Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist
Say you had gone to great lengths to hide the state of your finances. Say you were in so much debt to so many different parties that if they decided your grace period was over you would be left in ruins. Say your desperation to keep your head above water while maintaining your own core self-actualization as a respected billionaire was so great that you grifted money from your cultists and gamed favorable tax laws at every opportunity, including the death of your first wife.
Say you had access to classified intelligence for four years.
Say you had cultivated a very amicable relationship with the regime of an obscenely wealthy nation. Say you had refused to warn an American journalist — who worked for a newspaper that was not always complimentary to you — that he was about to be abducted and butchered by agents of this regime. Say you couldn’t even be bothered to condemn that action and you didn’t care if it made you appear in thrall to that regime. Say that you maintained very strong ties with that regime in your capacity as a private citizen, such as by hosting that regime’s extravagant golf tournament at your New Jersey property.
Say you had taken several boxes of classified material with you when you left the office of the presidency. Say that some of that classified material may have contained information about America’s nuclear arsenal.
Say that nation, that wealthy nation, that nation that could ensure you wouldn’t be driven into poverty by the reclamation of your debts as long as you performed whatever favors they asked of you, didn’t have a nuclear weapons program yet.
I have no access or evidence of any kind.
I’m just saying.