Two weeks - masking as two years - have passed since President Donald J. Trump relieved James Comey of his duties as FBI director (duties which, incidentally, included the overseeing of the bureau’s investigation into any untoward Russian involvement in the American elections and, more crucially, with the Trump campaign). Two weeks within which Washington seems to have transformed into the incoherent nth sequel of a drawn out cinematic franchise; you know, the one that can’t quite land on a single genre or tone. Is this some overly wry comedy? A Cold War spy thriller? A ghoulish Cronenberg snuff flick? What the hell am I watching?
Every day at 5:30 another news push: Washington Post, New York Times, CNN - sometimes all of the above. (Russian collusion. Maybe. Obstruction of justice. Perhaps. Nixonian tapes. Seriously? Comey color-coordinating his attire with White House drapes to elude the President’s gaze. Of course.) As the Fourth Estate undergoes its most frenetic arms race in decades, we are quickly being primed to expect new, explosive revelations just in time for tea. With perfect Pavlovian conditioning, the reddening afternoon sky now brings with it a rush of political anticipation and anxiety - as well as an underlying fatigue.
Most cruelly - and true to form - this movie-that-won’t-end still has in store that one scene which we all came to see. Comey’s testimony to Congress. Parts of it we’ve already seen in the trailer - don’t tell me you weren’t breathtaken when you heard about the Comey memos! - but will the real thing live up to the hype? Will it even happen or forever remain a missing trailer scene?
Speculations as to what Comey may say before a captious Congress, if and when he testifies, abound. There’s certainly no need for any more. That said, here’s how I think it will go down.
A prognosticated transcript of Comey’s Testimony Before Congress
You don’t like me. You don’t like me.
You guys in Congress are all the same; I’m getting nauseous from your party games.
You can’t play me. You won’t sway me.
Got a Deep State to oversee; I’ve been around since 43
You say, “Time to pick a side. Say, why can’t you decide?
It’s late, and He might be behind us…”
We sat down. Guns drawn.
And then He asked me straight with His guiltless look - If I would let His old friend off the hook.
I said no. Won’t let it go.
Now He tries to hound me down for fake betrayal -
But I will burn this town with my paper trail.
You say, “politics aside Is it really time to hide?
We good? Or could this mean disaster?”
While His shadow’s stretching long in the setting sun,
He won’t let us all forget He won.
But there’ll be nowhere to run once I’m done, babe,
Don’t call me till He’s gone.
It’s late, time’s not on your side. Too bad you never really tried.
Goodbye - you’ll all love me in hindsight.