Trump’s Search For The Perfect Lawyer

After sending out a series of blistering pre-dawn tweets, watching Fox & Friends and playing 18 holes at the new Trump Miniature Golf Course in Langley, Va., President Trump is ready to start his work day at the crack of 1 p.m. in the Oval Office.

 

He’s seated behind his desk, wearing a Make America Great Again hat and admiring a photo of his daughter Ivanka as Chief of Staff John Kelly enters for his daily meeting.

 

“Well, hello there, General Kelly,” The President says warmly. “Good to see you again. Didn’t I fired you?”

 

“No, sir, Mr. President,” General Kelly responds. “Not yet.”

 

“Well you just keep a close eye on my Twitter feed.”

 

“Yes, sir. Now, Mr. President. I think we really need to get a handle on this lawyer situation and beef up your legal team.”

 

“Why is that, General? Do you have reason to think some legal issue might arise before my eight years are up?”

 

Kelly loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button on his shirt.

 

“Well, sir, better safe than sorry,” Kelly says.

 

“You know, Johnny Boy, I thought we had a real winning team with that diGenova guy and his wife. You know the women love me.”

 

“Yes, sir, but I think you made a wise move by changing your mind. DiGenova’s conspiracy theories about the FBI being out to get you were a little over the top. He would have been seen as a little whacko.”

 

“That’s right, Johnny Boy. And we couldn’t have him upstaging Trump.”

 

“No, sir, we couldn’t. But the problem is we’re having a hard time finding replacements. Remember you told us to hire only the best people, but half a dozen top attorneys have turned us down even though the billable hours will cost more than your wall.”

 

“Why wouldn’t somebody want to work for Trump?”

 

“Well, sir, some are afraid of your reputation for, um, ignoring your advisers.”

 

“That’s right, General Boy, nobody knows better than Trump.”

 

“And nobody knows that better than me. Also, sir, some are afraid of your reputation for not paying your bills.”

 

“Yes, sir, I’m not known just for my stiffies, but also for stiffing people.”

 

“Well anyway, sir, have you put together a B list of lawyers.”

 

“Sure have. In fact I just saw a guy on TV who looks like a sharp cookie. His name is Michael Avenatti.”

 

General Kelly takes out a bottle of aspirin and pops a handful.

 

“Well, Mr. President, Mr. Avenatti is representing Stormy Daniels against both you and your attorney, Michael Cohen. Representing you too would be a conflict of interest.”

 

“Well, there’s nothing I find more interesting than conflict.”

 

“We’ll come back to him later, sir. Who’s next?”

 

“What about me, Johnny Boy?”

 

“You, sir?”

 

“Why don’t I represent myself?”

 

“Well, you know the old saying, sir: A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client.”

 

“Yes, but a genius for a lawyer.”

 

“Good point, sir, but technically you’re not a lawyer since you never went to law school or passed the bar exam.”

 

“No, sir, I never drink, but I do have an honorary law degree from Trump University.”

 

“Yes, sir, but I don’t think that’ll be accepted in, well, anywhere.”

 

“OK, OK. I don’t have time anyway, what with the tweeting and the golfing and the, well, tweeting and golfing. Say, I like this old-school guy. Name’s Matlock.”

 

“I’m afraid he’s passed away, sir.”

 

“What about that guy who got O.J. off when they tried to frame him like they’re trying to frame me.”

 

“Johnnie Cochran?”

 

“Yeah, him. He’s the guy who said, “if the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” That’s what we need — a good rhyme.”

 

“I’m afraid he’s passed away too, sir.”

 

“Hmmm … First Matlock, now Cochran. Looks like a conspiracy to knock off all of Trump’s lawyers. Get Hannity on the phone.”

 

General Kelly grimaces, places his hand on his stomach, then takes out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and chugs most of it.”

 

“Judge Judy?”

 

“Busy.”

 

“Oh, I saw another impressive guy on TV. Handsome young devil in a uniform. Jack Nicholson was on the witness stand and Nicholson was yelling at him.”

 

“You were watching a “Few Good Men”, sir. It’s a movie. The good-looking guy was Tom Cruise. He’s not a lawyer. He’s a celebrity playing one on TV.”

 

“Reminds me of President Trump.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“But he’s the perfect lawyer for me.”

 

“Why is that, sir?”

 

“I heard Nicholson tell him, “you can’t handle the truth.” With me as a client, that won’t be an issue.”

 

“I’ll see if he’s available,” General Kelly says as he takes a flask out of his coat pocket and walks out of the Oval Office.