In the afternoon of April 3, 2023, Donald Trump exited his private plane at LaGuardia airport, climbed in a Secret Service motorcade and trekked from Queens to his apartment in midtown Manhattan in preparation for his first big day in court on April 4. Purely for future scientific studies in clinical malignant narcissism, it would have been fascinating to get a transcript of the thoughts going through his mind on that journey into Manhattan.
I can imagine him peering out the tinted glass of his government-provided SUV, watching for the flocks of avid (rabid?) adoring supporters lining the highways and streets, holding STOP THE STEAL or TRUMP 2024 signs. In light of the season and given his pronounced Christian character, I can imagine him thinking, "Hey, this is like my own Palm Monday, it's the biggest Palm day of the week anyone has ever had in history. No one has had a Palm day as spectacular as mine. I own this town, the people love me."
Donald, you might want to roll the window down and get a better look at the people lining the route. They're not all laying palm fronds in the street to blanket your path. It's already evident you have more than one Judas amidst your disciples / employees. And you're not just facing one group of critics hoping to turn you over to Pontius Pilate for punishment, you're facing four different modern day Sanhedrins, all pursuing DISTINCT offenses.
If I were you, I'd opt for a courthouse entrance on the front steps in broad daylight. You're about to spend more time than you could have previously thought possible indoors listening to very smart people -- people way smarter than you or anyone that would voluntarily choose to act in your orbit -- work to convince twelve very important people whether you should see even less daylight in the coming years. Enjoy the sunshine while you can.
WTH
