Who Wrote Dreams?

Once more, Jack Cashill piles on the evidence that Bill Ayers wrote Dreams From My Father.

I'm convinced; not that that matters to anyone else. Believing, or even caring, that Bill Ayers wrote Dreams From My Father is like wondering who killed Vince Foster. The mainstream punditocracy is more interested in gamesmanship than truth. This is a matter that they have decided is unimportant, and their decision is final. Don't bother asking.

The only way we will ever know who really wrote Dreams is if the author — or one of the other three who certainly know — confesses. They won't. Bill Ayers will follow the lead of his hero Alger Hiss, and lie about it to the bitter end. Likewise Bernardine Dohrn. Barack Obama has nothing to gain from the truth about this or anything else in his past, and Michelle will certainly stand by her man, as long as she can stand the man.

Have they told anyone else? Does anyone else know, anyone who craves their fifteen minutes of fame? I doubt it. The moment to step forward has passed. Bill and Bernadine and Barack and Michelle are the only ones who know who really wrote Dreams.

The media don't care. "No one," they say, "will ever know." I hate that phrase. It's never true. You might say that "everyone will never know" but not that "no one will ever know." Four people know.

They're just not telling.