The Michael Cohen Tapes
President Trump called about the Michael Cohen tapes this morning. The poor guy sounded all stressed. I couldn’t blame him. Well, actually, I could, and for so many things, but I had to let him slide on the stress issue. Who wouldn’t feel stressed after being caught in so many lies? Let me try to recall the gist of our conversation. I’m not allow to tape our talks because of the “need for deniability,” but no one says I can’t paraphrase them. Granted, my short-term memory is impaired, but even so, some things stick out.
“Have you heard the Michael Cohen tapes?”
“Just part of the one, where you discuss paying off Karen McDougal 150 g’s.”
“I didn’t say use cash. At least not articulately enough to be clear.”
“So, just like your Tweets and speeches. But really, what’s the difference how you paid?”
“Heh heh, none really, but I like to muddy the water so Rudy can do his spinning. And really, what’s the big deal? A measly 150 g’s is nothing to a guy like me.”
“The point is you lied to the country yet again and got caught. . .yet again.”
“So what? People expect it of me by now. Lemme ask you something. What kind of lawyer tapes his client?”
“The kind who doesn’t trust his client.”
“Like he’s trustworthy himself. You know, I have half a mind to revoke Michael’s security clearance along with all those ex-White House staffers. Image them bad-mouthing their president? Where’s the dignity?”
“That’s funny, coming from you.”
“How come everyone’s criticizing me instead of praising me?”
“I guess they figure you do enough of that for the rest of the world. And then some. As far as criticizing, you give them so, so many reasons. I don’t know where to start.”
“What about the Trade Wars I started for no sensible reason? Look what they’ve done for our farmers!”
“You mean gutted the soybean industry? Putting them on welfare?”
“What are they complaining about? Didn’t I donate 12 billion dollars to their charity?”
“Of taxpayer money.”
“All right, maybe I didn’t think this whole Trade War thing through, but that’s not my style. Besides, didn’t you see those terrific Make Our Farmers Great Again hats I had made? For only $9.99 each, those whining farmers can feel wonderful about themselves.”
“Judging by how inexplicably excited the ladies are to see the hats, I’m sure America’s farmers will be lining up to vote for you again.”
“Thanks, Mikey, so am I.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I don’t get sarcasm.”
“I’ve noticed. That’s what makes it fun.”
“Well, I’m not worried about the farmers, not as long as I have a Big Mac on my TV tray while I’m watching Shark Week. Did you catch last night’s marathon?”
“Must have missed it. I was busy reading about the Karen McDougal payoff. Also, that Michael Avenetti has three more clients claiming you paid them off just before the 2016 election.”
“What can I say? I’m a horny old fart. A horny old far who’s not worried about payoffs to chicks.”
“I know, I know. . .you’re the Teflon Donald, but doesn’t anything get to you?”
“Actually, yeah, something did. When I heard Allan Weisselberg’s name come up on the Michael Cohen tape, I felt my sphincter pucker.”
Allan Weisselberg’s Got the Dirt. . .enough sludge to bury Trump Tower
“That got my attention, too, although in a different place. Allan’s got all the dirt, doesn’t he?”
“Decades worth of it, Mikey, decades. Enough sludge to bury Trump Tower. But I’m not worried; Allan said he’d take a bullet for me.”
“Isn’t that what Michael Cohen said?”
“Aw, shit, you’re right. Lemme ask you something. Dr. Strangelove still has his wet team, right?”
“You kidding? They’re getting kind of long in the tooth, but they’ve still got skills. Also, access to poisons and shit you wouldn’t believe in the Secret Weapons Lab. Wait a second, you’re not thinking of putting a hit on Allan, are you?”
“Just something Rudy suggested, you know, to get ahead of the situation.”
“Sorry, Donald, Dad’s pissed off at you.”
“Why? He’s a Republican, he supported Nixon, Reagan, and both of the George’s. What’s he got against me?”
“Dad’s a maniacal commie-hater; you seem to love Putin and Kim Jong Un. After hearing your press conference remarks in Helsinki, he thinks you’re a traitor to our country. In fact, if I mention the words wet team and Donald Trump in the same sentence, well, I wouldn’t wanna be in your golf shoes. Hey, that gives me an idea. . .”
“Know if off, Mikey, that’s not funny.”
“Neither are your policies. Kidnapping children, alienating our allies, snuggling up to our enemies. . . and that’s just the last couple weeks. I gotta tell ya, Donald, I’m not political or judgmental, but you make make it tough on Americans and our allies to respect you.”
“My base loves me. Women love me. My money, anyway. And most of all, I love me. So would everyone else in the world if it wasn’t for our number one enemy, the Media.”
“Not Europe?”
“That’s so last week. You saw me take your advice and make up with those foreigners, didn’t you?”
“You pat yourself on the back for fixing something you broke?”
“You don’t seem impressed.”
“I’m not.”
“What if I told you I’m a billionaire? That my apartment is the nicest around? That I’m much more elite than the elite.”
“Sorry, Donald, your egomania, though boundless, doesn’t impress me, either.
“Damn, you’re a tough crowd. So, tell me, what’s it gonna take for you not to call Dr. Strangelove?”
“How about telling me what you and Vladimir talked about in secret?”
“All right, but only if it stays between us.”
“Sure,” I said, fingers crossed behind my back, “you can trust me.”
What were those secrets? Depending on how Donald behaves himself in the near future, I’ll share some with you. But first, being honorable, I’ll give him a chance to mitigate some of the damage, show me some positive moves.
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