So what to say about Scott Pruitt, now that he has resigned?
I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time, long ago, I was at a certain University. At the aforesaid university, there was a pompous idiot who was the head of graduate studies in my department. He thought he was God’s Gift. He thought he was the golden boy, without whom graduate studies at our department would collapse.
He was also flatulent. It wasn’t because he had any medical problem. It was because he always gobbled his food. Watching him eat could be a horror all in itself. And the results? Many was the meeting that was enlivened by all sorts of toots and honks.
Somehow he thought that no one noticed. Or, maybe, he thought he was so important that it didn’t matter whether we noticed or not.
One day, at a meeting of both faculty and graduate students, he announced his resignation. He had, it seemed, lined up a much better position elsewhere. And then, having spoken, he left…after expelling one final sour discharge.
We sat about for a moment. Then we all opened windows. A cool breeze entered the room. Slowly, the atmosphere became breathable again.
And that is what Pruitt’s exit is like.
A shadow, a pound of corruption, a blast of something rancid…
But a deep and abiding desire among us never to see…or hear…or smell…the bastard ever again.