White House Under Siege: A Lomblog Special Report

It was a stunningly bad week for President Bush - perhaps the worst of his presidency since the week before. On Tuesday, American military fatalies in Iraq reached the 2,000 mark. On Thursday, his initial choice for the Supreme Court, Harriet Miers, withdrew after shocking revelations that she may have once held opinions. On Friday, CIA leak investigator Patrick Fitzgerald indicted White House advisor Lewis "Scooter" Libby on charges of perjury, obstruction of justice and making false statements, severely testing the Administration doctrine of "preemptive treason." Meanwhile, the president's poll numbers continue to shrivel up like Rafael Palmiero's testicles.

It's all enough for some commentators to dub this a White House Under Siege.



Now, before I continue with this post, let me apologize to Karl Rove for his inclusion in the above graphic. It was completed before Friday's announcement by the special prosecutor. As Mr. Rove's lawyers are at pains to point out, he is not actually "under siege" but merely "under investigation." Of course, this does not preclude the possibility that he may eventually face besiegement. But for now, Mr. Rove is - legally speaking - happier than a pig in feces.

But on to the issue at hand. President Bush is currently receiving a lot of unsolicited advice from the pundits. Some have suggested he could revive his presidency by shaking up the White House staff, admitting mistakes, reaching out to the center, governing competently and other drastic steps. All I can say is: these people don't know George W. Bush like I know George W. Bush. He is not to be underestimated. He still has more than three years left in his term - more than enough time to come back without doing anything to rattle that third of Americans who will still support him no matter how objectively poor his performance in office.

Honestly, I don't believe the president's political situation is that dire. Already, we are seeing signs of his recovery. The religious right was angered by the Miers pick but have rallied behind the Bush's latest selection, Samuel Alito. Of course, he was not the first choice of pro-life social conservatives; that was Justice Patriarchal McBan O'Bortion. Evidently, ethnic politics elevated the Italian Catholic over the Irishman. But once again, Republicans are showcasing their solidarity with the unborn, both through the court fight and by the increasing number of them actually in the fetal position.

As for the Plame affair, that so far seems a minor distraction at best. The accusations against Libby are nothing to sneeze at, but still, the novelist & neocon avoided prosecution on more serious charges like violating the Espionage Act or killing Natalee Holloway.

You also have to consider the opposition. Oh brother, are they a mess! Sure, theoretically, the Democrats stand to gain a lot of ground. But the party's leadership - Pelosi, Reid, Kanye West - lack both a positive agenda and a headline-grabbing set of indictments. Nearly a year into the president's second term, they still refuse to spell out how they would do things differently - ie. which cronies they would appoint to important positions; how they would cover up the leak of a clandestine agent; what natural disasters they would ignore etc. Is it any wonder they've been rendered all but irrelevant?

Finally, time is on the president's side. The congressional elections are not for another year - several lifetimes in American politics. Lifetimes in which, for instance, millions of Democratic voters could be killed by untreated bird flu. Yes, George W. Bush can make a comeback but only if he follows his own advice and stays the course. If he ignores the naysayers, buckles down, steels himself and doesn't watch any TV except for fishing shows on TNN, he won't ever have to learn that people don't like him. This, I believe, is his road back. If he takes it, it won't be long before "W." once again stands for "Winner" instead of "WTF Has Gone Wrong Now?"

Explaining Myself

On the possible eve of possible indictments, I thought I should take the opportunity to clear up a few things.

My mailbag has been overflowing since I posted my account of the actions that brought me face-to-face with federal prosecutors, and before that, face-to-jowls with Karl Rove and "Scooter" Libby. Many correspondents wrote that my post left far too many unanswered questions, and in fact, prompted a whole slew of new ones. Questions of "why" - "Why did you go to jail rather than reveal your sources, who after all, weren't really your sources?" And questions of "how" - "How can we trust you when you're clearly a total sleaze?" And from our very young readers, questions of "what" - as in "What did you mean when you said that Libby was Rove's 'wingman'?" Ahh, the innocence.

Others offered a broader criticism: that my story reveals how close the nexus between government and media has become in recent years. In the words of one correspondent, if "you and your ilk weren't exactly in bed with the Bush team, you were certainly leaning against the nightstand in a sheer teddy while [Administration officials] gestured for a reach around." Well put.

But perhaps the most poignant response came from a young man who is newly employed in the Washington, DC area:

Dear Mr. Fan,

I am relatively new to the blogosphere but I read your article with mounting interest - interest that quickly became revulsion as the sheer scale of human degradation in our nation's capitol swept over me like a mud bath. Your portrait of so-called "journalists" and high-powered operatives hobnobbing and carousing while our brave men and women fight and die overseas is deeply disturbing. Over all, I found the scenario described so retch-inducing that I actually began to question why I ever got involved with public service in the first place.

Barack Obama

I'm sorry you feel that way, Senator, but glad that you read the blog.

But to the rest of my critics, I can only say this: Don't you people believe in the First Amendment? Or for that matter, democracy?

An important principle is at stake: if reporters are no longer allowed to schmooze with their subjects, how can journalists ever get close enough to perform the time-honored "watchdog" role in case they ever decide to grow some balls? Further, having the trust of your sources is critically important. What's a good way to gain an influential person's trust? Become their willing tool. Of course, people will say this compromises your objectivity. I say there's no better way to prove you lack your own agenda than to advance someone else's.

