Tunnel torture could make Rove talk

“Former White House adviser Karl Rove on Monday defended his defiance of a congressional subpoena, saying he’s offered lawmakers other ways to question him about allegations of political pressure at the Justice Department.”  — The Associated Press, July 14

Somewhere deep in the Hampton Roads-Bridge Tunnel ...

“Where the devil are we, driver?”

“We’re stuck in traffic, Mr. Rove.”

“I can see that. We’re going to be late for Rep. Thelma Drake’s fundraiser in Virginia Beach.”

“I’ll give them a call to warn them, sir.”

“OK, but no need to worry her. Tell her that it was the president’s idea for me to show up fashionably late. She’ll just nod and smile. She never disagrees with the president. He could put an oil rig on the Boardwalk, and she’d just nod and smile.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Rove.”

“Say, have you noticed we’re surrounded by tiny little hybrid cars with 'Obama ’08’ bumper stickers?”

“Would you like me to turn off my headlights, sir? That way you won’t see them.”

“Won’t be necessary. My, that’s odd: They’re all getting out of their tiny hybrid cars. And they’re coming this way! There must be dozens of them!”

“I’m alerting Homeland Security, sir! The Navy should be here in no time!”

“Hold on, hold on! I recognize the fellow leading the crowd. It’s the Hercule Poirot of the Potomac.”

“Who?”

“Congressman Henry Waxman, chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform. He fancies himself an inspector nonpareil. I suppose he’s more like my very own Inspector Javert, though.”

(Tap, tap, tap.)

“Let him in, driver.”

(Waxman enters, grinning broadly.) “So we meet at last, Mssr. Rove.”

“For crying out loud, Henry, is all of this really necessary?”

“We call! We write! We subpoena! But do you answer? Nooo. What are we to do?”

“So I didn’t show for a lousy subpoena from the Judiciary Committee. What’s that got to do with you and your little snoops? Ouch! Watch it! You don’t really expect to fit your entire committee in my Land Rover, do you?”

“Oui! And the Judiciary Committee, too. And our staffs, of course. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m getting squished here. Have a little mercy, will you?”

“As soon as we negotiate the terms of your testimony to the Judiciary Committee.”

“What? No! Absolutely not!”

(To crowd) “Bring the boxes of files in, too. We may need to refer to them.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Fine. Fine. Let’s get it over with. I’ll talk. But I’ll answer written questions only.”

(To crowd) “Is everyone comfy? Squeeze in, squeeze in. There’s plenty of room.”

“All right, all right! I’ll answer your questions in person. But not under oath.”

“You are a most worthy adversary, Mssr. Rove. But I have you cornered at last. If I let one more aide in, it’s very likely your air bag will deploy.”

(Sighing) “I’ll answer everyone’s questions, but only under certain conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to be behind a screen. And I want one of those voice distortion machines like they have on '60 Minutes.’”

“But everyone will still know it’s you, Karl.”

“That’s what I want! That’s what I want!”

“Take a deep breath, Karl. Calm down. We’ll adjourn the committees now, and we’ll get out of your car.”

“Thank you.”

"But before we go, are there any more conditions we need to discuss? A favorite brand of bottled water at the witness table? Abowl of M&Ms? Moist towelettes?”

“Just get me out of this tunnel!”

“That I cannot do, Mssr. Rove. Welcome to Hampton Roads. Shall we bump fists and say goodbye now?”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Car.”

“All right! Touchy, touchy. Until we meet again! Adieu!”

Daryl Lease is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot. Reach him at (757) 446-2441 or daryl.lease@pilotonline.com