I’m embarrassed to admit that for a rare, fleeting moment on Wednesday, I actually thought the House managers’ presentation was compelling enough to make Mitch McConnell’s heart grow three sizes, and I imagined he’d ride his sleigh into the town square and deliver justice to all the Whos down in Whoville.

Then I remembered that we live in America, not some lush Seussian phantasmagoria, and Mitch McConnell is not the Grinch. He’s more like the Cat in the Hat, if the cat’s hat were expertly crafted from rich Corinthian leather and Satan’s supple scrotum.

Why oh why did I presume that a guy who lied about his election loss for months, winked at mayhem and violence for years, invited his orc horde to Washington to protest the counting of electoral votes, sat on his hands while his mob assailed the Capitol, and angrily tweeted at Mike Pence even after he learned the former vice president’s life was in danger might actually face consequences?

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