The cops came barging through his door and scared him half to death.
You’d think, with all that furor, they thought he was cooking meth.
They grabbed his phones, computers, papers, and perhaps a diary.
They’ll comb through every piece in case there’s something that’s conspire-y.
I said they broke the door down, but they did have a search warrant.
But screw the rule of law – this raid was certainly abhorrent.
It’s a crime to sleep with porn stars and a former Playboy Bunny?
But I guess it’s just like Watergate again: “Follow the money.”
Attorney-client privilege now a relic of the past.
My reaction to this raid summed up in one word: flabbergast.
Just like going to confession (not that I would ever try it);
My discussions with my lawyer should be thought of as inviolate.
They are saying if there’s evidence of crimes, that’s an exception.
But what constitutes a “crime” is something subject to perception.
Michael’s zealously looked out for me, since that’s the legal canon.
(But I wish he hadn’t said he was my “fixer” to Steve Bannon.)
Among the items seized were records of taxi medallions.
He’ll take on the role of cabbie, once convicted as rapscallion.
Said he’d take a bullet for me, which I think is so amazing.
But if he flips, look out! I’ll come for him — with both barrels blazing.
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