President Donald Trump has a well-earned reputation as congenitally dishonest and occasionally disconnected from reality. But let's give him credit when he is dead-on in an assessment, no matter how puerile.
Recent example: In his brewing feud with Anthony Scaramucci, the former White House communications director, Trump recently tweeted: "Nobody ever heard of this dope until he met me. He only lasted 11 days!"
Some might wonder why the president of the United States is giving oxygen to a random ex-aide - or, as Trump described Scaramucci in a later tweet, "another disgruntled former employee who got fired for gross incompetence."
But obsessing over this president's inscrutable mental processes is a waste of time. The point here is that Trump is indisputably correct: If not for him, the American people - the world, really - most likely would never have become aware of Scaramucci. Trump made the Mooch, giving the obscure financier a high-profile post with global influence and unleashing him on an unsuspecting public.
In some ways, Scaramucci's trajectory captures the essence of the entire Trump era. A creature of Wall Street, the Mooch was a politically fickle, inexperienced operator who basically stumbled onto the Trump campaign. After failing to get approved for one White House job (as liaison to the business community), he found himself catapulted into an even more prominent post - communications director - prompting the press secretary, Sean Spicer, to resign. He demonstrated his incompetence (with admittedly impressive alacrity), left on bad terms with the boss and is now looking to parlay the whole experience into a gaudy public spectacle.
But here's the worst part: While the Mooch's White House tour lasted only 11 days, his life as a political quasi-celebrity will drag on indefinitely. It matters not that Scaramucci is a walking punch line - the shortest-lived member of an administration distinguished by its instability and incompetence.
A few days ago, he had an op-ed in The Financial Times, modestly titled "I dumped Donald Trump to save the liberal world order." He also announced that he was forming a new PAC to "dismantle" Trump, which he envisions running ads featuring himself and his wife, Deidre, talking about what this president "does to people." The couple already hosts a joint podcast called "Mooch and the Mrs.," and Mrs. Mooch is in talks to join the cast of "The Real Housewives of New York City." This Frankenstein monster, along with his bride, fully intends to impose himself on the American people for years to come.
The Mooches will not be alone.
It is the way of Washington that each administration introduces a fresh cast of characters, many of whom endure on the public stage long after their president leaves office. The Clinton White House turned the likes of George Stephanopoulos, Dee Dee Myers, James Carville, Paul Begala, Rahm Emanuel, Terry McAuliffe and, of course, Hillary into boldfaced names. Bush 43 churned out his share as well, including Karl Rove, Dana Perino, Nicolle Wallace, Ari Fleischer and Liz Cheney. Even the relatively low-key Obama administration elevated players such as Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor, Dan Pfeiffer, Susan Rice and David Axelrod. Reaching way back, Henry Kissinger - once described by Women's Wear Daily as the "sex symbol of the Nixon Administration" - has been dining out on his government service for half a century.
It is simultaneously diverting and unsettling to ponder how this phenomenon will play out with the Trump alumni. Who will have staying power? In what capacity? To put it gently, this president is not known for attracting the best and brightest - or the most ethical. His campaign pledge to hire all the "best people" has become a political joke on par with Infrastructure Week, "very stable genius" and Greenland. Multiple members of his inner circle have run into legal troubles. Top officials have left trailing thick clouds of scandal. Others have trashed their credibility so thoroughly - Sarah Huckabee Sanders and Kellyanne Conway leap to mind - it's hard to imagine them finding a second act.
But they will. They will host podcasts, like the Mooch, and radio shows, like Sebastian Gorka. They will give lucrative speeches, like Reince Priebus, Donald Trump Jr. and Corey Lewandowski - though Lewandowski's oratorical ambitions hit a snag when his speakers bureau reportedly dropped him after he publicly mocked a child with Down syndrome. They will peddle books, like Cliff "Team of Vipers" Sims, Spicer and Omarosa. They will flock to Fox News as executives (Hope Hicks and Raj Shah) and contributors (Huckabee Sanders) - maybe even hosts! Some will fashion themselves as political gurus, like Steve Bannon, who has become a global pitchman for populism, hobnobbing with far-right figures like France's Marine Le Pen and Hungary's Viktor Orban.
And, of course, they will join reality shows, à la Spicer, who has signed on to appear on "Dancing With the Stars" - over the objections of the show's host, Tom Bergeron.
It will be a fitting legacy if America's first reality TV president winds up flooding the nation with legions of B-list celebrities and wannabe influencers. The possibilities really are endless - and we owe them all to Trump.
The New York Times