Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Monday, August 29, 2022

Legal Dilemma: A Crazy Lawyer

Some years back I wrote a speculative post about a former lawyer and political figure giving a graduation speech to a law school on his true motivations for behaving the way he did. My one mistake was in dating it for 2020. It is in that spirit, however, that I present the following: possible testimony before a Congressional committee.

"Members of the committee, thank you for having me today. It's nice to be back here among my colleagues from my days when we were all in Congress together. Now you might be saying to yourselves, 'he was never in Congress.' Well, maybe that's true, and maybe it's not. I guess it all depends on how you define congress. Do you define it as this institution? Sure. Was I a congressman? I'm honestly not sure. You figure that one out. But if we define congress as being in congress with a hooker, well, I've been there, and I imagine some of you have... you know what, let's strike that from the record. I didn't say that. I did not.

Okay, let's get down to why it is I'm here today. You've asked me to come and testify about this whole attempted coup thing and my part in it, and the part of my client. Well, former client, because I'm not allowed to practice law anymore for some reason, and because my former client stiffed me for everything I was due anyway. Where was I? Oh, yes. The coup. 

Look, here's the thing. Who can say what happened that day. Maybe it's all what you say happened. Maybe a bunch of my former client's fans got worked up and tried to overturn democracy and overthrow the government because their idol- my former client- told them to. Maybe it was a bunch of antifa guys and some FBI guys who framed them. I don't know, do you know? 

Because when it comes down to it, who knows anything? I don't know what I ate for dinner last night. Maybe that's just me being absent minded. Maybe it's senility. At least that's what I'm holding in reserve as my defense for any future criminal proceedings against me. As well as what I'll say to the fourth Mrs. Giuliani, whoever she might be, when it comes out that I was picking up a hooker on the Upper East Side.

Where was I? Oh, yes. January 6th. Okay. Yes. Now Tucker Carlson and his gang will have you believe it was all a big misunderstanding. That these were patriots who got a bit carried away, and the real bad stuff was all done by bad actors. I don't know. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't.

Because like I've said before, truth isn't always truth. And facts aren't always facts. And it's in that spirit that I'd like to say the following.

These are the real facts, ladies and gentlemen.

I've spent the last six years making an ass of myself.

Sorry for the bad language, but it had to be said. Besides, I have it on good authority that McConnell says much worse to his interns.

But why would I do that? Why would I sacrifice my dignity and constantly make myself sound like a buffoon?

Payback, ladies and gentlemen. Payback. 

But payback to one man.

My former client.

Donald Trump.

That's right. I said it. You heard it.

It was all for a good cause. Payback.

Don't think for one moment that I'd forgotten his insults of me before he seriously thought of running for office. Of course he was insulting everyone else too, but seriously, that hurt. Now I could have simply ignored it. I could have simply responded. Instead I decided on a different technique. I'd get myself in close with him. Do the whole sucking up to him thing that nearly every other Republican was doing after he got the nomination, even after he had savaged them. Instead of being a spineless toadie, I'd be doing it with an ulterior motivation. Revenge.

So that was my plan. Be his fixer, the guy who goes on television and says ridiculous things to deflect from the even more ridiculous things he says. Make speeches in which I'm making a fool of myself over and over again. All while slowly gathering evidence. Because let's face it, I was a prosecutor, and I know how to build a case and how to preserve a chain of evidence. 

And so over time that's what I did. Ladies and gentlemen, the seventeen briefcases I've brought in here today contains all the evidence you need. Recordings and documentation. Bribery and manipulation by the Russians of the former president. His seething contempt for his base and everyone else whose name isn't Ivanka. And his plans to use the January 6th siege to overthrow valid election results. Irrefutable proof that he betrayed the country in favour of his colossal ego.

I would like to enter all of that into the record of these proceedings as my service to the country, and who knows? Maybe my redemption.

I'll say this much. It was worth it.

Six years of behaving like a toadie and making an ass of myself on behalf of a man who treated me like garbage and ridiculed me endlessly. All to bring him down, one way or another. 

And he made it so easy. Easy in the sense of it that it wasn't that hard to gather evidence against him. Hard in that I had to put up with that orange dumbass with the toupee for six years and had to bite my tongue every time he insulted me.

It's my distinct privilege to provide you with all the evidence you need to put an end to the Trump era. To put him into the ashbin of history once and for all. If his fans are still too gullible to see him for what he is after all of this evidence is circulated, well, nothing will ever convince them.

Over the next few hours, I'll take you step by step through all of the evidence. But before I do that, I would like to have something a bit off colour entered into the record.

It's directed to my former client.

Donald: fuck you.

Oh, and in the spirit of being mature, 'nyah nyah nyah nyah!' 

Mike drop, baby!"


Comments and opinions always welcome. If you're a spammer, your messages aren't going to last long here, even if they do make it past the spam filters. Keep it up with the spam, and I'll send Dick Cheney after you.