"Show me the man and I will find you the crime..." -- Levrentiy Beria
I seriously did not wish to address this topic because the whole, sordid, shitty mess is so ridiculously fucktarded that it seemed a waste of my considerable intellect to even think about it.
Alas, Farce has become Reality.
As succinctly as I can put it, Alvin (Scum)Bragg's case comes down to this:
Trump has been indicted for getting Michael Cohen and the National Enquirer to do for him, with regards to his bimbos, what the Federal Government did to the New York Post by paying Facebook and Twitter with regards to Hunter Biden's laptop.
And the "meat" of the 34 (really?) "charges" consists of the following:
a) Trump wrote "Legal Services" in the Memo field of 11 or so checks given to Cohen to reimburse him for his (Cohen's) outlays re: the Cumbucket(s) instead of the more-accurate "Pay off my Whore(s)", I reckon.
This is "Falsifying a legal document" and Trump is alleged to have done it 11 times.
b) Cohen sent Trump invoices regarding these payments that, also, make no mention of Skanky Pincushions who earn their daily bread by having men ejaculate upon or inside of them in great numbers.
This is, also, "falsifying a legal document, and again, 11 times.
c) Those documents were somehow, in some way, shape, form or manner of wishful thinking, probably used in regards to taxes, campaign finance requirements, or whatever. By someone. Who? Who the fuck knows? Bragg seems to be making this up as he goes along.
That would be another 11 counts.
c) That each of these 33 "falsifications" somehow equates to a campaign finance violation (under Federal Law, in which case Bragg has no jurisdiction), and also constitutes a "threat" to democracy and a "defrauding of the electorate" of New York State -- where Biden won 60% to 37% in the 2020 election, so the alleged "defrauding" wasn't very threatening or effective.
(Assuming there was no vote fraud, of course....that was sarcasm).
And this, somehow, represents another count...if you're from Mars, or, like Bragg, probably really bad at math (which, I'm told, is racist).
That, apparently, is count 34.
In addition to this flimsy array of accusations, it turns out that the statute of limitations on all of them (assuming it's all true) ran out years ago, all were subject to a non-disclosure agreement that Stormy the Walking Spermbank violated, meaning 1) Trump cannot be tried for any of them, let alone in a Municipal Court, and 2) an NDA is as common in civil law as a lawyer with no scruples is, and the real miscreant here is Madame Sodomy.
Alvin Bragg is yet another example of why Affirmative Action doesn't work...for anyone.
Also, if I have to hear the phrase "Crossed the Rubicon" one more time, I might have to write my cisgendered heteronormative manifesto and shoot up a school full of transgendered pagans.
(Because apparently you can shoot up schools on the basis of sex, gender or confusion, thereof, and be proclaimed a martyr and a hero. The Overlord DOES NOT ADVOCATE that anyone do such a thing...ever...besides, if you wait around long enough, the transgendered eventually kill themselves, anyway).
This was not "Crossing the Rubicon" it was an open declaration of war upon the Republic
Just in case you missed all the other declarations going back to the Clintons.
And there is no way Trump gets a fair shake here: any liberal judge that follows the law and tosses this thing out before the ink dries on the (toilet) paper it was written on, will be killed by the mob.
There is an ice cube's chance in Hell that Trump gets anything close to an impartial jury in Manhattan, where the rest of America dumped all of it's fucktards, mentally ill, and the rest of the human garbage from the waste places between the Appalachians and the Rockies.
The goal, of course, is two fold : the first is to prevent Trump from being a viable candidate for office in 2024, and the second is to drive the MAGAzoid deplorables to do something stupid with which the left can continue to condemn them and frighten the mental midgets at the voting booth into believing Trump and MAGA are the second coming of the Third Reich.
Because the Left CERTAINLY cannot run on a record of success.
DeSantis starts looking better every day.
And no, do not believe those "polls" that show Biden/Harris beating DeSantis handily in a theoretical matchup -- that's part of the plot to get you to go berserk and tarnish the Right.
Don't fall for it.
On to something else:
Life certainly isn't dull around here.
You know it is just going to be a great day when you arrive at the office to find the hallway covered in slithering baby snakes. Imagine being told that this is a common occurrence, as well. Like, annually.
Fortunately, the snakes in question are not dangerous (I'm told they're Brown snakes, not venomous, and they prey upon slugs and other insects and small rodents). It's still friggin' creepy.
Welcome to North Carolina, Yankee!
This happened last night: The Overlord has been jonesing pizza ever since he left New York. I have refrained from buying what is euphemistically referred to as "pizza" here. What passes for pizza here is equivalent to roofing tiles with ketchup on them.
So, imagine my sheer delight when I'm informed that a pizzeria close to my new home in the sticks offers REAL "New York Style" pizza made by REAL New Yorkers. I was excited; it HAD to be better than the usual slop served up by Papa John's or Pizza Hut around here (I would frequent neither, as a matter of principle; I would rather starve than to eat that shit).
And so, here I am, all ready and eager to order a couple of slices, only to be told that I cannot order individual slices after 4 p.m. It's the dinner crowd, you see. Had I come in around lunch time, I could have had all the individual slices I wanted. If I want pizza, I will have to buy the entire pie.
Well, I didn't want the entire pie, even to eat the leftovers (I didn't know whether it was any good or not, after all, so why buy a whole pie that might be shit?).
I opted for a hero, instead.
As I'm waiting for my food, a woman comes in and orders a piece of cake. I will repeat that: a single, solitary, nongregarious, lonely piece of cake.
And they serve it to her.
This puzzles me, and so I have to ask, half in disbelief and half in sarcastic asshole mode:
"Why can she purchase a single piece of cake after 4, but I can't get a single slice of pizza? Why aren't you making her order the whole cake?"
The poor young lady at the counter could not answer me. Her mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, starting to utter something then quickly stifling, before looking at me with a look of sheer confusion and panic. She seemed ready to cry.
Welcome to North Carolina, Yankee!
No wonder these people lost the war.