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Stephanie Grisham: Trump turncoat who may be most damaging yet

October 4, 2021
in Mobile Home, Social
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Stephanie Grisham: Trump turncoat who may be most damaging yet

Stephanie Grisham looks on at the White House, in November 2019. Photograph: Tom Brenner/Reuters

Former press secretary has decided to ‘break her silence’ but may find media less hospitable than to those who went before

The  Guardian-Martin Pengelly

On Monday, Stephanie Grisham will appear on Good Morning America. ABC is billing the interview as the former White House press secretary’s chance to “break her silence”.

Donald Trump is unlikely to be watching. Grisham is not the first insider to break omertà on the Trumps, who rose from running a New York real estate empire to occupying the White House, but she may well be the politico who got closest of all.

A Republican operative before Trump seized the party, Grisham was spokeswoman and confidante to Melania Trump when she became first lady. Grisham shifted to the West Wing, becoming Trump’s third press secretary, then returned to the East Wing as Melania’s chief of staff. Shortly before the Trumps left the White House, on the day of the Capitol attack, she resigned.

Now she has written a book, I’ll Take Your Questions Now. The irony of the title has been widely noted. In nine months as press secretary, Grisham did not take questions at a single White House briefing. Nonetheless, the book has generated a slew of headlines, nearly all unflattering about her former bosses.

Stories range from the salacious, Trump calling a press aide forward on Air Force One in order to “look at her ass”, to the ludicrous, as when Trump and Boris Johnson used a G20 working breakfast to discuss the strength of kangaroos.

Grisham makes clear Trump’s unfitness to be president, whether due to his terrifying temper or his ridiculous demands – such as when, she says, he ordered her to finally go behind the White House podium, to defend him in his first impeachment by “acting out” his infamous phone call with the president of Ukraine.

Grisham avoided that humiliation, she writes, by getting “one of our most reliable ‘yes’ guys in the House”, Devin Nunes of California, to read the call into the congressional record. She also exposes decay higher up in the party. Lindsey Graham, the senator from South Carolina, is “gross and tacky … a snake”. Mitt Romney, Grisham’s former boss, a pillar of anti-Trump conservatives, is ridiculed for trying to become secretary of state.

Back down the food chain, Grisham does not name the White House aide with whom she had a relationship which ended in allegations of abuse, choosing to describe him as the “Music Man”, who she says could calm Trump down by playing his favourite songs, Memory from the musical Cats chief among them. The aide is widely known to be Max Miller, who denies Grisham’s allegations – and who is now a candidate for Congress in Ohio.

Trumpworld, of course, has lashed back. Peter Navarro, formerly a trade adviser and self-appointed White House enforcer, called Grisham’s book “useless gossip”. Trump claimed Grisham was being “paid by a radical left-leaning publisher to say bad and untrue things”.

Harper Collins – owned by Rupert Murdoch – will no doubt press ahead with its sales plan. But Grisham seems to have burned bridges with the mainstream media as well as her political party. Though the Washington Post and New York Times published detailed reports on her book, she seems unlikely to be welcomed into the fold as columnist or TV pundit.

‘Dirty deeds’

Grisham resigned on 6 January, the day Trump supporters mounted a deadly attack on the US Capitol, seeking to overturn the election in support of his lies about voter fraud. She says she rejected the voter fraud argument. Politico has reported otherwise. In most eyes, either way, it was far too late to jump ship.

Eric Boehlert, founder of PressRun, a newsletter covering the US media, told the Guardian Grisham was “a legit inside source who had a position the whole time. So I think there’s a feeling like she was in the room. It’s not like hearsay.”

“[But] she’s sitting in meetings for years, writing notes to herself at night about how the president of the United States is a danger to the world and the danger to the country. If you’re gonna blow the whistle, have the courage to be a whistleblower. Don’t do it after everything is safe and he’s out of office.”

Some Trump aides who jumped or were pushed before Grisham have managed to stay in the media’s good graces, though obviously not the Trumps’.

