Another week fraught with the alarming news and incomprehensible policy decisions that so characterize the Biden presidency nonetheless provided some welcome comic relief.
Stormy Daniels has been ordered to pay President Trump’s court costs — 300,000 clams — after her lawsuit failed. The porn star/stripper, who laid down and bared all in her carnal displays, is ordered to hand over an amount that amounts to a lot of bought-and-paid-for … action.
This is as if an impoverished Native American tribal village in Alaska was ordered to pay the court costs of Exxon-Mobil after an undersea oil leak that destroyed their fishing grounds was traced to a British Petroleum pipeline.
In either case, it is up for grabs as to whether those so ordered would have the clams to pay up.
Related: Trump Sticks It to Stormy Daniels in Court
Speaking of oil, Avenatti. He is beneath contempt, beneath humor even, especially in light of the way the CNN shill-meisters deified him as the savior of the Trump-beset universe. The disgraced lawyer inspires only a barely repressible, unchristian, galloping impulse to schadenfreude.
But what do we do with Stormy? Her ribald fifteen minutes end with a harlot’s penury, while Mr. Trump’s chump-change take-home from the fiasco would — should he ever see a penny of it — barely make a dent in his portfolio.
Stormy vows she’ll never pay a nickel. It’s dirty money no matter how you slice it. The only charity that would accept it, should Donald so direct, would be the Sex Workers Relief Fund. (Author’s note: I didn’t look this philanthropic organization up; I made it up.)
We’ll not rehash the case here, not even to ask what Stormy is doing now. It’s over. Who cares?
It is worth wondering, however, if she could go to prison or perhaps be placed on parole if she ignores the court order and it is demonstrated that she does have the wherewithal to pay. Can a sex worker’s paychecks be garnished? Perhaps some legal mind who chances on this story can enlighten us in the comment section — it is simply not worth researching in this case.
Stormy tangled with the wrong customer and got taken to the cleaners. The uneven scale of jurisprudential judgment here is as if Tony Fauci was sued by a family that was refused the right to be with a COVID-infected loved one as the Grim Reaper loomed, and then, by virtue of a Deep State verdict, was ordered to fork over Fauci’s court costs.
While the idea of Avenatti in jail is pleasing, there’s a sense that poor Stormy should probably answer for her crimes in the afterlife. Meantime, let her continue to carve out an existence clearly defined now by her legal tryst with our 45th and dearly missed president. Into the annals of “leave (insert-name-here) alone” Stormy must now be enshrined. It is time to let this ironic, lusty, irresistibly humorous, and ultimately distasteful saga fall into the realm of topical oblivion.
Whether she pays Trump’s court costs or not, Stormy Daniels has bills to pay, and she works hard for the money.
I wrote “Stormy Go Home” what seems like ages ago now, to marginalize an individual whom I felt was a threat to the man I believe was our greatest president since Reagan. Looking back, the essay is so 2018. We knew very little then, and, after all the legal wrangling and talk show haranguing, we know very little more now than we did then.
It is a blessing.
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