Friday, May 05, 2006

Lame excuses, a Kennedy specialty

Wonkette really nails the amazing lameness of Patrick Kennedy's excuse:
Was his excuse written by the producers of "Dateline NBC"? ... We could’ve come up with an even more zeigeisty excuse than that, in half the time (“had to get over to Pelosi’s to watch 'The Sopranos,' and I have the bird flu”). ... Is he voting under the influence?
Voting under the influence of ... what? Never mind. I like the "zeitgeisty excuse" angle:
  • "Going to the drug store to get Plan B for a Darfur refugee ..."
  • "... investigating price-gouging at Exxon stations ..."
  • "... upset by Paris getting voted off 'American Idol' ..."
But Wonkette has a simpler explanation: Like most people in D.C., Patrick Kennedy can't drive worth $#*%. I bet he's one of those morons who sees a sign that says, "RIGHT LANE CLOSED 1/2 MILE -- MERGE LEFT," and thinks: "I'll drive up to the last orange cone, then put on my left blinker ...."

Speaking of morons, let's talk about Patrick's dad, Ted Kennedy, the most famous C student in Harvard history. Obviously, the old man set a high family standard for lame excuses, as we might imagine:
"Well, your honor, we were celebrating the regatta ... My neck? Just fine, why do you ask? ... Oh, that. Yes, I did wear a neck brace at my little press conference, you're right. ... Doctor? No, I haven't seen a doctor, but I don't see .... Well, a man doesn't need a doctor's permission to wear a neck brace, does he? ...
"Kennedy. The name's Kennedy, your honor, like the martyred president, 'Camelot' and everything.

"Anyway, so we were celebrating the regatta at an isolated cottage, myself, five other married men, and six unmarried women, and ... Well, no, of course not, your honor. What makes you think there's anything 'suspicious,' as you say, when six married men and six unmarried women go to a cottage on an island to celebrate a regatta? ... Kennedy. K-E-N-N-E-D-Y.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, the cabin. Did I mention the booze? Three half-gallons of vodka, four fifths of scotch, two bottles of rum, two cases of beer ... Yes, I suppose that is a good bit of liquor, but when you've got six married men, six unmarried women, and a regatta to celebrate at a rented cottage ...
"Of course, I had been drinking all day long, your honor. That's what the witnesses said, and why would they lie? ... K-E-N-N-E-D-Y. As in 'Senator Kennedy,' your honor.

"As to what time I left this regatta celebration with Mary Jo, I'm not really sure. The ferry had already left for the mainland, which kind of makes that story about taking Mary Jo back to her hotel sound kind of silly, I suppose. ... We started to park, but then we saw the sheriff's patrol car, and so I wheeled out of there and took off down Lover's Lane ... err, I mean, down the Dike Road ....
"Sure, I knew that road like the back of my hand, your honor. Been all over that island, many years, you know. ... No, I'm not quite certain at this point how I missed the bridge. Perhaps I was distracted, wondering if that sheriff's deputy might follow me, cause a fuss or something. But the obvious fact is that I did indeed miss the bridge and, next thing you know, we're in the water and the car's upside down!

"Somehow, I managed to save myself. It was ... well, like a miracle, I suppose, but somehow I did escape. Then I went back to the cabin and got my friends, and about 45 minutes later, we got back to the bridge and my friends tried swimming down to the car. ... Kennedy, your honor. Edward Kennedy. ...
"Police? ... Well, I suppose we could have called the police, but I was too busy trying to come up with a cover story. Like, hey, what if we said Mary Jo was driving the car? But my friends didn't like that story. ... I guess the car went into the water about 12:45 a.m., your honor. ...
"So I made 17 phone calls to different people, and my friends cleaned up all the booze and the mess from the party at the cottage. All the girls went to their hotels, and then I checked into my hotel and ...
"Excuse me, your honor. Where was who? ... Oh, Mary Jo! She was in the car underwater, like I told you and ... Well, by the time I checked into my hotel, it was certainly several hours later, broad daylight and ...
"The clerk? Yes, I suppose I did speak to the clerk, but I don't see why ... No, I didn't say anything to the clerk about the accident or Mary Jo. Why would I do a silly thing like that, your honor? The name's Kennedy. K-E-N-N-E-D-Y.

"And so, I guess I've made a mistake, just like lots of people make mistakes, and I certainly regret leaving the scene of an accident, your honor. I believe that's a misdemeanor, right? ..."
You can read about this on pages 39-43 of DONKEY CONS, of course, and if you want to read more about the girl who died because she trusted the senior senator from Massachusetts -- that's K-E-N-N-E-D-Y, right? -- Leo Damore wrote an entire book about it, Senatorial Privilege: The Chappaquiddick Cover-Up.

Hmmm. ... Seems there's a renewed interest in the Kennedy driving record this morning: Damore's book, which was published 18 years ago, has jumped up to #37,417 in the Amazon rankings as of about 2 a.m. Friday. Imagine that!

And, as Michelle Malkin first reported on Thursday, Miss Kopechne remains unavailable for comment.

-- McCAIN

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