Those voices are discussing the possible impeachment of Donald John Trump, a man who cheats at golf when he’s not cheating on his wives, business, and nation.
Mr. Trump, who was admitted into the Gaming Hall of Fame in 1995 after attempting to build a riverboat casino in Gary, Indiana, stands accused of enlisting foreign help to damage a political rival, Joe Biden, by attempting to investigate his son. It‘s reminiscent of the days in which Mr, Trump spied on his own children, like when Ivanka was away school and he’d comb through her dresser to see what her panties smelled like.
The President, who was awarded the 1976 Humanitarian Award by the nation’s leading respiratory hospital, told his acting chief of staff to hold back $400 million in military aid to Ukraine a week before asking the Ukrainian president to do him this investigative “favor” over the phone. To prove he wasn’t bluffing, he called collect.
In the first time this phrase has ever been written or spoken, Democrats took action, using the alleged quid-pro-quo to quid-pro-test and launch an official impeachment inquiry.
Under the U.S. Constitution, a president can be impeached for “treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors,” which I believe are the words of the Trump family crest, except they’re written in Cyrillic.
But, some believe any attempt to impeach the President is a waste of time.
Even if the 1983 recipient of the Jewish National Fund’s Tree of Life Award is impeached by the house, he’d still need to be convicted in the Senate, which is about as likely as him visiting a tailor.
But here’s my question: does anyone actually think impeaching Mr. Trump is going to make a major difference? Do not get me wrong: I am not an impeachment defeatist. If anything, it’s think it’s great that there’s going to be an official, historical document of people telling Mr. Trump, hey, you suck.
But, let’s say he gets thrown out. So what? You think downgrading from Teddy Roosevelt’s toilet back to one made of gold is going to mean Mr. Trump is suddenly out of our lives? He’s going to disappear into the woods for a couple years and try to make one final comeback as a DJ, like Jon Gosselin?
The man is a bedbug. You can fumigate the Lincoln Bedroom all you want, but he’s still going to be in the baseboards of Trump Tower. He’s laid serious eggs, and not just the ones he named after himself.
His ideas, his attitude, the very noun and verb forms of his name are now synonymous with this country. Even if we throw away the mattress, there are plenty of people on the curb happy to pick it up. It doesn’t matter that it’s stained and vile — they’ve already made up their mind. Even if you tell them, hey, it’s okay, I’m not judging you, you want a mattress, I get it — just take any other mattress, it’s okay, this one’s going to make you sick — the very fact that you think you know what’s best for them, even if you’re right, does not matter. Their elbows and knees will be bit to itchy shreds before they admit they’re wrong.
But hey, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the man will be found guilty of a crime, punished accordingly, and we’ll all go back to being good neighbors. My hunch is that after when he’s dead, after they track down a couple of extra pallbearers to make up for the last few Big Macs he wolfed down in hospice, he’s still going to be very much alive until we stop picking up trash when it’s easy and free.