We have just the ticket. Imagine this: What if there is a connection between the announcement of Karl Rove's divorce and the recent discovery of 22 million missing e-mails from the Bush White House?
What if those missing e-mails provide a paper trail that prove Rove was behind efforts to use the U.S. Department of Justice as a political weapon? What if the Rove inner circle now knows that hard evidence exists to prove he was behind numerous criminal actions in the Bush administration?
Is this part of a pattern of special treatment for Karl "Turd Blossom" Rove? If you or I were involved in a divorce, the records would be public; not for King Karl. If you or I had abused the U.S. constitution and caused innocent people to be wrongly incarcerated, we would have been wearing orange jump suits a long time ago; not King Karl. If you or I were called to testify before Congress, it would be under oath and in public; not for King Karl.
But maybe Turd Blossom's luck is about to run out. We learn about discovery of the missing Bush e-mails on December 14. We learn about Rove's divorce on December 29.
Darby Hickson Rove is an Alabama girl. And we don't grow no stupid girls down here in Alabama.
Could our gal Darby be thinking: "You know, it sounds like these new e-mails might be enough to send Tur . . . I mean my beloved husband . . . up the river to some pound-me-in-the-ass prison. (Tip of the hat to a film classic, Office Space.) I think it might be time to hit the exits, with a substantial sum of hush money in hand."
The Web already is aflutter with speculation that the divorce could mean Rove will finally hook up with GOP gay hunk Jeff Gannon.
But the thought that White House e-mails might provide a damning paper trail on King Karl . . . well, that has to be my favorite angle.
Is this all wishful thinking on my part? Probably. But hey, it's almost New Year's Day, and a guy is entitled to dream a little at this time of year.
Karl Rove in a pound-me-in-the-ass prison? Now there's a thought to warm the spirits.
Almost makes me feel like Homer Simpson, thinking about a donut. "Ummm . . . donut . . . "