“Let’s Reinvent the Process,” Ellis Henican Sunday Column, Newsday, July 19, 2009
She spoke in tones as flat as a law book. She was as difficult to ruffle as the court’s wooden bench. In day after day of direct interrogation, the nation learned barely anything.
So Sonya Sotomayor had a very successful week.
Try as they might, the Republicans on the Senate Judiciary Committee hardly scuffed her at all. No more than the last times out the Democrats had managed to scuff John Roberts or Samuel Alito.
How could they? Supreme Court nominees have learned this game. It’s about concealing, not revealing. Dull down and say nothing at all.
Two careful dodges are all it takes, a few choice words that, properly applied, can sidestep any troubling question.
Abortion? Guns? Favorite movie or TV show?
Dodge No. 1: “Sorry, senator, that issue might come before the court.”
Dodge No. 2: “Sorry, senator, no hypotheticals.”
Stick to those two answers. They’ll be calling you “Justice” in a week or two.
Lindsay Graham may have been trading in hysterical-lady stereotypes when he told the nominee: “Unless you have a complete meltdown, you are going to be confirmed.” But his vote count was dead on.
What we were left with was the silly stuff:
Al Franken’s Perry Mason fixation. Tom Coburn’s Ricky Ricardo crack. Now he’s the one with some ‘splaining to do.
Surely, the associate-justice-to-be would have been happy to discuss either of those topics.
Unfortunately, you know, they might come one day before the court.
ME, ME, ME
1. H. Clinton: Remember me.
2. S. Sotomayor: Trust me.
3. R. Ravitch: Point me.
4. B. Obama: Follow me.
5. T. Woods: Forgive me.
STEEL RAILING: Ronald Cabrera, the LIRR engineer accused of letting a passenger drive his double-decker rush-hour train, should consider a “Peter Stangl defense.” Stangl was president of Metro-North in 1991, on the verge of being appointed MTA chairman by Mario Cuomo, when he invited a friend to take the controls of an in-service, diesel-locomotive Hudson Line train. Not only did Stangl avoid prosecution, he still got the chairman’s job. Toot-toot!
WORD UP: Who says the written word is dead? Absolute proof to the contrary is on weekly display at the free, Monday-night-at-7 Summer Gazebo Readings, Schoolhouse Green in Oceanside. Sponsored by the Kiwanis Club and other literate locals, the events have been drawing a spirited collection of writers and readers. This week’s lineup is especially strong: short story writer Jillian Abbott, mystery man Reed Farrel Coleman and power-packed poets Geraldine Green, Barbara Reiher-Meyers and Roxanne Hoffman.
ASKED AND UNANSWERED: Volunteer engineers? Can’t the LIRR come up with a better cost-saving idea than that? . . . Aren’t some teens just happy to HAVE a car? Cops say Freeport’s Anthony Rosario, 18, torched his 1992 BMW “simply because he hated the car.” A BMW! . . . Until he went on leave (and into rehab) three weeks ago, did anyone at Long Island Jewish Medical Center suspect executive director John Steel might be a crackhead? Just one of the dangling questions from Donna Powell’s DWI acquittal . . . You can join the Franklin Square School District retirement program without actually working for the Franklin Square School District? Who knew? I mean, other than the well-perked attorney, William Cullen . . . When Edward Dumas, back toiling for Steve Levy, says his old gig at LIPA was more “focused and steady,” is that just a nice way of saying “more boring?” . . . Is Long Island on the verge of becoming a national poker powerhouse? Eric Buchman of Valley Stream and Andrew Lichtenberger of East Northport weren’t bluffing at the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas . . . Could 34-year-old Long Island mother of two Amy Bellera draw a sellout crowd to the Mardi Gras Lounge in Springfield, Mass.? The “gentleman’s club” owner doesn’t think so. He’s touting “Long Island Lolita Amy Fisher” 18 years after the headline days . . . And that’s the way it is.
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