KRAP-TV Launches New Reality Show: America’s Sleaziest Lawyer

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Issue Number 23  –  July 2019

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“Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it.”

– Mark Twain

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Once upon a time in Hollyweird…

Darkened auditorium. Theme song plays:

Last night I watched the news from Washington, the Capitol.

The Russians escaped while we weren’t watching them.

Like Russians do.

Now we’ve got all this room.

We’ve even got the moon.

And I hear the U.S.S.R. will be open soon.

As vacation land for lawyers in love.

(Note: Jackson Browne is currently suing the producers for stealing his song. The producers have assigned 132 lawyers to squelch the litigation.)

As the music fades…

Voice Over:

“KRAP-TV: Where we lead you astray with lie after lie and you follow us anywhere and come back for more. And we just get more and more filthy rich. Gotta love Americans!”

 

A human gargoyle strolls onto the stage. Multi-colored lights swirl around him.

Wild applause from the studio audience—encouraged by a sign off-camera:

“Clap like monkeys looking at a bunch of bananas. The loudest one will win a banana!”

The human gargoyle says:

“Welcome to our top-rated show: America’s Sleaziest Lawyer. And boy, do we have a ton of them!  I’m Gort Smith, your host with the most boast from coast to coast. We have an exciting extravaganza planned for tonight. But before we get to the results of how America voted, let’s recap the last few episodes. Watch the Jumbo Tron as we scroll through the early rounds of the contest—the vast number of loser lawyers—who although sleazy by any normal standard—did not make the cut for the quarter finals. They are:

• Alexander Acosta
• Jeff Sessions
• Mike Pence
• Ted Cruz
• Louis Litt
• Bill Clinton
• Lindsey Graham
• Michael Avenati
• Patti Hewes
• John Edwards
• Anthony Scaramucci
• James Comey
• Francis Underwood
• Mick Mulvaney
• Liz Cheney
• Rod Rosenstein
• Louis Canning
• Scott Pruitt
• David Lohman
• Ty Cobb
• Roy Moore
• Dr. Gonzo
• Harry Reid
• John Ratcliffe
• Vinnie Gambini

As the audience whoops and hollers through the abbreviated episodes, conversations are overheard backstage.

Mitch McConnell talking to Liz Cheney:

Mitch: “What Russian interference? I’ll tell you what disrupts the domestic tranquility more than anything—my pushy in-laws! I’m trying to keep foreigners out of the U.S., not give them carte blanche. There goes my approval rating.”

Mitch screams to a female aide: “Fetch my Derby Julep. And make sure it’s a double!”

Liz: “Isn’t that a little harsh to speak to a woman that way? Maybe that’s why your polling numbers are in the crapper.”

Mitch: “Don’t you and Meghan McCain have a Tea Party to go to or something?” He grabs the cocktail from his aide and gulps it down. “I’m a self-made man. Not like you–hanging onto Daddy’s belt buckle to justify your career.”

Liz: “Yeah, you are a self-made man all right—right into an itty-bitty, misuscule, meager, diminutive, paltry excuse of a man—with your nose glued to creepy body parts of the Orange Rump, another yuge mini-man. Face it, #MoscowMitch. You and your brethren ought to be shaking right down to your shriveled scrotums. I know no one likes me, either. But hey, at least I’m the correct gender these days.”

*****

Alan Dershowitz talking to Gort Smith:

Alan: “Are you related to Mr. Smith Goes to Washington?”

Gort: “No, I’m related to the alien monster in The Day the Earth Stood Still. You know, the giant silver robot who tried to destroy American values. Which is why I don’t get it that I wanted to practice law in D.C., but they wouldn’t let me in. Said I wasn’t their type of sleazy—the bold-faced, over-the-top kind. I’ve always been the sneaky kind of sleazy—like hiding behind the shutters in my office and locking the door so an opposing attorney can’t deliver legal docs to me. Love to watch ’em bang on the door. Or fabricating declarations to enter into evidence. That kind of thing.”

