We have a saying here in the Nation’s Capital that the difference between Hell and Washington, DC in the summer is that Hell has dry heat. Truth be told, thanks to global warming, the winters here have been getting warmer for decades and, with that strange paradoxical quality with which that phenomenon affects such things, the summers have actually been getting cooler and dryer on average. June and July this year, for example, were quite pleasant compared to what long-time residents tell me they remember from the Eisenhower Administration. But, on the other hand, when the heat finally hits town during the summer these days, it’s quite heavy handed indeed. There’s a very accurate Fahrenheit thermometer installed in my imported sports car, and with it, I have found that it’s often quite a bit warmer around town than it is at the local airports. Until yesterday, my record reading was 105 degrees, driving through Arlington back in 2002. Yesterday, though, while driving down the Little Falls Parkway in Bethesda on my way to a meeting, that record was neatly shattered with a temperature of 108 smoldering degrees – taking the humidity into account, I have no doubt the net effect was well in excess of 110.
Today the temperature was again flirting with 100, and heat like that, combined with so much water in the air that sweat can’t evaporate, makes me wish I were like those natives of the Amazon basin who, over eleven or twelve millennia, have evolved to a state where they no longer sweat at all. Under such circumstances – a Washington heat wave or the eternal sauna of a tropical rain forest, there’s simply no point. For most human beings in Washington during such summer days, however, if they want to avoid becoming completely drenched, there are only two solutions aside from staying inside with the thermostat set at 72. One is to go about nearly naked. This is an option adopted by the majority of tourists sufficiently ignorant or foolish to visit our fair city in August. The results range from shockingly sexy bodacious babes from the provinces strutting around in bikinis and flip flops right under old Abe Lincoln’s nose to the nearly unfathomable visual horror of the Hairy Backed He-Boobie Monster in his boxer shorts and dual beer can football stadium hat desecrating the reflecting pool at the World War II Memorial by using it as if it were some kind of public cooling station. If emulating Upper Amazonian attire is not feasible, as, for example, when a suit and tie are de regure, one has no choice other than to move quickly from one air conditioned environment to another, the heat slapping you with insolent sadism as you go.
Oh, I know there are worse places for this kind of thing – readers who are residents Houston, Texas, for example, are no doubt shaking their heads and laughing – but excessive heat here in Washington is an important issue. That’s because, as everyone knows, excessive heat can affect the mind and the people who work here make decisions that affect not only their fellow citizens, but the entire world. And it seems to me that heat-induced dementia has apparently deranged the folks who sent their emissary to meet me this afternoon, a Mr. Steiger.
“Mr. Collins,” he began, “I represent the Independents and Democrats for Impeachment, Office of Tactics and Strategy.”
“Ah, yes,” I replied, “I’ve heard of the I.D.I. But I didn’t know that the I.D.I. had organized an O.T.S.”
“No reason you should,” he told me, “we organized the I.D.I.O.T.S. just yesterday. The chairman of the Steering Committee scheduled a softball game for I.D.I. staff out on the Mall every Wednesday at three o’clock. The idea was to get everybody out of the office, get them together out in the fresh air, get them out from behind their desks, you know; get a little exercise and do some brainstorming while we are at it.”
“Ah, wasn’t it a bit too hot to play softball on the Mall yesterday afternoon?” I queried, smiling in the most ingratiating manner I could muster, “You could have had an ice cream social and group stroll under the cool shade of those nice trees that line the Mall instead.”
“Oh, no,” Steiger objected, “first thing, most of our staff members are on diets, and I know for a fact that at least eight of them are lactose intolerant. So no way we could have had ice cream. And besides, baseball is the official American pastime. How would it look, the I.D.I. sauntering around, eating ice cream cones on the Mall? No, I don’t think so.”
“I understand, Mr. Steiger. So, how can I help you?”
Steiger took a deep breath, knit his fingers together on his knee, composed his thoughts briefly and let fly. “That brainstorming session after the ball game was the most brilliant one we’ve ever had, I think. Roberts gets credit for the original thought, of course – form an Office of Tactics and Strategy to coordinate our efforts and focus our energies. It was I, however, who pointed out that O.T.S. should act as a buyer for expert consulting services, such as yours.”
