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Kellyanne quitting

Gil Bang

By Gil Bang
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WhatTheBuck

WhatTheBuck 28911

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7 hours ago, Bama Chick said:

Fuck ABC and fuck “American Idol” for giving that dusty crusty child abuser a platform for a craven attempt at image rehab.

AND LETTING THE DRIED UP WENCH USE HER ABUSED CHILD TO BOOT.

Fuck Americans for watching that show and keeping it on the air all these years. 

  • Hook 'Em 4
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Bama Chick

Bama Chick 28596

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Fuck Americans for watching that show and keeping it on the air all these years. 

I mean, who even watches AI these days?

A whole mess of people - myself included - used to watch back in it’s heyday when it was on Fox but I can’t name one person I know who watches it now.

This premiere only got 6.7 million viewers - it got beat by “60 Minutes” and “The Equalizer”. Back at its peak it was pulling in 25-32 million viewers per episode.

I’m glad that shitty show was apparently the best they could get - Claudia’s damn TikTok videos got more views than this actual television show lol.
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Francisco 2.0

Francisco 2.0 32574

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I bolded some interesting snippets.  As stated over the years, she was the primary leaker in the Trump administration.  

https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2021/02/state-of-the-union-kellyanne-conway-and-george-conway

 

Quote

Once upon a time, the relationship had the makings of a GOP Beltway fairy tale. It was 1999. George Conway—then a partner at the powerhouse firm Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz—was riding on the now defunct Metroliner between New York and Washington. He picked up a free copy of Capital Style magazine on board, and there she was: Kellyanne Fitzpatrick, the bubbly Republican pollster he’d seen on CNN & Company, and a Washington 10. He did something that was so out of step with his shy nature; he asked his friend Ann Coulter, who was featured in the same article, to introduce them. They talked and talked that summer night. Kellyanne, it turned out, had grit too. Raised by a casino-worker single mother, she had established her own polling company in an industry dominated by men. And she had a cutting edge—the kind of woman who took her onetime boss, pollster Frank Luntz, shopping and made him try on a Speedo for laughs. From where Kellyanne sat, George was brilliant and had a certain cachet of his own, owing to the work he’d done assisting attorneys representing Paula Jones in her case against Bill Clinton. Kellyanne and George fell in love. He was the one person whose “near-constant presence doesn’t annoy me,” she told a friend. They got married two years later in an enormous wedding, had four children, settled in Alpine, New Jersey, and amassed a reported $39 million fortune.

 

Quote

Two decades later the fairy tale has taken a harsh turn. Everything the Conways cared about—family, reputation, country—appears to be in some state of triage. The world witnessed the spectacular clash within the marriage play out publicly. Kellyanne, who brought Donald Trump to victory in 2016 as his campaign manager, became, in her capacity as “counselor,” his fiercest defender—dodging and deflecting on his behalf with dazzling ease. And though they started off friendly enough, George became one of the president’s most biting critics, with opinion pieces that shouted down Trump’s disregard for the rule of law and tweets that pronounced him mentally unfit. George and Kellyanne became the most visible marriage of the Trump era that didn’t include the name “Trump,” and the embodiment of our divided country. Depending on where one stands politically, one half of the couple has represented all that was sound and impressive; the other half has lost the plot. The Trump presidency, which Kellyanne nurtured and George castigated, resulted in nothing less horrific than the Capitol riot, in which five people died and Mike Pence and other leaders could have been murdered. Their oldest daughter, Claudia, has channeled her own turmoil into public view—rage mostly aimed at Kellyanne for a range of issues. Her popularity on TikTok (1.7 million followers) landed her an invitation from American Idol, where she appeared in mid-February. Her complaints about her mother became so widespread that judge Katy Perry asked on national TV, “Are you okay? ... Does she still hug you?”

 

Quote

Friends have watched the Conway drama like a slow-moving train wreck, sometimes too timid to really ask what’s going on. As of late February, the Conways are still together, joined by 20 years of marriage and four children. Still, conversations with numerous sources from both camps—yes, there are camps with the Conways—reveal the couple to be in an extremely fragile state—miles away from “closure.” The wounds are still raw from their public clashes. As important, they don’t have a mutual grasp on what has just happened to the country, creating a high level of exasperation. George believes that Trumpism should be eradicated from the planet. Kellyanne, on the other hand, is still in explain-away-daddy mode, not giving an inch. In a statement condemning the Capitol riot, she not only failed to acknowledge the role of Trump’s rhetoric, but also praised his leadership. Given every opportunity to amend or clarify that statement for this piece, she declines.

 

Spoiler

How did two extremely smart people allow the presidency of one of the world’s most corrupt men to wreak such havoc on their family, never mind the country? In the last four years, both George and Kellyanne leaned into different sides of a certain upright conservatism. George is a man who adheres to a certain rule-following propriety—which would suggest he might have held his tongue while his wife was in the White House. But there’s another facet to George that overrides everything else. “George has a deep commitment to what he feels is right,” says his former Wachtell colleague David Lat, a legal writer. “His commitment to doing and saying what’s right, combined with an enjoyment of fame, have overcome the propriety-focused aspect of him.” As for Kellyanne, she’s a paragon of loyalty, says Luntz, the kind “that you don’t find in Washington anymore.” But in the opinion of many, that loyalty crossed the line to drinking the Kool-Aid.

“She fell into the cult,” says Michael Cohen, Trump’s ex-lawyer, who understands better than most the thrall of Trump. “The biggest mistake that people make, Kellyanne included, is they start to believe that they are relevant,” says Cohen. “And they begin to try to assume Trump’s arrogance.” Indeed, she came to embody many Trumpian passions: winning, or talking about winning, a lot; shaming the naysayers; and never being wrong. Kellyanne did not push the “Stop the Steal” narrative that incited the riot; a month after the election, she finally acknowledged that Joe Biden won. Yet her ease at subverting the truth during her tenure at the White House, her unshakeable righteousness, helped ease the way for the Big Lie.

The primary season of the 2016 election had been simpler times for Kellyanne and George. As is well known, they were working hand in hand. George was supporting Ted Cruz, and Kellyanne was running a super PAC for the Texas senator, whose wife Trump had insulted and whose father, Trump insinuated, was in on the assassination of President Kennedy. Kellyanne went after Trump, calling him the “thrice-married, non-churchgoing billionaire” who “says he’s for the little guy but actually built a lot of his businesses on the backs of the little guy.” He was, according to Kellyanne, “unpresidential,” “vulgar,” and offensive to women.

