What’s in Trump’s wallet?
A federal judge in New York City on Wednesday said Deutsche Bank and Capital One can turn over financial documents related to President Donald Trump and his businesses in response to subpoenas from House Democrats. — CNBC, May 22, 2019
Wait … what? Capital One?
Trump the Sun King and his vast gilded empire bank at Capital One? The bank with the Samuel L. Jackson ads?
Does Trump, America’s most powerful billionaire president/leader of the Free World/winner of his own personal Game of Thrones, wait on line in a midtown Manhattan urine-scented Capital One ATM chamber to get walking-around cash to under-tip the Trump Tower guys who bring the limo around?
Does Trump hunch over the ATM while punching the buttons so nobody sees his pass code or account balance? Then he furtively stuffs the stack of Jacksons into his wallet already groaning with McDonald’s receipts saved for tax purposes? Does he fumble to find the ATM chamber door button to let him out and breathe even if it’s tourist air?
Does Trump struggle to deposit presidential checks using his Capital One phone app because facial recognition doesn’t work if you have a physics-defying quiff and he can’t remember his password? (It’s: Trumpsexxy2020!)
Like Jerry Seinfeld in “The Little Jerry” episode, did Trump consider the clowns with balloons check motif or ever bounce a check at the bodega for all to see and mock?
No. Don’t be silly. Have some respect for the president.
Trump picked a sensible Capital One check, as Michael Cohen’s Congressional interlocutors displayed as he sang like a canary with a Queens goomba accent so real it sounded like parody. Powerful billionaires don’t become the best United States presidents ever by paying hush money to porn stars with clown-balloon checks. Seriously.
But questions arise: What will the desperate angry political Democrat do-over witch hunters uncover next, in spite of no collusion, no obstruction, total exoneration, case closed and Mueller’s no confidence Trump did not commit a crime? What new jaw-dropping revelations can we expect?
· Trump waits to buy his collection of powerful suits and ties until the Men’s Warehouse summer closeout sale?
· Trump unleashed his Avenger-superpower deal-making skills to wrangle a sweet 1.5 percent cash-back deal from Hyundai Long Island City on the all-new Elantra?
· Trump holds up the line at the Duane Reade near Trump Tower while digging through his coupon Ziploc bag to save 25 cents on Preparation H, which he needs from sitting behind the presidential desk too much being the smartest and most powerful decisive leader ever?
· Trump used NRA loyalty points to buy a pistol to shoot someone on Fifth Avenue in case he needs to rally his base because chances are the victim will be a liberal New Yorker or an immigrant?
· Trump is actually flat broke? Like a financial wizard, he transformed his father’s $400 million in gifts into nonexistent billions while screwing over trusting people? Trump doesn’t have two nickels to rub together, which his money people informed him is just an expression — small coin friction produces little if any return on investment? In spite of what Bitcoin investors say?
Forgive me. These questions are stupider than Congress holding the president accountable like the Constitution says.
According to research on the internet, Thomas Jefferson once said in a letter to John Adams if the president wants to be above the law and throws tantrums and holds his breath until blue in the face to get his way, then Congress has no choice but to give the president a chocolate chip cookie.
Jefferson also said nut jobs have the right to arm themselves against being outnumbered by school children who threaten our liberty, but that’s another story.
But if I were Congress, I’d subpoena Trump to testify and invite the Honorable Mister Samuel L. Jackson — specifically as Jules Winnfield in “Pulp Fiction” — to lead the questioning.
Jackson would start with: “Mister President, with all due respect, can you please tell the Committee and the American people, what the f**k’s in your wallet?”
Trump would turn to his eminent counsel, the renowned Constitutional scholar Rudy Giuliani, confer in whispers, turn back and say, “Sorry. None of your business. Fifth Amendment. Executive privilege. Whatever.”
The rest would go down like this:
Jackson: You read the Bible?
Trump: I love the Bible. I sign Bibles. My people are thrilled.
Jackson: There’s a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
“Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you.”
Now… I been sayin’ that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, that meant your ass.
That said, Mister President, I may or may not be a righteous man, but let me ask you again, what’s in your wallet, motherf***ker?
Trump: [Conferring again with Giuliani] Rudy? Help me out here. Whaddya got?
Giuliani: Sorry boss. You’re on your own.
Jeffrey Denny is a Washington writer