Below is an extract of a post published on Guardian titled "Rage by Bob Woodward review – Trump unleashed"
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Make america great again.- Donald Trump.
What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the dog.- Dwight D. Eisenhower.
The best executive is the one who has sense enough to pick good men to do what wants done, and self-restraint to keep from meddling with them while they do it.- Theodore Roosevelt.
Discipline is the soul of an army. It makes small numbers formidable; procures success to the weak and esteem to all.- George Washington.
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Via: Guardian
In Bob Woodward’s interviews, this self-obsessed blabbermouth of a president blows the whistle on himself Now I understand why Trump refuses to have a dog in the White House. There’s no need: he is his own fawning poodle and envenomed cur. “I love this guy,” says Trump when granting access to Bob Woodward. “Even though he writes shit about me. That’s OK.” It’s the creed of a grovelling lap dog, and Trump follows up with flattering licks and whiny appeals to have his belly scratched. “Honey, I’m talking to Bob Woodward!” he proudly announces when Melania interrupts one of their phone calls, and he even imparts whispered nuclear secrets in the hope that this upright, fanatically factual journalist – who began his career by exposing the Watergate burglary and thus scuttled Nixon’s presidency – will relax into an obsequious court reporter. Yet when closeted with his harried aides or beleaguered cabinet members, Trump mutates into the carnivorous hound of the Baskervilles. Unleashed by his executive power, he snarls, incoherently froths and, in scenes witnessed by Woodward’s sources, runs around yelping “Holy shit!” or “I’m fucked!” A better title for Rage, perhaps, would be Rabid. Trump’s repetitive bluster sucks up all the air in the room and reduces auditors to stifled silence Continue reading…