By the summer of 2016, Trump was the Republican nominee, but hurting for female voters and in need of a campaign manager. On the advice of Robert and Rebekah Mercer, the Cambridge Analytica and Breitbart billionaires who’d shifted their support from Cruz to Trump, he asked Kellyanne to become his campaign manager. But he wanted her on the cheap, because he’s Trump.

Kellyanne was in. The clout that would come with being the first female to win a presidential campaign outweighed any remunerative concern. Trump got a great deal. Those pesky disavowals of Trump she’d made? She’d blow them away like feathers. She had a whole bag of tricks at the ready. First there was the double-dealing. As a regular guest on Morning Joe, she praised Trump as “masterful,” and then, on one occasion, according to cohost Mika Brzezinski, took off her microphone and said, “Blech, I need to take a shower.” Morning Joe banned Kellyanne shortly thereafter. And then there was her bold gaslighting—like her claim that “it was Donald Trump who put the issue [of Barack Obama’s birth certificate] to rest” and her insistence that he “doesn’t hurl personal insults.” If the smiling blonde lady on television was saying it, it had to be true, right?

 

Veteran Republican strategist Rick Tyler, who’d been Cruz’s communications director, watched with amazement. “As a spokesperson, you can omit things, you can highlight certain things, you can reframe the conversation,” he says. “But when you say things that are flat-out wrong, that’s where I draw the line. I’m not going to debase myself, because there’s life after this client.” But Kellyanne had her champions—like Chris Christie, who over the course of their 18-year friendship bonded with her over their tough Italian mothers. He did debate prep with her in both 2016 and 2020 and sees her as a messaging wizard.

“There’s very few people in political life who know how to use language as effectively as Kellyanne and are more effective in communicating to President Trump,” says Christie. He says that when Trump was promising to refuse defeat in 2016, she told him to go softer. Christie adds, “She’s not present in 2020. And I think her absence is very, very loud in this postelection period.” He credits her for putting the opioid issue in front of President Trump, which resulted in the bipartisan passage of the SUPPORT Act.

Back in 2016, George was still very much in his wife’s corner. In the binary choice between Hillary Clinton and Trump, he cautiously supported Trump. As a member of the Federalist Society, he prioritized getting conservatives on the Supreme Court. For all of Trump’s obvious flaws, George then believed that “[Trump] will realize that the office is something much bigger than him,” as he later told fellow Lincoln Project cofounder Ron Steslow on a podcast, “and there were going to be these people around him who will constrain him.” People, perhaps, like his wife, whom he clearly doted on. On election night George wept with pride for what she had achieved, and screamed, “She did it! She did it!” On inauguration night he stood aside and held her fur coat, while Kellyanne posed in a red gown, beaming for cameras. George got a bit swept up too. He threw his hat in the ring for the job of solicitor general. After that job went to someone else, Attorney General Jeff Sessions asked if he’d be interested in the job of assistant attorney general in the civil division at the U.S. Department of Justice. Again, George agreed to be considered. He had spent decades working in the private sector and was ready to serve his country.

Kellyanne, the winning campaign manager, was slipping into the position of the president’s “counselor.” As she liked to point out, this meant she had walk-in privileges in the Oval Office. But television was his favorite forum. As Trump watched the shows, Kellyanne pioneered new ways to dodge the truth—or run a truck over it—for his pleasure. When NBC’s Chuck Todd took her to task on the assertion that the president’s inauguration crowd size was the biggest in history, she famously retorted that she had “alternative facts,” and a defining catchphrase was born. To defend Trump’s policies, she could go to bizarre places. When Trump tried to push the Muslim ban, she talked about “the Bowling Green massacre,” an ostensible massacre in Kentucky carried out by Muslims. She later claimed it was a slip of the tongue, even though she cited it in three different outlets.

George—still in New Jersey with the kids and under review for the Justice Department job—was becoming concerned about what was going on inside the Trump White House. The dumb crowd-size lie that his wife was defending? What was that? he wondered. The self-inflicted wounds piled up—Trump’s firing of FBI director James Comey; the fact that Trump came right out and admitted that the firing was because of “this Russia thing.” George saw that this was becoming, as he later put it in an interview with the podcast Skullduggery, “a shitshow in a dumpster fire.”

In a gracious letter in May 2017, he took himself out of the running for the Justice Department job. Out of respect for Kellyanne’s job, he kept his disdain from public view. In a follow-up tweet to one questioning the likelihood of the Muslim ban making it past the Supreme Court, he wrote, “Just to be clear, in response to inquiries, I still VERY VERY STRONGLY SUPPORT POTUS, his Admin, policies, the executive order.”

Meanwhile, the Trump White House was becoming the MAGA Hunger Games—a battle for Trump’s approval. Kellyanne was at the white-hot center. There was one camp that appreciated her willingness to defend Trump. “She went and did interviews that nobody else would do, and he always knew that he could count on her when everybody else ran for cover,” says Luntz. And then there were Jared Kushner and Ivanka. During the campaign, Kushner already couldn’t stand that Kellyanne was taking credit for being the campaign manager, according to multiple sources. He believed she did nothing of substance, that “campaign manager” was a made-up title designed to get a woman on television. On one occasion, when Kellyanne was directing orders, Kushner stepped into the conversation and chastised her. “You’re not really the campaign manager,” he told her. “Stop telling people what to do.” By February 2017, he and Ivanka were whispering to Trump at Mar-a-Lago about how insufferable she was, according to a witness; they wanted her out. In Trump’s other ear was Melania. According to an insider, the first lady was Kellyanne’s chief ally and protector, and no fan of Javanka. If it weren’t for Melania, suspects this source, Kellyanne might have been out of there in the first year.

 

Kellyanne was determined to come out on top. Her superpower, according to associates, was leaking to the press. While she made a show inside the White House of needing to stop the leaks and publicly bemoaned the “palace intrigue” stories, she herself was a font, they say. White House communications aide Cliff Sims, author of Team of Vipers, recalled the discovery he made one day while working on Kellyanne’s computer, at her behest, to draft—yes, really—a refutation of Brzezinski’s claim that she’d privately dissed Trump. Kellyanne’s text message function had been synced to the laptop, and up popped several real-time exchanges she was having with journalists from The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, Politico, and Bloomberg. “As I sat there trying to type,” Sims wrote, “she bashed Jared Kushner, Reince Priebus, Steve Bannon, and Sean Spicer, all by name.” Ronald Kessler, author of The Trump White House, was one such journalist who found himself listening to a leak session targeting Priebus. He was so appalled by the mean-spirited nature of her words that he didn’t report them. Today Kessler says, “She settles scores. It makes her more powerful to be the dispenser of information behind the scenes.” A source familiar with Kellyanne’s thinking disputes this characterization, rationalizing that “if she were a leaker, it would be obvious because she knows so much.” Whatever the truth, Kellyanne’s reputation as a blabbermouth stuck, to the point where Kushner banned her from meetings.

