Perhaps a more nuts & bolts approach would have it "Justice Meeted Upon Delay." But you have got to love the deer-in-the-headlights look on his puss, i.e., in the earlier editions of WaPo. Be that as it may, it won't constitute justice until the greasy prick is frog-marched (and thank you for that visual, Joe Wilson & John Holmes) in an orange-jumpsuit.
On the other side of Sewer Hill, Bill Frist, the other majority white meat, is looking a little doped-up as well, for his shinola is hitting the fan, but hard.
Meanwhile the ice under ol' Dubya's skates looks to be glazing thinner & thinner, and we ain't talkin' Global Warming.
[Sigh!] Only 3-1/2 more years to go.
This dreary comedy reminds me of the climax scene in Devil's Advocate, where Al Pacino, playing Beelzebubba, works himself into a frothy malted as he raconts his vision of piling all earthly corruption high into the sky, to where it will stink out even Heaven itself. And I cannot recall, or count as high as that, the number of times I would think of that scene while reading in the news the latest Republican outrage.
My guess is the movie would play to a far wider audience today than it did in '97, especially if the marketing blarred something like: "Ripped From The Headlines!!"
Footnote: Spotted Jack Valenti in the Tenleytown Showcase audience that opening weekend in '97 -- Chontos & I did. Contended here that his is the representation of grease swinging both ways.