Ginsburg was only recently dumped by the Lewinsky family in favor of two well-oiled Washington smoothies, Jacob Stein and Plato Cacheris. But he was doomed from the start. Ill-tempered, vain, indiscreet, too fond of seeing his face on the small screen, Ginsburg was shocked and appalled by Washington. So appalled that he couldn't help but tell the truth about it. In fact, from the minute he stepped off the plane, he practically hemorrhaged brutal honesty about Washington.

This was not acceptable. He told reporters they were intrusive, self-righteous, and sometimes stupid. He ridiculed those who would turn an alleged private sexual encounter into a constitutional crisis, who would wantonly violate every corner of the private life of a citizen, from her closets to her email.

He was contemptuous of zealous prosecutors, self-important Washington lawyers, and so-called pundits. He appealed to the American public to consider just how absurd and disturbing the civic nightmare he had stumbled into was.

Ginsburg could have been the hero of the hour, and for the odd minute here and there, he was. But then he stumbled. What he showed us was not only how blunt, but how foolish and vain he was. And just how cruel a place this nation's capital really is. Within weeks he was sucked dry and spit out. He permitted himself to get drawn into the very machine and manipulated by the very process he had so enthusiastically condemned.

Ginsburg might have survived despite all of his character flaws. But one such flaw made that impossible: a propensity for impulsively telling the unfiltered truth. This was too much for the capital's political, legal, and journalistic communities -- really one interchangeable gang operating under different names.

According to gleeful media accounts of Ginsburg's dumping, the last straw was his wry observation that for all the light and thunder, the best Kenneth Starr was likely to do was show -- at great effort and enormous expense -- that two adults engaged in a consensual sexual relationship. This was outrageous, fumed Washington insiders. The man had said aloud what we all know to be true. He had, said his critics, demeaned the legal process, and undermined the position of his client. Two days later, he was gone.

Ginsburg was always very much the Washington outsider. He never resembled the self-important slickies who overrun the place. Obnoxious and blunt, he was appalled by what he was seeing and couldn't stop pointing out that the place was a nightmare.

Although he became a media curiosity for a few weeks, he never bothered to stop and learn the rules of contemporary media and political leadership: spin, polish, lie, duck. Thus he couldn't play by them -- a capital offense in the capital.

He showed open, unlawyerly contempt for Kenneth Starr and for the pompous, self-righteous posturing of many Washington journalists. He never quite grasped that he was violating a taboo by ridiculing the investigation into his client's sexual history. Didn't realize the nerve he'd strike -- all because the Monica Lewinsky drama isn't important to the pundits and lawyers for any reason other than that it makes them seem important.

Finally, like Bill Gates, the Lewinsky family figured out how Washington really works.

Stein and Cacheris appeared with a dignified Monica and made a big deal out of refusing to comment on the case -- in pointed contrast to Ginsburg's addiction to mouthing off on talk shows -- sometimes one right after another.

The next day, the two lawyers paid a courtesy call on Starr -- one set of Washington heavyweights to another -- resulting in admiring newspaper profiles of Cacheris and Stein and much "background" analysis exploring their thinking about the case and attendant legal strategies. The Independent Counsel and Lewinsky's lawyers were no longer adversaries but colleagues getting down to the business of sorting things out.

You won't catch the new team going on talk shows railing about outrageous prosecutorial invasions of privacy or railing about the insanity of paralyzing the government over an alleged blow job. Jake and Plato will just call Ken up and resolve things quietly.

Washington reporters fell all over themselves in adoration of Ginsburg's replacements. In the big papers and on the evening news, not a single critical or skeptical word was uttered about either of them. They were described as "elite" lawyers, "brilliant" deal-makers, experienced capital lawyers, "perfect gentlemen," gracious when they could be and tough when they had to be.

One New York Times reporter noted how cute it was that the pair stood in front of so many reporters, many of whom were close chums of theirs, and had to pretend to be unwilling to know them or talk, confining themselves to sly winks, waves, and nods. How cozy.

"As frenetic as it has been," reported The New York Times in a startlingly gushy profile, "none of Mr. Stein's friends expect that he will interrupt his signature habit of closing himself off from the world for afternoon literary 'siestas,' when he does not answer the phone and he indulges his appetite for book reading, especially in French and English writers of the 18th and 19th centuries. 'The only talent I've got, I think, is the talent for staying awake while reading,' Mr. Stein once told an interviewer."

So he's learned, and modest too.

(Fellow geeks, from now on, please don't email me in the afternoons. I'll be holed up studying the writings of John Perry Barlow and other digerati.)

The sighs of relief in the capital were palpable. Monica Lewinsky's fighting days are over.

Starr's attorneys were described as being very pleased. Other Washington lawyers were joyous. The frustrated pundits who have been beating their breasts over the American public's refusal to regard dopey capital missteps as gravely as they do, took heart. The circle had closed around the disconnected and elitist world of reporters, lawyers, politicians, and spin-makers who control our national political life.

As for poor Ginsburg, "My strategy hit a wall," he told one reporter sadly. "It was no longer working." It was, he conceded, time for a change. His 15 minutes were over. So was our surprise and occasional pleasure at having at least one prominent figure in the drama playing the role of the faithful Greek chorus: reminding us again and again just how ridiculous we have become.

Jon Katz is a voracious reader, too. But since it's all online, he can wrap it up in about 10 minutes. So he has plenty of time to answer all your email.

Related links:

The Intern-gate press defines journalistic arrogance.

Readers respond - strongly - to Katz's take on the White House intern scandal.

Drudge broke Zippergate online, but his scoop's no watershed.

Who cares about Intern-gate? The press, the pols, but not the public.

Lewinsky scandal takeaway: Five rules for sane journalism.