WELL, that was embarrassing.
The accidental White House occupant’s military preening was exposed for being talk not met with action.
On the same day the Wall Street Journal has a scoop on the Manafort plea deal that wasn’t.
Things will get worse in Trumpland from here.
See Vogue, October issue…
BY THE TIME I knock on the door of Stormy Daniels’s room at the Roger Smith Hotel, a drab brown-brick tower in east midtown, she’s been holed up in New York for 24 hours, waiting to talk to prosecutors in the criminal investigation into President Trump’s former lawyer Michael Cohen. Lately, if Daniels takes more than a couple days off from her highly publicized nationwide strip-club tour, people assume she is at her home outside Dallas. “I’d bet by tomorrow afternoon there will be people at my house,” Daniels tells me as she settles down in the center of an oversize gray sofa. I sit across from her, on a faded upholstered armchair. Between us are a tawny Oriental rug and a table set with a pot of coffee and a spread of pastries in a striped Financier Patisserie box. The people she means—paparazzi and men in red trucker hats who want her to stop talking about her alleged affair with the president—began circling last spring when Daniels decided to take on Trump. In doing so she became globally known by a single name: Stormy, the unlikely, embattled symbol of our tempestuous times.
The WH has now posted the presidential proclamation directing flags to half-staff until sunset of the day of Sen. McCain's interment on Sunday at the US Naval Academy cemetery. pic.twitter.com/hadsRaGNgW
— Mark Knoller (@markknoller) August 27, 2018