Being known as the go-to guy or gal when a high-powered individual wants a certain story in the press, be it "Iraq has WMD" or "Tom Cruise has fertile sperm" increases a reporter's stature and enhances his or her ability to make connections. Conversely, there's a word for press people that fail to make the right connections, and that word is poor. And let's get real here: poor journalists without powerful friends don't break the big stories - factual or not.

Oh sure, it's very nice for men like George Clooney to glamourize an era when media workhorses exposed the truth while smoking themselves to death on camera. But those days are gone and not coming back. That was before 24-hour cable news, the Internet and yoga. And though both took place in the Fifties, it was before M*A*S*H. It was before AfterM*A*S*H. A lot has changed.

But I digress. I also believe that asking journalists to testify about their sources will only encourage more government secrecy. Anonymous leaks were essential in major cases like Watergate and the Pentagon Papers. In fact, it was an anonymous leak that made this whole Plame investigation possible in the first place! So let's not throw the baby out with the wife-smearers.

Despite my closeness to the case, I don't know what the final outcome of this whole drama will be. Will the indictments stop with Rove & Libby, or go even higher up - to Vice President Cheney? Or might they ensnare someone relatively powerless, like the president himself? We'll have to wait and see.

For now, good night and good cuticles.

Freedom Rings

Unbeknownst to his many readers, colleagues and purported friends, Lombaire Fan - the creator and proprietor of this blog - has spent the bulk of the past four months in federal prison.



Mr. Fan's imprisonment stems from his still cloudy role in the Valerie Plame controversy. Now he has been released - and the truth can be revealed at last.

Hello readers,

Yes, I've just been released from prison - and not a minute too soon! I can take the loss of freedom, the isolation, the dreariness but a night bunking with Tom DeLay?! I'm sorry - as Daryl Hall & John Oates once sang, "I can't go for that/No!/No!/No can do!" Truthfully, the timing of Mr. DeLay's indictment(s) couldn't have been better - I now have a six-month head start on hosting dibs for the '06 season of The Apprentice.

Some have suggested that being cooped away for four months should have given me lots of time to blog. But you try being the only guy in the weight room with a laptop. I was also a little out of it when it came to current events; I only got to watch CNN's hurricane coverage because so many of the guys in my cell are such big fans of Anderson Cooper. Anyway, I'm glad to be out, and anxious to clear the air about my role in the CIA leak investigation.

So let me share some of what I told the grand jury:

I first learned the name of Valerie Plame in July 2003, when I attended a cocktail party in honor of political humorist Art Buchwald, a Washington fixture who - as of this writing - has still not died. It was shortly thereafter that I learned the attractive, statuesque blonde I had just spent four minutes chatting up was a) married and b) an undercover CIA operative. It was, as they say, quite a defining moment. My quest for bipartisan action on the DC social scene had put me on the verge of a serious breach of both etiquette and national security, one that could've cost lives - most especially my own. I mean, I've been shot down before but never by someone who may have carried actual ammo. I had finally learned my lesson.

But others in Washington were still in need of comeuppance. Like Karl Rove and Lewis "Scooter" Libby.


As top advisers to the president and vice-president, Rove and Libby play a lot of hardball politics during the day. But at night, they're all about hardcore partying. The pair are known as one of Washington's great tag-teams; imagine Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, but older, heavier, balder and somehow, even more smug. They may work for different bosses but after hours, they come together for a common cause: scoring. And it really is a team effort: Rove regales his potential conquests with tales of bare-knuckled Texas politics, while Libby buys drinks and notes that Halliburton does a mean job of installing swimming pools.

Now they had a new target in their sights.

"Whoa", said Rove, as he gazed across the room at the shapely secret agent. "Who's that? Daddy of the Grand Old Party's Corporate-Backed Religio-Fascist Propaganda Infrastructure likes."

"Valerie Plame," I answered.

"Hook us up, bro," interjected Libby. "Think she likes poetry? I just whipped off a really pretty verse about aspens turning on the back of this Niger forgery."

I tried to warn them. "Uh, Mr. Rove, Mr Libby, I really think you better back off. I know you two are always on the hunt. But I don't think this woman is fair game."

"Not fair game?! Of course she's fair game!", Rove shouted, as Cokie Roberts' karoake rendition of "Best Of My Love" filled the hall. "I'm the most powerful man in Washington! Getting her to sleep with me should be as easy as.......squashing the Iraqi insurgency!"

"But.....she's a wife and mother", I protested.

Libby smirked. "Oh yeah? Well, so was Sandra Day O'Conner!", he replied, as both broke into hysterics.

"Come on", Rove pleaded. "What's her deal? Donut-bumper?" I assumed the latter phrase was some kind of government code, perhaps a euphemism for women that work in the lower echelons of the federal bureacracy.

"No," I shrugged. "She's an undercover CIA operative. And you see that ambassador guy - the one who looks like a fat Michael Douglas? That's her husband."

A look of disappointment passed across both of their pasty, chowder-stuffed faces. These two were obviously used to getting what they wanted, and now they had to take no for an answer.

"Aww, fuck," Rove grumpily exclaimed. "I guess now I'm going home with Harriet." I still have no idea if "going home with Harriet" is another euphemism or a reference to an actual woman who works within the White House. [Editors' note: As previously stated, Lombaire Fan has had inconsistent access to Internet, print and television news)

Libby ruffled his papers. "I guess I'll have to save this poem for someone else."

Just weeks later, I would receive my first subpoena.

Next: Why I Decided To Come Clean