In a spectacle that made pantomime look like high art, the Supreme Court has delivered a split decision on Donald Trump's presidential immunity claims, granting him one hollow victory and three resounding slaps across the face of his already flagging legal strategy. The ruling, which landed with all the grace of a walrus in a tutu, saw the justices rule that presidents do indeed have immunity for official acts, a nugget so obvious it barely merits a snort of contempt from your correspondent. However, they swiftly demolished Trump's argument that this immunity extends to his private efforts to overturn the 2020 election, his election interference case in Georgia, his hush money payments to Stormy Daniels, and his dodgy dealings with classified documents.
It is, one might say, a mixed bag for the man who once boasted he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue without consequences. Now, it seems, he can't even shoot a legal argument without it curdling in the air. The court's majority opinion, penned with the subtlety of a sledgehammer by Chief Justice Roberts, made it clear that while the presidency is a serious office, it does not come with a 'get out of jail free' card for any old felony that takes your fancy.
Trump's legal team, which has been working on the case with all the vigour of a hungover sloth, was visibly flummoxed. They had banked on total victory, perhaps hoping the justices would simply declare him emperor of the free world and be done with it. But alas, the law, that infuriatingly boring institution, had other ideas.
The one win, for official acts, is like being applauded for not setting fire to the stage during a play. It is the bare minimum, a pat on the head from the legal establishment for not having committed treason while in the oval office, which is a bar so low that even a snail could clear it with room to spare. The three defeats, however, are the real meat of the matter.
They mean that Trump will now have to face the music in multiple courtrooms, each one a fresh opportunity for his lawyers to gurn and grimace as the evidence piles up like receipts in a tabloid scandal. The election interference case, the Georgia racketeering case, the hush money case, and the documents case will now proceed, dragging Trump's already tattered reputation through the mud of the American legal system. It is a glorious, glorious mess, a symphony of incompetence and hubris that will warm the cockles of any cynic's heart.
The only question now is whether Trump will try to pardon himself again, presumably with a crayon on a napkin, or whether he will simply declare himself a victim of the deep state and retreat to his golf courses, muttering about witch hunts and fake news. Either way, the spectacle continues, and your satirical correspondent, Biff Thistlethwaite, will be there, gin in hand, to document every glorious, farcical moment.
