We are all Brett Kavanaugh now.

The Wall Street Journal said yesterday that “We’re all Deplorables now,” and that’s true, but it can be narrowed down even further than that.

We are all Brett Kavanaugh now.

The politics of personal destruction that the Democrats and the media — but I repeat myself — have used in this despicable campaign to crush Kavanaugh could just as easily be deployed against anybody who gets in their way, male or female.

They keep calling him a “serial predator.” Where’s the evidence? There is none — zip, zero, nada. They say he enjoys “white male privilege.” What privilege?

Think about some of the “charges” leveled against Judge Kavanaugh, and consider if you could be charged with the same heinous crimes against humanity:

Did you ever drink beer in high school?

Did you ever play sports in high school?

Did you ever break wind in your teen years?

Did you ever rent a cottage at the beach for the weekend?

Did you ever throw an ice cube at somebody?

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Have you ever acted “belligerently” — perhaps when someone you don’t even know accused you of running a rape gang at age 15?

Can you imagine such a nightmare? Every charge more unhinged than the last one, and the people making them — are you bleepin’ kidding me?

In that Senate hearing room, there was exactly one admitted groper — I’m looking at you, Sen. Cory “Spartacus” Booker. Kavanaugh was interrogated about his prep-school yearbook by a graduate of the biggest perv prep school in America, St. Paul’s — I’m looking at you, Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse.

One of Kavanaugh’s accusers said she kept going back to these rape parties where he was spiking the punch with both quaaludes and grain alcohol.

That date-rape woman is represented by the creepy porn lawyer, Michael Avenatti.

Anyway, after those uncorroborated charges, a former sort-of boyfriend of this woman, who happened to be a former Democrat candidate for Congress, by the way, said she used to talk to him about how much she used to enjoy group sex during high school.

Didn’t see that story too many places, did you? It didn’t fit the narrative. You see, it doesn’t matter that her story fell apart, she’s still … a survivor.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein sits on the first allegations for six weeks, and yesterday accuses the FBI of “rushing” the investigation. A Yale classmate of Kavanaugh’s demands the FBI call him because, he said, “I had concerns that there was a good chance he wasn’t telling the truth.”

The truth about what? “His assertions of his rectitude during his high school and college years.”

Another classmate at Yale said he could corroborate another incident because “it matches the same story I heard 35 years ago.”

Can someone say hearsay? This guy then gave The New Yorker magazine the name of another Yalie he allegedly “heard” it from — alas, “He said that he had no memory of the incident.”

What has done to Kavanaugh could be done to anyone who’s not on the team. No proof, nothing, and unlike the old days, you don’t even get to stand up a story to put it out. Remember the line to the reporters in “All the President’s Men” — “You haven’t got it!”

You don’t hear that line anymore. As long as it’s against a Trump guy, feel free to print the most outrageous charges.

All these pampered pukes Kavanaugh went to school with — the only women accusing him are liberals, have you noticed? — can’t wait to make some crazy charge against him.

Here’s another thing that you might want to think about when you consider what the moonbat mob has done to this poor guy. Daniel Henninger mentioned it yesterday in the WSJ:

“The coverage … has also put a whiff of anti-Catholicism in the air, with the constant invocations of ‘Georgetown Prep,’ suggesting not subtly that this all-boys school, founded by Jesuits in 1789, was an abusers’ breeding ground. To invoke a legal term, this is a slander, and many at this point resent it.”

There’s a lot to resent about this whole high-tech lynching, to use Clarence Thomas’ phrase. And not just if your name is Brett Kavanaugh.

But then, today we are all Brett Kavanaugh.

Buy Howie’s book “Kennedy Babylon” at howiecarrshow.com.

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(c)2018 the Boston Herald

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