After a decade in Washington, these congressional scandal investigations sort of blend into each other.
It was inevitable he would mix up the Clinton impeachment hearings with the U.S. attorney firing debacle. Both involve accusations of perjury under oath. Both have been characterized as witch hunts conducted by the party in power at the time. And Cannon is reprising his supporting role as partisan-in-chief.
So it makes sense the good representative from Utah County would mix up Department of Justice Republican gatekeeper Monica Goodling with that other Monica - Lewinsky, she of poor dry-cleaning habits - at a news conference two weeks ago.
After that, he threw in a "Wizard of Oz" joke, perhaps an analysis of Goodling's looks:
"If this is a witch hunt, it was Glinda, the pretty witch," Cannon said.
That kind of insight must make Provo proud.
Ten years ago, as a House manager of impeachment hearings for President Clinton, his zeal for the Republicans' case led him to run off at the mouth - quite literally. He repeatedly went over his allotted time. Eventually, even his own party cut him off. But he didn't edit his final remarks; he just read them double time.
Now on the minority side of the aisle, Cannon and the Republicans have recycled the Democrats' 1998 whine that this is much ado about nothing. He tried clumsily to prove the point during Goodling's testimony. Rather than question the woman who made party membership a job qualification for nonpartisan Justice employees, Cannon read an excerpt from another Justice Department official's interview and a Los Angeles Times article about one Democratic congressman's threat to cut off another Republican's pork.
"This started out as corruption," he said in explanation for his waste of time. "Where's the corruption?"
The week wasn't unusual for Cannon. This speak-first, think-later approach to the job has defined much of his six terms in Congress.
Last year, when a gay Republican congressman from Florida was accused of harassing male interns, Cannon theorized that maybe the "precocious" teenagers had a role in their own abuse.
Earlier this year, getting his "facts" from Fox News, Cannon said that Trolley Square shooter Sulejman Talovic shouted the Muslim suicide bomber's "Allah Akhbar" chant while gunning down shoppers. His spokesman only sort of retracted the statement a day later when Salt Lake City Police Chief Chris Burbank repeatedly said there was no eyewitness account to back up that claim.
It all looks like foot-in-mouth syndrome, until you consider Cannon's district. Every two years, he struggles to win re-election as Utah County Republican delegates inevitably tee up a more conservative challenger for the primary election. Cannon usually squeaks by as his wing-nut opponent implodes in the style of "the-devil-doesn't-want-me-to-win" John Jacob.
Even redder-than-red voters have to be embarrassed by their congressman's latest ramblings.
To reward Cannon's partisanship, the White House is doing what it can to save Cannon from himself, letting the congressman from Utah's third district hitch a ride with Vice President Dick Cheney on his way to deliver the commencement address at Brigham Young University last month. Thinking on his feet, Cannon arranged an exclusive interview with his brother's newspaper, the Deseret Morning News.
But a staged, "I have the vice president's ear" moment will quickly be forgotten during next year's campaign if Cannon doesn't shut his mouth. Or, at least, think before he opens it.
walsh@sltrib.com