“Well,” I demurred, “I certainly take it as a compliment that O.T.S. selected me as one of the consultants who can potentially serve the I.D.I.”
“It’s common knowledge, Mr. Collins, that you’re one of the finest consultants inside the Beltway. Most would put you in the top ten. Some, I hear, simply say you’re the flat-out best.”
“Thank you,” I said appreciatively, quickly switching to my best no-nonsense consultation mode. “So, let’s start out by reviewing your organization’s purpose and goals. From what I understand about the I.D.I., you’re a single-issue, ad-hoc coalition dedicated to the impeachment of George W. Bush…”
“And that bastard Cheney,” Steiger interjected.
“Of course. Merely replacing Bush with Cheney would only make things worse.”
“And doesn’t he know that, Mr. Collins? Why, Bush points to Cheney and tells people ‘Look – there goes my impeachment insurance.’”
“So, you believe that Nancy Pelosi should be president and serve until the duly elected choice of the American people takes office in January, 2009.”
“We do indeed, Mr. Collins. Speaker Pelosi would make an excellent interim president.”
“Have you checked with her about whether she wants the job?”
“Well, yes, we have, ah, contacted her office with inquiries on that subject,” Steiger allowed.
“Any reply?”
“We did have, well, what could be called a response. We got a… package delivered by, well, a courier.”
“What was in it?”
“Ah, well, the package contained a paper plate, plastic knife and fork, a paper napkin…” Steiger halted, obviously having difficulty with his description of the remaining contents.
After a brief but awkward silence, I spoke up. “And some item, I presume, upon which to use the knife and fork?”
“Yes,” Steiger slowly replied.
“Not a rich and flaky Napoleon, made with creamy egg custard, I take it?”
“No.”
“Nothing like a artisanal jelly doughnut or a slice of genuine key lime pie, I suppose?”
“Nothing like that.”
“I think I’ve seen ads for that service in the Washington City Paper, Mr. Steiger. They even ran an article about it a while back. Seems the service has a working agreement with a boarding kennel…”
“Is that where they get it?”
I nodded slowly, watching Steiger’s reaction – he was staring at the floor. “Just because one of Pelosi’s staffers thinks he’s Groucho Marx…”
“I doubt, Mr. Steiger, that Groucho Marx would have ever sent anybody a dog turd. His humor may have been risque, but it was never scatological.”
“Well,” Steiger sighed, “some kind of comedian, then.”
“Lenny Bruce might have done it – to Mort Sahl or Henny Youngman, maybe.”
“I… I’m sorry Mr. Collins, I don’t know who any of those gentlemen are.”
“I don’t think most people do, Mr. Steiger; and who those guys were is not terribly relevant to our discussion, anyway. So, returning to subjects that are relevant, it would seem to me that Ms. Pelosi has indicated not only that she doesn’t want to be interim president, but, more importantly, she has a dim view of your organization’s goals and purpose.”
“Not Ms. Pelosi! We haven’t heard anything negative from her. One of her staffers did that!” Steiger protested.
“I understand how strong your feelings are, Mr. Steiger, and yes, I stand corrected – it was not Ms. Pelosi who sent you the Doggie Dookie Dinner.”
“That’s what they call them?”
“So it says in the ads. At any rate, if I.D.I. did indeed prove successful, Speaker Pelosi would be required, out of respect for the Constitution, and, ah, circumstances, to accept the presidency. And I’m sure she would.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Mr. Collins.”
“Well, she’d have to. Otherwise Robert Byrd would become president.”
“What would be wrong with that?” Steiger asked.
“It would be very risky. It’s virtually certain that the Republicans would mount an offensive to remove Byrd from office under the Twenty Fifth Amendment.”
“You mean, they would claim he’s… senile?”
“And I doubt they would have much of a problem making that case, unfortunately. Then of course, under the current order of succession…”
Steiger’s face fell. “Condoleezza Rice!”
“Correct. She’s Secretary of State. You folks at I.D.I. have thought all this out, of course?”
Steiger glanced around the room nervously for several seconds. “Sure,” he finally managed, “we’ve conducted in-depth analysis of multiple scenarios.”
