Dear Jerry:

Hope this finds you well and happy, and contemplating the miracle, the birthday, that sweet grace that is Christmas.

Say, speaking of Christmas, I could probably get you a quart of the good stuff, you know, a little something to spry up the eggnog, if you wouldn't blab all over creation where you got it, or get too picky about the law where stuff like that is concerned. Something tells me you can keep a secret. Anyway, let me know if you want a quart.

The real reason I write is to offer a little unsolicited advice on handling this eavesdropping thing. Getting all red-faced and sputtery and blaming it on the press, like you did in Richmond the other day, is not the thing to do. These folks buy ink by the barrel. That ought to tell you something.

And getting snotty with the lieutenant governor? What's with that? I wasn't there, but folks who were tell me that was way over the top, that you looked guilty, that you looked like you're hiding something. Not good, Jerry. That's not how you want to come across, not in front of the press. Not good at all.

And, for crying out loud, lay off of George Whitehurst. He's just a good reporter doing his job. And doing it well. They think a lot of him at the Danville paper. You're not getting any mileage out of cheap-shotting him. Rein you staff in and put a stop to that. It's hurting you, not helping.

It's pretty obvious to me, reading Whitehurst's reportage of this mess, that someone close to you, now or in the past, is talking to him. Frequently. And, worse than that, telling the truth. Little weasel.

This is a problem, Jerry. It sets you up in a crossfire. You see, how these situations work is this: good reporters -- and Whitehurst is one of them -- rarely ask a question they don't already know the answer to.

They're not looking for the answer. They know that already. What they're looking for is whether or not you will tell them a lie. And, of course, you can do that all day long unless -- unless -- there is a weasel on the loose.

And that's what you have, Jerry: a weasel on the loose.

Not to fret, though. There is a time-tested fall-back position that will get you through this. Unfortunately, it means simply telling the truth. As unpleasant, as discomforting, as counterintuitive as that may seem, there really is no other option, given the weasel factor.

Where to start? That's easy.

Take a deep breath and tell us exactly, precisely, what you knew and when you knew it. Don't quibble. Don't qualify. Don't stutter. Just lay it out for us. (Hey, the weasel's going to, sooner or later. You might as well.)

Secondly, make the folks who work for you do the same thing. Right now, your chief of staff and your chief counsel are telling two different stories about who knew what, going into the redistricting meeting in the speaker's office on March 25.

It's like one is humming 'Silent Night', the other 'Don't Fence Me In.' Taken alone, either tune is fine, nice, even. Together, they don't sound too good, Jerry. You need to get them on the same sheet of music.

Look, you and I have our political differences. And probably always will. That's not what this is about. I'm trying to help you on this one. I really am. I guess it's just the season in me.

Best wishes.

Sincerely,

B. Day

PS: Hope ol' Sanny Clause is good to you.

Consider this for your Christmas gift list:
A 60,000 word collection of Barnie Day’s commentaries, entitled "A Mule Yule: Hey, Jesus didn’t ride in on an elephant," with an introduction by Jerry Baliles and forwards by Frosty Landon, Larry Sabato, Robert Holsworth,and Bill Wood, is available from the Democratic Party of Virginia. Contact Laura Bland, toll-free, at 1-800-322-1144

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