You can't shake a spear at this nomination

Before he left for a Florence vacation, Hugh Hewitt spoke last Friday with the Beltway Boys about a number of topics, chief among them the Harriet Miers nomination.

Fred Barnes has been a vocal critic of the vocal critics of the Miers nomination. (See my post from last week.)

He once again defended her in the interview. (Transcript at Radioblogger)

Well, it certainly should freeze until the hearings, and if is has, if the fighting has ceased, it just started today, because it was certainly going on all week. And my point was, in the piece I wrote, that it never should have started in the first place. I mean, look. The president owes his followers that he will fulfill on his word and nominate a judicial conservative to the Supreme Court. But they in turn are obligated to give him a hearing. And that hearing will happen before the Senate Judiciary Committee in a couple of weeks. Instead, many jumped the gun, and I'm glad to hear they're finally quieting down, and are waiting to hear what Harriet Miers has to say for herself.

This week, Miers did speak for herself. Answers (available here, PDF) to questions from the Judiciary Committee were released this week, and the response to those answers was less than overwhelming.

However, this blog has made up, I mean, obtained, secret Miers writings that were not included in the answers provided to the Judiciary Committee. I present them here.

What's she that wishes so?
An originalist? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to be nominated, we are now
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men on the Court, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for Louis Vuitton handbags,
Nor care I who doth pick through my meager writings;
It yearns me not if men the black robes wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet a seat on the Court,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from New England.
Souter did damage enough.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have of ever getting on the Court.
O, do not wish one more man!
Rather proclaim it, Dubya, through the media,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that elitist man's company
Who fears to support us.
This day is call'd the Hearings.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Harriet.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
might get a plum political appointment, and
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'I remember the Hearings.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had from those whiny conservatives.'
Old men forget; especially Stevens, yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What he put up with that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Dubya the King, Rove and Card,
Fred Barnes and Hugh Hewitt, Specter and TeddyK-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
(And let me tell you, TeddyK likes his flowing cups)
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And future nominations shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of sisters;
For she to-day that supports me
Shall be my sister; be she ne'er so vile,
(I've read what you said about me, K-Lo.)
This day shall gentle those sanctimonius purist conservatives' condition;
And gentlemen in Virginia now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not nominated,
(yeah, Luttig, I mean you! Neener neener)
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us for this nomination.