For all my good friends who continue to tell me how worried they are that the GOP will recover either the House or the Senate or both in 2022, which will then help propel Trump back into the White House in 2024, a story broke yesterday which not only confirms what I have been saying and writing about the stupidity of Trump and his friends (The Big Score Gang: Politics and Money Under Trump: Weisser, Michael: 9798413048870: Amazon.com: Books) but has to rank as perhaps one of the best political narratives of all time.
I am referring to a report in The Hill, which says that a bunch of cartons containing official documents from the Trump White House have been found sitting in storage at Mar-a-Lago, and are in the process of being returned.
According to this story, the documents include “important records of communication, gifts and letters from world leaders,” as well as correspondence with North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, as well as a letter from Obama to Trump.
The storage of these documents anywhere other than in the National Archive happens to be a violation of a federal law that was enacted after Watergate for reasons that are so obvious, they don’t need to be explained.
It turns out that either nobody on Trump’s staff knew of the law’s existence, or if they did, they weren’t about to share this knowledge with #45. With the result that cartons of paperwork that should have just been trucked across Pennsylvania Avenue to the archive were loaded onto Air Force One and flown down to a basement storeroom in Palm Beach.
The discovery of this cache happened because Trump tried to block the January 6th Committee from getting their hands on paperwork which might shed some light on what Trump was really doing before, during and after his ‘supporters’ went charging up the Capitol steps to hold public hangings of Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer and Mike Pence.
I can just see some rented van pulling up at the delivery entrance to Mar-a-Lago and some poor schmuck from inside the resort coming out to receive what he thinks is going to be some food for the kitchen, or maybe towels for the bathrooms or some clean sheets for the beds. Then the door of the van is opened, the guy stares at a pile of cartons and says, “Whadda we do with this shit?”
Of course, nothing gets into the temporary White House (until 2025) without someone from the Secret Service giving a thumbs up. And the agent in charge takes a quick look inside one of the cartons and replies, “Dump the fucking crap somewhere downstairs.”
So much for preserving the records of a former Commander in Chief.
Please hold that thought because another story appeared yesterday in New York Magazine which might even trump the story about the paperwork from Trump’s desk.
It seems that Rudy Giuliani, who has just been fired by FOX, is trying to raise money to cover what may shortly become some very serious legal bills. And having been turned down by what I guess is now his former client, a.k.a., #45, Rudy’s hoping the general public will bail him out.
Rudy’s put up a website, Rudy Giuliani Freedom Fund, where you can send him some dough, although when I clicked the ‘donate’ page it came up in a language that I don’t understand. I’m assuming the website was created by Rudy’s idiot son Andrew – that’s the one who got paid ninety grand a year to do absolutely nothing in the West Wing.
Back in 1987, I had to go down to D.C. on business and found myself driving down Wisconsin Avenue through Georgetown to keep a date for lunch. It was a rainy, cold, typical winter day in the nation’s capital, and as I waited for a light to change, an old man trudged by the front of my car holding a quart of milk in one hand and the leash of some little yapper in the other.
“Jesus Christ,” I said to myself, “that’s John Mitchell. Fifteen years ago, he was the second most powerful man in the United States.”
Mitchell was living in the Georgetown home of some old dowager because he was out of jail and stone, cold broke. In exchange for free room and board, he did the local shopping and walked the old lady’s dog.
I’m wondering if at some point I’ll be sitting in a car and see Rudy stumble by. Better yet, how about sending Trump out to walk the dog?