Kellyanne’s balancing act was getting more challenging. According to associates, she needed to remain Trump’s biggest champion, while privately insisting to those in the real world—the world from whence she came—that she was a fellow sane person who understood that Trump was a mess. In the company of certain White House people, she referred to Trump multiple times as “a total fucking misogynist,” according to a senior official. In policy matters with moderate members of the administration, she presented herself as an ally, only to fold at clutch moments.

“There was almost always the calculus,” says this official. “There were moments when this was a really serious issue. ‘Do we have Kellyanne on our side or not?’ You’d say, ‘Okay, we got her. And the president is going to be on board and we can flip him.’ But if it seemed like it was going to be at all contentious, she was nowhere to be seen...She wouldn’t stick her neck out until it was clear the president was going to have her back.” That maneuver had real-world consequences. This official cites, for example, Trump’s response to the Parkland shooting. The White House might have tackled some form of gun safety, particularly concerning children, had Kellyanne pushed. Instead, the administration issued a tepid school-safety report that hardly mentioned guns. Similarly, she could have pushed Trump to permanently ax the family-separation policy. Instead, it was reinstated. If George had hoped his wife would be a tempering influence inside the White House, she wasn’t.

Starting in 2017, a group of disaffected conservative politicians and pundits—including Evan McMullin, William Kristol, Mona Charen, and Max Boot—plus some Democrats, had begun meeting every two weeks to discuss how to protect the country from Trump. Some members, particularly younger ones, believed their jobs would be in jeopardy if they were tagged as Never Trumpers, so it was a quiet alliance. Early in the summer of 2018, George turned up. At first some wondered if he was a mole. One such skeptical member thought the motivation soon became clear. After the announced retirement of Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy, Trump nominated Brett Kavanaugh, darling of the Federalist Society, as his successor. Three members of the group—Kristol, Charen, and Linda Chavez—voiced their support for Kavanaugh. As the suspicious member speculates, “I think it was all a, ‘wink, wink. George is going to go out there and help you stack the courts, but he’s going to separate from us…’ If he could get prominent Never Trumpers to support Kavanaugh’s nomination, then he would have been serving his party long term.” The theory that the Conways were playing a long game—together—got traction on Twitter, and survives in some quarters to this day.

But those who know George believe that theory to be nonsense. “There’s no nefarious plot,” says his friend Molly Jong-Fast, the liberal writer and pundit. “They worked this out together? It’s not true. This is not some long con by George.” Indeed, it became increasingly hard to doubt the sincerity of George’s words and purpose. That same summer George wrote an op-ed in Lawfare defending the Mueller investigation, a seeming response to Trump bashing it. As Trump’s affronts to the law piled up—like the revelation that he had paid off Stormy Daniels—George made his disgust known on Twitter. Meanwhile, Kellyanne was doing backflips on television, pretending that Trump knew nothing about the payment, even when an audio tape showed he clearly did. Cornered on the lie by Chris Cuomo, Kellyanne played a royal flush: the shame card (“How dare you?”), the woman card (“What is it about powerful, articulate women on TV that bothers you as guests?”), and the nanny-nanny-boo-boo card, reminding him that she was on the winning team. “All of you were against him. You said he could never win.”

 

It was getting impossible to square at home. George would have remained silent had Trump been merely bad, but this was of a new order of awful. He wanted his wife out of the White House. Kellyanne was devastated by his speaking out and experienced it as a betrayal on par with adultery. A source close to Kellyanne says she was given no warning of George’s missives and was unaware that he was meeting with Never Trumpers. Adding to the pain, says this source, she felt she had lost “her person”—the anchor you go home to and with whom you talk about your day.

Her friends and allies say they were aghast. “You have an intimate relationship with someone, you have criticism of something that they’re doing professionally, then you should express that privately,” says Christie. “And if you can’t resolve it privately, then you’ve got to decide what to do with the marriage. I thought it was just inexplicable. And quite frankly, not the George Conway that I knew. I can remember times my wife and I, when we would see some of the stuff George was saying, my wife would look at me and say, ‘If you ever did something like that, I’d kill you.’… It was very, very painful for Kellyanne’s friends to watch this go on.” Luntz adds, “Kellyanne had a difficult upbringing, which I will not get into. The idea that her husband would make family life difficult was just so unexpected and so unnecessary.” But to George’s friends the notion that he should be guided by some sort of propriety was absurd. “Your president is throwing norms out the window,” says Lat. “Why should you stay silent out of some traditional deference to the president when the president shows no deference to American values?”

Indeed, in George’s mind, none of his criticisms were personal. This was a five-alarm fire for America—and the outrages kept mounting. Like in Helsinki, where Trump, standing next to Vladimir Putin, challenged his own country’s intelligence reports that Russia had interfered in the election; or Trump’s protecting of Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman after he had journalist Jamal Khashoggi, an American resident, dismembered. George sharpened his burns on Twitter: “We have a president who unwittingly is a self-parody.” “The Lord made Sunday a day of rest. You could at least take one day off from debasing your office.” “His condition is getting worse.”

Trump started fixating on George. In this bizarre love triangle, Trump would show George who was the cuck. In March 2019, the president summoned campaign manager Brad Parscale, according to a senior official, and ordered him to call Kellyanne and give her an ultimatum—Trump or George, pick one. She told Parscale to stay out of her marriage, which Parscale relayed to his boss. Fired up, Trump told Parscale, “Get a pencil,” and dictated a tweet for Parscale to send from Parscale’s own account: “We all know that @realDonaldTrump turned down Mr. Kellyanne Conway for a job he desperately wanted…Now he hurts his wife because he is jealous of her success. POTUS doesn’t even know him!” Trump followed that up with a tweet from his own account, adding, “I barely know him but just take a look, a stone cold LOSER & husband from hell!” To which George tweeted back: “You. Are. Nuts.”

