Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: michael flynn

After A Quiet Period, The Post-Midnight Calls To Maggie Haberman Resume

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Aw, Jesus. I thought they lost my number. Yeah, hello?”

“I have General Flynn on the line for Maggie Haberman.”

“General, I recognize your voice.”

“Yeah, you got me. I am just not great at fooling people. How’s my gal?”

“I am not your gal.”

“The world’s my gal tonight, Mag, and I’m gonna hump right on it. And this Black Label. She’s my gal, too. I’m celebrating, Mag! Why don’t you stop by? My son’s here and he’s single again.”

“Again?”

“Women can’t handle his love for country.”

“Mm-hmm. So, you’re gonna be a free man, huh?”

“Fingers crossed. I mean, the judge could still be Deep State. Or Jewish. Recommendation is just that, and we could get a free-lancer on the bench, probably installed by the Moor Obama.”

“Please don’t call President Obama a ‘Moor.'”

“See, this is the Political Correctness that’s ruining America that I had to save America from by betraying America.”

“What now?”

“Hey, how do you tell fentanyl from oxycodone?”

“I have no idea how you–”

“Fuck it.”

SHNAAAAAARF

“I ain’t dead, so it must have oxy. Mag, I’m telling you: I should go buy lottery tickets. Rolling straight 7’s today.”

“General–”

“This might be the moment to try out that autoerotic asphyxiation I’ve heard so much about.”

“Ew. So, how much did you tell Mueller to get such a beauty deal?”

“Everything! I told that freaky-chinned bastard everything. He got inside me, Mag.”

“Again: ew.”

“I told him about the Russians. I told him about the Turks. I told him about the Spanish.”

“The Spanish?”

“Yeah. I committed treason with Spain.”

“What? Why?”

“It was a fallow period for me, treason-wise. I took the job just to keep my eye in. Gotta stay sharp in the traitor business. Plus, I just love the lifestyle over there. Three hour naps, dinner at 11 pm, the lingering after-effects of fascist rule…I loved everything about it.”

“It’s a nice way to live.”

“And the tapas! You just nibble your way through the evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And their Spanish is more elegant than the way Mexicans speak it. Don’t tell the Mexicans I said that, though.”

“Why not?”

“I also committed treason for Mexico.”

“Jesus, man.”

“I may have become a little bit addicted to treasing, yes.”

“My God, you must have told Mueller a lot.”

“Oh, yeah. I was over there 19 times. 19 times. Until not too long ago, you didn’t meet your wife 19 times before you married her. Me and Biggie got tight.”

“Biggie?”

“That’s what I call Mueller. He calls me Pac.”

“Does he?”

“Mag, I wouldn’t expect a female to understand the complexities that make up the relationship between two men of arms, but we got close as shit. We were tight as a Mormon’s asshole. 19 times!”

“Yes, 19 times.”

“Who have you hung out with 19 times this year? Leaving out your family and coworkers. I mean: haaaaaaanging. Crack some beers, do a few lines, throw on Talledega Nights again. Shoot the shit, y’know?”

“Yeah, but the shit you were shooting was treason.”

“Treason, girl troubles, whatever. You don’t understand bros.”

“The recommendation did state that you were involved in some ongoing investigations.”

“Oh, yeah! Pac and Biggie are keeping the act together!”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I’m a regular over at that office. Got my own security badge and everything. I don’t knock! I just burst into the room like Kramer. Sometimes, I do a little funny walk, and that breaks everyone up. We’re kinda like–”

“Don’t say a family.”

“–a family over there. I’ve kipped out on their couch a whole bunch of times. Good guys.”

“Uh-huh. Just so I have this straight: you were actively conspiring with at least one foreign government while aiding a presidential campaign, and then while the National Security Advisor?”

“That doesn’t make me a bad guy.”

“It does.”

“That’s your opinion. And my boy Biggie’s opnion is that I’m awesome and he once told me that I have very pretty eyes. So, who do you think I’m going with here?”

“I’m sure you’ll choose the side which is most personally beneficial, General.”

“There you go. Hey, Mag, you ever hear the saying ‘In like Flynn?'”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

Sin Like Flynn

“General Flynn, come on in. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Jenkins, and I’m with the Senate counsel’s office.”

“Is that a thing?”

“For the purposes of this dialogue, yes. Now, General, you wish to testify in front of the Senate in exchange for immunity?”

“And a new identity.”

“Are you talking about the Witness Protection Program?”

“Yes. I’d like to be Shaquille O’Neal.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Fine, I’ll be Kobe. I just want to be really rich and black.”

“Leaving aside your race-based power fantasies, sir, why should the Senate offer you immunity?”

“I’ve been a baaaaaaad boy.”

“You’re going to need to be far more specific.”

“I have blood on my hands, Jenkins. Well, not blood. More like piss and vodka. Still: very wet hands.”

“Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was a rambunctious lad.”

“Not that far back.”

“I entered your office.”

“You overshot. Let’s concentrate on the events in between your childhood and this moment.”

“I need to know that I have immunity first. Plus you really need to protect me.”

“Protect you, General? From whom?”

“My life is in danger!”

“From whom, sir?”

“The Trump Administration!”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Right?”

“Oh, I love to laugh. Seriously, General, who’s threatening you?”

“Putin.”

“Oh, shit. You’re gonna die.”

“I know!”

“Maybe we should do this over the phone.”

“I’m already here.”

“Sure. Let’s make it quick, though. What do you have?’

“Recordings. Receipts. Plane tickets. Bank statements. I was the courier between Russia and the Trump campaign. I know everything.”

“So? Pretty soon, we’re going to know everything. You’re only interesting to us if you can give us someone bigger than you.”

“Taller?”

“Not physically bigger, General. Larger in scope and importance.”

“How about the President of the United States?”

“Now we’re talking. Yes?”

“President Obama wiretapped Trump Tower.”

“I think we’re done.”

“I can give you Manafort.”

“Dude, we got Manafort.”

“I can give you Jared Kushner.”

“We in the counsel’s office are certain that Mr. Kushner will not only make a deal the very second we threaten him, but also cry like a little girl when he does. so. Give me something I can take back to my bosses, General.”

“I can give you the Vice-President.”

“Vice-President Pence colluded with the Russians?’

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“General.”

“Immunity!”

“You can’t call ‘immunity,’ sir.”

“Immunity!”

“No. It’s not like shotgun. General, we’re going to think about it.”

“Jenkins, they’re gonna kill me.”

“That’s generally what happens to traitors, General.”