“And you still concluded that obtaining the impeachments of both the President and Vice President is necessary, feasible and in the best interests of the United States of America?”
Steiger fell quiet for nearly a minute. “Yes,” he proclaimed at last, “Necessary, feasible and in the best interests of the United States – and the rest of the world, too.”
“Okay, then, let’s take that as a given,” I continued, “and move on. I assume your legal basis will be the ‘high crimes and misdemeanors’ clause of Article 2, Section 4?”
“Our legal staff have also considered the ‘bribery’ clause for Cheney.”
“How would that work?”
“Constructive bribery. The Halliburton connection.”
“I am not a lawyer, but it seems to me that such a charge might be difficult to prove,” I observed.
“Our gut feeling on this is to throw the book at them,” Steiger confided. “We want to go after both of them for treason, too.”
“Treason?”
“They engaged in a conspiracy to betray the United States. They lied to Congress, the military, the public and the United Nations in order to start an illegal war.”
“Illegal war? Illegal in what respects?”
“Our attorneys are working on defining those,” Steiger deflected.
“Well,” I volleyed back, “In my humble opinion, I think you’d do better with ‘high crimes and misdemeanors.’ There have been so many other treason and bribery cases – there are a lot of precedents on the books and rules for defining exactly what the terms ‘treason’ and ‘bribery’ mean. That would make it easier for one or both of them to wriggle out of your net. On the other hand, there haven’t been any court cases or established law concerning ‘high crimes and misdemeanors’ – that phrase can mean anything the House of Representatives says it means.”
Steiger stroked his chin, contemplating my assessment. “Sure, that makes sense. If lying about getting a blow job from Monica Lewinsky in the Oval Office is a ‘high crime or misdemeanor’…”
“Ah, lying under oath is perjury, actually,” I clarified. “Bill Clinton committed perjury and then wriggled out of Newt Gingrich’s net by claiming that blow jobs aren’t sex and conducting a very delicate semantic analysis of the verb ‘to be.’ I must say that the way he put it – ‘It all depends on what your definition of “is” is,’ – was a true apotheosis of existential ontology.”
“Bill Clinton never did anything most guys haven’t done,” Steiger responded.
“Be that as it may,” I said dryly, “if anybody who performs federal contracts or serves in the United States military had been caught with irrefutable DNA evidence that they were getting their pole smoked at work by a subordinate, they would be out of a job. Even members of the Civil Service might, theoretically, lose their jobs, too, although most likely they would just never get another promotion.”
“They wouldn’t get fired?” Steiger asked curiously.
“Probably not. To actually get fired from the Civil Service, they would have to kill a co-worker; and not just some on-site contractor, either. I mean, they’d have to kill somebody else in the Civil Service – and do it while they were both at work. Then they would get fired.”
“Sounds to me,” Steiger stated indignantly, “like the United States Civil Service is a place where anybody short of a homicidal manic has a job for life, no matter what they do.”
“Essentially,” I confirmed. “And no matter how incompetent they are, too. You know, if you folks at the I.D.I. were to take all the energy, time and resources you have lined up to get Bush and Cheney impeached and devoted it to Civil Service reform…”
“That’s utterly impossible!” Steiger yelped. “I can assure you, Mr. Collins, that no member of the I.D.I. can possibly conceive of anything better to do.”
“I don’t suppose so,” I conceded. “Okay. Let’s consider the first impeachment, Andrew Johnson’s, back in 1868. As they say, the past is prologue, and there are a number of interesting parallels with the current situation. Johnson was a conservative, locked in a protracted battle with a liberal Congress. People publicly denounced Johnson as an imbecile and a boor. Congress passed some laws that restricted presidential powers. Johnson got mad about that and made some speeches saying unkind things about Congress. He also pretty much ignored the new laws Congress had passed to reign him in. In response to that, Congress passed a motion to impeach him, more or less along party lines. Then a Congressional committee drafted articles of impeachment against Johnson. They accused him of dereliction of his presidential duty; of showing blatant disregard for the Constitution; and of attempting to undermine the authority of Congress. Any of that sound familiar?”
“Like it happened yesterday,” Steiger offered.
