If there is one good thing about having the same name as Donald Trump’s former fixer, it is that I can confidently assert that I will likely never be the worst “Michael Cohen.”
Other than that, working as a political columnist and sharing a name with a convicted felon—who previously worked for Donald Trump, spent time in federal prison, and, according to a recent article in The Washington Post, is universally unliked—has been less than optimal.
As Cohen testifies this week in a New York City courtroom about his involvement in the payment of hush money to former porn star and alleged Trump paramour Stormy Daniels, the struggle continues.
To be sure, I don’t blame the other Michael Cohen for all this.
Rather, I point the finger at my parents. After all, they gave me this name.
Unfortunately, getting mixed up with other Michael Cohens comes with the territory. For example, when I was growing up in the suburbs outside of Philadelphia, there was another Michael Cohen in the neighboring town. During my junior year, I received a letter from Penn State University congratulating me on my early acceptance to the school, which came as a shock since I hadn’t applied there. Only later did I realize it was intended for that first “other Michael Cohen.”
Just a few weeks ago I received a compliment about a column I had written by a woman… who had confused me with yet another Michael Cohen, who teaches at the New School in New York.
But both of these were small potatoes compared to what’s happened over the past nine years—and the near-constant stream of people who have confused me with Trump’s former lawyer.
There was the old friend who sent me a note of congratulations in 2015 for my new job working for Candidate Trump, though he expressed surprise at being unaware that I had spent so many years working for him. In 2016, I was asked to come on CNN and talk about the campaign, only to get a call 10 minutes later asking me if I was that Michael Cohen (suffice to say, I was disinvited).
“As bad as it is to constantly get mixed up with the other Michael Cohen, I’ve sometimes asked myself, ‘Couldn’t I be confused with a better person?’”
There were the quizzical looks I received when I identified myself as “Michael Cohen” as I interviewed Trump supporters at his rallies.
Then there is the New York car service, Sunny’s, which semi-regularly sends me text messages telling me that my driver is waiting for me outside my apartment… when, in reality, it’s idling outside the other Michael Cohen’s place of residence.
But above all, there is the unending stream of pro-Trump and anti-Trump voters who send me either hate-filled messages for turning my back on the former president or congratulations… for turning my back on the former president.
A couple of years ago, I even received a note from one admirer asking me for legal advice (even though I never attended law school, I’d still probably dispense better legal counsel than the other Cohen, who has been disbarred in New York state). Others have told me that God is watching after me because of my decision to seek redemption and turn against Trump.
It’s gotten so bad that I was forced to change my Twitter handle to “Michael A. Cohen (NOT TRUMP’S FORMER FIXER).”
The other Michael Cohen even gets credit for my work.
Several weeks ago, Rep. Byron Donalds (R-FL) attacked “Michael Cohen” for a piece in The Daily Beast about a new book White Rural Rage: The Threat to American Democracy, which argues that many liberal stereotypes about Trump supporters, such as holding racist beliefs, embracing conspiracy theories, and a willingness to support political violence are true. According to Donalds, “Michael Cohen” is guilty of “gaslighting” and “has obviously never been to a Trump rally and actually talked to Trump voters.” Then, the Washington Examiner wrote an article about Donalds’ claims.
Of course, I wrote that article in The Daily Beast—not the other Michael Cohen. (For the record, I’ve been to many Trump rallies and talked to many Trump voters. I’m still waiting for Rep. Donalds to issue a correction.)
As bad as it is to constantly get mixed up with the other Michael Cohen, I’ve sometimes asked myself, “Couldn’t I be confused with a better person?” If only my parents had called me Mother Teresa.
After all, this is a guy who spent years working for Trump, doing his dirty work, covering up his multiple sins, and only turned against him after he got in legal trouble.
In Cohen’s recent book, a whiny, self-serving jeremiad against his former boss, which I reviewed last year, he asks himself, “Would I still be in the Donald Trump cult if I hadn’t paid for my experience with time in prison?” He admits, “Had I not been thrown under the bus, I cannot, with any honesty, say that I would be out of the cult of Trump.”
In reality, Cohen took one grift—working for Trump—and replaced it with another—attacking Trump. But the end goal was always the same: make as much money as possible.
The saddest thing about receiving messages of praise for the “other Michael Cohen” is that those who are congratulating him are simply marks in what is a very calculated rehabilitation. He’s taking advantage of their hatred for Trump to make money for himself.
Indeed, his testimony this week is a good reminder of the ethical shortcuts he regularly took as Donald Trump’s employee.
As for me, Cohen’s testimony is yet another social media minefield to navigate and a useful reminder that matter how badly I screw up the bar for “bad Michael Cohens” will always—and thankfully—be slightly out of reach.
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