Standing on the Corner in Winslow, Arizona...

Thanks to the great Jackson Browne for the title…A few days in front of Trump’s first criminal trial and since Trump is convinced he’s a victim, I thought I’d be his pal and give him some advice …

Dear Donald,

You notice I didn’t address you as President, or Former President Trump. That sign of respect ended with the first piece of broken glass at The Capitol Building on January 6th. I voted for you, once, I thought you had promise, but I’ve come to realize you’re a total shitbag. But I have a lifelong affinity for underdogs and people willing to fight the system, so I’m going to try and help you here. If it hasn’t registered yet, your ass is in a jam-this is the first of several, criminal trials and they’ll get worse as you go along. In this first one the odds are you’re going to be found guilty. They won’t send you to prison, but it can net you a few million in fines, felony probation and maybe, if the judge is really pissed-off, an ankle monitor. You can always sell tennis shoes and bibles to pay the fine, but the ankle monitor could be a problem. Think about it-you’ve got a bunch of fat cats down at Mar-a-Lago, you’ve got your begging bowl out and you’re working the crowd when your ankle monitor goes off, because you’re too close to the fence. That would be a definite mood killer and even by your low standards, bad optics. Bright and early Monday morning, you’re going in front of an experienced criminal court judge…yeah, that same guy whose daughter you’ve been insulting, and to put it mildly, you’ve got a lot of ground to make up and you’d better start thinking rather than whining. You like to strut around like a tough guy, but nobody’s buying it, nobody is afraid of you; like they say on the street, you’re all blow and no go. You’re no Mafia kingpin, if you were, you wouldn’t be babbling to the media, whining, and huffing and puffing in the court room. You have the world’s worst poker face, but you’re a rich man, buy one, borrow one, have plastic surgery, do something, but lose the poor me, I’m a victim schtick. It’s all about image. Project calm, confident power, and total respect for the court. Be the first person on his feet when the judge enters, look and act like a former president of the United States. Confine your answers to yes, your honor or no, your honor. Look alert, engaged and on top of your game. Leave the orange body paint at home it’s ridiculous you look like a clown, or a second-rate game show host, not a president. Shut your mouth and let your attorneys do the talking, it’s what you’re paying them millions for, get a little something for your money. Your trophy wife probably hates you and it’s obvious she doesn’t respect you, but she needs to be sitting in the front row, all the way through the trial. She needs to be understated glamorous, attentive, fully engaged, and supporting her husband. You need to buy some respectability. She’s as mercenary as you are, cut her a deal, up her future alimony, give her whatever she wants, you need the judge and half the jury concentrating on looking up her skirt and not hearing from a parade of people who worked for you at the White House telling the court what a sleaze bag you really are.  We both know you won’t listen to common sense, the lawyers, or anybody else so maybe, after you’re convicted, you should go on the lam. Go to Mexico, warm, sunny, great food, that’d be gangsta’, skip the country, just like in the movies. I can see you standing on that corner in Winslow Arizona, leaning on that statue of Jackson Browne, waiting for the Coyote to pick you up and take you across the border. For the first time you’d be a real gangsta’ and the country would be rid of you…win-win situation….