Alan: Yeah, that’s pretty sleazy. And I should know.”

Gort: “No kidding. What’s up with defending the Orange Rump?”

Alan: “I had no choice. I was speeding toward irrelevancy and badly needed a client. And Larry Nassar wasn’t returning my calls.”

Susan Collins screeches through the backstage area yelling: “Why can’t I be a contestant? I’m not a lawyer but I’m as sleazy as the rest of you! Hell, I sold my soul. Now I’m in political purgatory! I need all the media exposure I can get!”

“What a dreadful woman,” Dershowitz says. He sticks his foot out and trips her. Collins falls flat on her face.

Gort: “That’s not cool, Al.”

Alan: “Let her sue me. I need the business.”

*****

Rudy Guiliani talking to Michael Cohen:

Rudy: “I’m gonna kick your ass in the semi-finals. Wait and see.”

Michael: “No way. I worked for the Orange Rump for twelve years. You’ve only been on the job for two. That makes me six times sleazier.”

Rudy: “It ain’t about the Rump. It’s about the women. How you treat ’em. How you degrade them in the home and in public. How you body shame and slut shame and face shame them. Shame on you for not knowing that. Men rule the world! I’m a pig and women know it and they still flock around me. Christ, I screwed over three wives. You’re still on your first. You’re toast.”

Michael: “But I lied to Congress.”

Rudy: “What an idiot. That’s a crime. I lie to the press everyday. Not a crime.”

Michael: “But I ended up in prison.”

Rudy: “That’s not so much sleazy as it is pathetic. Go on home to Otisville. You’re done here.”

Michael starts to snivel. Rudy reaches into the pocket of his Brioni jacket. “Oh for cryin’ out loud, Mikey,” he says, handing Michael a monogrammed hankie. “Man up!”

*****

David Boies talking to David Lohman:

DB: “I don’t recognize you. Are you a California lawyer? Plenty of dirtbags in that neck of the woods.”

DL: “No, I practice in Oregon. I’m the city attorney for Ashland.”

DB: “Isn’t that a job for someone who can’t make it in private practice?”

DL: “So?”

DB: “Geez, Dave. I worked my butt off with Microsoft; Gore v Bush; Hollingsworth v Perry. I’ve been involved with that hottie Liz Holmes at Theranos and that eff-tard Harvey Weinstein. And you’re doing what, adjudicating who’s responsible for the pot holes on Main Street? How’d you even get into this contest?”

DL: “First of all, there are no pot holes on Main Street. I made sure of that. Too much liability. And to answer your question, I bribed the producers.”

DB: “OK, that’s sleazy. But why bother? You’ll never win. You’re out of your league—like not even in the Majors. Or Triple-A. More like Little League. The rest of us make in a week what you make in a year.”

DL: “It’s not about winning. It’s about creating a distraction. I need one—big time.”

DB: “Sounds like the tactics of the Orange Rump. What are you trying to cover up?”

DL: “Bad legal decisions. By a bonehead attorney from Eugene—which by the way is even weirder than Portland—provided by an insurance company, for God’s sake—who probably got her job through some cockamamie affirmative action deal. And to be honest—which is a rarity—possibly a bad decision or two by me—although I’ll never admit it in public. I work for City Hall in Ashland—an over-paid, over-staffed cabal of cohorts in a nest of nepotism. Anyone who challenges the cushy status quo we have set up for ourselves gets the heave-ho. Then we create a phony reason for firing him or her and hope they don’t sue the City. But if so, we use every method possible to crush that person—legal or otherwise. We cannot be proven wrong.”

DB: “Sleazy. And corrupt.”

DL: “Right. And you were my role model. The way you hounded that poor kid, Tyler Schultz, the whistleblower at Theranos. And his beleaguered parents had to pony up $400K to pay the legal bills. Loved it. And the way you try to silence people. I do that! I copied your playbook. Terminated a city employee to shut him up cuz he blew the whistle on unethical practices by the engineering department.”

