(With humble gratitude to the brilliance of Paul Simon)
“THE PROBLEM IS ALL INSIDE YOUR HEAD,” HE SAID TO ME.
“The answer is easy if you take it logically
“Just sing these words and pretend that you’re guilt-free
“There must be fifty ways to steal an election”
JUST ERASE THE VOTES, JACK
Don’t let blacks vote, Mac
Get Putin to help, Don
Mess up the count, Tom
Sabotage the mail, Bill
Reject the results, Phil
Question Joe’s ballots, Lee
No need to be coy, Roy
Just tear down the House,
And claim sweet Victory.
I SAID “IT GRIEVES ME TO SEE YOU IN SUCH PAIN.
“Is there something I can do to make your smile come back again?”
He said, “Thank you very much, just let me sing my sweet refrain
“About the fifty ways to steal an election.”
JUST LIE UNTIL THEY CRY, STAN
Then accuse and deny, Man
Bring in fake electors, Gus
And Rudy’s traveling circus bus
Threaten poll workers, Dick
Menace voters thin and thick
Go before the Supremes, Lee
Where Justice is too blind to ever see,
Just cheat till you’re home free.
And claim your Victory
HE SAID, “I WON’T LET MYSELF LOSE TO JOE AGAIN.
“It grieves Melania so to see me in such pain
“You see there’s something I can do to make Maga World smile again
“It all depends on those 50 ways to steal an election.
“Count ‘em, 50 ways to steal an election.”
JUST ERASE THE VOTES, JACK
Don’t let blacks vote, Mac
Get Putin to help, Don
Mess up the count, Tom
Sabotage the mail, Bill
Reject the results, Phil
Question Joe’s ballots, Lee
No need to be coy, Roy
Just tear down the House,
And claim sweet Victory.
Make no mistake, if Donald Trump tried once to steal the presidency; he will do so again. Realistically, he has no incentive to play fair now, especially when a return to the Oval office could negate all federal crimes for which he stands accused. It’s fatuous to think Trump will suddenly reform his ways and realize that the country he is attempting to lead again is far more important than the fate of a single individual.
I WILL BET—EVEN GUARANTEE—THAT DONALD TRUMP AND HIS GANG HAVE ALREADY MADE PLANS TO STEAL THE 2024 ELECTION. WE MUST BE ON OUR GUARD.
M heard a knock on his office door. A knock followed by a short pause, then two brief staccato taps of a knuckle.
“Come in, 007!” M called. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
James Bond walked in and gingerly stepped up to the leather chair in front of M’s desk, slowly lowering his handsome, well-dressed 6 foot, two inch frame onto the well-padded seat.
“You know, sir,” Bond, half-apologetic, started to say, “I was scheduled to begin a two-week holiday today…”
M abruptly cut him off. “Sorry 007, but no holiday for you this week. Nor for anyone. That sound you cannot hear—because this is His Majesty’s Secret Service, after all—would be alarm bells sounding ‘All hands on deck, battle stations!’
Rubbing his weary face with both hands, M continued, “I’m sorry to inform you all leaves and holidays have been cancelled, because quite seriously the fate of Western Civilization is hanging in the balance, once again. And your bloody holiday will just have to wait.”
“Understood, sir,” Bond said, softly backing away from any hint of annoyance. “But, please, M, tell me what is going on?” he probed delicately, “Not the Russians again?”
“Nail on the head, 007!” M answered. “Bloody Putin has set loose the most devastating of all known modern weapons, and the entire Western Alliance is under threat.”
“Virus?” Bond queried.
“No, far more deadly than that, if you can imagine.”
“Anthrax?” Bond continued to probe. “Nuclear radiation? Space lasers? Killer Bees?”
“Stupidity!” M finally offered. “Stupidity fueled by greed, petulance, narcissism, racism and self-aggrandizement on a scale that hasn’t been seen since the days of Adolph Hitler.”
