You Can't Break Up With Trump, Don McGahn! He's Breaking Up WITH YOU!
BYE, DON McGAHN! Don't let the doorknob hit ya in the crack of the ass! Guess it's time to start collecting that sweet wingnut welfare coin. KA-CHING!
Well, assuming you don't get indicted first.
It was another batshit crazy morning in Very Stable Genius Land. At 6 a.m., Axios reported that the White House Counsel is noping out "after Brett Kavanaugh is confirmed to the Supreme Court, or after the midterms." And this time he really means it! McGahn successfully ratfucked the federal judiciary for a generation, so he doesn't have to take any more shit from the Oompah Loompah. Screw you guys, he's going home!
But then the president got finished retweeting Tucker Carlson's latest conspiracy theory and congratulating Republicans on their "Big Election Wins last night!" in Republican primaries, and it was time to shit all over the press.
Was this a repudiation of the Axios story? Or just the regular Twitter diarrhea from the Couch Potato in Chief?
Just two days ago Vanity Fair reported that Trump was out of his damn mind and looking to replace McGahn with someone willing to draft a pardon for supercrimer Paul Manafort. On the other hand, McGahn has been planting stories for a year now about how he's leaving for real this time, just as soon as he heroically saves the world from that lunatic again. (So please don't arrest him for obstruction of justice, Mr. Mueller!)
But two hours later, the president took time out of his very busy schedule to tell the world that Don McGahn is definitely not breaking up with him. IT WAS TOTALLY MUTUAL, HE'S ALREADY GOT A YOUNGER HOTTER LAWYER SO THERE.
Did McGahn and Trump discuss the impending separation? LOLOLOL! The Post reports,
Trump's announcement of McGahn's departure came as a surprise, including to McGahn.
He was not aware that Trump planned to send the tweet before it posted, according to a person close to McGahn.
"He was surprised," this person said. It's an open secret inside the White House that McGahn planned to leave after Kavanaugh's confirmation process concludes, though he had not discussed his plans directly with Trump, according to this person.
For that reason, McGahn was not angry, merely surprised. His general attitude after 18 months in this White House, this person said, was "of course it happened this way."
Of course it did.
Chuck Grassley shouted sad words at his phone, and Kellyanne's husband wondered if extended employment in the White House counts as cruel and unusual punishment. Because DC is gross and weird and incestuous!
Then speculation turned to McGahn's possible replacement. Axios's sources think Emmett Flood is next in line to toss his reputation on the bonfire, since Trump isn't openly ridiculing him yet.
Three senior administration officials tell us they hope Flood is the pick:
He's trusted and respected inside the White House.
Most importantly, sources familiar with their interactions say Flood has — as well as any lawyer can — figured out how to talk to Trump.
The president focuses his attention when Flood talks to him: Trump reacts to the authority Flood carries as a heavyweight lawyer handling the topic that potentially poses an existential threat to the Trump presidency.
But one thing's for certain. The minute he leaves the building, McGahn's colleagues will turn on him like a pack of wild dogs. They'll blame him for everything that ever went wrong in the Russia investigation, for not letting Trump fire Sessions, Mueller, and Rosenstein, and for spilling the beans to the Special Counsel. They'll curse his name him for low morale at the White House, high staff turnover, and the fact that the Diet Coke on Trump's desk is always warm. Next week Giuliani will tell Chris Cuomo that it's about time that Trump got some competent representation. And within a month Trump will be tweeting that he hardly knows Dean McGowen, and he wasn't really affiliated with the Trump administration. That train is never late!
But you know what they say -- live by the sword, get shit all over by a demented narcissist and his cult of backbiting chihuahuas. Or something like that.
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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.