The Goat Rodeo School of Law

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Introduction

I don’t know the exact location of The Goat Rodeo School of Law, but I have inferred its existence from the fact that we do require some explanation for the craft competence on display by the likes of Jack Smith, Fani Willis, Letitia James, and Alvin Bragg.

Such things don’t happen by themselves. There has to be a school out there that specializes in teaching this kind of thing.

Why Not Both?

From the very beginning of these bogus lawfare cases against Trump, it was clear that the whole operation against him was corrupt, ponderous, diseased, orchestrated, bigoted, tendentious, and lame. It was also clear that they were tired of cheating in the middle of the night, because it is dark then, and hard to see, and they would rather be sleeping. Why not do what they are going to do—that is, rig the election—in the broad light of day? Everybody who matters in the media will agree to look the other way, and the people who notice can simply be relegated to the status of election-deniers. And as the Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci once put it, “go big or go home.”

And so it was that many conservative observers drew the conclusion that the justice system, or at least the portions of it where they were pulling this stunt, was hopelessly fraudulent. After all, if they are willing to do such things at high noon, what will they be willing to do in the middle of the night? Alas, we all said, for we do not get many chances to use words like alas.

Now some might suggest that perhaps all of this was simply the result of sheer incompetence, and not because of a venal or deep-seated corruption. That is a point of view, certainly, but as time wore on, the naked truth began to dawn on the entire country, all of us staring slack-jawed by this point. Why not both?

Why can’t it be possible for wicked people to be nincompoops? Where is it written that the bad guys all have to be evil genius Bond villains? Perhaps the forces of evil are starting to realize that DEI hires are moving up inside their ranks, and not just at Columbia University. Of course, I do not mean to exclude Columbia from the ranks of the forces of evil. I apologize if I misspoke.

This both/and scenario is worth contemplating. Why not both?

Jack Smith

Jack Smith is Special Counsel for the Justice Department, and he was heading up the prosecution of Trump over the Classified Documents that he had been keeping at Mar-a-Lago. If you recall, there was an FBI raid on Mar-a-Lago, in which these Classified Documents were retrieved, and returned to the bosom of Mother Washington, where all classified documents are stored where they are supposed to be stored. Next to the Corvette.

The charge against Trump here was that he was guilty of mishandling official documents. This is important to remember, for reasons that will become apparent in a second.

Now hardly anyone in modern Washington even knows what a petard even is, and so it is quite remarkable that Jack Smith has managed to find one in order to hoist himself onto it.

You think my remarks are cryptic? You may well think so . . . until you get a load of this. The accusation against Trump was that he mishandled classified documents. But then when the defense was looking at the documents turned over to them, the ones that Jack Smith had seized, so they could prepare their defense, they noticed that a bunch of them were jumbled, didn’t match, out of order and so on. They said so in court, which meant that Jack Smith then had to file a reply, in which he admitted that he and his minions had . . . wait for it . . . mishandled the documents.

So the judge has now indefinitely delayed the trial, which means that this throws their election-rigging schedule all off, which was, some might argue, inconsiderate. I noticed a liberal talking head on the teevee intimating darkly that she did this because she was appointed by Trump himself. But I don’t think this was her reason at all. I think it was because she was tired of looking at goats, and wanted a break.

Fani Willis

Fani Willis is the District Attorney of Fulton County, Georgia, land of the midnight poltergeist vote. She had cooked up quite a case against quite a number of people, and charged them all with the crime of noticing that the Democrats had been cheating. Now this is not quite accurate. They were not charged with noticing. They were charged for acting upon what they had noticed.

Now this case is a convoluted skein of yarn that the cat got into, but let us not be distracted. We must hurry on to the main event.

When these cases were first brought, Willis was feted and adored as the spunky black woman who was going to Bring Trump Down At Last. But do you remember how cream rises? Well, so do DEI hires.

In her pursuit of Trump, she hired a special prosecutor, a man named Nathan Wade. He was an attorney whose firm specialized in personal injury cases, and he had also been a municipal judge. What specialized expertise did he bring to the momentous task of prosecuting a former president of the United States, not to mention a man who might become president again? Wouldn’t outside observers wonder how a putt-putt lawyer had gotten promoted to such a lofty position? Well, Wade’s principal qualifications appear to be situated in the fact that he and Fani Willis were boinking partners.

