Inside an eerily silent White House,
some Trump staffers predict their boss will lose the election and are quietly prepping their résumés.
'Tuesday morning was damp and cool in Washington, D.C., and the Secret Service agent at the White House’s northwest gate smiled as he saw my Playboy face mask.
Leaves rustled in the slight breeze inside the White House compound, the overcast skies making the damp autumn chill seem colder than it really was. Two black squirrels fought over an acorn on the North Lawn; there was no evidence of the pesky raccoons I saw tormenting CNN and CBS personnel late last week, and the president was nowhere to be seen.
Few people lingered outside on campus—unusual in any White House but especially so under the Trump regime, even during a pandemic.
A lone reporter, Peter Alexander from NBC, was doing a live shot. Lines from a T.S. Eliot poem I was forced to memorize long ago in middle school came suddenly to mind: “We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men / Leaning together / Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!”
Trump, the resident hollow man, is back on the campaign trail—'>>>
https://www.playboy.com/read/out-with-a-whimper?
= new reply since forum marked as read
And this one's especially satisfying.
