Nice Touch, Karl

They say once you've stage managed, you're ruined for life. You'll never enjoy another performance. It's difficult not to see the wires, notice the direction, and recognize when someone is calling the shots. And that's all fine; you wouldn't want anything to go wrong on a one-time, live for TV event you didn't get to rehearse. In this case, however, you just know that somewhere nearby, in some truck or behind a tree, Karl Rove is the shot caller. All the while the rest of us are being admonished not to politicize this maelstrom of 'unfortunate events', but not Karl. Karl Rove is, after all, the King Daddy of politics.

Tell me how this is not political. The Rehnquist family is not carrying the box. The remaining justices are not carrying the box. No Marine Guards. No colleagues. The President and Vice President, who owe this man their jobs, are not carrying the box. But a selection of former clerks? Poetry. With one of them bucking for the dead mans job. Amazing.

The guy driving on the left is speaking into his cuff. The odd man out, bringing up the back for no apparent reason, is wearing a transceiver. And of course, Supreme Court hopeful John Roberts is carrying the box. It strikes me as reminiscent of the funeral of Pope John Paul, with an uncomfortable Bush seated among world leaders he had brutally offended as recently as the week before. Karl went along for the ride, for no apparent reason, and in the end somehow all the world leaders were seated in alphabetical order, by country -- in French. Again, for no apparent reason, but Bush sat on the aisle and next to friendlies.

Again, none of this is important and that's all good, but do not tell me not get political.