As Storms Go By

In a Quinnipiac University poll released Tuesday, 73 percent of voters said President Trump’s alleged 2006 affair with Stormy Daniels is not an important issue.

Of course it’s not an important issue. It has less intrigue than even the campiest of Hollywood B movies. And it certainly doesn’t have the trappings of a classic film noir.

Michael Cohen is no Humphrey Bogart. Stormy Daniels is no Ingrid Bergman.

But wait…

If Michael Cohen was more like Humphrey Bogart. If Stormy Daniels was more like Ingrid Bergman . . . you might have something interesting:

A porn actress, let’s call her Stormy, approaches Michael and tells him she had a one-nighter with his boss. Now she’s ready to tell all. Unless . . .

If Michael comes up with some big bucks, 130,000 of them in small bills, she’ll take a vow of silence.

Michael agrees, and tells Stormy to meet him in an adjacent parking lot the next day at 8 a.m., where she’ll find a briefcase with her name on it.

Next morning, the star arrives at the parking lot and, sure enough, the briefcase is there. She goes to fetch it and discovers that Michael is there, too. Along with a couple of his friends. They exchange pleasantries.

She opens the bag, but there’s no money in it. Just an envelope that she opens. In the envelope is a one-way ticket—to Sicily.

Michael advises her to get on the plane.

Stormy: But last night, you said you were going to give me the money.

Michael: Last night I said a great many things. Well, I’ve done a lot of thinking since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you’re getting on that plane and heading to Sicily.

Stormy: But, Michael, no, I . . . I . . .

Michael: Now, you’ve got to listen to me! You have any idea what you’d have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of 10, we’d both wind up under investigation.

Stormy: You’re saying this to scare me.

Michael: I’m saying it because it’s true. If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not on it, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

Stormy: But I said I’d talk . . .

Michael: You never will. It doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.

Stormy begins to cry.

Michael: Now, now. (He gently touches her chin and looks her in the eye.) Here’s looking at you, kid.

Stormy arrives in Sicily, and changes her name to Dawn Danielione.

Looking for a fresh start, she goes into business, producing extra virgin olive oil.

THE END

About Steve Lipman

Steve Lipman is a writer in Los Angeles whose irreverent approach to the serious issues of the day goes where angels fear to tread.

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