Another Defining Moment

By Rick Horowitz

Our sermon this morning, friends, is drawn from the Book of Alice. "When I use a word," says Humpty Dumpty to our spunky little miss, "it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less."

"The question is," Alice replies, "whether you can make words mean so many different things."

"The question is," says Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master -- that's all."

Do you believe those guys?!

The White House crew, that is. (I don't mean literally; we know the answer to that one.) Do you believe they've got the gall to try another stunt, or more precisely, to have another go at the same old stunt? And then when they're caught at it, when they're caught diddling the process one more time, to stand up there with a straight face and say it wasn't a stunt at all?

It takes a special talent. Your average Joe, your average Flo -- they couldn't do it. They'd be embarrassed to try. This bunch does it without a flicker.

We're talking, of course, about hairsplitting -- and the latest on the highly miraculous Kathleen Willey letters, all those notes to the Top Man from his "number one fan." The White House had them out there not one day after Willey went public with her claims of an unexpected (and unappreciated) presidential grope.

Even at the time, suspicious minds couldn't ignore the contrast. Details about the prez and Kathleen Willey? Pastures of plenty -- at least when they might undermine Willey's credibility. Details about the prez and, say, Monica Lewinsky? A great large nothing.

But there's more to the Willey stash than just contrast. After all, there was a time before Willey decided to go public, before they were forced to acknowledge her existence (if only to cut her down), when the White House was eager to keep the curtains drawn. How eager? Eager enough, apparently, to keep those letters hidden for months.

That's the logical conclusion, anyway, from the latest back-and-forth between the White House and lawyers for Paula Jones. It was back in December that Jones's lawyers directed the president to turn over any documents -- any documents -- relating to Willey, including records "reflecting any communications, meetings, or visits" with Willey. A month later, it now turns out, the president's lawyers responded this way: "President Clinton has no documents responsive to this Request."

Sounds pretty conclusive, yes?

But wait a minute: If there were no documents "responsive to this Request," then where did all those documents -- letters and phone logs and such -- suddenly come from when the time was right? And why didn't the president turn them over months ago?

Because, the White House now explains, Jones's lawyers directed their request at the president himself. "The letters and other documents," a White House spokesman now explains (presumably without laughing so hard that water comes out his nose), "are White House documents." (Why? Because they say so.)

So you see, when they said back in January that "President Clinton has no documents," they were telling, by their standards, the truth. It's not their fault that Paula Jones's lawyers didn't ask for "White House" documents.

Except, of course, that they did. The instructions to the president last December said, "You are to produce not only the documents and things in your immediate possession, but also those over which you have custody and control." If the president doesn't have custody and control over all White House documents, let alone over "Fondly, Kathleen" notes sent to him in the White House, who does? The janitor?

They keep doing it because they keep getting away with it.

Then again, we know what happened to Humpty Dumpty.

3/31/98