Now We Know What Rudy Giuliani's Chram Must Feel Like: A Sincere Wonkette Reflection On 2020

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It was always going to wind up like this.

It was inevitable that the Trump legal team's penultimate act would be a press conference in a landscaping company's parking lot, between the dildo store and the crematorium. And then an endless barrage of flaming bags of dogshit masquerading as litigation flung at every court in the country. How else could this debacle have ended, really?

Upon hearing from the assembled reporters that every outlet in the country had finally acknowledged Biden's win, the president's lawyer looked momentarily shaken, before throwing his hands toward the sky in mock supplication.

"All the networks? Wow!" he said sarcastically. "Don't be ridiculous, networks don't get to decide elections. Courts do!" And indeed he was right, although perhaps not in the way he expected.


Giuliani followed up with a disastrous press conference flanked by Trump campaign lawyer Jenna Ellis, who actually managed to get herself fired from traffic court before securing a spot on the Trump gravy train, and Sidney Powell, who believes the ghost of Hugo Chávez stole the election. Topping his previous career low of drunk uncle-ing his way through an interview with his fly down and drool on his shirt as New York magazine reporter Olivia Nuzzi silently congratulated herself on another blockbuster, Giuliani sweated rivulets of hair down his spray-tanned cheeks on national television as he defended Trump's right to a second term despite having lost both the popular vote and the Electoral College.

Then he topped that by absolutely pantsing himself in open court to argue that Pennsylvania's ballots must all be thrown out for UNLEGALNESS and the state's 20 electoral votes awarded to Donald Trump because ... well, I listened to the entire hearing, and I'm still not sure. And neither was US District Judge Matthew Brann, who tossed the case out for GTFO of my courtroom you charlatan.

Plus there was the whole Borat thing. It was a tuck, Giuliani insisted indignantly that afternoon in October when the entire nation watched him get chased off by a negligée-clad Sacha Baron Cohen shouting "Rudy, put down your chram!"

But Rudy did not put down his chram. He cranked it all over Ukraine, and he cranked it during the impeachment, and he cranked it in federal court, and he's still cranking it in the Oval Office. If we wake up tomorrow to video of that man engaging in a celebratory New Years crank in the ballroom at Mar-a-Lago, who among us would be surprised?

Because in the year 2020, we were all Rudy Giuliani's hapless chram, constantly yanked and tugged by an aging liar who insists that nothing untoward is going on.

Just protecting presidential prerogatives, White House Counsel Pat Cipollone sneered, as he stonewalled congressional inquiries by asserting a magical cloak of immunity enveloping the entire executive branch.

Just a valued public servant returning to the private sector, Attorney General Bill Barr insisted as he tried (unsuccessfully) to ratfuck the US Attorney's Office for the Southern District of New York.

Just a routine examination of department priorities, Barr demurred as he systematically dismantled the prosecutions of Roger Stone and Michael Flynn.

Just representing the president in his official duties, Barr assured us as he deployed the Justice Department to keep the president's tax returns hidden, stop Melania's friend from writing a mean book about her, and even to intercede in a defamation case against Trump arising out of a sexual assault.

Just protecting the vote, arglebargled countless Republicans filing lawsuit after lawsuit trying to make it harder for Americans to vote safely in a pandemic.

What's the harm, just let him get it out of his system, Trump's allies shrugged, as he ramped up for a full-frontal assault on the democratic process.

And on and on, 'til we're all a lunatic septuagenarian's shriveled member, trying to remember what it was like when we could successfully complete a task without embarrassing ourselves. Or even pay attention long enough to finish a cogent thought before melting into a puddle of ominous liquid next to a crazy woman spouting inanities about dead Venezuelan dictators.

And, okay, their coup didn't work. Because of course it didn't work! What about Rudy Giuliani suggests a normal chram in good working order?

Despite all their shameful attempts to overturn this election by trickery and by appealing to a partisan judiciary, in three weeks, Joe Biden will be sworn in as America's 46th president, setting himself to the thankless task of piecing back together this broken country.

How do you weave back together the strands of an independent system of justice that has been jammed through a shredder for four years? Well, I've been covering legal issues at Your Wonkette for the past four years, and honestly, I have no idea!

But I continue to believe that we can right this ship. That we can defeat the anti-democratic maneuvering of the Ted Cruzes and Josh Hawleys and Ken Paxtons and Mitch McConnells, and emerge from this nightmare as a body politic that strives to do justice and not just to win at all costs. Despite everything that's happened, I still believe, like Alexander Windman, that "here, right matters."

And if you've been with us for these past four, disgraceful years, I hope you believe it, too. I hope, at the end of this godawful year, that you raise a glass to us, because we made it through. We saved ourselves with money, and with calls, and with postcards and most of all with ballots.

I'm still here. You're still here. America is still here. And tomorrow, we'll put out the garbage and start taking it back.

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Liz Dye

Liz Dye lives in Baltimore with her wonderful husband and a houseful of teenagers. When she isn't being mad about a thing on the internet, she's hiding in plain sight in the carpool line. She's the one wearing yoga pants glaring at her phone.

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