DB: “What a dope. Whistleblowers are protected by federal law. How’d that work out for you?”

DL: “Well, he sued and we lost the case. We appealed. Lost that, too. Very costly—not just in financial terms, but more importantly, in bragging rights. But we spun it to the public that the jury was full of morons and that they decided incorrectly. The City Council backed us up on it—except for one spunky councilwoman. But our collective cabal can stomp on her anytime we want.  As I said, we stick together—one big group-think tank of toadies. We work for the betterment of ourselves. Not the City, its trees, or its citizens.”

DB: “I had no idea a small town could be so sleazy.”

DL: “We’re not done yet. Our Parks and Recreation Department fired a long-time, highly functional employee. The head mucky-muck said he wanted ‘new blood‘. So he gets his way.”

DB: “Who is this guy? Dracula?”

DL: “No, he’s my buddy. So of course I backed him up on it. Don’t get me wrong. There are times I want to throw that mucky-muck under the bus for making my life harder. But I got on board. I called the employee a ‘rabble rouser’. Got quoted in the newspaper. Because I know that slandering women works to get the general public on your side and not theirs.”

DB: “Well, Dave, good luck on hoodwinking the citizens so you can keep your job. But I’m too important to waste any more time with the lowly likes of you. I’m looking to schmooze with a real lawyer. Have you seen Saul Goodman?”

*****

Saul Goodman talking to Brett Kavanaugh:

Saul: “What’s up with that high school calendar you kept? Weird shit. Who gives a crap where you partied? Makes you look desperate to look popular.”

Brett: “Wow–that’s what my shrink said. I had no idea I was so insecure.”

Saul: “And still are, pal. No one bought that boo-hoo-hoo, shouty performance at your confirmation hearing. No one believed your claims of innocence.”

Brett: “Who cares? I still got seated on the Supreme Court. Mission accomplished. The GOP will confirm any scumbag it wants—as long as it helps retain their political standing.”

Saul: “You know you’re the white Clarence Thomas, don’t you? You make women’s skin crawl.”

Brett: “Again, who cares? When the Orange Rump is re-elected, Roberts is being pushed out the door. Early retirement. Wants to spend more time with his family, as they say. And guess who will be stepping into his robe?”

Saul: “America is doomed. This is beyond sleazy. And I’ve worked for murderers and drug dealers. I’m outta here.”

Brett: “No, stick around. Watch me win this competition. I’ll buy you a beer. You like beer? I like beer! Breakfast of champions.”

Saul: “Lemme tell you what I think. Dershowitz is mixed up with a sexual abuser of under-age girls. So he definitely belongs in this contest. But he’s ugly as sin. Same as McConnell. That makes for bad television. They won’t win. Rudy Guiliani is a joke. But he makes for good television. But too stupid to win. That leaves you and Barr.”

Brett: “See–I told you I’d win! Where’s my six-pack?”

Saul: “Hang on there, Al Bundy. Before you head over to Moe’s Tavern to celebrate, you need to dial back your expectations. I think the front-runner is Barr. Everyday—every hour?—he jerks off the Orange Rump to keep his job. And to get to swing his teenie weenie around the West Wing. Then there’s you–a dickwad for sure. The winner will be whoever the American public thinks is more sleazy—meaning more dangerous. Either a ghoulish Attorney General who doesn’t work for the people but works for the Orange Rump instead. Who deliberately distorted the meaning of the Mueller Report—thereby demolishing the checks and balances of the government branches. And is now pushing the death penalty on first-time offenders—even grandmothers. Or you: A poisonous Supreme Court Justice with a maturity level stuck in tenth grade and a temperament  problem that rivals Beelzebub. Who will slam dunk women’s reproductive rights, their quality of life, and their dignity to overturn Roe v Wade just because he’s a misogynistic asshole.”

Kavanaugh puffs up in pride. Saul leans into Kavanaugh’s puffy red face. “My money is on Barr.”

More fake waterworks flow. Rudy walks over—laughing. He hands Brett a handkerchief. “What a sissy!”

