LIVING IN THE PAST: WHY I HATE SCOOTER LIBBY

I was pleased to hear the guilty verdict in the I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby perjury trial. I hope more dowfalls follow. In November 2005, I was interviewed by DC television news crew for my reaction. I doubt the piece aired with me intact, because I railed about the guy's stupid name, and said I hope it heralded many indictments to come. I'm still waiting on the latter.

I despise the man for going by the nickname "Scooter"? What possesses a 51 year-old man to let people call him "Scooter"? I'll tell you: arrogance and a sense of entitlement so overwhelming it can probably be seen from space. I mean, the "I" in Libby's name is bad enough. I don't even want to know what establishment dickwad appellation he's disguising there. But I resent that a man can walk around with such a life of privilege that he never realizes he's being called a twat every time he's addressed.

I, too, had a boy's school nickname: Brutus. The story of Libby's nickname is that as a baby, he scooted about his cot. I don't know if that's true, but I bet he got used to it from his prep school friends. They probably heard his parents use it, began using it themselves in mockage a few times, and then continued using it as a nickname for, well, for the the rest of their lives. I don't know if that's true, either.

I got my nickname after someone smashed my tennis racket. Yes, tennis racket. It was a prestigious prep school. Word got around that I did it myself in a fit of rage, against a column (it was a prestigious prep school). That story was so good that whoever did it -- and looking back after twenty years, I think I know who, which is funny because I never had a suspect in mind at the time.

The rich kids started calling me Brutus. As in, brutal. Good-natured mockage, in its way. Since I wasn't friends with any of them before, "Brutus" was the name by which they knew me. I had a number of older friends who called me Dave, but they eventually started with the Brutus stuff, too. (By the way, this was much preferable to the weeks-long running joke that I had AIDS. )

So, people called me Brutus. I never mentioned it to anyone outside the school except by way of explanation, such as when people would call my home, and ask my parents if they could speak to Brutus. I don't think I played a different character when I went by Brutus, although I did take advantage of the acceptance it represented to indulge in my own bullying of less popular kids.

You have to understand, these kids were assholes. Think about attending a school, full of rich kids who had been going there together since kindergarten, making fun of the cheap redneck shit clothing my parents could then afford. And then imagine a fat pre-pubescent rich asshole dressed like Sonny from Miami Vice: pink t-shirt, white linen blazer, white pants. And legit name brand shit, not the Miami Vice costume one would assemble from thrift stores. I meant, could. Em.

Anyway, that stupid fat rich kid could dress like a complete asshole -- he looked ridiculous -- partially because his peers thought it was cool, and the rest let him get away with it. Had I stayed at Gilman,* I would have no doubt I would have been called Brutus until I was 17, and possibly gone to college with a couple guys who would have called me that, and they would have spread it on to the fraternity I would have inevitably joined.

I'd be Brutus right now, and I who knows what I'd be doing right now.

* Which was not a given, even had my parents not moved to Seattle before high school. I was arrested for shoplifting a week before graduation. My older sister tells me that my parents had to "pull some strings"** to just get them to keep them from expelling me the day before eight grade graduation. That would have been something, since the prior year half my classmates were caught routinely stealing from the school store, and received a mass amnesty (although some community service was probably involved). My dad tells me that no such measures were considered.

**I don't know what kind of strings these could be. Poor family, no connections. I doubt they paid a bribe.

Originally written on March 7, 2007. I cannot believe I didn't publish this gem.