A week later, déjà vu. The House impeached Donald Trump. Again. First president in history to manage a double feature. He’ll probably brag about it — “Nobody’s been impeached twice, believe me, nobody!”
The charge: incitement of insurrection. Translation: he wound up his followers like cheap toys and pointed them at Congress. The footage alone is damning — him telling the crowd to march, them obliging with flagpoles turned to battering rams. The whole world saw it. But in Washington, seeing isn’t believing, it’s optional.
His defenders lined up like tired defense attorneys with nothing left but clichés. “He didn’t mean it.” “He used the word ‘peacefully.’” “It’s too late anyway.” Excuses you’d expect from parents of a teenager caught torching the garage: “He’s just going through a phase.” Except this teenager had the nuclear codes.
Republicans twisted themselves into pretzels. Some condemned him while voting to acquit. Others pretended the riot was a spontaneous sightseeing tour. One even suggested Antifa disguised itself in red MAGA hats. Yes, because nothing says anarchist like storming the Capitol to stop a Democratic win.
Let’s be clear: the trial will land in the Senate, where courage goes to die. Most senators would rather fake a back injury than cross Trump’s base. So the “verdict” is already written in invisible ink: not guilty. Again.
What matters is the record. For all of America’s short memory, this will stick: Donald J. Trump, impeached twice. Not once in a lifetime. Twice. If nothing else, history will keep the receipts.