My dear dog Lupine was perfect. He was a perfect dog in every way. He could kill any raccoon no matter how big or how much it tore him up, but he was docile with us and eager to please. He followed me from room to room all day, my silent adoring shadow. We had an old wing back chair bought for 5 dollars at a yard sale thirty years ago. The worn arms were already patched with purple corduroy when we got it. My oldest daughter asked if she could take it with her to her new place because it is so homey – the perfect definition of a perfect family heirloom.
Lupine was not allowed on the furniture but he understood that rule only applied when we we could see him and the seat of that chair was the perfect size for him to curl up in. When he got old and deaf he would think we were all gone when we weren’t, or not hear us when we got back and I we’d find him sound asleep in his chair. I’m telling you this because Lupine was perfect, like Donald’s phone call with Volodymyr. And because Donald’s understanding of the law is as simple minded as Lupine’s. But not perfect. Lupine was entirely pure of heart.
Donald eagerly released the transcript of that phone call with the comedian president of Ukraine that his people had striven to hide away for eternity. Donald said that once we the American People read it we would recognize, “that phone call was perfect.” He kept calling it a perfect phone call.
What is astonishing is that I think he really is so fundamentally amoral that he honestly doesn’t understand. The phone call was perfect in that he accomplished what he wanted without saying any of the words he was not supposed to say. He understands that the law prohibits him from saying certain things, and he didn’t, therefore the transaction was legal and perfect. If he can get what he wants done by circumlocution is all good.