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Something’s rotten in the U.S. Attorney’s Office, Heart of Dixie Edition, continued. Seems that the New York Times has now secured the full text of the affidavit which is quoted in the morning edition, and it’s far more explosive than first indicated. To the point, it fingers the White House operator who called the shots to line up a prosecution of Governor Siegelman, and his name is Karl Rove.
Canary said “not to worry — that he had already gotten it worked out with Karl and Karl had spoken with the Department of Justice and the Department of Justice was already pursuing Don Siegelman,” the Simpson affidavit says.
So Karl Rove was in on a GOP scheme to secure the Montgomery Statehouse, the first step was to bring a prosecution against the incumbent Democratic governor, Rove gave the command, and the U.S. Attorney in Birmingham went marching merrily off to do his bidding. Why is this so unsurprising?
The Republican operative, William Canary, is of course the husband of the U.S. Attorney in Montgomery and a close friend of the U.S. Attorney in Birmingham. But more than this, he is also tied at the hip to Karl Rove.
Recall that after Rove had a severe falling out with his partner in Texas and got an ear-boxing from President Bush 41, he fled off to Alabama, where he was able to reignite his career with some very dark projects. His savior and bosom buddy was the same William Canary who figures so prominently in this affidavit. Their relationship was portrayed in an important article in the November 2004 Atlantic by Josh Green entitled “Karl Rove in a Corner.” Did Canary have access? Hell yes. Would Rove jump to his bidding? You betcha. Is this affidavit credible? Better than that.
More from Scott Horton:
Six Questions — October 18, 2014, 8:00 pm
Nathaniel Raymond on CIA interrogation techniques.
Mark Denbeaux on the NCIS cover-up of three “suicides” at Guantánamo Bay Detention Camp
From the June 2014 issue
For the past three years my dosimeter had sat silently on a narrow shelf just inside the door of a house in Tokyo, upticking its final digit every twenty-four hours by one or two, the increase never failing — for radiation is the ruthless companion of time. Wherever we are, radiation finds and damages us, at best imperceptibly. During those three years, my American neighbors had lost sight of the accident at Fukushima. In March 2011, a tsunami had killed hundreds, or thousands; yes, they remembered that. Several also recollected the earthquake that caused it, but as for the hydrogen explosion and containment breach at Nuclear Plant No. 1, that must have been fixed by now — for its effluents no longer shone forth from our national news. Meanwhile, my dosimeter increased its figure, one or two digits per day, more or less as it would have in San Francisco — well, a trifle more, actually. And in Tokyo, as in San Francisco, people went about their business, except on Friday nights, when the stretch between the Kasumigaseki and Kokkai-Gijido-mae subway stations — half a dozen blocks of sidewalk, which commenced at an antinuclear tent that had already been on this spot for more than 900 days and ended at the prime minister’s lair — became a dim and feeble carnival of pamphleteers and Fukushima refugees peddling handicrafts.
One Friday evening, the refugees’ half of the sidewalk was demarcated by police barriers, and a line of officers slouched at ease in the street, some with yellow bullhorns hanging from their necks. At the very end of the street, where the National Diet glowed white and strange behind other buildings, a policeman set up a microphone, then deployed a small video camera in the direction of the muscular young people in drums against fascists jackets who now, at six-thirty sharp, began chanting: “We don’t need nuclear energy! Stop nuclear power plants! Stop them, stop them, stop them! No restart! No restart!” The police assumed a stiffer stance; the drumming and chanting were almost uncomfortably loud. Commuters hurried past along the open space between the police and the protesters, staring straight ahead, covering their ears. Finally, a fellow in a shabby sweater appeared, and murmured along with the chants as he rounded the corner. He was the only one who seemed to sympathize; few others reacted at all.
Number of U.S. congressional districts in which trade with China has produced more jobs than it has cost:
Young bilingual children who learned one language first are likelier than monolingual children and bilingual children who learned languages simultaneously to say that a dog adopted by owls will hoot.
An Oklahoma legislative committee voted to defund Advanced Placement U.S. History courses, accusing the curriculum of portraying the United States as “a nation of oppressors and exploiters.”
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“He could be one of a million beach-bound, black-socked Florida retirees, not the man who, by some odd happenstance of life, possesses the brain of Albert Einstein — literally cut it out of the dead scientist's head.”