Imagine you're I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby.Fitzgerald has to wrap up by the end of this week unless he extends the grand jury which the folks with far better knowledge don't think he is going to do. I think the next few weeks are going to require a few batches of popcorn and perhaps a bottle of champagne for good measure (though I work in a brewery and a beer may be more appropriate. Perhaps a batch of indictment ale is in order).
I know, it's not easy.
It's not easy imagining yourself striding manfully down the corridors of power or plotting the overthrow of tyrants while answering to the name of "Scooter."
You're not even being treated as a honorable warrior whose crime (if it was a crime) and sin (if it was a sin) was standing up for your boss against that showboating prick Joe Wilson.
No, those you've been loyal to are now disloyally sliding the blade into your back and not even allowing you a dignified sacrifice. They've broken the code of silence are leaking like mad to the LA Times
See, I'm imaging that if I'm Scooter Libby, I might be thinking that Karl and his crew overplayed their hand making me the leper, and maybe I've got some things of my own to divulge, and if I go down, maybe I won't be going down alone.
They're not going to pin this all on me.