Book excerpt: "Make Russia Great Again" by Christopher Buckley
"How could you work for a man like that?"
"What were you thinking?"
"What possessed you?"
All the time I get this, even in here, which frankly strikes me as a bit rich. Who knew inmates at federal correctional institutions had such keenly developed senses of moral superiority?
Let me say, at the outset I had no illusions when I agreed to serve as Donald Trump's White House chief of staff. I did not seek the job, nor did I imagine, even for a moment, that it would be a "picnic," a "walk in the park," or some other metaphor for "wonderful, life-enhancing experience." I certainly didn't
imagine that it would culminate in having a mailing address consisting of an acronym and numbers recognizable only to the U.S. Postal Service.
Call me old-fashioned. My view is that when your president calls, you pick up the phone. My wife, Hetta, urged . . .