Oh, and she was paying him what might be called “princely sums.”

So all the moral gravitas that people were trying to bestow on this case has gone the way of the whistling wind.

Letitia James

Letitia James is the Attorney General for the state of New York, and she won her case against Trump, a case which is now on appeal. This was the case where the state argued that Trump had overvalued his assets one time in order to help him get a loan from a bank. The loan was obtained, the loan was paid back, the bankers were all happy, and said that they would be pleased to loan money to Trump again. This clearly a thing not to be tolerated, and so Letitia James prosecuted him.

Now the prosecution seemed to outside observers as though the New York AG was killing ants with a baseball bat, but it also seemed like there might have been a “thing” in there somewhere. I mean, did he overvalue any assets? Hmmm?

Out of this entire line-up of spurious cases, this case almost seemed like a regular case. Almost, but not quite. We know this because, after the conviction came down, the mask came off and bwa ha ha has issued forth from behind the bench. Judge Engoron, once he was done cackling, decided to set the bail for our former president at 454 kajillion dollars, which some observers thought was kind of high.

Somebody, probably a lowly law clerk, thought he remembered something from the Constitution that he had read back in junior high. A search was made, and a copy of the Constitution was found in the basement of the courthouse, down where the rat traps were, and, sure enough, they found something that seemed to be relevant.

So people looked around sheepishly, and the amount was lowered to $175M by saner heads elsewhere, which Trump then paid.

This case is now on appeal.

Alvin Bragg

Alvin Bragg is the Manhattan District Attorney. From that high and lofty perch, he decided that he had figured out a way to leverage an alleged misdemeanor offense into a federal felony. This is the Stormy Daniels hush money trial.

The allegations are tawdry, and the whole thing is salacious, and Trump is tethered to the courtroom, and everybody in there is engaged in a manic game of “find the button.” I speak in a dark metaphor, as though the crime were the button.

Joseph Stalin once said, “show me the man and I’ll show you the crime.” Inspired by this sentiment, Alvin Bragg has said, “show me the man and I’ll show you a perfectly legal non-disclosure agreement.” Which he argues should be treated as a crime because the non-disclosure was a benefit to his presidential campaign, and hence should be regarded as a campaign finance violation. And if there is one thing we know about campaign finance violations it is that Alvin Bragg is not responsible for prosecuting any of them.

He is not out of his lane. He is in the wrong stadium.

So Then . . .

So what should be the takeaway from all of this? Critics will say that I wrote all of the above as some kind of a Trumper apologist, as though I believe that Trump is the savior of America.

No, he is not the savior, unless we consider him to be—in the providence of God—a sort of backhanded savior. He is no savior in himself at all, but he has been the agent for making all our putative saviors to lose their minds. His effect on all the respectable cats is like that of some meth-infused catnip. Trump has revealed to us that he is no savior, and that nobody else is either. This has been a great service, and a grateful nation rises to thank him.

If it had not been for Trump, we would never have seen David French start barging into furniture and throwing rocks at the moon. If it had not been for Trump, we would never have know how riddled with ethical leprosy our intelligence agencies had become. If it had not been for Trump, we would not have seen how clownishly corrupt our justice system is.

People ask how it is possible to vote for Trump after he has revealed himself to be the kind of man he is. But that is actually not the issue. Trump is an Apocalypse, an unveiling. The issue is not what he has revealed himself to be, but rather his uncanny ability to make everybody else act out in such a way as to reveal what they really are. He may be an Apocalypse in a red necktie, but he is still an Apocalypse.

I have known of Donald Trump for decades, and my basic assessment of his character has remained unchanged for the most part. But after Trump came into radical conflict with the American Establishment—that basket of respectables—he revealed that establishment to be thoroughly petty and self-consciously malignant in ways that I had not dreamed. Oh, I am a Calvinist, and I always knew about total depravity, and thought I had budgeted for it. But Trump comes along, and as the infomercials on television put it . . . “but wait, there’s more.”

Do you doubt what I say? I invite you to read over my summary of those four court cases again. We may still have our marble hallways, and our mahogany benches, and our robed judges, but we are now using these formerly august chambers to hold our goat rodeos in.