Cloudy With A Chance Of Perjury
April 3, 2023
Many
people who have to speak thoughtfully and carefully in public are saying what a
sad time it is for our country that a badly defeated, disgraced,
twice-impeached, failed insurrection leader and Fifth-Amendment-dependent
ex-one-term-president has been indicted. We are told that this is a sad time
for the presidency. They remind us that everyone in this country is presumed
innocent until proven guilty.
I
understand the sentiment, but the time to be sad was every fucking second after
Grifty McConman descended his golden elevator and began subjecting America to a
years-long golden shower as he called Mexicans rapists and murderers, got
elected by the Electoral College and proceeded to make America a political
Superfund site. The sadness has filled very single moment until Trump was
finally indicted. The sadness has finally begun to dissipate.
Other
people, who know not the meaning of the words thoughtful or careful (among many
other words), have come out swinging, whining, lying, and railing against the
indictment of Trump on charges they have not even seen yet. This, despite the
preponderance of evidence, some of which almost everyone in the world has seen
and/or heard with their own eyes and/or ears.
I Have
(Not Necessarily The Best) Words
As a
professional nobody, I need be neither careful nor thoughtful and I will unashamedly
admit to being happy for our country at this moment. There is nothing but good
news regarding Donald Trump’s indictment (with the possible exception of the
likelihood of bloodshed in his name). Trump should never have soiled the
presidency, and been permitted to commit uncountable crimes against this nation.
He needs to be taken behind the proverbial woodshed and taught a lesson. And
since he will never admit to anything, never show remorse, never rehabilitate
himself, he should be locked up for good.
Having
all-too-closely observed the life and crimes of Donald Trump, I cannot in good
conscience presume him innocent. He has gone out of his way to prove himself
guilty. Every single day of his miserable life. The rest should just be a
formality.
Now
is a time to rejoice at the thought that democracy might be truly alive.
Wheezing, limping, clutching its chest in response to debilitating pain, but still
alive. Let us savor this moment in case the man that made P.T. Barnum jealous
once again slips through the fingers of justice.
Personally,
I am looking forward to watching Trump lie under oath as he sniffs and sweats
his way through his testimony, which will of course be liberally sprinkled with
invocations of the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination. I will also
be hoping that Stormy Daniels has a chance to testify against tiny Don. If only
she had a blue dress.
I. Mangrey. What are
you?
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