With the most powerful man in the world hurling insults at the father of her children, this might have been a logical moment for Kellyanne to reassess; she had put in two and a half years. Instead, she threw in her lot. According to a source close to Kellyanne, she viewed the president’s words about George not as attacks on her husband, but as gallant defenses of her—a hardworking mother of four who was being treated unfairly by the man who was supposed to love and support her. Around this time she stopped wearing her wedding ring, according to a senior official. When asked by colleagues about the state of her marriage, she responded, “It is what it is.” George had gone from nuisance to adversary. When Fox Business’s Maria Bartiromo brought up the situation, Kellyanne reminded everyone who the winner was in the couple: “I don’t know when feminists are going to write about the unusual situation of a man getting power through his wife. But that’s what we have here.”

“The easiest thing in the world for her to have done would have been to quit,” says Christie. “[But] I think that would have been a really negative message to send to women of power and influence: that if you accomplish something on your own, on your own merits, and somehow your husband or others disagree with you and say so publicly, that you have to leave.”

George began bringing his significant intellect to bear in op-eds for The Washington Post. In October 2019, he wrote an 11,000-word article for The Atlantic called “Unfit for Office,” synthesizing principles of jurisprudence and scientific texts on mental illness. Two months later, with a group of other former GOP strategists—including Rick Wilson, Steve Schmidt, Reed Galen, and the now disgraced John Weaver—he announced the Lincoln Project. George picked up a key strategy thanks to the White House. Over a steak lunch in New York with Wilson and Jong-Fast, an unofficial adviser to the group, George explained what he’d learned from an unwitting Parscale: run cheap ads in Washington, D.C., so that Trump would see them. Parscale had viewed the strategy as a way to please the president. Now Conway would use the same strategy to drive Trump “batshit crazy,” as he told Wilson and Jong-Fast. (Since allegations that Weaver sexually harassed young men emerged, other founding members are being investigated over what they knew and when, and the PAC is barely hanging on.)

The Conways were now officially politically opposed. With the pandemic, the stakes became life or death. When it came to addressing COVID, Kellyanne, as ever, played it both ways. Former Mike Pence adviser Olivia Troye, who resigned in protest of the administration’s handling of the pandemic, recalls Kellyanne, on the one hand, as a formidable presence in task force meetings. “She would speak up…[saying], ‘We need to make sure we’re not confusing the public with our messaging,’” says Troye. She tangled with Scott Atlas, who cherry-picked science and questioned mask wearing. Troye was disheartened, then, to see her do a complete 180 in public, like when she took to the podium in March 2020 and folded to the denier in chief. When CBS’s Paula Reid questioned claims that the virus was being contained when evidence pointed to the contrary, Kellyanne sneered, “It is being contained. Do you not think it’s being contained? … So are you a doctor or a lawyer?” Troye recalls, “I just remember thinking, Why, Kellyanne?” According to two former CDC officials, Kellyanne meddled with CDC guidelines on communion and choirs in church—laxity to please the president.

 

Meanwhile, George brought the Lincoln Project an idea, suggested to him by conservative writer Windsor Mann, for the ad “Mourning in America,” which powerfully shredded Trump’s response to the pandemic. (Trump responded on Twitter, anointing George with a new nickname—a sign that the irking was working: “I don’t know what Kellyanne did to her deranged loser of a husband, Moonface, but it must have been really bad.”) Beside himself with anger, George, in podcast interviews and tweets, went after all of the enablers: Maria Bartiromo (“She was a serious person at one point”); Mike Pence (“He used to be an honest politician”); “pathetic Susan Collins”; Trump’s staff (“He’s 100% insane. And nobody in the administration has the balls to tell him that.”). He never named his wife, but he viewed her as among them.

And then the crisis on the homefront exploded into public view. Claudia, then 15, was becoming virulently anti-Trump, pro-choice, pro-Black Lives Matter, and a fan of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez—and, like all teens, she was sharing her views on TikTok. She was also suffering, and wanted the world to know it. She tweeted in August, “My mother’s job ruined my life to begin with. Heartbreaking that she continues to go down this path after years of watching her children suffer. Selfish. It’s all about the fame, ladies and gentlemen.”

Then: “You know life isn’t fair when you wake up to your own mother speaking aside a homophobe and a rapist,” Claudia tweeted, referring to Pence and Trump. Days later she tweeted that she was seeking legal emancipation. The next day Kellyanne announced that she would be stepping down from her position in the White House. “Less drama, more mama,” quipped the quipper. George said he was stepping back from the Lincoln Project.

But Kellyanne just couldn’t quit Trump. A month later she returned for two events that were supposed to be victory laps of sorts. First, she, Christie, and a few other mask-less advisers had to prepare Trump for the first debate. She wanted him to take the opportunity to tout his accomplishments. Alas, the only memorable line was his directive to his white supremacist supporters the Proud Boys: “Stand back and stand by.” (The line wasn’t the plan, but she thought little of it, according to a source familiar with the situation; it was just Trump being Trump.) And she couldn’t not go to the Rose Garden to celebrate the new Supreme Court justice, Amy Coney Barrett, whom she saw as a kindred spirit—a non-Ivy League-educated superstar and Catholic mother of a big family. At least a dozen attendees ended up with COVID. Everyone from the debate prep ended up with COVID too, according to Christie. While it’s unclear where Kellyanne picked up the virus, within days, it was in the Conway household; Claudia, too, tested positive.

Those twin disasters—calling white supremacists to attention and a super-spreader event—bruised Trump in his quest for victory. In the days following the president’s defeat, Kellyanne was back on Team Trump as it searched for allegations of voter fraud. After each and every court case ended in defeat, according to a source familiar with the matter, she broke it to him: He’d come up short. But she no longer had his ear, apparently. By that point he was hearing what he wanted and was off to the races with “Stop the Steal,” a slogan that quickly metastasized within the GOP and throughout the country.

According to a source close to Kellyanne, in the days leading up to the riot, she never imagined that “Stop the Steal” would become a call to arms, never imagined that any violence would come to pass. She might have listened to her husband. George was scouring Parler and finding violent nutjobs who were responding to Trump’s tweets and planning to show up on January 6 to do Lord knows what. On January 4, he raised alarm bells on Morning Joe and on Twitter.

Kellyanne spent the start of January 6 working in her office before hearing of the breach. Horrified, she phoned an adviser who was physically with Trump, telling him to call off his supporters, to no avail. Four years of lies and brutality had come home to roost. That night Claudia took the moment to stick it to her mother. “Hey, Mom, if you’re watching this,” she said on TikTok, “how do you feel about your army becoming rioters? … Anyway, Mom, if you see this, come to my room. Let’s talk.”

