Carl Hiaasen: ‘There’s a reason I’m called Tricky Dick. Haven’t you learned anything, Donald?’
The ghost of Richard Nixon knocked on Donald Trump’s bedroom door the other night.
“Come on in, Dick,” said Trump. “Want some fries?”
Nixon looked grim. “You actually talked to Bob Woodward?”
“Sure did,” Trump said.
“On the record? Right here in the White House?”
“Yup.” Trump shrugged and wolfed down the rest his cheeseburger.
“With a tape recorder running?” Nixon was grinding his teeth. “Have you lost your (expletive deleted) mind?”
