By Sean Yoes, Baltimore AFRO Editor, syoes@afro.com

I think I can speak for millions of Americans when I say I am officially sick and tired of Brett Kavanaugh; he has single handedly reinvigorated the apocryphal “little white lie,” conveniently dispersing them throughout last week’s volcanic testimony before the Senate Judicial Committee.

I watched along with more than 20 million other people the spectacle of a prospective Supreme Court Justice throw a rolling temper tantrum, because what he perceives as his divine birthright was being jeopardized by this pesky woman who claims he sexually abused her more than three decades ago.

Implicit in his diatribe against the Committee was the message, `How dare you impede my path to the Supreme Court with such nonsense?’

I don’t know what happened between 15-year-old Christine Blasey (Ford) and the 17-year-old Kavanaugh in that home in Bethesda, Md. in the summer of 1982; there has been no empirical evidence presented to buttress either of their claims. But, after watching the two of them testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee back to back, I believe her before I believe him.

Sean Yoes (Courtesy Photo)

Further, what I do know is whether you are a 17-year-old boy, or a 70-year-old man, if you drunkenly attempt to rape a woman and in the process put your hand over her mouth in an attempt to smother her screams for help, you are an animal.

Beyond the question of whether or not he sexually assaulted women in high school and college (that is the accusation of his Yale classmate Deborah Ramirez), what is abundantly clear to me is Kavanaugh does not possess the temperament to sit on the U.S. Supreme Court. I’m not sure he possesses the temperament to be a dog catcher.

Consider this remarkable exchange between Sen. Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota.

Klobuchar: “Was there ever a time where you drank so much that you couldn’t remember what happened, or part of what happened the night before?”

Kavanaugh: “No, I remember what happened and, I think you’ve probably had beers Senator and…”

Klobuchar: “So, you’re saying that there’s never been a case where you drank so much that you didn’t remember what happened the night before or part of what happened?”

Kavanaugh: “You’re asking about blackout, I don’t know, have you?”

Klobuchar: “Could you answer the question Judge? So…that’s not happened? Is that your answer?”

Kavanaugh: “Yeah, and I’m curious if you have?”

Klobuchar: “I have no drinking problem Judge.”

Kavanaugh: “Nor do I.”

Could you imagine if Dr. Ford had snarled and barked at, and demeaned the members of the Committee the way Kavanaugh did? They would have dragged her out of the hearing room in a straight jacket. Never in the history of U.S. judicial nominations on any level has a jurist behaved like Kavanaugh. Yet, instead of him being disqualified from sitting on the nation’s High Court because of his plainly partisan, over the top proclamations about conspiracy theories about the Clintons, he is hailed as a hero by the Party of Trump.

Sen. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, tapped into all the White man, victim grievance energy he could dredge up during last week’s Senate Judiciary hearing, and rabidly derided his Democratic colleagues for their questioning of Kavanaugh. But, the question I wanted to hear was never asked. It was alluded to during Kavanaugh’s exchange with Klobuchar; does Kavanaugh have a drinking problem today?

I’m confident the farcical FBI report that will be completed before the end of this week will not have an answer to that important question.

For the record, I graduated from Walbrook High School in West Baltimore in 1983, the same year Kavanaugh graduated from Georgetown Preparatory School in North Bethesda. Like Kavanaugh, I hung with the popular crowd of kids and I was friends with a lot of girls, many with whom I am friends to this day. I was a three sport athlete, was on the honor roll and I wrote for my school’s newspaper. More than a thousand young men and women graduated with me on that pristine spring day in 1983 and hundreds of them signed my yearbook.

Me and my friends were no angels, however out of all the entries in my yearbook, not one of my classmates romanticized an episode of drinking alcohol until vomiting. There is no crude disparagement of a female classmate by a group of nasty little boys declaring themselves “alumnus” of that female classmate. There is no reference to the so-called “devil’s triangle.”

Kavanaugh inherited the heirloom of White entitlement at birth and it seems clear he is going to ride it all the way onto the U.S. Supreme Court.

Sean Yoes is the Baltimore editor of the AFRO and the author of Baltimore After Freddie Gray: Real Stories From One of America’s Great Imperiled Cities.

Sean Yoes

AFRO Baltimore Editor