GAVEL NOISE!

“Call this meeting to order. Order, please. Today, we will be hearing the testimony of William Taylor, who was America’s highest-ranking diplomat in Ukraine up until very recently. I welcome all my fellow Congresspeople from various committees, and do remind them that this hearing is secret and what is heard here should not be discussed with anyone outside this room. Goddammit, Ted Lieu, are you Tweeting?”

“No, I’m streaming on Twitch.”

“Knock it off!”

“Aw.”

“Mr, Taylor, thank you for coming today. I understand that the White House attempted to prevent your appearance.”

“Congressman Hoyer, thank you for having me. And, in answer to your question: yes. The White House was rather aggressive in their desire that I not testify.”

“Can you describe their efforts?”

“I was contacted by various officials from various departments. State called, as did the White House counsel’s office. The Governor of Florida called me at home, real late, and used terrible language. Donald Trump, Jr., both texted me and tagged me in an Instagram post.”

“Anything else?”

“Letters ranging from ludicrous legal missives to incomprehensible, short-sentenced threats. You know the kind of letters this White House sends out.”

“Sure.”

“One hand-written note from the President.”

“Sharpie?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What did it say?”

“Be a smart guy! Dummy up! and then his signature. The note was written on the bill of a Make America Great Again cap.”

“Do you have the cap, sir?”

“I do.”

RED BALL CAP THAT A MORON SCRAWLED ON BEING INTRODUCED INTO EVIDENCE NOISE

“Thank you. Anything else?”

“Several interns from the White House tried to tackle me on the way in here this morning.”

“They were not successful, I take it?”

“Congressman, I was in ‘Nam. Some little bastards named Hunter aren’t gonna lay me out.”

“Thank you for your service.”

“Sure.”

“Mr, Taylor, I’m told you have a prepared statement to read?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr, Chairman, I appreciate the opportunity to speak before Congress today. I hope to illuminate through detail the irredeemably fuckwadded misadventures of this White House, specifically in regard to Ukraine.

In terms of my background, I have been in the employ–in one way or another–of the American government for my entire life. I attended West Point, and then served in Vietnam. Upon my return home, I joined the Department of Energy, and I worked on the Hill, and at NATO, and finally became a diplomat with State. I have served loyally under both Republican and Democratic administrations.

I was the ambassador to Ukraine from 2006 to 2009, appointed by George W. Bush. I fell in love. Oh, the Kyiv Spring! I know most Americans spell the name of the city “Kiev,” but they don’t know her like I do. City of wonder, city of glamour, Kyiv. Don’t forget the countryside. The fertile fields. The sturdy peasants. The goats. Who could resist Ukraine?

But when Secretary of State Pompeo asked me to return to the role, and the country, I balked. First of all, because my would-be predecessor was treated quite shabbily by the White House Second: my wife was very against the idea. She said of the President His brain is made of soup, and This will end in tears and lawyer’s fees.

So I would like to formally, and on the Congressional record, say that my wife was exactly correct on both counts.

I made it clear over the phone that taking the job required that the United States maintain its current level of strong support for Ukraine, and Secretary Pompeo blew into the phone and pretended like there was a bad connection. I flew to Kyiv anyway.

Immediately, I began to suspect monkeyshines. The newly-elected President of Ukraine, Volodomyr Zelensky, reported receiving numerous middle-of-the-night phone calls from Rick Perry During each call, President Zelensky attempted to explain the concept of “time zones” to Rick Perry, but he (Rick Perry) failed to grasp the material. Rudy Giuliani also “popped by” Zelensky’s official residence on three separate occasions. I tried to explain just how inappropriate that was to him (Giuliani) but he failed to grasp the material, and was drunk.

I was also under pressure from the Ambassador to European Union, Gordon Sondland. He was less interested in the intricacies of international relations than he was in doing whatever President Trump wanted him to do, and going to dinner. In our initial meeting, he said that Ukraine was “the country with the great pastries?” When informed that Ukraine did have delicious baked goods, it wasn’t particularly known for its cakes Sondland became incensed, and began shouting. “NO! IT’S PASTRY FUCKING CENTRAL!”

I regret using that language, but I felt it necessary to quote Sondland completely.

During a call with Sondland on July 18th, I was made aware of a hold placed on $391 in military aid. I objected quite vociferously, and was told that President Trump needed President Zelensky to announce that he (Zelensky) was investigating Hunter Biden, or an internet company, or Hillary Clinton’s campaign; the subject of the investigation seemed to me quite fluid. For a full five minutes, I was also told that Zelensky had to “find the server.” When I asked what in God’s name that meant, Sondland screamed “I AM RICH AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!” at me.

The following day, I met with President Zelensky, who showed me security-cam footage of an obviously liquored-up Giuliani and two of his fat idiot criminal friends trying to climb the fence of Maryinsky Palace. Needless to say, this was embarrassing to both America and myself. Rick Perry had also called again, once more in the middle of the night.

“Mr. Chairman!”

“Settle down, Congressman Jordan. Don’t interrupt Mr, Taylor!”

“I won’t sit here and let this pinko rape my President! That’s what’s happening here! The Democrats, in league with International Communism, the Deep State, and those drag queens from the library, are holding my wonderful President down and trying to forcefully reverse his butthole’s traffic flow!”

“That is a highly offensive analogy.”

“All of this is offensive! The non-phony parts of the Constitution says that you can’t rape a sitting President!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“That’s it, Hoyer. Push-up contest. Right now.”

“I’m 80 years old, Jim.”

“Coward.”