Friday, February 15, 2008

The preening clowns on Capitol Hill who grilled Roger Clemens and Brian McNamee could have used the levity of lawyer Arthur Kirkland in “… And Justice for All.”

To paraphrase Al Pacino’s character, you’re out of order, Henry Waxman. You’re out of order, Dan Burton. The whole lot of you are out of order.

The only souls more disgusting than McNamee, Clemens and his whispering lawyers were the camera-seeking lawmakers who rob Americans and pretend it is for a greater good, which usually means their re-election prospects.

Apparently, being an egotistical dolt is the No. 1 prerequisite to securing a seat in Congress.

Eleanor Holmes Norton to Clemens: “Why did you keep this man? He did some pretty horrendous things.”

Clemens: “I’m a forgiving person.”

Norton: “Mr. Clemens, I’m sure you’re going to heaven.”

Clemens may be a forgiving person who is going to heaven, and Norton may be meeting her tax obligations.

As one of the leaders of the “Taxation without Representation” license plate, Norton and her former husband walked the talk by failing to pay their city taxes for eight years in the ‘80s.

That made her overqualified to work among the crooks of Capitol Hill.

Here is what we know about the Clemens-McNamee inquisition.

McNamee has told the truth about injecting Andy Pettitte, Chuck Knoblauch and Debbie Clemens.

But when it comes to the burly pitcher, McNamee, the weasel, is lying.

That is how many of the professional liars on Capitol Hill saw it.

And they could be right.

It takes a liar to know a liar, and no one tells more lies than the gasbags on Capitol Hill.

Their televised orations should come with a Joe Isuzu-like scrawl at the bottom of the screen that reminds viewers they are lying.

Clemens showed anew that he can huff and puff with the best blowhards around, which is not the same as being convincing.

Anyone who believes in the purity of Clemens at this point is either related to him, on his payroll or a conspiracy theorist who insists the world is flat, the sun rises from the West and Pete Rose never bet on baseball.

Not that McNamee is an inspiring figure.

If anything, McNamee appears to be channeling Dustin Hoffman’s greasy Ratso character in “Midnight Cowboy.”

McNamee could not look more like a slime ball than if he had attended a slime ball finishing school.

In terms of perception, Clemens, accustomed as he is to being on stage, brought a more favorable presence to the camera than McNamee.

Yet on substantive matters, Clemens and his paid assassins remain unable to answer one basic question, which is: Why would McNamee lie about Clemens if his original motivation to sing was to stay out of prison?

By the twisted logic of Clemens and his suits, McNamee is lying, because, well, he is lying. And so, by lying to investigators and lying while he was under oath, McNamee has placed himself in jeopardy of losing his freedom, which was the very thing he wanted to avoid.

At least that is the preposterous premise of Clemens and his lawyers.

And if it is fair to note that McNamee has had a history of stretching the truth, it is equally fair to point out that even most chicken fertilizer artists find religion if the feds have them between a rock and doing hard time.

Clemens is arrogant enough to continue the fight in an effort to reclaim his good reputation, although in the court of public opinion he is finished.

He is just another liar and cheater whose Hall of Fame prospects are nil, which puts him in the company of Barry Bonds.

Someone should have mentioned that to William Clay, who embarrassed himself and his innocent constituents in Missouri by asking Clemens which uniform he would wear into the Hall of Fame.

Fat chance that day ever will come.

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