Everything you know is wrong. Just forget the words and sing along. All you need to understand is that everything you know is wrong Weird Al Yankovic Everything you know is wrong
At this point Todd Blanche’s humiliation is complete. For Blanche the last 24 hours have far exceeded his worst nightmares, which means that they have far surpassed my fondest dreams. But looking down at the smoking wreck of Blanche’s case, I have one question I can’t quite shake. Who was actually driving the Toon Town Express?
I’ll explain. I said even before he took the oath that Robert Costello was a neutron bomb waiting to go off in Todd Blanche’s face. Not only did the prosecution already know everything Costello would say, having had him under oath before the grand jury, and make a total cock up of it, he made an ass of himself in front of court with nonsensical pressers to guarantee his 15 minutes of fame. Why would Blanche call a witness that he already knew was likely to blow his head off?
Here’s the other thing important that happened today, and how it might fill in the blanks. What happened once Costello limped off the stand with an ice bag on his throbbing cojones? The defense rested. And they rested without calling Traitor Tot to the stand, this despite his constant insistence that he would take the stand and bury Michael Cohen and the whole sham prosecution. Trump had to know that this was going to be a constant giant pain in his ass every time a reporter with a microphone got within shouting distance for the next week.
Here’s what I think happened. Blanche knew Trump couldn’t take the stand. He’s a walking case of oral diarrhea. Every word out of his mouth would be another stone on his funeral cairn. But if Trump wasn’t going to take the stand to defend himself, then somebody had to take his place, and his pick was his slavish lackey, Costello. Blanche took the lesser of two evils, figuring he could keep Costello on a choker chain on the stand by severely limiting the scope and style of questions he asked on direct. What Blanche couldn’t know was that Costello was a kamikaze pilot out to sink Cohen while El Pendejo Presidente looked on approvingly.
Blanche lost. He lost because Costello did the worst damage Trump could have done himself, but did it in a worse way, and at what turned out to be the worst possible moment. Here’s how and why.
The worst thing Trump could have done on the stand would have been to slip up and admit he was trying to keep Cohen quiet and loyal. But under withering cross examination, the prosecution showed an e-mail from Costello to his partner, stressing the importance of getting Cohen into the fold, keep him quiet, and loyal to Trump. Obviously Costello was striving to represent Trump rather than Cohen, a clear cut violation of ethics. He unintentionally brought Trump into the loop as being interested and active in trying to keep Cohen quiet.
Then came the kill shot. The prosecution showed an e-mail posted two days later from Costello to Cohen himself, advising him to Sleep well, you have friends in high places. They don’t understand that they’re messing with the most important man in the free world. Costello went on to say that Rudy told him he was hearing good things about Cohen from The White House, stressing Giuliani’s back channel access to Trump himself. Costello convicted Trump basically out of Trump’s own mouth, without Trump having the opportunity to take the stand and give his own explanation.
Here’s why the timing is so fatal that Trump may as well call the court to notify them he’s changing his plea to guilty and throwing himself on the mercy of the court. Once Costello crawled off the stand, Judge Merchan did something not widely expected, but also totally in character for the man. He smiled sweetly at the jury, wished them a pleasant extended Memorial Day weekend, and went into recess until 9 am next Tuesday morning for closing arguments. And in that one kind and generous act to the jury, Judge Merchan deviously stuck his long suffering shiv right in the backs of Blanche and Trump. Because for once, time is Trump’s enemy.
Let me explain with an example you’ll likely be able to relate to. Have you ever had to go for medical testing for a possibly serious medical issue, only to learn that it would be at least 48-72 hours before the results came back in? I have. Due to my obesity and former smoking habits, I had to get a chemical cardiac stress test before my surgeon would put me under to replace my knee. And for the next 48 hours, no matter what video games I played, movies I watched, or drunk I got, that stress test was all I could think about. Fortunately I passed with flying colors.
And in a very real mental way, that’s exactly what just happened today. No matter how much those jurors try to relax and enjoy their extended holiday, the trial is going to be in the back of their minds, simply because they know that they have to go back on Tuesday morning and finish the job.
And when they cast their mind back to the trial over this extended weekend, what’s the first thing they’re going to think of? What else? The last thing they heard before they got cut loose. The fact that Trump’s own witness told them from the stand how Trump personally was involved through surrogates in a desperate attempt to keep Cohen quiet and loyal.
Game over. Even if Blanche was blessed with optimum conditions, and was able to stand up tomorrow morning to make his closing argument, there is nothing he can say that would erase or mitigate his own witness proffering that Trump himself was basically engaging in witness tampering. But after six days of the jurors stewing over this in their own minds? Sh*t, there is nothing that Pope Francis could say to convince that jury that Robert Costello wasn’t full of sh*t. And the prosecution will hammer the Costello testimony like the drum back beat in Bob Seger’s Hollywood Nights.
Blanche had no really viable alternatives. But looking at it with 20/20 hindsight, Blanche should have called Trump to the stand. When Trump torpedoed his own garbage scow, Blanche could always say I told you so! But now, when the jury drops the hammer on His Lowness, it’s going to be Blanche that f*cked up the whole defense, and he’ll probably sue to get his money back. You lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas.
Tuesday Treat!
A rich man came home one day to find a funeral hearse in front of his house. When he questioned his wife, she told him that the undertaker’s son wanted to date their daughter. Furiously, the man laid down the law, No dating the undertakers son! Three days later he saw the hearse parked in front of the house again. He angrily confronted his daughter, who told him, But Daddy! That’s a hearse of a different caller!
I thank you for the privilege of your time.
More Dad jokes please. 🙂
It’s really fun watching the stooges. Where’s Curly? Oh that’s right…getting a special present on his birthday.
Just stunning. Thank you!
GREAT one thanks Murph …. But speaking of real life hearses. My father’s second cousin was an undertaker (he even had his ‘new’ funeral parlor designed by the Frank Lloyd Wright group in AZ)… well he had a largish family plus a nanny. So they would visit us … with the hearse! .. Drove the neighbors batty. My Mom loved it.
Could only visit for the afternoon cuz there were no motels that took blacks in our So Calif town.