Undoubtedly, it will be massive. People are saying President Trump’s inauguration on Jan. 20 will be like something they’ve never seen before. It will certainly break the attendance record set, and so perfectly documented with photographic evidence, by his first inauguration eight years ago.
Hundreds more will be there in spirit only — the imprisoned Jan. 6 “patriots” — awaiting their release from jail with the stroke of a proverbial pen, the minute this gala becomes official. Their presence would have swelled the numbers even more bigly.
But one vital character in the unfinished opus that is the life of Donald J. Trump will not be attending — the long-time dead Roy Marcus Cohn.
It’s not an incredible stretch to conjure Roy on the steps of the Capitol. If AIDS hadn’t claimed him at 59, terminating his very close relationship with our 47th president, he’d be 97 for this history-making day. Clint Eastwood and Warren Buffett still thrive, close to that number. Queen Elizabeth fell one short of it. Trump’s fellow TV legend, Norman Lear, made 101. The spry and venerable Dick Van Dyke just turned 99, but — unlike Roy — is more intent on stomping fires than starting them.
One could imagine gene-pool winning Trump — diagnosed as the “fittest president ever” — a sureshot to be with us into his 90s — with Roy, still frolicking and scheming and lunching, making America great. It’s an out price these two would still share a very close relationship, if Roy hadn’t upped and died.
VIP sections will be full, led by the family section and the aggrieved first lady, still bitter at FBI agents for rifling through her underwear drawer, but apparently merciful enough toward her husband for having gotten spanked in his underwear by porn star Stormy Daniels. Could an above-the-grass Roy squeeze in?
Or, would legal warrior Cohn sit in the lawyer section, which might be broken down into the disbarred (Paul Manafort, Rudy Giuliani, Jeffrey Clark, et al), and the in good standing? Perhaps, given Roy’s penchant for beautiful women, real estate and showmanship, he could be seated in the “Small-time Real Estate Lawyer channeling Marilyn Monroe in a form-fitting gown at Madison Square Garden cum White House Advisor” section? Admittingly, very select, but who wouldn’t want to be a fly on the padded chair for that convo between firebrand Roy and pitbull Alina?
Then there is the Frankenstein section. Roy could sit next to Jeff Zucker, who innocently enough perpetrated a most significant crime in world history, by elevating a six-time bankrupt to business genius on NBC’s “The Apprentice” — paving his way to the White House.
And, the next day, after a 24-hour countdown has yielded peace in Ukraine, ol’ Roy goes to work…
“Retribution,” Roy’s forte, is a good place to start. Would the burgeoning political career of the Central Park 5’s Yusef Salaam — one that mirrors Trump’s in its celebration of redemption — come to a halt at the litigious hands of Counselor Cohn? After grinding down these five victims to a nub Roy could move on to audial twin Michael Cohen. A team of Hollywood script writers could sketch out what’s in store for dear Michael but they’d never approximate what Roy would do. To call it ghoulish is to low key it.
Raymond Babbitt wouldn’t be able to tabulate the number of lawsuits Roy would bring.
After Roy dispenses the likes of Liz Cheney, Anthony Scaramucci and Mary Trump he can move on to the media (we actually got a glimpse of how this works when — privy to private, accurate polls — the billionaire owners of the Washington Post and Los Angeles Times bowed out of the endorsement business prior to Nov. 5). Ali Abbasi, Rachel Maddow, Stephen Colbert and others would be advised to look into skeleton removal, ASAP.
And how America gets its news will be unrecognizable after Roy and Elon Musk get finished.
Roy will also take charge of seeing that sports are returned to the glory days of Joe DiMaggio and Esther Williams, each exactly defining which side they played for.
But a man of Roy’s hyperfocus will ultimately zero in on the even-bigger prize — the abolition of the 22nd Amendment. With a compliant Congress and a pliable media this could be as easy as getting Sean Hannity to genuflect to an impending USA Monarchy. Have at it, Roy…
… but, alas, Roy is no longer with us.
So he must be placed in the Apparition section, next to ghosts like John Barron, sharing a snicker with Ivana.
I will miss these festivities.
I have a sock drawer that needs re-arranging.
Marotta is a filmmaker and writer.
