Cohen The Dog ‘Fixer’… Stormy The XXX-rated ‘Nun’… and the shock moment that exposed the whole sham: KENNEDY’s hilariously wicked verdict on Trump’s trial – and the REAL crime in this legal abomination

So, that’s it?

Not since Stormy stumbled out of a Nevada hotel room has anyone been so underwhelmed.

For four weeks, botoxed cable news hosts have been consumed, a presidential election has been hamstrung and those eating lunch have been revolted by sloppy, salacious testimony flowing like raw sewage out of a courthouse in lower Manhattan.

It’s here that the first former US president in history was put on trial for the crime of… well, we still don’t know exactly.

According to the Democratic hacks in the Manhattan District Attorney’s office, our 45th Commander-In-Chief once ordered a mental midget to pay a professional knob-polisher for her silence and then criminally cooked the books to hide the alleged game of hide-the-pickle.

We were assured that Gotham’s portly, bail-phobic DA and his lead prosecutor – recruited from the upper echelons of the Biden Justice Department no less – knew what the heck they were doing.

Though, on the last day of the prosecution’s case, it still looked weaker than Harvey Weinstein’s long jump.

If there were ever final proof that this Trivial Trial of the Century is nothing more than the utter debasement – dare I say – political pornification of the US legal system, it’s this: It all hinged on the word of a for-hire, screw-job artist… and Stormy Daniels.

So, as this courtroom abomination wraps up, let’s review the carnage and mourn the decomposing republic that we’re leaving to our children. 

Stephanie A. Gregory Clifford, otherwise known as Stormy Daniels, the rode-hard-put-away-wet heroine of this sordid tale, was supposed to blow (Reader: All puns are unintentional unless otherwise noted) Trump’s defense out of the water.

Portraying herself as a damsel in distress, Stormy – wearing a black shawl and her hair in a bun – nervously testified that she was, in fact, a victim on the night in question when she allegedly rendezvoused with Donald J. Trump for dinner at his hotel room in July 2006.

One animated corpse at MSNBC compared her to a ‘modest nun’ on the witness stand. (I’d like to know where he went to Catholic school.)

Ms. Daniels claimed the future president answered the door in his silk pyjamas before she playfully spanked him with a rolled-up magazine. (Isn’t this the plot of Stormy’s 2013 hit, Sex Door Neighbors? No wonder Judge Juan Merchan asked her to speak more slowly. He must be a fan.)

Daniels – who has admittedly logged more miles than the Daytona International Speedway – suggested she was intimidated by Trump’s ‘bodyguard right outside the door,’ and then ‘blacked out,’ when he dropped his trousers, which must be an occupational hazard for a woman in her line of work.

I’m not one to slut shame (Surely, you remember me in Naughty Needlepointers 3), but that reaction is about as believable as a surgeon barfing at the sight of blood.

Stormy went on to testify about sex positions and whether rubbers were used – eliciting a national gag reflex – and leaving us with the haunting question: Why in God’s name did we have to know this?

The answer is: We didn’t.

Daniels’s testimony didn’t advance the trial – it served a political purpose. It humiliated Trump.

But wait – the prosecution had yet to call their secret weapon.

Their Great Pasty White Sweaty Hope. 

Trump’s former lawyer and self-proclaimed ‘fixer’ Michael Cohen.

He’s currently shopping a new reality show called ‘The Fixer,’ which sounds like a back-alley dog-neutering service – but who am I to question such a paragon of integrity?

Cohen is in the business of anti-Trump hackery and business is booming. 

He admitted on the stand that he’s made over $3 million from his Down-With-Donald books – and his anti-Trumpery extends to selling shirts and prostituting himself on TikTok to any idiot who will pay $5.99 a month to hear his drivel.

He even admitted to approaching Manhattan prosecutors in 2021 to offer his testimony in exchange for a reduced sentence.

Above all else, Cohen is a liar – a convicted perjurer, who has told tall tales under oath to Congress, to the IRS, and all manner of courts and judges.

Why stop now?

During cross-examination by Trump’s lawyer on Thursday, Cohen denied that he was hoping to be in Trump’s 2020 White House or even nominated for Attorney General of the United States.

‘My jaw hit the floor when I heard him denying that,’ said former Trump staffer Alyssa Farah Griffin. ‘It was widely discussed that he was angling for Attorney General or to be White House counsel.’

A former Trump campaign aide said Cohen told him straight up that he wanted the job. ‘He was pretty clear that he wanted to be White House counsel,’ said Bryan Lanza.

At least this pointless trial is good for some laughs. 

But the real ‘Columbo moment’ came when mild-mannered Trump attorney Todd Blanche caught Cohen in a game of telephone that cut straight to the heart of this case.

Cohen testified that he called Trump’s bodyguard on October 24, 2016 to discuss the ‘resolution’ of the ‘Stormy Daniels matter.’

Ah ha! The smoking gun! 

But ‘that was a lie!’ Blanche declared. 

Indeed, Blanche got Cohen to admit that he called Trump’s bodyguard that October night to complain about harassing phone calls that he was receiving from a 14-year-old prankster.

Cohen sloppily insisted the call had two purposes – but the damage was done.  

Another seed of doubt was planted in the minds of jurors, who are already being asked to trust a man with zero credibility.

Look, I get it, porn star sex is icky (especially the condomless variety, disgust bro!), and having a drooling buffoon, like Cohen, run point on your bad decisions is, in itself, the baddest decision. 

But being a phenomenally horrible judge of character is not a crime.

Using the legal system to interfere with a presidential election should be.