Dream On

For many days and weeks now, those who pine for the good old days when elections were roughly fair and bloodless have been heartsick at the prospect of a Constitutional crisis beginning on election day and continuing for who knows how long. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if some honest authority would take charge? Wouldn’t it be nice to dream a little?

Wouldn’t it be grand if Wilford Brimley would walk into Loretta Lynch’s big Justice Department conference room tomorrow morning and get down to business. (Like he did in the movie “Absence of Malice” as Assistant U.S. Attorney General James A Wells.) Loretta would be sitting in her comfy three-thousand dollar chair at the head of the long, well-polished African Rosewood table, Jim Comey, the good boy/bad boy/good boy of the G-men force would be at her right elbow, the Assistant FBI Director on her left, and strung out in descending order of importance would be all the assistant Attorneys General, lawyers, leftists, litigators, and even the candidate for President with her now-estranged right hand gal, Huma. Thirty or forty people crammed into the posh room.

All assembled, and here comes the rumpled old coot, slate-colored Stetson laid carefully on a side table, battle-scarred Hartman alligator hide briefcase dropped loudly on the fancy table, latches thrown in unison, the case yields a yellow legal pad dense with handwritten notes.

That outrageous handlebar mustache twitches for a long moment as he ponders the papers in his hand, “My authority here is the U.S. Constitution, which seems to have pretty much been forgotten in the last few months. Specifically, the chairmen of both the House and Senate Judiciary Committees asked me to come over and get things rolling. The US Code of Federal Regulations, Chapter 6, Section 600.1, 600.2, 600.3 and so on covers the appointment of a Special Counsel. I’m thinking we’ll need at least two, maybe more if this New York Police Department investigation amounts to anything.”

The Attorney General interrupts, ” Wait, wait, this is my meeting!”

“WAS your meeting,” insists the short, stout man with beady brown eyes,   “Ms. Lynch, you have misused your authority and so did the fella before you.” he turns, pointing at the Rodham woman, “and you, Mrs. Clinton, and your whole herd of politicians have driven this country into a blind Constitutional canyon. The thing I’m here to explain is how to get out of this mess; it’s called The Law and it’s the path we’re all going to become acquainted with again this morning.”

“Now, I’ve invited my young reporter friend here, Amir Maloof (not a real person), to sit in on the meeting,” He turns and points to a thirty-something man with shaved head, a full beard, and a Lorenzo Cana tie carefully cinched to the spread collar of his Charles Tyrwhitt Egyptian cotton tailored shirt, laptop open and glowing, “He reports for the Wall Street Journal, perhaps you’ve read some of his stuff. Most of what transpires here will be on the record. He’ll report that. Anything off the record, he won’t. He’s pretty good at understanding the difference. Some of you might be wondering why your favorite reporters from the major news outlets were not invited, too. Well, I think you know why. They can’t be trusted. They can’t be trusted to tell the whole, unvarnished, unbiased, unadulterated truth. They can’t be trusted to tell the American public that it’s illegal for the head of the Internal Revenue Service to disclose private personal information about certain taxpayers who have been targeted for harassment. It’s also illegal for the director to lose two years’ worth of incriminating emails and then giggle about it. They can’t be trusted to tell the American public that the Environmental Protection Agency has no legal authority to declare a mud puddle a waterway, no legal authority to ruin countless small businessmen and women with their vindictive, punitive, one-sided, arrogant application of rules and regulations that serve no purpose other than to favor friends and terrorize political foes. And they damn sure can’t be trusted to explain to the American taxpayer that the Obama administration is, and has been, in the process of dismantling the finest health care system in the entire world for no good reason. ”

“Anybody here from the E.P.A? I didn’t think so.” Drawls the inquisitor, “How about Homeland Security?” He looks around, “The I.R.S.? Nope, of course not. Well, we’ll get to all of those places, but here this morning we’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

“Some of the people in this room are going to jail, and almost certainly all of you will be in a courtroom, a federal courtroom, under oath, for many months and years to come.”

“Mr. Comey, I’m glad to see that you finally grew a conscience.” Brimley sidles up to Comey and puts a pudgy hand on his shoulder, “Tell me, when did you find out about those 650,000 emails on the Anthony Weiner hard drive?”

“Uh, well it was just last week, like I said on Friday.” Replies the FBI director.

“Well, no, it was more than thirty days ago.” Says Brimley. He turns,

“Ms. Lynch, did your department or anybody in it lean on Mr. Comey’s people to shut down their investigations?”

“Investigations? Plural?” asks Loretta Lynch.

“Why yes, that’s why we need two Special Counsels. Hillary’s emails and the Clinton Foundation. And we might need a third. Investigators tell me there is a mountain of evidence. We’d better get crackin’, five days until election day.”

Just a daydream, just a harmless daydream.