Forget, for a moment, about the words escaping Lindsey Graham’s feckless and pouty mouth today, and the threats conjured when said words are stitched and strung together. Forget his long and pillowy face, and how when things drip out from them you’re sometimes left to wonder how a hot dog bun possesses the wherewithal to speak. Forget the pathological misogyny, the boundless antipathy for honesty, the transparently vapid false equivalencies. Forget even his voice, which sounds like rats laughing, but if those rats were somehow also Scarlett O’Hara.
Instead, look into his eyes. Watch them, as he attempts to not just deny the credibility of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford but that her credibility even matters. They are the eyes of a man—a white man—who is scared shitless. That motherfucker is shook. If you snuck behind him right now and said “Boo!” he might just die.
His eyes are the same eyes I remember seeing through the helmet of the kick returner in 8th grade who had the misfortune of catching and returning a punt while six of my teammates bore down on him. I’d never seen someone so frightened of the possibility of what might happen next. Lindsey Graham, talking to those reporters today, is that kid. He’s attempting to project a facade of toughness and mettle when he really just wants the scary people to leave so he can go home and play Uno.
I have no clue what’s going to happen next here, and if Dr. Ford (and the other women who’ve come forward) will prevent Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation. I just hope Lindsey Graham brought some extra drawers to work today.