*****

The loser montage ends. A video recap of the quarter final showdown follows.

William Barr vs. Mitch McConnell. Winner = Barr.

Rudy Guliani vs. Saul Goodman. Winner = Guiliani.

Michael Cohen vs. Alan Dershowitz. Winner = Dershowitz.

David Boies vs. Brett Kavanaugh. Winner = Kavanaugh.

“OK, folks, ready for the winners of the semi-finals? The votes have been tallied. Which two of these four gentlemen—I mean sleaze generators—William, Rudy, Alan, or Brett—will square off against each other in the finals?” The audience squeals with delight.

Gort opens an envelope. He pretends to study it judiciously. The crowd roars in anticipation. Gort stalls. Then cuts to commercial. What a letdown!

After the break Gort continues, “Without further delay, let’s bring the remaining four contestants onto the stage.”

Barr, Guiliani, Dershowitz, and Kavanaugh prance around—high-fiving supporters in the front row.

Over the cheers and jeers Gort yells, “The two finalists are William Barr and Brett Kavanawful.  OOPS—I mean Kavanaugh. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and you can bet these courtroom Ninjas aren’t wearing Milkbone underwear!”

Dershowitz storms off stage. Rudy lags behind, texting his latest girlfriend to pack her bags. He’s taking her to London to attend the Yankees/Red Sox game. He tells her to bring her pinstripe negligee.

“Gort stole that line from Cheers,” Dershowitz says. “Plagiarizer. I’m suing this piss-pot show. Gawd I hate L.A. I’m suing Randy Newman, too.”

Rudy replies, “You need to get laid, dude. You’d be in a much better mood.”

On stage Barr and Kavanaugh refuse to shake hands. Gort stands between them. “All right, fellas, you have one last chance to make a statement to convince voters why you should be crowned America’s Sleaziest Lawyer. Then the polls will be open for twelve hours. And you might want to say a few words in Russian—for the poll hackers.”

The lights dim. A spotlight shines on Kavanaugh. “Brett, you’re up first. Make one last case for yourself.”

Kavanaugh scrunches his face; purses his lips; adjusts his tie; smoothes his hair, narrows his beady little eyes, and motions to the cameraman for a close-up. “A vote for me is a vote for greatness. I have risen above the peons of this country and have elevated my articulation of sleaziness to kingly levels–in lying and posturing and arrogance and entitlement and anger and theatrics and well, a whole bunch of other b.s. And that people, is as sleazy as it gets.”

 

The audience eats it up. When the applause subsides, the spotlight shifts to William Barr. He shrugs his shoulders, then says matter-of-factly:

“Let me tell you a story. See if you get it. When I was a little kid I bullied another kid—much smaller than me. Gave him a good thrashing. My parents laughed. But my grandmother scolded me. She said that the ties that bind America should be altruism—not sleaze. I replied, ‘O.K. Granny, how do you like these ties?’ And I tied her up, gagged her, dragged her into the basement. No one found her for three days. We all laughed. So my point is this: I don’t call it sleaze as much as I call it natural selection—survival of the fittest. Your choice for ultimate sleaziness is simple because America has evolved—mutated away from those pious ideals of the Founding Fathers. They’re not relevant; not applicable. What works best for our country now is that it’s no longer a nation of laws. It is a nation of egos. And believe me, my friends, when I say this: Mine is the biggest. I rest my case.”

 

Ecstatic applause from the audience. “Holy roly guacamole! Well done, Bill and Brett! Compelling testimony! America, it’s up to you. Vote now and tune in next week to find out our winner—and what the Grand Prize will be! I’m Gort Smith, your host, saying over and out.”

And we hope out of a job.

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P.S.

Dear Gentle Readers:

We apologize for the potty-mouth words used in this article. We sanitized the language as best we could without bowdlerizing the tone of the dialogue, which in its original form would have made the writers of Deadwood blush.

As always, we appreciate your readership.

Sincerely yours,

The Publisher