R.I.P., Steve Bannon.
But I know you won’t because you’re an opportunistic operator who never rests. Though you sure look like you could use some R&R.
Boy, you had one heck of a run. Liberals spat your name as if it sickened them to say it. They talked of you like you were the devil, like your former boss. You wanted it that way, didn’t you? You’re an instigator and political pugilist.
But you aren’t as smart as you led us to think you are.
You conned us into thinking you were some sort of voracious reading evil genius. We thought you made Trump. Maybe you did. You once compared your influence with the White House to Thomas Cromwell’s with the Tudor court.
Pretty lofty for a mere staffer. Is that what we’re supposed to believe about your role on Team Trump? Between your boasts and Trump’s lies, I don’t know what to believe.
Were you his most trusted adviser? Or his puppet master?
One thing’s for sure, Steve Bannon, you were one intriguing son of a gun. But now it’s all over. Your free fall is complete. Or is it?
Washed out of the White House, booted from Breitbart—what’s your next move? A presidential run? Better clean yourself up, buddy.
Good thing you scored those Seinfeld royalties. Don’t drink them away. We need you sober and solvent enough to stir it up in 2020. Because that’s what you’re good at. And that’s what we love about you, Bannon.