Do you ever have the feeling we’re watching a political version of the “Maury Show?”

(CanStock Photo)

You know the show: some dumb-ass guy who apparently has no idea what a DNA test is swears, “That ain’t my baby, I swear that ain’t my baby.” But sure enough, all nine of the children are his, including the baby of the woman who lives down the street (she didn’t know it was his either).

As investigations deepen into President Donald Trump and his band of angels, I feel as if we’re watching some weird version of Maury’s show as we try to understand these unbelievable revelations rolling out every day. 

You might imagine Maury leaning back in his chair, all smug with his legs crossed, asking, “May I have the envelope please?” The crowd waits with bated breath as Maury slowly opens the envelope and begins to read the first DNA result, “In the case of Russian interference in the 2016 Presidential election, you are the father.” The crowd goes wild as Trump reels from what he has just heard.

Maury calls for quiet and begins to read the next DNA result, “In the case of members of the Trump campaign actively conducting business with known Russian oligarchs before, during and after the campaign, you are the father.” By this time, Trump is beside himself.

Maury goes on. “In the case of your flagrant disregard of the emoluments clause in the constitution on hundreds of occasions, adding millions to your personal and corporate wealth while in office, you are the father.” Trump now goes into full rage with his hair in total disarray, cursing and calling for Kellyanne Conway to go get the car.

But Maury isn’t done. “In the case of the fabrication of a fake blind trust supposedly to create a firewall between you and your business interests, Mr. Trump, you are the father.”

In true “Maury” fashion, Trump leaps from his chair and races to the monitors behind him pointing and yelling, “Just look at that money, that ain’t my money. I ain’t never seen that money. My 50 and 100 dollar bills don’t look anything like that.” 

Maury has many more DNA results to present, all documenting the parentage of his hundreds of abuses, but as he tries to read on, Trump rushes from the studio to the boos of an audience once loyal to the fantasy he represented. Not all of his supporters were champions of a less diverse America, not all believed in everything he did and said. But they were the rightful owners of the lies they needed to believe that would make America “Great Again.”

So there he stood, stripped of all pretenses, naked to the unavoidable truth that he was an empty vessel once fueled by the hate, fear or hope of nearly half a nation. Truth began to reveal what Trump really was; a man who believed he was entitled to the world. 

Left muttering to himself, he could be heard whispering, “But I repealed Obamacare.” A sickly woman wheeled slowly from the studio hears his whispers and offers, “We didn’t need you to repeal it, stupid. We needed you to help fix it.”

With that, there was nothing left of him. A police bulletin has been issued asking for the public’s help in locating him.

Ken Lawson is an inveterate observer of the passing phases of the Washington and Maryland political environments, and a long time AFRO reader, subscriber.