just before the van which had it’s left blinker on so I had the right-of way. I’d seen nothing when I looked to the right and as taught to do took one last glance left to make sure things were okay (they were) and was crossing the highway when I heard a loud sound. Followed by other sounds I’d realize later were metal and tire screeching. The car seemed to be moving forward and my view was funny, but I could see that huge wooden post (8″ X 8″ with the stop sign mounted on it and that van which I could tell had not just the driver but at least one passenger – a kid. I was moving towards it. I tried using the steering wheel and the brakes to no effect and realized the darkness on my right and that I’d been hit by another vehicle and I was in an accident that was proceeding and beyond my ability to do anything to control.

I also distinctly remember the realization that when it was over I would be dead, and how calm I was. No “life flashing before my eyes” but simply an acceptance that this was it for me.

And that’s where the gaps in my memory started. I don’t recall my car shearing off that thick wooden post or it piercing the side of the van – thankfully mere inches behind the driver’s head. But I would see it sticking out the side like a spear before being taken away from the scene. There is a flash of memory where I realize how far I was slumped down in the driver’s area. I hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt but have ever since even though had I been wearing one in THAT particular instance I would have in fact have been dead because my head would have been crushed into my neck/shoulders. Since it was late October with that wonderful fall air I’d had the driver’s window down instead of using air conditioning and I recall how narrow the opening was – because the car door wouldn’t open. I recall thinking even skinny as I was I couldn’t get out of the car, and though I seemed to still be alive I needed to in case gas was dripping on the road and a fire started.

I don’t remember actually getting out of the car. I was told I’d wriggled out the window. There were scrapes and sore spots that would become pronounced bruises but with the adrenaline I didn’t feel them. But, from that moment in the car believing I was stuck there until someone got me out or I died in a burning wreck my memory was blank and still is. The next thing I recall is walking back and forth, a good thirty feet away and looking at that huge engineering rig that had fallen over (as its driver tried to brake and swerve to avoid me) on to the car. And the van. My mind went blank again. The next thing I remember is someone coming up saying the police had been called. I don’t recall them (a State Trooper was down the highway from the accident and got there right away it seems) or later the ambulances showing up. I do remember the State Trooper asking me what I’d seen and telling him I’d been in the car and him not believing me. The next thing I remember is sitting on the back of the doorway into the ambulance and them telling me I needed to go to the hospital, a straight shot south on the highway less than a mile away. And me asking why. I have a brief flash of the driver of the truck, and our asking each other if we were okay. The the State Trooper and other cops commenting they couldn’t believe no one had been killed or seriously injured. I asked about the van and that’s how I learned how close a call it had been for the driver, but that she and all the kids were okay.

I don’t remember anything else until I was sitting in an exam room of the ER in our little local hospital and a nurse was talking to me. The door was open and my family doc who was also a member of my church and a friend walked by and saw me. Doc Ballesteros asked what I was doing there and I told him. I remember him hugging me and telling me he’d been busy elsewhere in the hospital when the call came in and hadn’t rushed to he ER because the initial report was that there would be no survivors for him to work on. (In addition to family practice he was a Board Certified General Surgeon – of considerable skill I might add).

So far I’ve mentioned short memory gaps. But after telling my doc that I was banged up and from grit in my mouth thought I’d maybe gotten tiny bits of glass in it I thought I was okay, and that the driver of the truck had been banged up too but we’d talked and he’ be along any minute but seemed like me. Banged up but nothing really serious.

Since beyond the open door of my exam room I could see part of the entrance to the ER I could tell there was just a bit of sunlight left.

My next memory doesn’t exist until it was well after nine o’clock that night.

