Unbelievable: My Front-Row Seat to the Craziest Campaign in American History

Just read. And if you somehow forget how to read, vamp. Who knows this better than you? No one.

Information coming directly from a politician or his team, without being vetted by reporters, is little more than propaganda.

The only thing that scares a meteorologist is lightning. There is no way to tell when or where it will strike. It is utterly unpredictable. Just. Like. Trump.

The hotel mirrors of America know we all need some curve correction. But try to take yourself seriously as you open a package labeled, SHAPE MY DAY HIGH-WAISTED GIRL SHORT. Tomorrow you will cut the sugar. You will cut the fries. You will go back to the gym. You won’t be afraid of mirrors anymore.

It’s hard to find your self-assurance when you can’t even find yourself on a map without assistance. It’s also a law of TV: as your profile rises, your confidence tanks—you could plot it as one downward slope on a line graph.

I can’t say no to my bosses. I can’t tell them I don’t want the opportunity. Who knows where it could lead? To put it another way, why be happy when you can be great?

He is the living embodiment of the old maxim that if you say something often enough, people will believe it. That’s