“Okay, well, then they had a trial in the Senate. There was no conviction – Johnson scraped out of it by one vote. One vote shy of the necessary two-thirds majority in the Senate, Mr. Steiger; and, of course, you know whose vote that was?”
Steiger shook his head, a bit embarrassed. “Can’t say as I do, Mr. Collins.”
“Why, it was a member of the very political faction that impeached him in the first place – a fellow named Edmond G. Ross. I guess I don’t have to tell you, Mr. Ross was not invited to very many Radical Republican functions after that.”
“Radical Republican?” Steiger’s confusion was more than evident.
“Ah, yes. In 1868, you see, the Republicans were the liberals and the Democrats were the conservatives.”
“No kidding?” Steiger was amazed. “What happened?”
“About one hundred and forty years of American history.”
“Wow,” Steiger exclaimed, “wait until I tell them about that down at the I.D.I. The Democrats used to be the conservatives. Amazing. So Johnson was a Democrat?”
“Essentially. What they called a ‘War Democrat,’ which meant that he sided with Lincoln and the Union during the Civil War. That’s why he was allowed to hold office afterwards, even though he had owned slaves and represented Tennessee in Congress.”
“Slaves?” Steiger chewed the facts over in his mind for a while. “So what kind of conservative traditional values was Johnson fighting for?”
“Oh, you know, the usual – segregation, miscegenation laws, restricting voting, public office and gun ownership to white males, that sort of thing.”
“A Democrat? Johnson was a Democrat and he was a racist?”
“Johnson was a creationist, too, and home schooled. Today, he’d make a perfect member of Bush’s core constituency. Bottom line, though, is the lesson of history. Here was this huge Republican majority in the House and the Senate. Congress tried to impeach a conservative, ‘traditional values’ president using the ‘high crimes and misdemeanors’ clause, and in the end one of their own betrayed them and let Johnson off the hook. Now,” I said, leaning a bit across my desk toward Steiger for emphasis, “look at what you’re up against. Instead of a huge majority, your side – or what you assume to be your side, anyway – controls the House and Senate by very slim margins. And, not only do you want to impeach a conservative, ‘traditional values’ president, you want to make sure you successfully impeach his conservative ‘traditional values’ vice president as well – otherwise, you will be worse off than you are now. All this, despite the fact that neither of them will run for president ever again – Bush can’t and Cheney won’t – and that their term of office expires in less than eighteen months.”
“Like you said,” Steiger countered defensively, “that was a hundred forty years ago. How about the Clinton impeachment?”
“Ah, yes, much more contemporary. A woman sues the President of the United States for inviting her into his hotel room when he was governor of Arkansas and making ‘crude sexual advances.’ Clinton invokes executive privilege, claiming that the suit has to wait until he leaves his office as president. In Clinton vs. Jones, the Supremes say no. Pre-trial discovery discovers that Clinton is a total horn-dog and the world discovers why the folks in Arkansas called him “Slick Willy.” The case goes forward, a federal judge gives Clinton a summary judgement, Jones appeals, then settles out of court with Clinton before the lower court’s decision can be overturned; but the cat’s out of the bag anyway – one Monica Lewinsky was on the witness list. Up pops Linda Tripp, Monica’s gal pal, who had been secretly recording Monica’s confessional sex stories about Clinton. Now, rewind to before any of that crazy stuff happened. Back when he was governor of Arkansas, Clinton managed to get into a shady real estate deal called ‘Whitewater,’ and an Independent Counsel named Kenneth Starr was appointed to investigate whether Clinton was a crook or not. On the same day that Monica sent a sworn affidavit to Jones’ attorneys denying ever having had sex with Clinton, Tripp gives the tapes of Monica’s hot girl talk to Starr. Then Attorney General Janet Reno makes a worse call than she did at Waco and gives Starr permission to expand his investigation to include hanky-panky as well as real estate scams. Then Clinton swears under oath in a deposition he never had sex with Lewinsky and denies ever having pressured her to lie about having sex with him. Starr leans on Lewinsky and scares the dickens out of her. She turns state’s evidence with a grant of immunity and spills the beans. Starr deposes Clinton four solid hours, during which Clinton redefined both sex and existence in order not to admit lying. Starr dumps the whole thing in Congress’ lap. The House votes to impeach him, returning four articles. One, he committed perjury regarding the Paula Jones case and his relationship with Monica Lewinsky before a grand jury. Two, he committed perjury in the Jones case in his answers to written questions and in his deposition. Three, he obstructed justice in the Jones case. Four, he misused and abused his office by making perjurious, false and misleading statements to Congress. Clinton goes on trial in the Senate; Chief Justice Rehnquist showed up dressed in that comic opera set of custom robes he designed for himself and swore in all 100 Senators. The Senate heard all the evidence and voted on all four articles. No conviction – Clinton went on being president.”
