“Justice shall have to wait til I’m not prez to have me indicted. I won’t be indicted for crimes, meantime. With the Court’s help, I can just — wait

them out. Rudy’s up to his waist, in crime. I’ll be stunned if not indicted. But Justice for me … waits.”

“Justice in my case must await when I am no more, prez. To have me, for my crimes, indicted. But blame not Founding Fathers for not presciently

foreseeing one like Don. A freak of nature, our brother; a scourge of man; God-awful father … to his country.”

Like a football team up late in a game whose defense hangs back to prevent the big play, allowing shorter, underneath plays, President

Don is looking to run out clocks; putting forth dubious legal theories, often backed by scant, if any, legal, precedent.”

“Don is winning the war against democracy, notwithstanding, losing near every battle. The latest in a string of lower-court losses for Don’s administration

as he defends stonewalling of the lawmakers’ oversight, and Congress’ impeachment … investigation.”

“Don is winning the war against democracy, notwithstanding, losing near every battle. The latest in a string of lower-court losses for Don’s administration

as he defends stonewalling of the lawmakers’ oversight, and Congress’ impeachment … investigation.”

“I am winning the war against democracy, albeit I’m losing near, every battle. McGahn’s testimony loss, only the latest loss, for my administration.

Impeachment and acquittal may turn the tide for me; making, more likely, my threatening reelection. Oh my!”

“Irony slays me. Like the ironies in Art’s, MAYDAYS. MAYDAYS, now, ours also; now that I, President Don, have negotiated a deal between a Cabal, surreal,

and Arthur. To pen, MAYDAYS. To tell the fictional and highly unlikely story of an impeachment inquiry, only seemingly, real.”