“You mean…” Bond gasped, the answer rising to the surface of his consciousness.
“Yes,” M answered with bitter distaste, “Orangefinger!”
Orangefinger, the name given by the British Secret Service to the arch fool and blundering former American president, Donald J. Trump. Long suspected by Western intelligence services of being a Russian stooge, President Trump had wrecked havoc within the Western Alliance in his historically chaotic term as the 45th American president. If not a Putin plant, then a useful idiot, as the Russians like to call them; a man so inept and self-absorbed that, when placed in a position of power, he automatically made the worst decisions, focused as he usually was on his own best interests and inclinations rather than the need of the moment.
“Yes, but after one disastrous Trump term wouldn’t the Americans see Orangefinger for exactly what he is?” Bond asked. “A liar, a thief, a traitor, a serial sexual predator? After all that, how much damage can one man do?”
“Heaps!” M grimaced, with his briar pipe clenched in his teeth, and a gold-plated butane lighter poised to ignite it. “More damage than we can afford,” he added, firing the bowl while sucking in lungs full of his custom blended Amphora Gold and Brown pipe tobacco, available exclusively at Harrod’s.
Poking the air with the stem of his pipe, M pressed the point. “Recall how quickly Orangefinger disabled the Paris Accords and quashed the nuclear agreement with Iran,” he reminded Bond.
“Within months of taking office,” M. continued, “by those two acts alone, Orangefinger inflamed global warming and set back the control of nuclear weapons by a full generation at least.
“God only knows what mischief he’ll create should he win back the Oval Office.” M concluded. “He’s already talking about suspending the American Constitution, arresting political enemies, replacing federal employees with political sycophants, erecting concentration camps… And, if he’s a really useful idiot to Putin, he’ll act on his threat to shut down NATO, and thereby de-stabilize the entire Western Alliance.
“Make no mistake, 007, the world can ill-afford a second Orangefinger presidential term.
“My word!” Bond gasped, quickly seeing the threat in its full entirety. “It would be like offering Putin an invitation to reap havoc anywhere on the planet he so wishes,” he concluded.
“Truly frightening, M,” Bond frowned, “but what can I do? Frankly, this problem seems above my pay grade.”
“It won’t all be on your shoulders, 007, I promise. We’ve brought in a specialist.” M picked up a slip of paper from his desk and read aloud, “Agent 008! Excellent chap, he’s been assigned to serve as your lead agent on the case. He’s an American, very skillful I’m told. Brought over specifically because of prior experience he’s had successfully fighting Orangefinger and Putin in the field.”
M folded the slip of paper and said, almost as though reminding himself, “No need talking about the man when I can introduce him just as easily.”
He pressed a button hidden beneath his desk and, simultaneously, Bond heard a buzzer sounding outside in Miss Moneypenny’s office.
M stood to an almost military stance as his office door swung open once again.
“James,” M said almost formally, “please say hello to Agent…”
Upon seeing his visitor standing in the door, M left the sentence incomplete while rereading the slip of paper in his hand.
“Excuse me,” M continued, “I seem to have misspoke. Not Agent 008, but Agent 0081.”
Bond looked over to see, standing square in the frame, an elderly gentleman wearing aviator sunglasses, a navy blue baseball cap and a wide bright smile.
Taking off his glasses, the stranger winked and said, “0081 at your service, gentlemen.”
Then, restoring the sunglasses, he added, “But you can call me Dark Brandon. “
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He was the best of men. He was the worst of men. He gave up his life in pursuit of freedom and justice. He gave up his soul in pursuit of power and fame. He was a beacon of hope in a world held hostage by Darkness. He was a defender and purveyor of Darkness itself. He died in a Russian prison camp. His brand began its painful death crawl in a New York City courtroom.
Two headlines in yesterday’s New York Times will burnish the legends of two very different ‘heroes’ for our time.
One headline asks, “With Prison Certain and Death Likely, Why Did Navalny Return to Russia?”
