The Further Adventures of Brett Kavanaugh’s Penis

“A classmate, Max Stier, saw Mr. Kavanaugh with his pants down at a different drunken dorm party, where friends pushed his penis into the hand of a female student.”

— Robin Pogrebin and Kate Kelly, New York Times

Brett Kavanaugh’s penis would be the first to admit that it couldn’t get anywhere without a little help from its friends.

Whether it was straining its britches while a friend helped trap a woman in a bedroom, or dangling loose while friends pushed it into a woman’s hands, or even just laying low during a Supreme Court confirmation hearing while new friends diverted attention, Brett Kavanaugh’s penis wouldn’t be where it is today without others making sure it gets where it needs to go.

Take Ken Starr. Story goes how Ken took a liking to Brett Kavanaugh’s penis, first inviting it to carry a load at the Solicitor General’s office, then bringing it along with other dicks to have a look inside Bill Clinton’s pants. “Takes one to know one,” Ol’ Ken would say, or maybe he didn’t, maybe we just heard that somewhere. Folks get excited about Brett Kavanaugh’s penis, and sometimes the stories get out of hand.

So to speak.

The stories about Beach Week, those were legendary. Or they would be, if anybody could remember them. Brett Kavanaugh’s penis’s spokesmouth will tell you he was a good boy who went to church on Sundays — Little Flower, which is what a nineteenth-century novelist would call it — but his calendar will tell you he planned to have a lot to atone for.

The Federalist Society, well, that’s another story. There’s not a wingnut cocksucker on the Supreme Court who didn’t get there without schmoozing the dickwads who lubricate the journey. “We need to know you,” they’ll say. “We need to know that you’ve been at meetings, gripping and grinning.”

Yeah, we know. Can’t be helped. Our Creator loves His little asides. Did you hear the one about Creation itself being a cosmic fart? True story.

One more we’ve heard tell about. Seems there was a presidential election in the Year of Our Mischievous Lord 2000, and it seems all the votes weren’t counted — something about Hanging Chads, further evidence that the Divine Comedy is all banana peels and pratfalls — and Brett Kavanaugh’s penis was in the thick of that, too.

What happened was that they started recounting ballots, as is done, and Brett Kavanaugh’s penis couldn’t wait for results — seems a common problem among its kind — and, long story short, America got screwed.

Which brings us to today, and tomorrow, and probably the next twenty or thirty years. We’re all living with Brett Kavanaugh’s penis now, we’ve all had it thrust into our lives by his friends, we all know what’s under those robes and what it’s capable of.

And the thing is, he’s not even original about it. Brett Kavanaugh’s penis isn’t the first time a white dick stole its act from a black guy.

Brett Kavanaugh Fit In With the Privileged Kids. She Did Not. [NYT]

Is this why Trump pushed Kavanaugh’s nomination?

Because when he heard about this he ‘thought’: “WOW this is my kind of guy!”?

I love this too much!

What’s the story behind the Times getting something wrong about a witness or something?

@JNOV: Many stories:

1. The original tweet for the piece outrageously missed the point, and was deleted.

2. The news about additional witness was buried wayyy down. Granted, this was a book excerpt, but the book is by NYT reporters.

3. Something about a victim not herself recalling the event was added after posting.

@nojo: Oh, wow. Do they get to keep their day jobs?

Yesterday I caught part of their interview on Fresh Air. It was strange. I’m not sure why that was my impression. Something seemed off about the conversation. I wonder when it was recorded.

@JNOV: Of course they did. It’s the Times.

I’m not sure the authors, even though reporters, had much involvement in the piece. It wasn’t presented as regular news, and the book may well mention what the excerpt originally omitted.

You know, in a bizarre way, living through the American horror story of the last three years has made me a better person.
I’m more certain of who I am, my values, and what’s important than ever.
I’m more cognizant of the fact that everyone’s going through something, that life is a series of choices and problems to solve, and how we solve them and who we solve them with defines who we are.
I’ve never been more thankful for my family, for the ability to earn a living, and for the good fortune to live in one of the best places in the world with like-minded people, cold and bitchy as they may be.
And I’m still weirdly optimistic about the 2020s, if we can just get through the next two years or so.

@¡Andrew!: I’m with you on the certainty of my ideals. I have been more àware of the strengthening over the past 12 months. I am not as certain about the 2020’s. I feel like we have stàrted a death spiral and will keep flipping back and forth quickly from right to left every four years. Where we end up depends on how much we are able to recover from ever Republican cycle. It seems that they can do more damage in 4 years than the country can repair in 8.

@DElurker: I’ve been thinking that lately — how at first I was hoping someone was tracking all the policy changes so they all could be immediately reversed later, and now it’s all institutional rot, something that can only be rebuilt over time.

And it’s not just within the government — Europe knows it can’t trust us, that we won’t go haywire again down the road. China is routing around the trade war, finding more dependable alternatives to what they bought from us. There is no reversal, no going back, no reset. The world is unraveling while we watch.

So, hi. I seem to be back from the dead. My secret? Weightlifting, yoga, and a very cute psychologist. Some of you know me from Facebook (I’ll pause while we all spit on the floor), but for those around here who don’t and still remember me, hello again.

Funny thing: the other day I was wondering where I could go to read more about Brett Kavanaugh’s penis and then I thought, “I bet noje is on it,” and sure enough, here it is. Now that we are officially at war we need to cherish what safe spaces are left us.

And if anyone hasn’t seen Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, go see it. It is all that and more.

@Benedick: Hey darling, welcome back! But no update on the pugs and the tree?

Pugs are fine. Boxer is fine. Carbon-offset willow is gigantic. I have a new dog, a semi-rescue. I was told he was a Yorkie mix by the nice lady who was fostering him. When she brought him I found he was a standard dachshund, with wire-haired personality though his coat is too soft. But I’m not about to start coat-shaming the poor boy, he’s been through enough. He’s making it his life’s work to guard the perimeter of the property against bears, cats, and stranger dogs.

I’m now a widower; have almost completed a big renovation to the house; look fabulous; and am going solar. I’d been planning to go to London to shop for wallpaper in Liberty’s now the pound is collapsing but have put it off as I need to be here to oversee work being done by our evil Canadian power company, followed by excavations in the garden and such as – most of it too boring even to think about let alone explain. I’m approaching the end of a large piece of work after which I plan to go public in the most embarrassing way possible with something new. I think it’ll be good for me. Oh, and I took part in this year’s Pride march; first time I even attended one.

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