She looks like a loving church lady, a little lost and eager to please, with her skinny legs crossed demurely and her baggy suits hiding her shape. We always saw her smiling politely, as though afraid to offend, as she sat in the over-stuffed chairs in the offices of various senator-inquisitors, enduring her grilling with hands clenched neatly in her lap, her pleasant features framed by her 1950's fringe of short bangs, like a an old high school yearbook portrait.
So inoffensive, so unqualified.
And I feel so bad for her. She was a phenomenally inappropriate choice, with not even a semblance of the necessary legal experience to be a Supreme Court justice. She had difficulty articulating her legal views, she gave up almost no useful opinions in her Senate questionnaire, and, frankly, you had to wonder if she had any views at all on constitutional law. And why should she? She was a corporate lawyer, a personal lawyer--not a scholar, not a prosecutor, not a judge. I'm sure Harriet is very good at what she does, but this nice lady doesn't do anything that would qualify her for the most important legal job in America. But her her best boy, her favorite governor, nominated her, and she went for it.
She went for it, and got publicly excoriated. Rightfully so, of course, it's the necessary part of a healthy democratic process--but ouch! Can you imagine interviewing for a job you are grossly underqualified to take...in front of the entire, harping world? Being parsed into a series of under-qualified, wimpy, psychophantic parts by not one, but dozens, of unsympathetic interviewers...for everyone to watch? For three weeks and three days?
Harriet, I'm very sorry your favorite president did this to you. It was heartless and inconsiderate. And I heart for you.