No good deed goes unrewarded. Last week Lady Hillary blamed her defeat, more emphatically than ever before, on a saboteur named James Comey. In another act of kindness toward the gal whose dreams he shattered, President Trump did her a solid and fired the guy effective last July. So how’s he being thanked? Lady H’s press and party want him fired, impeached, and hung by his neck, and Comey restored to his former glory. It’s enough to shake your faith in the nobility of the political profession.
Comey, a familiar face not only around Enemy Central precincts, might have worn out his welcome when he testified last week to feeling “mildly nauseous” at the possibility he might have affected last year’s election. We understand. He should have done what we did and become addicted to Alka-Seltzer. Had the election turned out differently, we’d have graduated to Alka-Seltzer Whiskey. Hope his tummy has settled down. We remain concerned, though, about his final trip as FBI director. It’s been variously described as a “recruiting” trip to Los Angeles — exactly the sort of activity that will have him investigated by the NCAA. Was he recruiting or being recruited? Who paid for his private jet? On the other hand, his 6-foot 8-inch stature could give him an advantage if he cares to file a labor complaint. How many tall men are left in the Trump executive branch? Sally Yates will probably rally to his side for his having been singled out.
Of course, other specters hang over Comey’s demotion, all of them of Cyrillic. Our liberal loons are back to their favorite activity, which is to go diving into manure piles in search of Russian bears with “Trump” tattooed on their behinds. Their success rate so far? Well, let’s just say the operative term remains “not at this time” — as Senator Feinstein put it when asked if investigators have come up with any evidence at all of Trump collusion with Putin and his pals.
Some say the crazed response to the dismissal of J. Edgar Comey bespeaks the hatred so many of our nation’s finest and most caring people feel for our president. Their inability to prove their case against him is all the proof they need of just how treacherous he truly is. As in all such cases of self-propelled meshugenness, the problem can really be traced to the absence of love in their life. Which is why we found ourselves deeply touched and moved by reports that the Desi and Lucy of “Morning Joe” are really, actually, in real life, and not just in TV life, a bona fide item. His name is Joe, hers Mika, and we didn’t know they have anything in common, though maybe having to get up real early each day, presumably before dawn, is all a couple needs to be compatible (and by evening they’re too tired to fight). Maybe it helps that each has been married before, maybe more than once (who’s counting?), and that he’s been a conservative, at least among gullible conservatives, and that she’s the offspring of maybe the last anti-Communist Democrat still in our midst. We wish them all the luck in the world and promise that one of these years we might even watch their show.
Okay, we won’t watch. But we do look forward to hearing about Mika’s latest nervous breakdown over news that Donald Trump still occupies the White House. For being well ahead of the curve in breaking into tears (normally we’d expect fake tears from her but these seemed real) when Trump accused his predecessor of spying on his campaign, she’s our choice as this week’s EOW. We can only imagine her reaction to the Tuesday Evening Massacre. Has she been climbing the walls? Anyone check Joe’s face for scratch marks? Is she strong enough to win a prize she won’t be allowed to share with him? Stay tuned, if you must. We won’t.
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