The Triumvirate That Means Doom for Donald Trump
Letitia James
The New York Attorney General, announced yesterday that her ongoing investigation into Donald Trump, his family, and the Trump Organization is no longer “purely civil in nature”—as if anything could either be “pure” or “civil,” when it comes to Trump. Ms. James and her office, along with the Manhattan DA, are now investigating Trump in “a criminal capacity.”
Probable outcome of James’s investigation:
Trump goes to jail, along with members of his family!
Fani Willis
The District Attorney of Fulton County, Georgia, announced a criminal investigation into Trump’s election interference in Georgia, including his personal pressure-campaign on state officials to overturn the vote. Tomorrow Stop-The-Steel stooges will likely call for a Georgia Election Audit. My money is on Ms. Willis.
Probable outcome of Willis’s investigation:
Trump goes to jail, along with various of his flunky half-wits.
Robbie Kaplan
The civil rights attorney, co-founder of the Time’s Up Legal Defense Fund, and the woman who won Windsor in the Supreme Court which opened the way for Gay rights across America, has three cases against Trump. Robbie represents Mary Trump in her suit against Trump and his two siblings who brazenly swindled Mary out of millions of dollars that she should have received as her inheritance from her father. She represents Jane Doe (a hospice caregiver) and a nationwide class of other economically-challenged individuals, who lost what were for them large amounts of savings in a pyramid scheme that Trump and his three offspring, Ivanka, Don Jr. and Eric, were flogging as a “promising business opportunity” —although it was 100% crap—on “The Celebrity Apprentice.” And Robbie represents me in my defamation suit against Trump.
Note:
Probable outcome of Robbie’s trio of lawsuits:
I am confident she will win all three!
Now on with today’s Wednesday Quagmire…
The Daily Quagmire
Before I was fired from Elle, the Ask E. Jean advice column solved five or six problems each month. Now, just for the Queenhell fun of it, we’re solving a problem every day—and like the famous New York Times crossword, as the week goes on, the problems get harder, juicier, slippier, and knottier.
And here’s Wednesday’s classic:
Blindsided & Betrayed
Eugene Delacroix, 1826. Musée des beaux-arts de Lyon
Dear E. Jean:
My best friend and I have seen each other through bad boyfriends, career fears, cross-country moves, and her devastating marriage to “The Creep.”
Over the last year, things have been intense. While she was divorcing The Creep, I was getting my heart broken by El Grande, a man who was bigger than me, ego-wise, space-wise, every-wise. Are you guessing where this is going? I was trying to move on after El Grande (he made all sorts of promises, but never delivered), when my friend called me and told me she was pregnant with El Grande’s child.
When I say I was blindsided, I mean literally. I was crying and hyperventilating so hard on the way home I almost got hit by a car. She’s keeping the baby. El Grande has moved in with her.
I’ve written her a letter saying good-bye. I reminded her she stole the first boy who broke my heart in high school. We’ve been best friends since we were twelve. I’m shattered. I don’t know how I can be an adult without her. —Broken and Empty
Broken, My Dearest Girl:
My God! Of course you’re shattered! Such a treacherous double-betrayal. But you know how to be an adult. You wrote her the letter, and many times it’s wiser to measure yourself not by what you carry on, but by what you end.
You ache for your friend, and because you need comfort in your grief, Auntie Eeee is going to suggest something strange: To restore your peace of mind, I advise you to become a secret fairy godmother to the child.
I believe consolation comes from love. So send a giant teddy bear when the child turns two, a $50 bill when she/he/they make the 3rd-grade soccer team, a trip to New York and a two-day stay in Waldorf for college graduation—ALL unsigned gifts, all arriving mysteriously in elegant unmarked envelops and boxes. This will bring joy to the child and tranquility to you. Good luck!
Because I know that I don’t know everything, here’s the Conflab . . .
The Axis of Brilliance & Betrayal
The Conflab is where we hash over the Wednesday quagmire—and where our roisterous community saves mankind. Today we are solving two problems of betrayal—Our letter-writer, Ms. Broken, was betrayed by her friend . . . and America is still reeling from it’s betrayal by Donald Trump.
Ms. Broken was blindsided. America certainly was not blindsided by Trump. No. No. We knew what we were getting. But who would have guessed that Trump would still be claiming he won the 2020 election and trying to overturn the results?
Do you see other parallels? Both lied. Both cheated. Ms Broke’s friend sold her out, Trump sold democracy down the river (and continues to fund-raise on “The Big Lie”); but only one has a worthless greedhog for an attorney and three brilliant, aggressive women who are his worst nightmare.
What else am I missing? Chime in, Conflabbers!
There are literally 382.2 million people in America without a subscription to Ask E. Jean, if you happen to know one of these people, click the link below:
Or if you are one of these people . . .
You can get to me on Twitter or send me your question by using the Voice Memo on your phone (I may run the recording on Ask E. Jean), or shoot a video question (again—I may put it on Ask E. Jean), or write to me about what’s driving you crazy—your career, your wardrobe, your love affairs, your lusts, your languishing, your finances—to AskEeeeJean@gmail.com.
And drop me photos of your pets!
A woman who betrays another, especially after a lifelong friendship is atrocious.
There's nothing else I can say.
To those out there who have hurt a sister, knowingly, 🖕😤
My parents briefly (but not briefly enough) shared a house with a woman who was mentally ill. They lived up and she lived down, and she was a difficult being, always leaving full, stinking garbage bins outside, running her bath the moment she heard anyone upstairs running water until all the hot water was gone, crying and wailing into the night, and heating her apartment with her stove (?) so that the smell of it, which was horrible, seeped up into my parents' place. When they showed her concern they were met by snarls and hatred.
So my mother started sending her gifts anonymously; little baskets full of small treats, sometimes for a holiday, sometimes not, left at her door with a 'Merry Christmas' or 'Happy Spring!' tag. After that she could be heard chatting on the phone about her "secret admirer", and things improved. Less inconsolable sobbing at 3 a.m., a tidier outdoor space - she even planted flowers outside her door. And my mother was never smug about it, which I expected. In fact, she rarely mentioned it. I guess, sometimes, a good deed is its own reward.
As for The Giant Orange Turd, I wish him an eternity in the seven circles of Hell. His children and creature of a wife are all an utter waste of skin. May you, E. Jean, and all those gutsy men and women going toe to gut with him know complete victory.