Thought experiment: you’re a Trump (chill — it gets easier after that). Yes, you’re a sociopath (so no worries about a guilty conscience) but you’re not entirely oblivious of reality. You see the walls closing in. You know the stone cold Truth of what you did and why: you’re a Trump.

You know who you compromised and how. You’re wily as hell. You’re a criminal. You’ve gotten away with being a criminal your whole goddamned life. Your whole family are criminals. It’s your brand.

You may not be the sharpest tack in the box (more like the dullest) but, to your credit, you’ve turned being a go-to money launderer for the Russian mob into a hail Mary shot at paying down every debt you have (and that’s a lot of goddamned debt). You’re the most successful schoolyard bully maybe of all time.

But even you know there are limits.

You know enough never to cross Vladimir Putin. Or Mohammed bin Salman. They’ve got receipts. Oh, boy, do they have receipts…

They say bark, bitch and you bark. You’re a Trump.

You know how the realpolitik is here because you’re sitting at the very middle of it all. You’re a lesser criminal playing with real criminals. You’re in waaaaaay over your bloated orange head. Your mental faculties, never great to begin with, are fading.

But — you’ve had an iron grip on this from the beginning. You have to sign off on everything — as always — even if you haven’t got a goddamned clue. You’re not just A Trump, You’re Donald Trump.

That’s the background.

Now the doors to the private residence close — you feel good that this time your private security detail (not those by-the-book Secret Service humps) swept it for mics and found everything that’d been planted. You can talk freely with those you trust: your blood.

You sit there — the Donald — surrounded by The Junior, The Feckless One, The Idiot (Eric) and My-Son-In-Law-The-Jew. In here, truth gets spoken. That doesn’t mean there aren’t lies and lying. That’s part of the Truth here. These are criminals in the midst of a vast criminal enterprise. Stock must be taken — especially now because the “Tower” is under heavy assault and it may not survive.

What does Donald say to them all — knowing what they know? He’s going to tell the boys he never stuck his dick in their sister? They know better. Donald knows they know better. You lie in THIS room at your peril (unless it’s “Oooh, daddy — you’re the best!”)

Then Donald, saying what he had to say, stops talking. The others start up. What do THEY say to each other?

What does one Trump tell another Trump if that other Trump is losing faith in the Big Scheme? Do the Trumps honestly believe this is survivable? Do they honestly think they can lie their way to safety as Washington’s professional diplomats come together to be the inside force that finally stops Trump’s presidency?

I really do want to know what Ivanka tells daddy about their collective future. Where does Ivanka think daddy’s grandchildren are going to grow up? Is Ivanka really feckless enough to not see how this ends for her? What goes through Eric’s mind, I wonder. Supposedly, Eric’s the least horrible of the bunch. He’s smarter than portrayed on SNL. As HE sees the walls closing in, does HE begin to think in terms of pure survival?

The Trumps didn’t commit one or two little crimes then land by all sorts of odd coincidence in the White House. The Trumps have committed treason.

To be fair, I’m sure “treason” never flashed before their eyes as they started down this road. Money flashed before their eyes. A Trump Tower Moscow which they coveted — that flashed before their eyes. Those things are what caused them to be traitors.

Whatever.

How, I truly wonder, do the Trumps think this psychotic side show on steroids will end? What’s their best case scenario?

Better yet — what’s their worst?

Tell me that story, daddy. I’m all ears…