Honestly, send me the witnesses! Sure! Screw it!

I thought I was at a point where no fact, however compelling, could possibly break through my blissful fog of ignorant support for President Trump, but — I’d love to be proved wrong! I’d love to feel anything at all at this point, other than the warm and spreading conviction that President Trump is the only good, that President Trump is identical with Right, that there is no party but the Donald.

So, why not have witnesses! Sure, let’s hear from John Bolton! Let’s hear from Lev Parnas! Maybe reading a note on some Ritz-Carlton stationery describing the president’s involvement in withholding aid in exchange for the announcement of an investigation into his political rival will turn out to be the thing that changes my mind. If nothing up until this point has, I don’t think it’s likely, but, hey, you never know! Maybe a rogue associate of Rudy Giuliani will turn out to be the thing that really convinces me where all the other bits of evidence — from President Trump’s own mouth, from the mouth of Mick Mulvaney — have failed! Weirder things have happened at sea!

At this point, I’m just curious in a kind of a detached way. I keep watching and thinking: Something is bound to reach this guy, me. How can it be that he’s just going about his day as if there’s nothing wrong with the president? How securely swaddled in a thick cocoon of fabrications and ignorance can this guy be?

The attorney general is paying to have his personal celebration at the president’s hotel! That seems like the kind of thing I used to care about? Maybe that will make me feel something? I wait and watch and — nothing. It’s like blasting an electric current through a dead frog. Even the leg doesn’t twitch any longer.

I used to care about these things, I think. I used to be mad when the president let anyone down, even in a minor way, even if it turned out not to have happened at all. And now, it’s like I just walk around in a gauzy limbo, noticing nothing, perceiving nothing. It almost seems as though there could be something seriously wrong!

Am I okay? Shouldn’t I feel something? I think I’m angry? Or am I happy? Or is it gas?

I look at pictures of myself from the past and I almost don’t recognize them. Did I have a standard below which President Trump could fall? Me? I don’t rightly know. I guess I must have, once. Now I feel as if I’m in a cave many ells below ground and only echoes reach me. To be convinced — by hearing a fact — that would be, at the very least, a new sensation.

So have a whole trial, why don’t you! Let’s see what happens! Maybe this will be what does it. Not all the receipts for official travel to his own properties. Not the Mueller report. Not the testimony I’ve already heard on the House side. Not — the past three years.

Maybe this will break through. So, sure, try it! Why not! Besides, what’s the worst that could happen if we realize he’s guilty? It’s not like we’re going to remove him.

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