In the wake of catastrophe, Kellyanne continued the spin, but the spin wobbled pitifully. While the pandemic raged, she journeyed 3,000 miles to appear on Real Time With Bill Maher and insist that it was all worth it. She reminded us about those great walk-in privileges. Furthermore, “You can’t deny that many people are better off,” she said, teeing Maher right up: “Well, they’re not better off now. A lot of them are dead.” As for Trump and the riot, she merely allowed: “I wish the president had spoken with the people earlier to get them the hell out of there.”

Today a few leading Republicans continue to take a stand against Trump. Kellyanne isn’t one of them. A source close to Kellyanne says that “Kellyanne was disappointed by the treatment of the vice president. She is close to both men and hopes that their relationship will be solid going forward.”

But then how could Kellyanne Conway profess anything but admiration? To admit that Trump is a profoundly flawed human being would be to admit that George was right and that she made a mistake. And winners like Kellyanne don’t make mistakes. They go from one triumph to the next and turn controversies into career opportunities, like the big, juicy memoir she is writing. “An insider” told the Daily Mail that it will be “the most unvarnished, eye-popping account of her time in the White House” and that the deal was bigger than John Bolton’s.

 

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Guest Lobo

Guest Lobo

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I think she deserves to stay on the Air Force Academy Board.  She literally looks like a Falcon bird.  And with any luck, she'll get sucked up into jet wash and die.

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hpslugga

hpslugga 4097

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Posted (edited)
5 hours ago, Longhorn_Fan68 said:

 

She’ll just be fine writing all those fiction books she’s got planned in her head in between all the “your mother sucks cocks in hell” interruptions in her brain worms.

Edited by hpslugga
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RomaVicta

RomaVicta 30544

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I like her insane level of vanity in believing that Biden firing her from this board is a way to distract from other stories. Nobody cares about this story. Only the Trumpers give a shit about this kind of foul rhetoric where she cynically politicizes the deaths of 13 Americans in uniform.

I truly can't imagine the insides of a mind/soul like that. 

This does serve as a reminder of dripping ladle of shit that was in the White House. Flush them all out to the deep deep ocean.

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SL Xpress

SL Xpress 7608

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On 2/26/2021 at 2:38 PM, Francisco 2.0 said:

I bolded some interesting snippets.  As stated over the years, she was the primary leaker in the Trump administration.  

https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2021/02/state-of-the-union-kellyanne-conway-and-george-conway

 

 

 

 

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How did two extremely smart people allow the presidency of one of the world’s most corrupt men to wreak such havoc on their family, never mind the country? In the last four years, both George and Kellyanne leaned into different sides of a certain upright conservatism. George is a man who adheres to a certain rule-following propriety—which would suggest he might have held his tongue while his wife was in the White House. But there’s another facet to George that overrides everything else. “George has a deep commitment to what he feels is right,” says his former Wachtell colleague David Lat, a legal writer. “His commitment to doing and saying what’s right, combined with an enjoyment of fame, have overcome the propriety-focused aspect of him.” As for Kellyanne, she’s a paragon of loyalty, says Luntz, the kind “that you don’t find in Washington anymore.” But in the opinion of many, that loyalty crossed the line to drinking the Kool-Aid.

“She fell into the cult,” says Michael Cohen, Trump’s ex-lawyer, who understands better than most the thrall of Trump. “The biggest mistake that people make, Kellyanne included, is they start to believe that they are relevant,” says Cohen. “And they begin to try to assume Trump’s arrogance.” Indeed, she came to embody many Trumpian passions: winning, or talking about winning, a lot; shaming the naysayers; and never being wrong. Kellyanne did not push the “Stop the Steal” narrative that incited the riot; a month after the election, she finally acknowledged that Joe Biden won. Yet her ease at subverting the truth during her tenure at the White House, her unshakeable righteousness, helped ease the way for the Big Lie.

The primary season of the 2016 election had been simpler times for Kellyanne and George. As is well known, they were working hand in hand. George was supporting Ted Cruz, and Kellyanne was running a super PAC for the Texas senator, whose wife Trump had insulted and whose father, Trump insinuated, was in on the assassination of President Kennedy. Kellyanne went after Trump, calling him the “thrice-married, non-churchgoing billionaire” who “says he’s for the little guy but actually built a lot of his businesses on the backs of the little guy.” He was, according to Kellyanne, “unpresidential,” “vulgar,” and offensive to women.

By the summer of 2016, Trump was the Republican nominee, but hurting for female voters and in need of a campaign manager. On the advice of Robert and Rebekah Mercer, the Cambridge Analytica and Breitbart billionaires who’d shifted their support from Cruz to Trump, he asked Kellyanne to become his campaign manager. But he wanted her on the cheap, because he’s Trump.

Kellyanne was in. The clout that would come with being the first female to win a presidential campaign outweighed any remunerative concern. Trump got a great deal. Those pesky disavowals of Trump she’d made? She’d blow them away like feathers. She had a whole bag of tricks at the ready. First there was the double-dealing. As a regular guest on Morning Joe, she praised Trump as “masterful,” and then, on one occasion, according to cohost Mika Brzezinski, took off her microphone and said, “Blech, I need to take a shower.” Morning Joe banned Kellyanne shortly thereafter. And then there was her bold gaslighting—like her claim that “it was Donald Trump who put the issue [of Barack Obama’s birth certificate] to rest” and her insistence that he “doesn’t hurl personal insults.” If the smiling blonde lady on television was saying it, it had to be true, right?

 

Veteran Republican strategist Rick Tyler, who’d been Cruz’s communications director, watched with amazement. “As a spokesperson, you can omit things, you can highlight certain things, you can reframe the conversation,” he says. “But when you say things that are flat-out wrong, that’s where I draw the line. I’m not going to debase myself, because there’s life after this client.” But Kellyanne had her champions—like Chris Christie, who over the course of their 18-year friendship bonded with her over their tough Italian mothers. He did debate prep with her in both 2016 and 2020 and sees her as a messaging wizard.

“There’s very few people in political life who know how to use language as effectively as Kellyanne and are more effective in communicating to President Trump,” says Christie. He says that when Trump was promising to refuse defeat in 2016, she told him to go softer. Christie adds, “She’s not present in 2020. And I think her absence is very, very loud in this postelection period.” He credits her for putting the opioid issue in front of President Trump, which resulted in the bipartisan passage of the SUPPORT Act.

