When Stupid No Longer Gives You Air Cover. The “Reckoning” Begins For The Trump Mob

There’s a good reason why European countries over the centuries have had to toss the occasional revolution. Because when a ruler is not only filthy rich, but also feels entitled and insulated from the rest of us, they have to go. There’s no reasoning with them.

And while we’ve never had Kings or Czars here in America, we can still be burdened with obscenely rich, fat, egotistical horses asses who not only think themselves superior to us, they also find themselves impervious to our petty little lives and opinions. And while le Guillotine may be effective, it’s also swift and basically painless. Me personally? I prefer a long, slow public fall from grace and power, followed by an extended period of public and personal humiliation. And that’s what started today.

Let’s start with The Ghoul Man, Rudy Giuliani. In my mind, Giuliani has always been all hat and no cattle. He was a total charlatan as the US Attorney for the SDNY. Giuliani rushed before the camera to announce which notorious crime family or Wall Street miscreant he was personally prosecuting, and then faded into the background like butter into warm toast, let the career professionals in the office actually prosecute the case, and when the cerdicts came in, rush before the cameras to take all the credit.

In his public service, Giuliani was a room temperature IQ Mayor. He was also a vicious racist and anti-Semite. He created the program that was the direct predecessor of stop and frisk, and in the aftermath of 9/11, he was a mayoral Kabuki mask so shallow that he tried to use the tragedy to extend his time in office another term by claiming that people in the affected areas had no place to vote. Fortunately the city set up plenty of places for people to vote, and Giuliani was out.

Even after he left public office, Giuliani continued to be a joke in bad taste. He signed on as a founding partner of an already established white shoe law firm, but even that was a punch line. While the partners enjoyed having Giuliani’s name on their office door and letterhead, and Giuliani got his cut, when new clients came in the door, they didn’t want anything to do with Giuliani. If you can afford a white shoe law firm, you can afford to research your lawyer. Giuliani was a washed up never-was. But in his mind, Giuliani was bulletproof. Rich, famous, and entitled.

But no more. Giuliani can sit there and play self deceptive Q-Anon parlor games all he wants, but the reality bone planted deep in his head knows that he’s boned. Sideways. And we already know that he has that reality bone buried deep in there, because he admitted in his deposition questioning for the trial that he knew that what he was saying wasn’t true. All of his courthouse steps bullsh*t was exactly that. Another failed attempt to fool the sheeple, and shut down the geening alarm from that reality bone.

But no more. As of today, Giuliani is now $148 million short in the pot to pay off Ruby Freeman and Shea Freeman Moss for nearly hounding them to death. Even if his Manhattan apartment sells for the listed $6.1 million, He’s still got $142 million to go. And since his law firm cut ties with him, and he’s already lost his law license, we’ll see how quickly he can toss together $142 million standing on a street corner with a bucket of water and a rag to wash car windshields.

Even Giuliani’s post verdict comments on the courthouse steps were exactly what they sounded like, petulant, whiny, self pitying slop meant to tug the heartstrings of suckers for his soon to be created GoFundMe site page to raise moolah. But every night when he closes his eyes wherever he is, he knows that he’s a world class loser, and worse yet, everybody knows it. Every eye that alights on his disgraced face will have a smirk. Hell, most reputable homeless shelters will refuse him entrance, because his presence would demean all of the honest homeless residents, who never had the world by the old short-n-curlies. I wish him a long, miserable, penniless remainder of his life.

And Trump is up next. In fact it’s already started. When magazine reporter E Jean Carroll accused Trump of raping her in a Manhattan department store dressing room, Trump went postal. He not only denied the charges, he personally humiliated her by ragging on her age and appearance in every rally he held. So Carroll sued him for defamation.

Unlike the NY AG’s civil suit that could cost Trump some $250 million, and his ticket to deal in New York, Trump totally skipped the defamation trial. And when the verdict came down, with the jury finding that he was a sexual predator, and trimmed him for $5 million, His Lowness went postal again, insulting the judge and jury, and repeatedly slandering Carroll all over again. Which led the New York trial judge to agree with Carroll’s lawyers that his comments constituted a brand new case of defamation, which is scheduled to begin in Manhattan in late January, and where Carroll is going to try to trim El Pendejo Presidente for another cool $10 million.

But here’s the kicker. When all the shouting is over and done with, Trump is going to have to whip out his checkbook and write a check for $5 million. And even to a mogul that ain’t chump change. And come next year, he may have to pony up another $10 million for his big mouth. But far worse for Trump’s over weaning, delicate ego is the fact that, a jury of uneducated New York chuckleheads publicly branded him as a sexual predator. And for a man who likes to think that he taught Valentino everything he ever knew, that charge cuts deep. And it will always be in the back of his mind.

And the rest of his idiot cabal will soon follow suit. That scumbag sh*thead Steve Two Shirts Bannon is a perfect example. Bannon rode his own overrated reputation as a self proclaimed, anti democracy bomb thrower, along with Trump’s persona of invincibility to a federal conviction for contempt of congress. And while he continues his persona full of bluff and bullsh*t, Bannon knows he’s toast. That’s why he’s desperately riding on the delay in his appeal to forestall his stint in the pokey. But sooner or later the appellate court will rule against him, and in he goes. A convicted federal felon. And if he has any questions on what a barrel of chuckles any stint in lockup is, he can always ask Allan Weisselberg how the accommodations at Rikers Island were.

And the list goes on and on. You already have multiple indicted Trump co-conspirators lining up to cut a deal with Fulton County DA Fani Willis to keep them out of durance vile. And the more these people wait, the better the chances that their plea deal includes a trip to lockup for making her wait so long. And the longer they wait, the longer they’re locked up.

And right now in Michigan, Georgia, Nevada and Arizona, you have some of the most senior GOP members if the state legislature, all lining up to stammer about how they got bullsh*tted by Trump, Giuliani and Cheseboro, and would never personally knowingly stoop so low as to try to deprive their constituents of their votes in a fair election. All of them are going down, and whether their public humiliation is satisfied with removal from their offices, or they actually go to trial and spend timne behind bars, ut’s all the same. Public humiliation.

And this is what you must never forget. All of these delusional idiots chose to seek out the public spotlight. They basked in that spotlight, and inflated their public persona to make themselves seem almost Godlike, all the easier for them to get reelected.

And when this is all over with, they’ll all still be notable public figures, but for the wrong reasons. Every time they pull up at the pumps to get gas, every time they walk into a grocery store or restaurant, every time they go anywhere in public, people will glance at them. And when some of them do, their eyes will light up in recognition. But the wrong kind of recognition. When they realize who it is, they’ll roll their eyes, or shake their head, or scowl. Some may even make a muttered comment to themselves or their companion, just loud enough to be heard. You wanted fame, pal? You got it.

Even though you and I may not be personally involved, or witness it, they will all feel the shame. The glares, the superior glances, the muttered oaths. I’ll close with a lyric from Bob Segar I find somehow appropriate;

Sometimes you can’t hear them talk, but other times you can. They mutter to each other, “Is that a woman or a man”? And you always seem outnumbered, you don’t dare make a stand.

Welcome to your new life, sh*theads.

I thank you for the privilege of your time.