Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh tried to defiantly lie and bluster his way through his Senate Judiciary Committee rebuttal testimony yesterday. Any reasonably sane, semi-mature, level-headed person who believes Kavanaugh’s bullshit is either (a) flat-out lying or (b) afflicted with serious deficiencies as a reader of human behavior.

“You can’t kill my life and career over my rapey, blind-drunk high-school and Yale shenanigans…that shit doesn’t count, I was 17 or 18, Mark Judge and I were fucking around…whatever. Oh, and fuck you eternally, Democratic conspirators!”

I’ve run into guys like Kavanaugh from time to time, and they’re mostly about their lack of empathy (“The world is for the few,” etc.) and their like-minded buddy-bruhs and shared hostilities and belief in clubby entitlements. And I hate, hate, hate his crude, vaguely moaning, thick-tongued way of speaking — I loathe and despise the sound of his disgusting seal-bark voice. Ope!…ope!…ope!…ope! And those butt-ugly pig eyes. In a suit. The oinky eyes of a pugnacious Trenton, New Jersey bartender who’s been caught skimming.

Kavanaugh’s sickening testimony followed the obviously truthful, straight-from-the-heart, straight-from-the-pain testimony of Palo Alto psychology professor Christine Blasey Ford. Her words and memories are and were obviously, 100%, drop-to-your-knees lucid and sincere, and shouldn’t be degraded by side-by-side comparisons to Kavanaugh’s Irish-street-punk taunts and rage-bombs.