While the other informs us, “Trump Is Ordered To Pay Fraud Penalty That Will Exceed $450 million.”
Aleksei Navalny was a hero—to me, and to millions of others who reject Vladimir Putin’s hijacking of the Russian State. The kind of hero who courageously dedicates his life to the betterment of others. We haven’t yet learned the details of his state sponsored death, but Navalny’s martyrdom will probably serve the cause of freedom in Russia more than anything he could have accomplished as a living activist.
Donald J. Trump is also a hero—not to me certainly, but to millions of Americans who have bought into his grift. To those legions of cult followers, if I am honest, he appears to be a tough guy, a player who, because he seemed tough on TV, knows how to make winning deals, and can make unlikely things happen. Build a wall, invent a better health care plan, drain the swamp, wish Covid away and, most importantly, keep Muslims and Mexicans from coming into our country.
Trump’s hero worshippers have swallowed even the largest of Donald Trump’s fish stories, blinded by the brilliance of his aura. Even as they blanch at his boorish behavior and assorted cruelties, his aura remains whole and relatively untarnished. An aura partly manufactured for viewers of his once popular TV show, and partly manufactured by Trump himself…All those years of shameless self-promotion. Trump Steaks. Trump Vodka. Trump University. Trump Casinos. Trump Towers.
And the capstone, of course: Trump’s Insurrection!
Word of this week’s massive legal judgment is such big news, not even Fox News can prevent it from breaking out of the right-wing echo chamber and reaching minds that would otherwise be closed to hearing negative news about their leader.
Yes, this week, for everyone’s round-the-clock consumption, comes news that Donald Trump was fined almost half a billion dollars! FOR DECADES OF FRAUD. FOR CHEATING PEOPLE. FOR LYING TO BANKS AND INSURERS. FOR LYING IN COURT.
Navalny knew exactly what he faced in returning to Russia. He had only just recovered from an assassination attempt where Putin’s killers laced his undershorts with a nerve agent. Which once again begs the question ‘why?’ “With prison certain and death likely, why did Navalny return?”
As for Trump, he did what he did because he could do it. And get away with it! C’mon, who would ever charge him with fraud? He had gotten away with murder all his life. Not just as the pampered son of a millionaire real estate tycoon. But as a pugnacious player in a business world where he forced his way to a seat at the table.
As a well known player in the game, Trump found he could stiff whichever vendors were too weak or small to force his payment. Those vendors—among which you will find numerous lawyers—were often and famously left standing with bills in their hands and eggs on their faces.
Why? Because Donald Trump believes he can get away with almost anything. Same reason he continues to foul up America’s democracy, repeatedly undermining our institutions. Same reason he didn’t need to directly raid the American Treasury when he left the presidency, choosing instead to allegedly sell off pardons and steal America’s treasured secrets.
And in Russia, why? Why put yourself at risk by returning to Putin’s Russia? Because Aleksei Navalny had immense courage. The kind you tell your children about. And Navalny was dedicated to a cause seemingly more important than his life. So important he knowingly placed his family in peril of losing their father and protector.
And then there’s Vladimir Putin, the man invited long ago to help govern Russia who refused to ever go home. To further add to Navalny’s guilt in Putin’s eyes, the fearless activist challenged the Russian President on a level Putin could never understand. When faced with an opponent Putin could not bully into submission; a man whose integrity and courage were proven down to his final choices in life, Putin could only balk and flail.
And so, Aleksei Navalny became the gnat that refused to be swatted away by the angry giant.
Until the giant swatted him one last time.
Now, returning to Donald J. Trump, sexual assaulter, insurrectionist and serial fraudster who was tagged with a fine that will ultimately cost him $450 million. This on top of the $88.3 million in combined judgments from his earlier E. Jean Carroll trials. That amount—over a half billion dollars!—as staggering as it appears, will further fan the fires of grievance that have made a hero and cult leader of Donald J. Trump.
