Before Trump “attorney” Michael Cohen started spitting up blood, Democrats who pay attention to trends began to realize that in order to beat Trump they were going to need their own Masked Marvel. Enter Michael Avenatti. A pugnacious trial attorney who started a PAC called “The Fight.” Who hashtags in Italian with the word “Basta!”, which translate to “Enough!,” the shibboleth of one Michael Corleone. He also occasionally hashtags FightClub. Point is, the guy is ready to take down Trump.

Here I am conducting a brief interview with the future president, as our heads glisten under the fluorescent lights. Me: “Goodfellas” or “Godfather?” Avenatti: Both great. Me: Agreed. Don’t you see Trump as Morry’s wigs? Avenatti: Look, I can debate him on issues but I can also stand toe to toe. Who else can do that? Bernie Sanders. I don’t think so.

He makes an excellent point. For those who keep asking, “How did we get here?” the answer is pretty simple. Professional wrestling. I realize that if you are reading a blog you probably don’t watch wrestling, but red state America does. Trump does. Hell, he even participated in it. More of his “fan base” knows him from the WWE than from “The Apprentice.” Would those red-hatters really watch a show about corporate execs competing for a job? Only if the job involved corndogs and monster trucks. No, meth-Americans love wrestling. The sappy morality plays pitting steroid giants against each other to compete for the very soul of America. They hug flags. They demonize their opponents. They sport ridiculous hairdoos. Sound familiar?

Trump, alleged Wharton grad, studied wrestling under the tutelage of Vince McMahon, grandson of the founder of mass-marketed professional wrestling. Trump learned the rules of engagement: bully your opposition, mock them, egg on your crowd to hurl attacks and insults, and choreograph your moves. Trump is reminiscent of WWE performer and former Champion John “Bradshaw” Layfield. Bradshaw was accused numerous times of bullying and hazing his coworkers. He specialized in using insulting nicknames to belittle his competition. “L’il” Marco. “Lyin” Ted. “Crooked” Ultimate Warrior.

The other obvious appeal of the WWE to Trump is the money. A multi-billion dollar a year con-job on the least affluent among us. Bonehead ballet for the Monster energy drink crowd. Only Trump could look out on that crowd of wrestling fans and imagine them all wearing red baseball caps. He also probably imagined them naked, but that’s more about his scumbag personality.

Trump takes the “show” of the wrestling ring to his entire every day life, which, unfortunately involves presidenting. Every thing is seen through the prism of good vs. evil, winners and losers. Winning trades wars is easy. Preventing wild fires? Easy. Immigration? Easy. The only thing complicated about the guy is the on-going audit of his 2015 tax returns. Nobody would understand them.

As we ease our way into the 2020 presidential election, Avenatti has already had the surprise folding chair thrown at him. Twice. Once when his client who accused then-Supreme Court Justice nominee Brett Kavanaugh of rape was not allowed to testify. Avenatti was even threatened with an Senate inquiry over the charges. Avenatti showed enough spunk to threaten to take down the Senate. Not sure where that inquiry stands since it was a million news cycles ago. Who can keep up?

The second chair landed temporarily when the “news” source TMZ reported that Avenatti had been arrested on domestic abuse charges. It now appears that the Sicilian necktie had a little breathing room in it. Avenatti produced character witnesses (his 2 ex-wives), and now seems to have video proof that it was a hoax. Though, he may have survived the theatrics of this Death Match can he stay upright for the long haul?

More importantly, does he need to? I mean the Democrats already have someone with ring experience. He’s a former football player. An actor. A producer. And he’s most famous for wearing tights and pounding some gentleman known as The Undertaker. Of course, I’m talking about Joe Biden. In this corner, the Demon of Delaware. The Scranton Scrapper. The Big Fuckin’ Deal himself … Joe. Joe. Joe. Can I call you Joe?