Back in 2016, George was still very much in his wife’s corner. In the binary choice between Hillary Clinton and Trump, he cautiously supported Trump. As a member of the Federalist Society, he prioritized getting conservatives on the Supreme Court. For all of Trump’s obvious flaws, George then believed that “[Trump] will realize that the office is something much bigger than him,” as he later told fellow Lincoln Project cofounder Ron Steslow on a podcast, “and there were going to be these people around him who will constrain him.” People, perhaps, like his wife, whom he clearly doted on. On election night George wept with pride for what she had achieved, and screamed, “She did it! She did it!” On inauguration night he stood aside and held her fur coat, while Kellyanne posed in a red gown, beaming for cameras. George got a bit swept up too. He threw his hat in the ring for the job of solicitor general. After that job went to someone else, Attorney General Jeff Sessions asked if he’d be interested in the job of assistant attorney general in the civil division at the U.S. Department of Justice. Again, George agreed to be considered. He had spent decades working in the private sector and was ready to serve his country.

Kellyanne, the winning campaign manager, was slipping into the position of the president’s “counselor.” As she liked to point out, this meant she had walk-in privileges in the Oval Office. But television was his favorite forum. As Trump watched the shows, Kellyanne pioneered new ways to dodge the truth—or run a truck over it—for his pleasure. When NBC’s Chuck Todd took her to task on the assertion that the president’s inauguration crowd size was the biggest in history, she famously retorted that she had “alternative facts,” and a defining catchphrase was born. To defend Trump’s policies, she could go to bizarre places. When Trump tried to push the Muslim ban, she talked about “the Bowling Green massacre,” an ostensible massacre in Kentucky carried out by Muslims. She later claimed it was a slip of the tongue, even though she cited it in three different outlets.

George—still in New Jersey with the kids and under review for the Justice Department job—was becoming concerned about what was going on inside the Trump White House. The dumb crowd-size lie that his wife was defending? What was that? he wondered. The self-inflicted wounds piled up—Trump’s firing of FBI director James Comey; the fact that Trump came right out and admitted that the firing was because of “this Russia thing.” George saw that this was becoming, as he later put it in an interview with the podcast Skullduggery, “a shitshow in a dumpster fire.”

In a gracious letter in May 2017, he took himself out of the running for the Justice Department job. Out of respect for Kellyanne’s job, he kept his disdain from public view. In a follow-up tweet to one questioning the likelihood of the Muslim ban making it past the Supreme Court, he wrote, “Just to be clear, in response to inquiries, I still VERY VERY STRONGLY SUPPORT POTUS, his Admin, policies, the executive order.”

Meanwhile, the Trump White House was becoming the MAGA Hunger Games—a battle for Trump’s approval. Kellyanne was at the white-hot center. There was one camp that appreciated her willingness to defend Trump. “She went and did interviews that nobody else would do, and he always knew that he could count on her when everybody else ran for cover,” says Luntz. And then there were Jared Kushner and Ivanka. During the campaign, Kushner already couldn’t stand that Kellyanne was taking credit for being the campaign manager, according to multiple sources. He believed she did nothing of substance, that “campaign manager” was a made-up title designed to get a woman on television. On one occasion, when Kellyanne was directing orders, Kushner stepped into the conversation and chastised her. “You’re not really the campaign manager,” he told her. “Stop telling people what to do.” By February 2017, he and Ivanka were whispering to Trump at Mar-a-Lago about how insufferable she was, according to a witness; they wanted her out. In Trump’s other ear was Melania. According to an insider, the first lady was Kellyanne’s chief ally and protector, and no fan of Javanka. If it weren’t for Melania, suspects this source, Kellyanne might have been out of there in the first year.

 

Kellyanne was determined to come out on top. Her superpower, according to associates, was leaking to the press. While she made a show inside the White House of needing to stop the leaks and publicly bemoaned the “palace intrigue” stories, she herself was a font, they say. White House communications aide Cliff Sims, author of Team of Vipers, recalled the discovery he made one day while working on Kellyanne’s computer, at her behest, to draft—yes, really—a refutation of Brzezinski’s claim that she’d privately dissed Trump. Kellyanne’s text message function had been synced to the laptop, and up popped several real-time exchanges she was having with journalists from The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, Politico, and Bloomberg. “As I sat there trying to type,” Sims wrote, “she bashed Jared Kushner, Reince Priebus, Steve Bannon, and Sean Spicer, all by name.” Ronald Kessler, author of The Trump White House, was one such journalist who found himself listening to a leak session targeting Priebus. He was so appalled by the mean-spirited nature of her words that he didn’t report them. Today Kessler says, “She settles scores. It makes her more powerful to be the dispenser of information behind the scenes.” A source familiar with Kellyanne’s thinking disputes this characterization, rationalizing that “if she were a leaker, it would be obvious because she knows so much.” Whatever the truth, Kellyanne’s reputation as a blabbermouth stuck, to the point where Kushner banned her from meetings.

Kellyanne’s balancing act was getting more challenging. According to associates, she needed to remain Trump’s biggest champion, while privately insisting to those in the real world—the world from whence she came—that she was a fellow sane person who understood that Trump was a mess. In the company of certain White House people, she referred to Trump multiple times as “a total fucking misogynist,” according to a senior official. In policy matters with moderate members of the administration, she presented herself as an ally, only to fold at clutch moments.

“There was almost always the calculus,” says this official. “There were moments when this was a really serious issue. ‘Do we have Kellyanne on our side or not?’ You’d say, ‘Okay, we got her. And the president is going to be on board and we can flip him.’ But if it seemed like it was going to be at all contentious, she was nowhere to be seen...She wouldn’t stick her neck out until it was clear the president was going to have her back.” That maneuver had real-world consequences. This official cites, for example, Trump’s response to the Parkland shooting. The White House might have tackled some form of gun safety, particularly concerning children, had Kellyanne pushed. Instead, the administration issued a tepid school-safety report that hardly mentioned guns. Similarly, she could have pushed Trump to permanently ax the family-separation policy. Instead, it was reinstated. If George had hoped his wife would be a tempering influence inside the White House, she wasn’t.

Starting in 2017, a group of disaffected conservative politicians and pundits—including Evan McMullin, William Kristol, Mona Charen, and Max Boot—plus some Democrats, had begun meeting every two weeks to discuss how to protect the country from Trump. Some members, particularly younger ones, believed their jobs would be in jeopardy if they were tagged as Never Trumpers, so it was a quiet alliance. Early in the summer of 2018, George turned up. At first some wondered if he was a mole. One such skeptical member thought the motivation soon became clear. After the announced retirement of Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy, Trump nominated Brett Kavanaugh, darling of the Federalist Society, as his successor. Three members of the group—Kristol, Charen, and Linda Chavez—voiced their support for Kavanaugh. As the suspicious member speculates, “I think it was all a, ‘wink, wink. George is going to go out there and help you stack the courts, but he’s going to separate from us…’ If he could get prominent Never Trumpers to support Kavanaugh’s nomination, then he would have been serving his party long term.” The theory that the Conways were playing a long game—together—got traction on Twitter, and survives in some quarters to this day.

