You never could count on him to do right, not since he was a boy. His mama taught him fine, that’s what Gran’s old neighbors used to say, but everybody at church seems to think he’s lost his ever-loving mind. Mind you, he’s still on their ticket.

Now, I heard about all this the other day and it just ain’t right. After Mr. Mueller and his men chit-chatted with Congress, Pop’s friends on the picture box said the foul fella was freer than a June breeze. Foxes, the lot. Then I see the papers — the transcript — and the girls and I think he ought to right his wrongs. That’s just the Baptist in me.

It’s hard to watch these hearings. I have a faint heart for caterwauling. These men can’t make up their minds as to whether they’ve sinned, but perjury is a pesky thing. Jesus, be a fence.

Now, Mr. Schiff — Sherry’s boy — is heading this up. The early days were slow, of course, on account of hearings aren’t much to see. They had their moments, though. Mr. Stewart had a fit when Mr. Vindman corrected Mr. Nunes. I think they’re ornery because Mr. Vindman isn’t from this country. Anyway, one of the journalists said Mr. Nunes is just as guilty. He was redder than the dirt on Daddy’s plow.

Cousin Wes said he likes Mr. Jordan. I told him the man should wear his jacket in court. His local paper called him “the most unfit man to ever represent part of Greater Cleveland in Congress.” I don’t tell the children his other transgressions.

We hear about Ms. Hill later. She shoots straight. I like a gal in politics, but especially one who doesn’t read like a snake in the grass. She says it easy, says it quick. The Russians are rotten. Mr. Holmes, more middling, says the old man’s been asking too many favors.

I read the lecher said he won’t participate in the first Judiciary Committee hearing. Pitiful. If he keeps this up, he’ll look about as craven as he thinks himself strong.

If the country can bear it, one chamber of Congress will pass the burden to the other. There’s quite a bit in the middle. Nevertheless, the case would go to the reaper. Mama says he’s delicate. Mr. McConnell aids and abets at the behest of Russian men, and I hope that Ms. McGrath unseats him.

If this president is removed from office, he would holler like a hit dog. The man and his misdeeds would become a footnote with his former subordinates. They’ll forget his name in polite company. His children will suffer under the burden of public shame or, perhaps, their first glimpse of consequence. God bless ‘em.

The next person in that house will have a dickens of a time. They’ll have to win the nomination, of course, but then there’s the business of mending hearts and sowing hope. Not to mention, we’ll have to see to it those Russians get a few licks. Yessir, our new president, she’ll be busier than a moth in a mitten.