Washington, DC In a plot so bizarre it could only have been scripted by a collaboration between Saturday Night Live and an overcaffeinated novelist, Mark Pomerantz, the dauntless prosecutor renowned for his deep dives into the abyss of former President Donald Trump's legal affairs, found himself smack dab in the middle of a congressional circus. Pomerantz, whose solemn oath might as well have been sworn on a stack of comic books, responded to serious legal queries with the finesse of a squirrel navigating rush hour traffic, invoking the Fifth Amendment like it was going out of style.
During what felt like an eternity of a six-hour congressional marathon—long enough to make "The Irishman" feel like a short film—Republican Representative Matt Gaetz lobbed a fastball question: "Did you knowingly break any laws when investigating President Trump?" Pomerantz, channeling the spirit of a Hollywood star dodging paparazzi, clung to the Fifth like it was the last donut in the break room, repeating the same response with all the gusto of a malfunctioning Alexa. It was like watching a broken record stuck on a loop, except the record was a legal expert and the loop was a congressional hearing.
Observers couldn't help but wonder if Pomerantz thought the Fifth Amendment was the latest binge-worthy series on Netflix, considering how enthusiastically he kept hitting replay on his favorite line. Gaetz, bewildered by Pomerantz's sudden onset of amnesia, later expressed his frustration in an email that could rival War and Peace in length, musing, "He pled the Fifth so many times, I started wondering if it was his only friend."
As the hearing dragged on, speculation ran rampant. Was Pomerantz pioneering a new legal defense strategy affectionately dubbed "Marco Polo," blindly calling out defenses and hoping something would stick? Sporting an "I Plead the Fifth" tie like it was the hottest fashion trend, Pomerantz seemed ready to turn courtroom drama into the next big thing in streetwear.
Meanwhile, legal scholars scrambled to update their textbooks, adding a new chapter titled "The Art of Pleading: How to Dodge Questions and Influence Public Confusion." Some admired Pomerantz's commitment to playing the enigmatic defendant, while others just wished they had brought popcorn to what had inadvertently become the hottest legal comedy of the season.
Trump, never one to miss out on the chance to tweet his two cents, chimed in with his usual flair: “Watched Pomerantz today. More Fifth Pleas than a liquor store! Fantastic television!” he tweeted, followed by a string of emojis that had nothing to do with the topic at hand.
As the hearing finally drew to a close, Americans emerged from their TV rooms slightly more baffled, a tad entertained, and with a newfound appreciation for the entertainment value of constitutional rights. Meanwhile, Netflix, always on the lookout for the next big thing, reportedly green-lit a series inspired by the event: "Pleading the Fifth: American Legal Dramedy." Because when life gives you legal lemons, you might as well make a sitcom out of it.
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