“What’s in the box?” Brad Pitt once disconsolately wailed at the end of a film starring a pervert playing a pervert. But he, by then, already knew. We do not.
Donald Trump has now been convicted of 34 felony counts of falsifying business records pursuant to an extremely dubious legal theory, and will be sentenced on July 11, a mere four days before the Republican National Convention begins in Milwaukee. And if you think you know what happens next, you are wildly overconfident. Perhaps Joe Biden and Democrats will be hit with an electoral backlash as voters turn away in disgust at what was — regardless of one’s opinion of Trump — an appallingly politicized prosecution in every single respect. Or perhaps suburban women will be reminded why they have always loathed Donald Trump (e.g., he is a horrible human being who cheated on his wife with a porn star and then sought to cover it up), and Trump will once again narrowly lose. Down either road lies madness, but madness is once again the only option on offer for Americans in November.
Either way, we will now discover what unsightly horrors are preparing to scuttle out of a Pandora’s box that, once opened, can never be shut again. And Republicans head into 2024 with the possibility of fumbling a presidential election that would have been easily won by nearly anyone not named Donald Trump.