Michael Cohen was Trump’s fixer before he flipped during the investigation of ties between Trump and Russia. He also went to prison, for crimes including lying to Congress and facilitating illegal payments to two women who alleged affairs with Trump.

Finishing his sentence in home confinement, he has become a vocal Trump critic through a book, Disloyal, a podcast, Mea Culpa, and as a voice on MSNBC. It’s quite a change for a man who once threatened journalists threatening to expose Trump’s “dirty deeds”.

John Bolton was Trump’s third national security adviser. A foreign policy hawk on the Republican right long before Trump, his time in the White House wasn’t a happy one, as Grisham recounts. Trump failed to stop publication of Bolton’s book, The Room Where It Happened, but Bolton managed to avoid testifying in Trump’s first impeachment trial. That and his presence as a media commentator, particularly over the withdrawal from Afghanistan, continues to anger many on the left.

Then there is Anthony Scaramucci, a Wall Street financier who spent 11 days as White House communications director. He stuck with Trump for a while, publishing a book in praise of the “Blue Collar President”, then broke with him. “The Mooch” retains a presence in national media.

Boehlert said: “I feel like these books are helpful in that they paint a first-hand portrait of a madman, period. And they’re helpful because they’re effective.”

But in Grisham’s case, he said, “it would have been helpful if [she] had warned us in 2017, 2018 … She had this perk job, she had access to the most elite circles on the planet. And she knew it was all wrong, and she knew it was dangerous. And now she’s cashing in on a book after Trump is in Mar-a-Lago.

“It’s not exactly a profile in courage.”

‘I looked totally incompetent’

As far as Trumpworld is concerned, Grisham’s chief crime may be to have betrayed her access, as chief of staff to Melania and press secretary to Donald, to some of the family’s most intimate moments.

In her book, she describes discovering “another piece of the puzzle that was the marriage of Donald and Melania Trump”. During a trip to France in summer 2017, she says, she stood “mostly alone” with the couple before a public engagement.

“Mrs Trump … leaned into her husband, who whispered into her ear. A few moments later I saw them kiss each other. All of that was quite unusual; it was in fact the only time I ever saw them express any physical intimacy in public.”

Grisham says she was “so surprised I took a picture of the scene on my phone”. That picture, taken from behind, its subjects unsuspecting, is reproduced in Grisham’s book. It seems a startling breach of privacy and trust.

 

Grisham also tells her version of a particularly furious media frenzy. On a trip to the southern border in June 2018 that included a visit to a detention centre for child migrants separated from their parents, Melania Trump wore a jacket which displayed a slogan: “I really don’t care. Do U?” Outrage was immediate and sustained.

Grisham blames Melania for going rogue, choosing her outfit while her closest aide was distracted. The first lady, she writes, “didn’t care about the media frenzy over her jacket, that’s for sure. Or at least she pretended not to care … But I did care, because it was my job, and, at best, I looked totally incompetent.”

Grisham now lives in Kansas, away from the Washington hullabaloo. Should she ever wish to dive back in, she may hope DC society at large responds as one White House predecessor did to her book.

Joe Lockhart, a press secretary under Bill Clinton, dismissed I’ll Take Your Questions Now in a mere five words.

“I don’t care,” he wrote. “Do you?”

 

