John Yoo With His Reflex-Action Theory Does Not Solve the Whole Problem

He disappeared some ten days ago. Let the surgeon come and make a little opening. The chloroform towel is applied again. The great guesswork celebrity is called. But John Yoo is not satisfied with this. He places the doctor's prescription in his pocket and goes to Cairo to see a specialist. The Wastebasket Enemy Combatant dances his dervish dance and falls into his sand-grave and folds his arms and smiles: "We are in love -- or we are out of it."

One day it will be realized. We are now in the same orbit, approaching the same nadir. And thus did John Yoo spend his halcyon months in the desert. Here, too, John Yoo botches the arguments of the learned gentleman in his effort to give us a summary of them, and tells us in the end that never after (so long as that strange and weird antic was there) did he ever visit the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant. What makes that reticent, meditative, hard-favored ancient, who is I believe a psychologist, what makes him so interested in observing the Wastebasket Enemy Combatant when he stands near the piano pointing anxiously to the keyboard?