But those who know George believe that theory to be nonsense. “There’s no nefarious plot,” says his friend Molly Jong-Fast, the liberal writer and pundit. “They worked this out together? It’s not true. This is not some long con by George.” Indeed, it became increasingly hard to doubt the sincerity of George’s words and purpose. That same summer George wrote an op-ed in Lawfare defending the Mueller investigation, a seeming response to Trump bashing it. As Trump’s affronts to the law piled up—like the revelation that he had paid off Stormy Daniels—George made his disgust known on Twitter. Meanwhile, Kellyanne was doing backflips on television, pretending that Trump knew nothing about the payment, even when an audio tape showed he clearly did. Cornered on the lie by Chris Cuomo, Kellyanne played a royal flush: the shame card (“How dare you?”), the woman card (“What is it about powerful, articulate women on TV that bothers you as guests?”), and the nanny-nanny-boo-boo card, reminding him that she was on the winning team. “All of you were against him. You said he could never win.”

 

It was getting impossible to square at home. George would have remained silent had Trump been merely bad, but this was of a new order of awful. He wanted his wife out of the White House. Kellyanne was devastated by his speaking out and experienced it as a betrayal on par with adultery. A source close to Kellyanne says she was given no warning of George’s missives and was unaware that he was meeting with Never Trumpers. Adding to the pain, says this source, she felt she had lost “her person”—the anchor you go home to and with whom you talk about your day.

Her friends and allies say they were aghast. “You have an intimate relationship with someone, you have criticism of something that they’re doing professionally, then you should express that privately,” says Christie. “And if you can’t resolve it privately, then you’ve got to decide what to do with the marriage. I thought it was just inexplicable. And quite frankly, not the George Conway that I knew. I can remember times my wife and I, when we would see some of the stuff George was saying, my wife would look at me and say, ‘If you ever did something like that, I’d kill you.’… It was very, very painful for Kellyanne’s friends to watch this go on.” Luntz adds, “Kellyanne had a difficult upbringing, which I will not get into. The idea that her husband would make family life difficult was just so unexpected and so unnecessary.” But to George’s friends the notion that he should be guided by some sort of propriety was absurd. “Your president is throwing norms out the window,” says Lat. “Why should you stay silent out of some traditional deference to the president when the president shows no deference to American values?”

Indeed, in George’s mind, none of his criticisms were personal. This was a five-alarm fire for America—and the outrages kept mounting. Like in Helsinki, where Trump, standing next to Vladimir Putin, challenged his own country’s intelligence reports that Russia had interfered in the election; or Trump’s protecting of Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman after he had journalist Jamal Khashoggi, an American resident, dismembered. George sharpened his burns on Twitter: “We have a president who unwittingly is a self-parody.” “The Lord made Sunday a day of rest. You could at least take one day off from debasing your office.” “His condition is getting worse.”

Trump started fixating on George. In this bizarre love triangle, Trump would show George who was the cuck. In March 2019, the president summoned campaign manager Brad Parscale, according to a senior official, and ordered him to call Kellyanne and give her an ultimatum—Trump or George, pick one. She told Parscale to stay out of her marriage, which Parscale relayed to his boss. Fired up, Trump told Parscale, “Get a pencil,” and dictated a tweet for Parscale to send from Parscale’s own account: “We all know that @realDonaldTrump turned down Mr. Kellyanne Conway for a job he desperately wanted…Now he hurts his wife because he is jealous of her success. POTUS doesn’t even know him!” Trump followed that up with a tweet from his own account, adding, “I barely know him but just take a look, a stone cold LOSER & husband from hell!” To which George tweeted back: “You. Are. Nuts.”

With the most powerful man in the world hurling insults at the father of her children, this might have been a logical moment for Kellyanne to reassess; she had put in two and a half years. Instead, she threw in her lot. According to a source close to Kellyanne, she viewed the president’s words about George not as attacks on her husband, but as gallant defenses of her—a hardworking mother of four who was being treated unfairly by the man who was supposed to love and support her. Around this time she stopped wearing her wedding ring, according to a senior official. When asked by colleagues about the state of her marriage, she responded, “It is what it is.” George had gone from nuisance to adversary. When Fox Business’s Maria Bartiromo brought up the situation, Kellyanne reminded everyone who the winner was in the couple: “I don’t know when feminists are going to write about the unusual situation of a man getting power through his wife. But that’s what we have here.”

“The easiest thing in the world for her to have done would have been to quit,” says Christie. “[But] I think that would have been a really negative message to send to women of power and influence: that if you accomplish something on your own, on your own merits, and somehow your husband or others disagree with you and say so publicly, that you have to leave.”

George began bringing his significant intellect to bear in op-eds for The Washington Post. In October 2019, he wrote an 11,000-word article for The Atlantic called “Unfit for Office,” synthesizing principles of jurisprudence and scientific texts on mental illness. Two months later, with a group of other former GOP strategists—including Rick Wilson, Steve Schmidt, Reed Galen, and the now disgraced John Weaver—he announced the Lincoln Project. George picked up a key strategy thanks to the White House. Over a steak lunch in New York with Wilson and Jong-Fast, an unofficial adviser to the group, George explained what he’d learned from an unwitting Parscale: run cheap ads in Washington, D.C., so that Trump would see them. Parscale had viewed the strategy as a way to please the president. Now Conway would use the same strategy to drive Trump “batshit crazy,” as he told Wilson and Jong-Fast. (Since allegations that Weaver sexually harassed young men emerged, other founding members are being investigated over what they knew and when, and the PAC is barely hanging on.)

The Conways were now officially politically opposed. With the pandemic, the stakes became life or death. When it came to addressing COVID, Kellyanne, as ever, played it both ways. Former Mike Pence adviser Olivia Troye, who resigned in protest of the administration’s handling of the pandemic, recalls Kellyanne, on the one hand, as a formidable presence in task force meetings. “She would speak up…[saying], ‘We need to make sure we’re not confusing the public with our messaging,’” says Troye. She tangled with Scott Atlas, who cherry-picked science and questioned mask wearing. Troye was disheartened, then, to see her do a complete 180 in public, like when she took to the podium in March 2020 and folded to the denier in chief. When CBS’s Paula Reid questioned claims that the virus was being contained when evidence pointed to the contrary, Kellyanne sneered, “It is being contained. Do you not think it’s being contained? … So are you a doctor or a lawyer?” Troye recalls, “I just remember thinking, Why, Kellyanne?” According to two former CDC officials, Kellyanne meddled with CDC guidelines on communion and choirs in church—laxity to please the president.

