March 9, 2010
Excerpts from Karl Rove’s Courage and Consequence
I barely slept last night. Karl Rove’s memoirs were released and I was at the local Barnes and Noble dressed as my favorite character from the book. When the clock struck twelve, I grabbed my copy, skipped the complimentary pizza and punch, and bolted home. In bed with a flashlight and bag of pistachios, I read that thing cover to cover. Apologies to my patient wife. I must have woken her fifteen times with my constant guffaws and gleeful exclamations of “Oh Karl, you didn’t!”
I’m guessing everyone will pick up their copy this afternoon, but I couldn’t resist sharing a few favorite excerpts from this modern masterpiece. Feel free to leave your personal favorites in the comments section below. If you plan to get your copy online, why not click the cover image on the left and buy one through my Amazon Associate account? Karl gets a buck. I get a buck. Capitalism and the Constitution live on!
Excerpts from Karl Rove’s Courage and Consequence
CHAPTER SIX:
I used to love the green room at Meet the Press. They had those bacon-wrapped scallops. You know, the ones you only get at weddings. So, of course, I brought some Ziplocs. Carville came in just as I was pocketing a few for the road. I was pretty sure he saw it and my first thought was to distract him, to walk over and give him the old knuckle-slap to the zipper and say something like “‘Sup Slim Goodbody? Thought Matalin had those boys pickled in a jar.” It wouldn’t work, though. He had me dead to rights. So I went with a respectful nod.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
…which absolutely had me in tears. The biggest surprise was Anne Hathaway. I liked the Princess Diaries as much as anyone (well, maybe not as much as Rumsfeld), but I wasn’t prepared for her range. I knew the awards would, of course, go to Heath and Jake, and they’d be well deserved. The biggest lesson I learned from the film, however, was that we were missing out on an important demographic. Then, more than ever, W. needed to understand that wearing a cowboy hat wasn’t about clearing brush. It was about smoldering, and taking chances on love. I decided the next morning that we would start flying a new, more colorful flag on the pole in Crawford.
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
“How can I understand you if I don’t walk where you walk?” I said to him. “How can I give ‘advice’ if I don’t see my advice in action.” He acknowledged I was right with a simple gesture. He handed me a bulletproof vest. “It will only serve to slow me down, Major,” I said, handing it back. And with the convoy fully loaded, we set out into the night. Fear is a faithful companion. It makes you alert. My fear is what has kept me alive. That, and stem cells.
CHAPTER FIVE:
…and it wasn’t that I didn’t feel anything, it just wasn’t the earth shattering experience one expects. Abbas seemed to be digging it though. He put on an album by some woman named Peaches. Vulgar stuff, but the bass line was pretty intense. I could feel it in my teeth and I was starting to appreciate the appeal. Sharon was at the other side the room, writing on the wall with liquid Tide. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the blacklight was broken. “I wish someone would play with my hair,” Abbas announced. “I would love it sooooo much!” Sharon ignored him. He’d found the mini-fridge. This was a bad idea.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
What was the big deal? I was going to let Glenn take the mulligan. It’s what friends do. But Axelrod and his buddies were standing there, pointing their three-woods at us. “We’re playing through, alright!” Axelrod said in that pissy tone he gets. We backed off from the tee, palms in the air. My blood was heating up and the only thing that kept it below a simmer was thinking of that final scene in Caddyshack. Later, walking back to the clubhouse, Glenn tried to lighten things up with a few Yo Mama jokes. I wasn’t in the mood. “Danny Noonan wins it in the end, you know?” I told him. He didn’t have to answer. He knew. We’d watched that scene about a million times last October.
CHAPTER ONE:
Sure it was “just a lemonade stand,” but it was our lemonade stand. It was also Heather’s last hope. I took the profits, all thirteen dollars and sixty-eight cents and poured them from my marble bag onto Dr. Hoverman’s desk. “Is this enough?” I asked. Dr. Hoverman closed his eyes, shook his head slightly and said, “It takes a lot more than that to buy a little girl a new heart.” I looked at all the framed diplomas on his wall. This was a man who’d seen the world. This was a man who knew things. “Can she have mine?” I asked. “She already does, Karl,” the doctor said with a rare smile. “She already does.”
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