Tomorrow the trial, but it’s not a trial, it’s a political process, blah, blah.

Tomorrow the trial begins, and I’m trying to figure out how to avoid it. I’m already disgusted. One might think we were having re-runs of the O.J. Trial. Even Alan Dershowitz has shown up again. I think Dershowitz must be the Rev. Al Sharpton of trials, appearing in the right place and time to stay in the public eye. Mr. Self-righteous Ken Starr is going to hold his nose and come out of retirement to help God’s anointed. Both want a part in the week-long soap opera extravaganza in which Trump will be the hero who controls all the others from afar. All we need is Rudy Giulliani coming out of a tiny automobile with a mob of crooked Ukrainians.

And the “jury”! For most Republicans currently in the Senate the common good is of little to no importance — their sole goal is to be re-elected. And for fear of alienating some Trump voters they have enslaved themselves to a childish vulgarian bigot. Trump and his myriad toadies make me think of Rudyard Kipling’s epitaph for a dead statesman of WWI.

I could not dig, I dared not rob,

And so I lied to please the mob.

Now all my lies are proved untrue,

And I must face the men I slew.

What tale will serve me here among

Mine angry and defrauded young?