 

Meanwhile, George brought the Lincoln Project an idea, suggested to him by conservative writer Windsor Mann, for the ad “Mourning in America,” which powerfully shredded Trump’s response to the pandemic. (Trump responded on Twitter, anointing George with a new nickname—a sign that the irking was working: “I don’t know what Kellyanne did to her deranged loser of a husband, Moonface, but it must have been really bad.”) Beside himself with anger, George, in podcast interviews and tweets, went after all of the enablers: Maria Bartiromo (“She was a serious person at one point”); Mike Pence (“He used to be an honest politician”); “pathetic Susan Collins”; Trump’s staff (“He’s 100% insane. And nobody in the administration has the balls to tell him that.”). He never named his wife, but he viewed her as among them.

And then the crisis on the homefront exploded into public view. Claudia, then 15, was becoming virulently anti-Trump, pro-choice, pro-Black Lives Matter, and a fan of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez—and, like all teens, she was sharing her views on TikTok. She was also suffering, and wanted the world to know it. She tweeted in August, “My mother’s job ruined my life to begin with. Heartbreaking that she continues to go down this path after years of watching her children suffer. Selfish. It’s all about the fame, ladies and gentlemen.”

Then: “You know life isn’t fair when you wake up to your own mother speaking aside a homophobe and a rapist,” Claudia tweeted, referring to Pence and Trump. Days later she tweeted that she was seeking legal emancipation. The next day Kellyanne announced that she would be stepping down from her position in the White House. “Less drama, more mama,” quipped the quipper. George said he was stepping back from the Lincoln Project.

But Kellyanne just couldn’t quit Trump. A month later she returned for two events that were supposed to be victory laps of sorts. First, she, Christie, and a few other mask-less advisers had to prepare Trump for the first debate. She wanted him to take the opportunity to tout his accomplishments. Alas, the only memorable line was his directive to his white supremacist supporters the Proud Boys: “Stand back and stand by.” (The line wasn’t the plan, but she thought little of it, according to a source familiar with the situation; it was just Trump being Trump.) And she couldn’t not go to the Rose Garden to celebrate the new Supreme Court justice, Amy Coney Barrett, whom she saw as a kindred spirit—a non-Ivy League-educated superstar and Catholic mother of a big family. At least a dozen attendees ended up with COVID. Everyone from the debate prep ended up with COVID too, according to Christie. While it’s unclear where Kellyanne picked up the virus, within days, it was in the Conway household; Claudia, too, tested positive.

Those twin disasters—calling white supremacists to attention and a super-spreader event—bruised Trump in his quest for victory. In the days following the president’s defeat, Kellyanne was back on Team Trump as it searched for allegations of voter fraud. After each and every court case ended in defeat, according to a source familiar with the matter, she broke it to him: He’d come up short. But she no longer had his ear, apparently. By that point he was hearing what he wanted and was off to the races with “Stop the Steal,” a slogan that quickly metastasized within the GOP and throughout the country.

According to a source close to Kellyanne, in the days leading up to the riot, she never imagined that “Stop the Steal” would become a call to arms, never imagined that any violence would come to pass. She might have listened to her husband. George was scouring Parler and finding violent nutjobs who were responding to Trump’s tweets and planning to show up on January 6 to do Lord knows what. On January 4, he raised alarm bells on Morning Joe and on Twitter.

Kellyanne spent the start of January 6 working in her office before hearing of the breach. Horrified, she phoned an adviser who was physically with Trump, telling him to call off his supporters, to no avail. Four years of lies and brutality had come home to roost. That night Claudia took the moment to stick it to her mother. “Hey, Mom, if you’re watching this,” she said on TikTok, “how do you feel about your army becoming rioters? … Anyway, Mom, if you see this, come to my room. Let’s talk.”

In the wake of catastrophe, Kellyanne continued the spin, but the spin wobbled pitifully. While the pandemic raged, she journeyed 3,000 miles to appear on Real Time With Bill Maher and insist that it was all worth it. She reminded us about those great walk-in privileges. Furthermore, “You can’t deny that many people are better off,” she said, teeing Maher right up: “Well, they’re not better off now. A lot of them are dead.” As for Trump and the riot, she merely allowed: “I wish the president had spoken with the people earlier to get them the hell out of there.”

Today a few leading Republicans continue to take a stand against Trump. Kellyanne isn’t one of them. A source close to Kellyanne says that “Kellyanne was disappointed by the treatment of the vice president. She is close to both men and hopes that their relationship will be solid going forward.”

But then how could Kellyanne Conway profess anything but admiration? To admit that Trump is a profoundly flawed human being would be to admit that George was right and that she made a mistake. And winners like Kellyanne don’t make mistakes. They go from one triumph to the next and turn controversies into career opportunities, like the big, juicy memoir she is writing. “An insider” told the Daily Mail that it will be “the most unvarnished, eye-popping account of her time in the White House” and that the deal was bigger than John Bolton’s.

 

That. Was. Fascinating. 

I’ve hated Trump from the very beginning and have gotten into a lot of tense moments with people who have supported him to the hilt. Some of them with significant sums of money to both him and his allies. 

I have no real sympathy for Kellyanne Conway as a politician and a chief Trump enabler. I do have some sympathy for her as a wife, and I did always find it unseemly that George Conway so bitterly - and effectively - attacked her boss. But I do agree with the point of view that Trump is one of the biggest dangers democracy has ever faced in this country. Thankfully he’s not more clever than he is. I mean, it’s still not over. There are many aspects of his reign that are simply setting the precedent for the next megalomaniac. For anyone who thinks it can’t get worse than Trump, just wait. Get a populist who can galvanize masses of true believers who is actually competent and we’ll be in even bigger trouble. 

Anyway, thanks for the post. That was well worth reading. Never would have seen it otherwise. Always avoided conversations about either one of them. 

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yoladu

yoladu 4187

Posted
Posted (edited)
On 3/4/2023 at 3:06 AM, atomheartbevo said:

Kiss that ass Trump. You can’t afford her to turn on you.

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is gleefully celebrating the collapse of a marriage a new family values thing that i am not aware of?

Edited by yoladu
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