I’m a job for musicians, like concerts or tours;
An economy based on folks doing odd chores;
I’m a chair for a horse; I’m a boat with six oars;
And a unit for what a computer drive stores.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Bronx Richie. See comments for answer.

From The Comedy of Errors:

Why, what an intricate impeach is this!

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

I hear a chatty witness.

With him? Panic.

I’m a table for workshops; remove from the game;
Where a judge sits in court; catcher Johnny’s last name;
How you lift the amount of the weight that you claim;
And a long wooden seat made of slats in a frame.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

From Measure for Measure:

His unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Our junk-IQ leader raids millions meant to help a veteran charity. Huh.

End hunt. Slam-dunk evidence. Huh.

No red-state tunnel-vision men listen. Huh.

I’m a cut or a scrape where peroxide should bubble;
A minor mistake that will not cause much trouble;
Reality’s Honey; the bear Barney Rubble;
And twice last week’s answer – just type it in double!

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Rebecca. See comments for answer.

From Measure for Measure:

I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes.
Though it do well, I do not relish well
Their loud applause and aves vehement,
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
That does affect it.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Trump was booed, a lot, at the World Series venue.

He thought the likelihood of monumental attendee reception lifted after he took the noted ISIS villain.

The vocal people didn’t satisfy his ego.

I’m how crowds greet the president as he mopes sadly;
A term of endearment when loving them madly;
The toddler in Monsters, Inc.; Mockingbird’s Radley;
And ghosts’ startling call-out to frighten you badly.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

This week, Ambassador William Taylor gave testimony that many are calling the smoking gun for proving Trump intended a quid pro quo deal with the Ukraine, making impeachment seem all but inevitable.

What makes this funny to me is that quid pro quo was never really the standard. Just asking the Ukrainian president to announce a baseless investigation in order to affect our elections should have been enough to start impeachment proceedings. It was President Trump who drew the line at quid pro quo by repeatedly denying it had happened at every opportunity, a strategy that has apparently worked for him with “no collusion.” What’s more, the evidence for quid pro quo was already clear in even the White House’s released transcript of the phone call with Zelensky.

Still, Ambassador Taylor’s testimony seems to have shifted the ground somewhat, and Republicans are in full meltdown mode. On Wednesday, a group of GOP congressmen stormed a closed-door meeting where Pentagon official Laura Cooper was testifying. Cooper had been warned by the Trump administration not to testify, but she did anyway, so a protest was staged to disrupt the hearing.

And I do mean staged. Some of the Republican congressmen who were part of the protest were actually members of the committees doing the inquiry, and so they had every right to attend the meetings they were protesting not being allowed to attend. All of the committees are made up of Democrats and Republicans, all of whom are allowed to cross-examine witnesses in the hearings.

What’s more, the protesters violated any number of rules, including those prohibiting electronic devices in the secure room where the inquiry was being held. Maybe they think that rules don’t apply to them any more. Perhaps that’s something they picked up from President Trump himself, who apparently knew about the stunt in advance.

If you’ve reached the point where you need to send in your gang to physically disrupt the investigation of your crimes, it just might be time to resign.

From Henry VI, Part One:

I cry you mercy, ’tis but quid for quo.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Mob rids query to crucify you? Quit!

I’m a spot filled with trouble; to mend or repair;
I’m locating positions; make sports wins unfair;
I’m the dose that you need; shift your tie or your hair;
Take your pet to the vet; and when meals you prepare.

Who am I?

UPDATE: Riddle solved by Asher. See comments for answer.

This week brought in an avalanche of impeachment evidence, and I’m no longer sure what’s supposed to be a distraction from what.

Should I be focused on the emoluments violation of him hosting the G7 conference in Doral? Or should I be keeping my eye on the fact that Trump businesses kept two sets of books so they could commit tax fraud? Is this week’s top story Mick Mulvaney’s “Get over it” press conference? Or is that just cover to keep me away from the newest Giuliani story? Or is all of it to keep our minds off of the Gordon Sondland testimony? I only have one anagram in me; it’s hard to know where to start.

Fortunately, the English teacher in me is not at all conflicted about this week’s most pressing evidence that the Republican president is not fit for office. It recently came out that President Trump sent President Erdogan of Turkey a letter so unhinged that it prompted a near-universal response of “Is This Real?” (click the letter below for a larger image):

Upon receiving this letter, President Erdogan reportedly threw it in the trash.

From Hamlet:

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

This smugness unto Erdogan came not wanted.