That’s all?
Not since Stormy left a hotel room in Nevada has anyone been so disappointed.
For four weeks, cable news anchors have been consumed, a presidential election has been paralyzed, and those eating lunch have rebelled as sloppy, salacious testimony flows like raw sewage from a courtroom in lower Manhattan.
It is here that the first former American president in history was tried for the crime of… well, we still don’t know exactly.
According to Democratic hackers in the Manhattan District Attorney’s office, our 45th Commander in Chief once ordered a mental midget to pay a professional knob polisher for his silence and then criminally cooked the books to hide the alleged hide-and-seek game. -the- pickle.
They assured us that Gotham’s burly, bail-phobic district attorney and his top prosecutor, recruited from the upper echelons of Biden’s Justice Department no less, knew what the hell they were doing.
Yet on the final day of the prosecution’s case, he still looked weaker than Harvey Weinstein’s long jump.
If there was ever definitive proof that this Trivial Trial of the Century is nothing more than the absolute degradation – dare I say – political pornification of the American legal system, it is this: it all hinged on the word of a hired screw. working artist… and Stormy Daniels.
So, as this judicial abomination comes to an end, let us survey the carnage and lament the decaying republic we are leaving for our children.
If there was ever definitive proof that this Trivial Trial of the Century is nothing more than the absolute degradation – dare I say – political pornification of the American legal system, it is this: it all hinged on the word of a hired screw. Working artist… and Stormy Daniels.
For four weeks, cable news anchors have been consumed, a presidential election has been paralyzed, and those caught eating lunch have rebelled as sloppy, salacious testimony flows like raw sewage from a courthouse in lower Manhattan.
Stephanie A. Gregory Clifford, aka Stormy Daniels, the heroine of this sordid tale, riding hard-on and wet, was supposed to ruin (Reader: all puns unintentional unless otherwise noted) the defense of Trump out of the water.
Stormy, who presents herself as a damsel in distress, dressed in a black shawl and her hair in a bun, nervously testified that she was, in fact, a victim on the night in question when she allegedly met with Donald J. Trump to have dinner at his house. hotel room in July 2006.
An animated corpse on MSNBC compared her to a “modest nun” on the witness stand. (I would like to know what Catholic school she went to.)
Ms Daniels claimed the future president answered the door in silk pajamas before she playfully spanked him with a rolled-up magazine. (Isn’t this the plot of Stormy’s 2013 hit, Sex Door Neighbors? No wonder judge Juan Merchán asked her to speak slower. Must be a fan.)
Daniels, who has admittedly logged more miles than Daytona International Speedway, suggested she was intimidated by “Trump’s bodyguard right outside the door” and then “fainted” when she dropped her pants, which must be an occupational hazard for a woman. in her line of work.
Ms Daniels claimed the future president answered the door in silk pajamas before she playfully spanked him with a rolled-up magazine. (Isn’t this the plot of Stormy’s 2013 hit, Sex Door Neighbors?)
Cohen is currently shopping a new reality show called ‘The Fixer,’ which sounds like a street dog neutering service, but who am I to question such a model of integrity?
I’m not one to cringe (you probably remember me from Naughty Needlepointers 3), but that reaction is about as believable as a surgeon vomiting at the sight of blood.
Stormy went on to testify about sexual positions and whether rubber bands were used (provoking a national gag reflex) and leaving us with the disturbing question: Why in God’s name did we have to know this?
The answer is: we didn’t.
Daniels’ testimony did not advance the trial: it served a political purpose. He humiliated Trump.
But wait: the prosecution had not yet identified its secret weapon.
His great white hope, pasty and sweaty.
Former Trump lawyer and self-proclaimed ‘fixer’ Michael Cohen.
He’s currently shopping a new reality show called ‘The Fixer’, which sounds like a stray dog neutering service, but who am I to question such a model of integrity?
Cohen is in the anti-Trump hacking business and business is booming.
He admitted on the stand that he has made more than $3 million from his Down-With-Donald books, and his anti-Trumpery extends to selling T-shirts and prostituting himself on TikTok to any idiot who pays $5.99 a month to listen to his crap.
He even admitted to approaching Manhattan prosecutors in 2021 to offer testimony in exchange for a reduced sentence.
Cohen is in the anti-Trump hacking business, and business is booming. He admitted on the stand that he has made more than $3 million from his Down-With-Donald books.
Above all, Cohen is a liar: a convicted perjurer who has told tall tales under oath before Congress, the IRS, and all manner of courts and judges.
Why stop now?
During questioning by Trump’s lawyer on Thursday, Cohen denied that he expected to be in the Trump White House in 2020 or even be nominated for US Attorney General.
“My jaw was on the floor when I heard him deny that,” said former Trump staffer Alyssa Farah Griffin. “It was widely discussed that he was looking to be attorney general or White House counsel.”
A former Trump campaign aide said Cohen told him directly that he wanted the job. “He was pretty clear that he wanted to be a White House attorney,” Bryan Lanza said.
At least this useless test is good for a laugh.
But the real ‘Columbo moment’ came when Trump’s affable lawyer, Todd Blanche, trapped Cohen in a game of telephone that went right to the heart of this case.
Cohen testified that he called Trump’s bodyguard on October 24, 2016 to discuss the “resolution” of the “Stormy Daniels matter.”
Ah ha! The smoking gun!
But it was a lie!’ Blanche declared.
The real ‘Columbo moment’ came in court when Trump’s affable lawyer, Todd Blanche, trapped Cohen in a game of telephone that went right to the heart of this case.
In fact, Blanche got Cohen to admit that she called Trump’s bodyguard that October night to complain about the harassing phone calls she was receiving from a 14-year-old prankster.
Cohen carelessly insisted that the call had two purposes, but the damage had already been done.
Another seed of doubt was planted in the minds of jurors, who are already being asked to trust a man with no credibility.
Look, I get it, sex with porn stars is disgusting (especially the condomless variety, yuck, bro!), and having a drooling buffoon, like Cohen, criticize your bad decisions is, in itself, the worst decision.
But being a judge of extraordinarily horrible character is not a crime.
Using the legal system to interfere with a presidential election should be.