Hours went by, and I don’t to this day know what happened after Doc Ballesteros left the room, when or how I got home or who I might have talked to. I only know the time because of the program that was on TV and the next day (or even now) I can’t tell you what it was. I have other flashes of memory from that night but I’ve already provided plenty of examples of my memory seemingly switching itself on and off, and relating back to Dr. Blasey-Ford and something Republicans made a HUGE deal out of HOURS went by after I’d been through a traumatic, life or death event and I have no idea how I got home. Or when. Within a few weeks, I couldn’t even tell you for sure the date. And can’t now unless I were to be able to look up the accident/insurance report or the traffic ticket I was given. I’m pretty sure it was towards the end of October. PTSD wasn’t a defined thing back then but I had my first experience with it less than two weeks after the accident because the sound of a fighter jet making a tight, low altitude turn overhead (the Blue Angels were in town for a show at the Southern Illinois Airport as I was driving home from college classes. I could swear it was the sound of screeching tires trying to grab traction on pavement! (It’s not the same sound btw – I’ve heard jets close overhead making such turns and it’s not the same sound)

Explaining all this to Trumper friends who knew me back then, who went to see the flattened car I should have died in (but thankfully didn’t) were stunned into silence. They sure as hell didn’t believe Dr. Blasey-Ford, but they believe ME. Or at least didn’t have the stones to call me out as a liar. I hadn’t been sexually assaulted and damned near raped but my experience was relatable enough that they could no longer argue a main conservative LIE about what happened to her. They had to concede that the kind of memory gaps that gave them their “AHA! She’s a LIAR because she won’t tell all the details. She claims she doesn’t remember the house, or how she got home or even what day it was!” was not just plausible but credible.

That is what can happen with memory during a traumatic event. It’s common in fact. People have gaps in their memory. Or get details mixed up or both. Not always. But much more often than people realize.

Anyway, that’s why once I learned the full account from her I believed Dr. Blasey-Ford without question. Enough details were seared in her memory that the ones her mind blanked out didn’t matter to the overall account.

Brett Kavanaugh tried to rape her, and with a buddy standing there watching and maybe even hoping for his own turn. Had they been less drunk, I have no doubt that attempted rape would have been actual rape, and maybe by more than one rapist.

Kavanaugh can complain all he wants about his “unfair” treatment. If life were fair, for this and other sexual assaults (or even rapes?) he’d be a convicted felon! But he grew up as a well-to-do white kid from the “right kind of family” (some “family values” eh?) and I might note seemed to engage in the lion’s share of his predation with females of similar backgrounds (his tony high school, other similar high schools and of course at Yale where most people were from privileged backgrounds) who’s parents, like Blasey-Ford’s were more likely to spend more effort convincing a daughter to stay silent and “avoid making a scene – don’t worry honey you’ll forget about it someday and other such bullshit) because they didn’t want the social stigma in their highfuluttin country clubs and groups.

And it doesn’t take great perception to realize that’s how her parents treated her. She got the hell away from them as soon as she could by going to college well away from home. When that didn’t prove far enough, she moved to the west coast. And it seems her parents have been more than ok with her being far away and mostly staying far away. They are pieces of shit, and if I were her I wouldn’t want anything to do with them. Reports are that not only did they refuse to offer any public or even private support for her when the news broke during the nomination, they were actually embarrassed by their highly accomplished daughter. Highly accomplished no thanks to them.

If some RWNJ goober with his/her GUN puts her in her grave, I wonder if they would even bother to show up at her funeral?

Kavanaugh would probably send flowers, albeit perhaps anonymously as a final taunt, and guilty “thanks for getting killed so my misdeeds might never get aired again” type of thing. He’s that despicable.

He perjured himself under oath, easily proved with a real investigation. Seems pretty goddamn serious, when ur applying for the supreme court. Lied over & over. Should be smacked with felony convictions. Period. Wonder how many pot smokers have felonies, based on laws established by lies for profit( hearst, dupont, mellon) & politics (nixon)? ‘justice’ in america is really ‘ just a system’ for all us poor, powerless peasants. ‘Kick him off’ should be a t-shirt somewhere.