First, of course, is that Sean Spicer quit, because Trump hired Anthony “Boneitis Guy” Scaramucci as communications director.
Then the Boneitis Guy gave a profanity laden rant/interview to the New Yorker, where among other things, he said:
Scaramucci also told me that, unlike other senior officials, he had no interest in media attention. “I’m not Steve Bannon, I’m not trying to suck my own c%$#,” he said, speaking of Trump’s chief strategist. “I’m not trying to build my own brand off the f%$#ing strength of the President. I’m here to serve the country.” (Bannon declined to comment.)
And then, Chief of Staff Reince Priebus got fired as chief of staff, and was left on the tarmac at Andrews AFB without a ride home.
And then Anthony Scaramucci’s wife filed for divorce while she was 9 months pregnant, and actually had the child while “Mooch” was busy watching Trump doing an impression of Benito Mussolini in front of several thousand Boy Scouts.
It’s no wonder that Matt Taibbi predicts that the, “Anthony Scaramucci Era Will Be Freakish, Embarrassing, Short.”
I already miss Anthony Scaramucci. Of course, he hasn’t officially been fired yet (checks Twitter), or committed suicide by jumping into boiling steak fat at his Gotti-esque Hunt and Fish Club restaurant in Manhattan (checks Twitter again). But it sure seems like he’s not long for this earth. Even by Trumpian standards, has any federal official had a more disastrous rollout?
The big headline this morning is that the new White House Communications Director got upset and decided to call Ryan Lizza at the New Yorker and go full-on Glengarry Glen Ross without asking for background or off-the-record privileges.
In the call, Scaramucci hounded Lizza to give up his sources, threatened to fire the entire White House communications staff, and gave what Saddam Hussein would have described as the mother of all quotes in an effort to bash fellow backstabbing Trump insider Steve Bannon:
“I’m not Steve Bannon, I’m not trying to suck my own cock,” he said. “I’m not trying to build my own brand off the f%$#ing strength of the President.”
In the space of a week, Trump’s new press expert demonstrated that he a) didn’t know how to hold off-the-record conversations b) didn’t understand that cameras and microphones keep rolling even when the red light is off and c) doesn’t bother to check the other public statements made by administration officials before he makes statements of his own. An alien crashed on earth and given a two-minute tutorial on dealing with reporters would have done a better job.
His hire horrified even hardened mutants like Bannon (“Over my dead body will you get this job!” Bannon is reported to have yelped, when he heard the Scaramucci news). Spicer, who for months had effortlessly gulped down Trump administration lies like a vulture guzzling battery acid, resigned in protest at Scaramucci’s arrival (an “unusual choice of hills to die on” was the New Yorker‘s comment).
Long live Mooch (checks Twitter).
If I was a screenwriter, and pitching this to a bunch of producers, and the producers were tripping on LSD, they would still throw me out of their office saying that the script was completely unbelievable.
Roman Emperor Nero would look at this sh%$, and say, “This is f%$#ed up.”
Roman Emperor Caligula could not be reached for comment.