Yes, rather than see it as society’s karmic retribution—the weight of the judgement being equal to the size and scope of the crimes their leader committed—Trump supporters will believe Trump’s cries of innocence and vendettas, and see Engoran’s ruling as further proof of witch hunts and Joe Biden’s abuses of power.
But something is different now. Something definitely shifted with Judge Engoren’s levying of the half billion dollar judgment against Donald Trump. You can sense it in the air, even in your own feelings about Trump. The shadow of his threat seems smaller now, and not so far reaching. Trump himself has been diminished. Diminished in wealth. Diminished in scariness.
If you’ve been watching the Trump drama unfold over the last year, you’ve seen all the scaffolding and platforms erected in the legal sector that will now allow Trump’s Karmic Comeuppance to play itself out. It’s only now, with his blistering half billion dollar judgment, that the structure for the ensuing drama becomes more obvious.
With Judge Engoren’s masterful finding, Trump’s shield—his aura of invincibility, his aura of being a successful businessman—has been seriously pierced. The first major step (or stumble?) on his Karmic Journey to redemption, perhaps…? We’ll see. It will take some time before we know the true consequences and eventual outcome, but Trump has been wounded; seriously wounded by Letitia James’ fraud trial. Just when he enters a crazy season of campaigning for the presidency peppered, as it will be, with frequent appearances in court.
Two headlines in a newspaper. Two men whose lives were as widely different as those of a saint and a grifter. Aleksei Navalny died three days ago, and the world has been diminished by his absence. Donald J. Trump still walks among us, and the world is none the better for it.
Did you ever find yourself combing the back streets of memory trying to remember where in your life you had known someone before? Someone whose face, or tone of voice, or singular selfishness stirs vague but incomplete tremors of recognition? Such is the frustrating mental dance I experience time and time again with Donald J. Trump. But then, yesterday, like a bolt of lightning reaching from the sky, the answer struck me in a blinding flash.
This is the guy!
This is the guy too lazy to ever do his homework back in grade school, preferring to bully the smaller, brainier kids into letting him copy theirs. This is the boss’ son, unlikeable and blind to his own failings, who lords his family connections over fellow workers like a badge of entitlement, as if DNA far outweighs the value of competence and performance. This is the millionaire’s son who feels qualified to criticize America’s fallen soldiers as “suckers” and “losers,” even though his wartime medical deferment was a lie paid for by his father.
This is the guy!
This is the accountant whose embezzlement bankrupts his employer’s company. This is the big kid who sat behind you during a test and demanded the answers to questions three and five. This is the snitch whose lies ruin reputations, destroy lives and send innocent people to jail. This is the cashier who repeatedly shortchanges his customers. And the sales clerk who steals and sells his customers’ credit card information. This is the coward who only joins in a fight when the winning side is certain beyond doubt. And the president who lies about the severity and dangers of a pandemic to make himself look good; even though those lies may lead to thousands of unnecessary deaths.
This is the guy!
And, yes, this is the guy who pays others to take his tests. The businessman who refuses to pay his contractors, the father who never remembers his children’s birthdays, the husband who has an affair with a porn star while his wife is pregnant, the president who tells over 30,000 lies during the brief span of his single term in office. This is the president who breaks every precedent for presidential behavior, then cries “political persecution!” when he faces unprecedented legal consequences.
This is the guy!
And lastly, this is the guy who indulges whims as if they were imperatives, cheating on his wives, cheating on his taxes, sexually assaulting women when the fancy strikes him, lying about his wealth to prove his penis longer than the next billionaire’s. This is the guy who believes in a Jesus who never turns the other cheek or forgets a grievance. The guy whose charity extends no farther than the outskirts of his own best interests. This is the president who could not walk away from the presidency without dismantling the underpinnings of our democracy. The president who believes his single election victory gave him lifetime possession of the trappings of his office and its almost imperial prerogatives.
This is the guy who almost single-handedly put an end to 245 years of the American experiment.
