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Last week Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg was the first to bring Donald Trump into a criminal courtroom—the first of many, we are told.
As excited as we Trump-haters were to see this crook finally face charges directly before a judge, we all knew that this indictment was for a crime that was technical, not something of real substance. Nonetheless, it reminds me that what finally sent Al Capone to prison was tax evasion, not murder. So, Mr. DA, if you can nail him on this one, so be it.
The national news outlets sent hordes of reporters into lower Manhattan to cover the arraignment which, to our great disappointment, contained very little substance and even less drama. Largely missed by the press, however, our highly trained cadre of Kru’s Control observers detected two matters, footnotes to the drama, that hardly received a mention.
First, many certainly noticed the presence of one vehement Trump supporter, Marjorie Taylor Greene. The highly respected Representative to the US House from the great state of Georgia was there to defend her Man, to strut and strain in her usual outrageous fashion in front of the huge crowds (there were none) and the television cameras (there were many).
But why was she there? How can it be that this was not the headline of the MTG story? She wants to be Donald’s Vice President—badly! This a smart lady; she knows that Trump is a cross between a mafia kingpin and Madame Defarge. He takes names, looking to destroy all those who cross him and to lavish rewards on those who stand up for him. And MTG is great at jumping to attention when he speaks the phrase witch hunt, you know, like Pavlov’s dog when he heard the bell.
If John McCain could pick Sara Palin to rouse the base and attract that significant proportion of the electorate with IQ’s of less than 70, it would be perfectly outrageous–no, outrageously perfect—for the most ridiculous Presidential candidate ever to select as his running mate a fellow traveler. After all, MTG is a person who communes with aliens, when all her veep-candidate predecessor could do was to see Russia from her porch.
Second is my most vivid memory of that day in lower Manhattan, not mentioned by a single person that I am aware of. As context for this observation, I like to think of myself as courteous and polite. In particular, I always I hold the door for the person behind me. But the guy who preceded Donald Trump through the door, a police officer I believe, did not. The door slammed in poor Donald’s face, and it’s hard to know if he was more shocked or annoyed.
Did this fellow not realize someone was behind him? Did he not know who was behind him? Or did he know all too well who was behind him? Do we know this guy’s name? Can we award him the prize for the most subtle but brilliantly symbolic political act of the year?
However courteous I try to be and however much I would urge others to be polite, boy, did I take some pleasure in that fleeting moment, in seeing the door slam in the Trumpster’s face.
Does this mean I take subtle pleasure in microaggressions directed at people who are practitioners of macroaggression? Does this mean that a peace-loving and kind person like me can be a bit mean-spirited and vengeful toward people I really don’t like?
I rest my hand on the Bible, swear to tell the truth, and–unlike the former President–I speak the truth: Guilty as charged.
