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The Scott McClellan story, as told to Michael Kinsley:
It’s sad. It’s just sad. In all my years of public service, I am one of the finest people I have ever had the privilege to know and work with. I cannot imagine why I have chosen this moment to turn against everything I have always stood for—lies, deception, secrets, double talk—unless it was for a six-figure book advance. But the me I knew believed that some things, such as duty, are more important than money. That me saw misleading the public as the highest of missions. That me would never betray me the way this me has done. Frankly, it’s a puzzle. But I will be talking with me later this afternoon, on Oprah, and maybe then I will get some answers. Until then, all I can say is that it’s just very, very sad.
It gets better, for certain values of “better”:
Actually, as I think about it, I start to get really angry. Who the hell do I think I am? Some pipsqueak from nowhere who was hired to tell lies and suddenly thinks he has some sort of mission to tell the truth? I mean, who cares what I think the real reason was for the invasion of Iraq? I wasn’t hired to figure out the real reason. I was hired to put out the phony reason, which I did without objection. But all of a sudden I’m too good to lie. Condi Rice will. Dick Cheney will and loves it. Absolutely loves it. But me? No. I suddenly feel I have some kind of duty to tell the truth. Well, excuuuuuse me!