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No Time to Die review – Daniel Craig’s Bond swan song takes aim at well-worn conventions ‘Like a road-rage incident waiting to happen’: Daniel Craig in No Time to Die. Photograph: AP Craig’s final outing as the secret agent is too long and needs a better villain, but attempts at real change to the 007 formula feel fun and fresh The Guardian-Wendy Ide Perhaps more than any previous Bond, the Daniel Craig era has, for better or worse, managed to tap into the mood of the British national psyche with each new film. Casino Royale, released the year after the 7 July London terror attacks, was a lean, focused and brutally businesslike proposition. Quantum of Solace was messy, noisy and slightly panicky. And subsequent films brought us a Bond who was forced to do battle on two fronts, both against Spectre and his own irrelevance on an increasingly tech-enabled killing field. Essentially British exceptionalism made flesh and wrapped in a Savile Row suit and a sneer, Bond ploughed on with the old ways, at considerable cost to those around him. Now Craig’s swansong in the role arrives, nearly 18 months later than originally planned. And like many of us, it’s bloated and flabby around the mid-section and prone to moments of confusion. But it’s also the first Bond movie in forever that attempts real change, tearing down some of the well-worn conventions of the 007 formula. All of which should heighten the anticipation around the casting of Craig’s replacement no end. The first indication that this might not be business as usual comes at the very start, when, as tradition has it, Bond films usually kick off in an exotic locale with an extravagant action set piece. Not this time. The film opens in a forest chalet in the dead of winter where a little girl lives with a mother who has sunk into bitterness and blurry self-medication. It’s the kind of place you go to hide, a remote and icy backdrop reminiscent of Joe Wright’s Hanna. And when a visitor does arrive – a figure in a Japanese kabuki mask – it’s clearly not a courtesy call. It’s probably best to leave a question mark over the identity of the girl, her mother and the masked man: suffice to say it’s an unusual, unexpectedly generous move for the film to shift the focus from Bond, even for a moment, in order to offer up a backstory for another character. 007’s newfound respect for his female colleagues may or may not be due to the input of Phoebe Waller-Bridge Once the film finally reconnects with Bond, we find him enjoying his retirement on the Mediterranean coast, with perma-mope Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) at his side. Some stilted dialogue exchanges establish the fact that trust issues abound and both are guarding secrets from their past; the fact that their holiday seems to be a grand tour of the sites of traumatic memories also suggests that there may yet be some emotional baggage left to be unpacked. One element that seems to be resistant to change is the lack of chemistry between Craig and Seydoux, despite the input of director Cary Joji Fukanaga. After their drably decorous courtship in Spectre, theirs is a polite but rather tepid relationship, while Craig’s Bond is comically ill at ease with the concept of empathy, fumbling with it as if somebody just handed him a baby to admire and he has literally no idea what to do with it. Have the changes in approach reached Bond himself? Yes and no. On the one hand, Craig’s default setting of low-level irritation has stewed and simmered; the fuse is markedly shorter, and he spends much of the film snarling through the windscreen of his Aston Martin DB5 looking like a road-rage incident waiting to happen. On the other, there’s a newfound respect for his female colleagues – it’s a welcome move away from 007’s modus operandi of casual workplace harassment, which may or may not be due to the input of Phoebe Waller-Bridge. A spiky rivalry between Bond and Nomi (Lashana Lynch, forcefully charismatic in a slightly underwritten role), his replacement in the 00 programme, gives way to a genuine admiration for her skill as an agent. And Ana de Armas as Cuban field agent Paloma is a delight, necking her martini and channelling her “three weeks of training” into a flamboyant, tango-infused killing spree. Even Craig’s sourpuss secret agent seems to be having a blast when Paloma’s (all too briefly) on screen. It’s a glimpse of something that has been MIA from the Bond movies of late – pulpy, escapist fun. And this is where the film slips up. With a Bond as dangerous but dour as Craig’s, the onus is on the villain to inject a little levity, hence the ham-tastic turns from Javier Bardem and Cristoph Waltz in the most recent outings. This film’s main bad guy is Rami Malek’s lacklustre Lyutsifer Safin. We know that he’s evil because of his facial scarring (and really, enough now with this nonsense) and the fact that he puts loaded pauses in the middle of sentences. His brutalist concrete lair is enviable, his bag of nefarious tricks contains a nanotech, gene-targeted bioweapon called Heracles, but his motives in deploying it are muddy. It’s a problem. A Bond film is only as good as its villain, after all. Elsewhere, the film looks to the past as well as the future. Hans Zimmer’s score weaves in references to past films, notably We Have All the Time in the World from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. It’s a smart motif that effectively taps into the goodwill and nostalgia for Bonds past while dropping hints of things to come. You don’t need to be a Bond aficionado to know that anyone who thinks they have all the time in the world invariably hasn’t.

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