Based on his related comments, it’s hard not to imagine a Kevin Cramer conversation with a sexual assault survivor that doesn’t go something like this.

A Cramer-related female rushes in the front door, and yells, “Father, er, sir, I’ve been attacked.”

Cramer doesn’t look up. “Who are you?” He continues smiling down on a photo of him trying to give Donald Trump a smooch.

“It is I, father,” a teenage girl wheezes. “Your daughter.”

Cramer looks up from his chair. “OK, that checks out. What do you want? Do you still live here? Did you do a TV ad for me, once? You’re more familiar than usual.”

“I’ve been attacked, sir. What should I do?”

“Who attacked you?” asks Cramer breathlessly. “Was it a liberal lesbian femi-Nazi?”

“No father. It was a young male.”

“How do you figure that? Maybe it was a lesbian.”

The poor young woman, who is probably named Agnew, stares at the not so bright man. “I looked at the person, father. It was a man person, I’m positive. I remember his face. I remember what he did to me. ”

“Now, Agnew — wait a gosh darn minute! What happened to your face and clothes? Are you wearing enough layers of Cramer-approved clothing?

“I was physically attacked by a young male, father. It was quite vicious.”

“And I’m just supposed believe you because you said it happened, Agnew? Are you sure you weren’t just dragged by a pickup down a dirt road.” Cramer sets the picture of he and his precious Donald face down on the coffee table. “Because I have some experience in the drag area, and a person would look like a lot like you after a half-mile or so. You’re not one of those sluts, are you?”

Agnew is stunned.

Cramer sighs. “It’s tough out there for young men these days, you know, Ag. All white men, really. You’re not going to pull this story out 40 years from now and ruin the life of a perfect conservative nominee for the Supreme Court, are you? Girls are like that, you know. Men never lie about women. What a fine white young jurist, with a hot wife and 2.3 children. His life is ruined. Oh, wait. We put that angry little Kavanaugh nut on the court. Whew. Boy, he was thirsty.”

“You don’t believe me, father?”

“Do you have any corroborating witnesses, Aggie? As the biblically appointed head of this house, and all females, I need corroboration, so sayeth the Lord. Christine Blasey Ford couldn’t come up with a corroborating witness, or a decent outfit to wear, and look what happened to her. Judge Kavanaugh would have been a good witness, but that would have went against Trump’s deny, deny, deny, approach to everything.”

“Noooo,” cries Agnew. “There were no other people there, father. He yanked me off the sidewalk and threw me into the bushes. The man person pushed me down, punched me in the face and groped me all over. He only got through three layers of Cramer clothing, though, before he got startled by something and ran off, father. Shouldn’t we call the police, father. I’ve got whole chunks of DNA.”

“Haven’t I always told you to have witnesses when being assaulted? Duh.”

“Huh?”

“And DNA is a California liberal Hollywood entertainment hoax,” groans Cramer. “And It sounds like you’ve bought into the victimization fad, which is driving the understandable white male angst. Just like the whimpering of those little kids we put in cages, but the confinement containers were only made of chain link, so those children were basically spoiled. Was this “attacker” a dark skinned teenager? Did he come here from a left coast sanctuary city?”

“I am a victim, father, and the white male face looked to be teenage. I’ve been violated. I’m rattled with fear.”

“Oh, white teen hijinks don’t matter,” replied Cramer. “We don’t want to upset the “men’s rights activists,” or the “incels.” Is it their fault, if they can’t get a date less aggressively? And if the kid was drunk, what can we expect? Teens get randy when they drink. It’s science. Was his alleged mauling of limited scope? Or of expanded scope?”

“What?”

Cramer clears his throat. “Put yourself into Chad’s shoes 37 years from now. Would you want an attempted rape on your record? It was just an attempt, right? Was he waving his evil part around? Were squirrels involved? Was there consummation of the rape? It doesn’t sound like it, Aggie.”

“No, I didn’t see anything waving, but I could feel that he was excited, and he hurt me, father. He twisted my arm and gripped my throat. I’m upset and scared. You want me to just stay silent? That doesn’t seem like the proper response.”

“Look here, missy,” Cramer growls. “Times have changed. Trump and me don’t care about women, or their so-called trauma. We had a meeting about it, and he knew who I was. And me and big D only like women who haven’t been captured. What’s a little short-term pain? Why the hysterics? Your foremothers would just suck it up, and keep their mouths shut. They were tough. You come off as whiny and weak, Ag.”

“I do?” cries Agnew. “Things must have happened to them, if they needed to be so tough.”

Cramer scowls. “Look, nothing evidently happened to you, even by your own accusation. It was supposedly an attempt or something that never went anywhere, if I were inclined to believe you, without corroboration.”

“It went somewhere,” Ag sobs. “He put his hand down there and stuffed an old sock in my mouth.”

Cramer looks puzzled. “The president says it’s OK to grab down there, but he never mentioned any sock. I’ll have to ask him about that. I see you got the sock out or swallowed it, so use some mouthwash and you’ll be as good as new, and we possibly gained a sock. Most socks don’t digest too well, though. Is there anything else, teen girl I know?”

“Anything else?”

“Ag. Ag. Ag. Walk it off. We can’t take the chance of wrecking that poor boys life. OK, honey? It’s the North Dakota way.”

“OK, father. I guess I’ll just go to bed and cry.”

“Me too.”