The Republicans on the House Oversight Committee were exactly like the Kansas City Chiefs:

Got no defense, crank up the offense: Attack, attack, attack, ATTACK.

Not a single Republican representative came out in defense of Donald Trump because, like the Chiefs … well, you get it. So they spent all of their time attacking Michael Cohen. He lied before so surely he’s lying now.

And one of them actually said that everything Cohen said was a lie. Really? So Donald Trump really did smack his wife in that elevator? Cohen said he didn’t believe that for one second. A lie?

But, you know, you believe what you want to believe and… Attack, attack, attack, ATTACK. Can’t play defense when you don’t have one.

We didn’t need Cohen to tell us the president is a racist. That’s been clear for a long time, and the fact that there is an African-American woman serving in the Department of Housing and Urban Development and who appeared at the hearing does not convince us otherwise.

The specious argument made by Republican Rep. Mark Meadows of North Carolina – that hotbed of tolerance – was … well, he argued that the fact that Lynne Patton was in the administration was proof that Trump is no racist.

Here’s this from the New York Times:

“As Ms. Patton, 46, stood silently behind him, Mr. Meadows argued that Ms. Patton’s loyalty to Mr. Trump proved that could not be true.”

Apparently Meadows’ point was that Trump had never hurled racist insults at Patton. And I believe he never did. Meadows, you dummy, few people are stupid enough to be racist in front of a black person. Jeez. What about when she wasn’t in the room? How about that?

So … the Republicans’ only defense of Donald Trump is to have a black woman stand behind Meadows – now there’s a metaphor – as “proof” that Trump isn’t a racist because if he were, Patton would not stand behindMeadows.

And from the late, great Wilbert Harrison, the new theme song of Congressional Republicans: “Goin’ to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come …”

• Oh, friends, it just keeps getting better in Virginia where we have two high-ranking officials, including the governor, having to apologize for wearing blackface in college, and the lieutenant governor accused of sexual assault. Now we have the governor’s wife, Pam Northam, showing her understanding side by … here’s the report:

“A Virginia state employee has complained that her eighth-grade daughter was upset during a tour of the historic governor’s residence when first lady Pam Northam handed raw cotton to her and another African American child and asked them to imagine being enslaved and having to pick the crop.”

Well, gee, that’s just great. As someone with Irish ancestors, I can’t wait to visit the governor’s mansion in Virginia and have dear Pam hand me a potato. Or perhaps a bottle of whiskey.

And because I’m also of English descent, perhaps she could hand me a lime.

The German part of me is a little worried about what I might be handed so, Pam, let’s just skip that, okay?

Yes, handing cotton to black children is a stroke of genius, especially when your husband is accused of wearing blackface when he was in college. Genius.

The least she could have done was give them t-shirts and told them “Once upon a time, your great-grandparents picked the cotton that made these wonderful garments. Feel them. Ummmmmm, cotton.”

Then perhaps she could dance around the room singing, “Gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale of cotton, gonna jump down, spin around, pick a bale a day.”

Abe Lincoln just sat up in his grave and shouted, “What the hell is going on?”

• Man, is this splitting hairs or what? New York Post headline: “Runner who killed mountain lion with bare hands was wrestling a kitten.”

I immediately had a picture of a tiny kitty, eyes barely open, weighing about 8 ounces, being bashed about by a grown man. But of course I opted to read the story and not just the headline (good advice, by the way), where I found out that the “kitten” weighed between 30 and 40 pounds, and while it was only 3 or 4 months old, well, kids, I do believe it still had teeth and claws.

So I am taking nothing away from this Colorado runner because … okay, try this: Find ourself a 30 to 40 pound dog and wrestle with it and then imagine that the dog has sharp teeth and claws and isn’t a nice doggy but a hungry, feral cat who thinks you smell like dinner.

Ouch, man.

Kitten, indeed.

• I’m really, really impressed that Mary Ann Lisanti has apologized for using the “N” word, but as is my wont, I’m convinced that she’s apologizing for being caught using the “N” word rather than using it because, after all, she used it. Guilty!

And you’re wondering who she is, aren’t you? Well, she is a Democratic member of the Maryland House of Delegates and her colleagues recently voted 136-0 to formally condemn her remarks after she used what the Washington Post called “the racial epithet” when describing Prince George’s County, Maryland, which is 65 percent black.

Lisanti has refused to resign and said, “Quitting is easy, but the road to redemption is not,” adding, “Healing begins tomorrow.”

Whose healing?

“Hey, you folks, I know I called you, more or less, that, you know, word, but, c’mon, heal. Let’s all heal.”

In other words, get over it.

And she said her use of the word did not represent her belief system. Right.

“I can call you any name I want as long as I don’t compromise my belief system.”

Good grief.

My suggestion to Lisanti? She resign from the Maryland House of Delegates, move to Virginia and become best friends with that state’s first lady.

They could sing the state song emeritus of Virginia, to wit:

“Carry me back to Old Virginny, that’s where the cotton and the corn and ‘tatoes grow.

“That’s where the birds warble sweet in the springtime.

“There’s where this old darky’s heart am longed to go.”

State song emeritus, retired in 1997. The new “traditional” state song is “Our Great Virginia” and while it eschews racist lyrics, it also stinks. The official “popular” state song is “Sweet Virginia Breeze” which also does not contain any racist lyrics, but which does contain the “F” word and which also stinks.

Mary Ann Lisanti, meet Pam Northam. Time for a sing-along.

• Ever play the look-alike game? Here’s one: Last Saturday, in the fitness room at Hampshire Hills, one of the guys on duty was a double for Pana Hema Taylor of whom few of you have heard but he played Jared in the New Zealand TV show “Brokenwood Mysteries,” which I watch on Acorn.

I’m think that because Taylor hasn’t been on the show during the current season, he might have skipped to the U.S. and gotten a job at Hampshire Hills.

Next time you’re in the fitness room on a Saturday, shout out, “Hey, Jared.” If he turns around, we’ve got him and we can all demand autographs and demand to know why he isn’t still on the show.

It shows how you can become invested in a character: I liked Jared. He was an athlete and he knew a heck of a lot about wine and growing grapes, so in the midst of a murder investigation, Jared could pop up with a nice bottle of New Zealand red and then discuss it. Cool character.

“Brokenwood Mysteries.” Jared. Hampshire Hills. Don’t worry, I’m gonna connect the dots.