You know that books are someday going to be written about the battle to confirm U.S. District Judge Brett Kavanaugh to the U.S Supreme Court, right?

You know that the authors who research these books will not labor under the time and scope restrictions of the just-concluded FBI supplemental background check on Kavanaugh, right?

You know that these authors and other journalists — including, of course, documentarians, broadcasters and investigative reporters — are going to interview more than the nine people reportedly recently interviewed by the FBI when agents were seeking information relating to allegations that Kavanagh committed sexual assault in his youth, right?

You know that individual newspaper writers often interview more than nine people for just one story about a comparatively trivial matter, right? And that history will come to regard the FBI investigation as a brazen whitewash orchestrated by Senate Republicans, right?

You know that there are high school and college classmates of Kavanaugh and associates of his alleged victims who will come forward with their memories as soon as there’s no risk of them being hauled in front of a televised Senate Judiciary Committee hearing and then doxxed, pilloried and threatened by trolls on social media, right?

You know that, at the very least, they’ll establish conclusively that Kavanaugh lied under oath Sept. 27 about the meaning of some of the entries in his high school yearbook, right?

You may not have known that “boofing” is slang for taking alcohol or drugs in suppository form, but now you do, right? You know that Kavanaugh’s insistence that the “have you boofed yet?” line next to both his yearbook photo and the yearbook photo of his buddy Mark Judge referred to flatulence is absurd, right?

You know that breaking wind is an exceedingly common bodily function and that the only time the question “have you passed gas yet?” makes any sense is after someone has had abdominal surgery, right?

You know that “FFFFF,” which appears in both Kavanaugh’s yearbook entry and as the signoff on a letter he wrote to his male high school friends, is bro slang for an attitude toward women that begins “Find ’em, French ’em …” and ends with “Forget ’em,” right?

You know that if it actually referred to stammering, as Kavanaugh said under oath, it would have been “F-f-f-f-f,” right?

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You know that “Renate Alumnius,” the term that appears next to Kavanaugh’s photo that I wrote about in detail in a previous column, was part of a nasty, leering in-joke at the expense of a young woman they knew from an all-girls school and not the expression of friendship and affection he swore it was, right?

You know that Renate Schroeder Dolphin recently learned of his humiliation and responded that “the insinuation is horrible, hurtful and simply untrue,” right?

You know that these and other falsehoods are material because Kavanaugh told them in service of portraying himself as just a guy who occasionally had too many beers in high school but would never have gotten blackout drunk and sexually assaulted a female acquaintance, right?

You know that it’s against the law to lie under oath even in the service of what you know or believe to be the God’s honest truth, right?

You know that, at the very least, with a lifetime appointment to one of the most powerful positions in America at stake, neutral investigators should have taken the time to investigate fully whether Kavanaugh perjured and therefore automatically disqualified himself before the Senate committee, right?

You know that the character and honesty of Supreme Court justices who hold the fate of our liberties in their hands should be far above reproach, not in serious doubt, right?

You know the perjury question is separate from the question of whether certain politicians have lied or harassed and attacked women, whether partisan motivations are animating this controversy or whether Christine Blasey Ford’s allegation against Kavanaugh is even true, right?

You know that when the books on Kavanaugh come out, the most rigorous are very likely to be particularly hard on the defenders of the embattled nominee who just couldn’t wait to ram him onto the court, much like “Strange Justice: The Selling of Clarence Thomas” by Jane Mayer and Jill Abramson did in a 400-page examination of the claims against Thomas by Anita Hill, right?

Good talk!