“What’s your analysis of that one, then?” Steiger asked.
“Well, you don’t have to be Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. to figure out that Clinton committed perjury – a felony, which certainly qualifies as a ‘high crime or misdemeanor’ in my book. But, as you can readily see, it’s necessary for a two thirds majority of the Senate to agree that whatever the President is accused of, it qualifies as a ‘high crime or misdemeanor.’ Senators aren’t judges, so they aren’t bound by precedent. Impeachment conviction votes can’t be appealed, so they don’t fear having their decision reversed by a higher authority. And they aren’t a jury, either, not in the usual sense, so there are no instructions for them to follow – if they want to accept Clinton’s arguments that blow jobs aren’t sex and that ‘is’ can mean something intermediate between existence and ‘is not,’ that, unlike members of a normal jury, is completely up to them, and consequently, they are free to conclude Clinton is innocent of perjury; and if there was no perjury, then how could there be obstruction of justice?”
Steiger was clearly taken aback. “You mean, that’s how Senators think?”
“Well, they are free to think that way during a presidential or vice-presidential impeachment trial, anyway,” I explained.
Steiger got up and began pacing the floor in front of me. “Mr. Collins, I’m beginning to get the impression that you think my organization is chasing a will-o-the-wisp.”
“Not quite. It’s completely impossible to catch a will-o-the-wisp. They are phosphorescent marsh gas. You, on the other hand, could, conceivably, succeed. But have you considered what the consequences of chasing this thing, whether you catch it or not, might be?”
“I imagine our campaign, whether completely successful or not, would raise civic awareness, at least,” Steiger volunteered.
“More likely your efforts would generate latent sympathy for George Bush. If you succeed in getting him and Cheney impeached, his poll figures will rise.”
Steiger stopped pacing. “You think so?”
“I’m quite sure of it. Think about what happened in the Iran-Contra scandal. Congress set out to expose the scam by grilling the principal bag man and ended up making Oliver North a national hero instead. It’s a mug’s game you’re playing, Steiger – the more successful your impeachment crusade is, the better the conservative Republicans will do in the next election.”
“But what about the war in Iraq,” Steiger trumpeted, “and the lies that started it? What about our troops? What about Bush’s bungled domestic policies, and practically universal hatred of the United States abroad; and that man’s infernal moronic approach to every problem – what about them? What about jobs, immigration, health care, the environment, the state of our economy?”
“That’s why we have elections,” I responded. “Calls for impeachment have been used throughout American history as ways to change things one group or another didn’t like. Back in the civil rights era, people were screaming to impeach Chief Justice Earl Warren because they didn’t like his decisions. The conservatives didn’t impeach Clinton because they don’t approve of exploiting their underlings for sex or because they haven’t done plenty of lying themselves. But the thing that’s always overlooked is that impeachment was never conceived as a way for coalitions of disgruntled citizens to change things outside of the electoral process.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know,” Steiger confessed, “it just sort of seemed obvious to us, I guess.”
“This may come as a shock to you and your colleagues at the I.D.I., Mr. Steiger, but it is by no means obvious to the rest of us.”
“It isn’t?”
“Nope.”
Crestfallen, Steiger sighed and turned to leave. “Well, just send us an invoice for this consultation, I guess.”
“My private secretary will mail it out today.”
Opening the door, Steiger turned to look back at me.
“Thank you for your time, anyway.”
“It’s my job, sir,” I told him, “but before you leave, I have one more item of advice – for free.”
“What’s that, Mr. Collins?”
“Would you and your compatriots please stay indoors with the air conditioning on when it’s over one hundred degrees outside? I think everyone will be better off in the long run if you do.”