Rick Wilson is a Republican strategist, a conservative who decided very early that would oppose Trump forever, relentlessly, no matter what the consequences. He watched as many of his colleagues, after initially opposing Trump, went all in for him because, hey, that’s where the money is. After all, morals, ethics, conservative principles, and concern for the country as a whole is just so old school and tired, right? Wrong. Because, “Everything Trump Touches Dies.” Wilson touches on this central theme again and again, detailing how once respected people like General Kelly got debased, corrupted, and had their reputations rightfully trashed by associating with and supporting Trump.
There are many such examples in the book. Wilson knows many of those who are now in the Trump orbit. As a leftie, it’s fascinating to read Wilson destroying Trumpism from a conservative viewpoint. Wilson emphasizes that Trump is a sleazy, corrupt opportunist with no ethics or guiding principles, and is not and has never been a conservative.
He also writes like Hunter Thompson and can be savagely funny while getting his points across.
He was targeted by Steve Bannon in 2015 for opposing Trump. He, family, friends, clients were attacked. When the Roy Mooore campaign came around, he was asked to create attack ads against Moore, who was backed by Bannon, and takes pride in helping bodybag both of them.
On the groveling conservative media:
“Meet the clickservatives—conservative media types more interested in web traffic and ad revenue than ideology—who have embraced Esoteric Trumpism at the low, low price of their integrity. It’s a deal with the Devil, and far too many in the conservative intellectual class and the commentariat couldn’t wait to sign. “Eternal damnation later for making libtard snowflakes cry now and raking in those hot clicks? Bargain!” Defending the principles of limited government, personal liberty, and strict adherence to the Constitution is old and busted. The new hotness? “Nationalism is the new black.” So many of them dropped their panties and put out on the first date because Big Donnie talks dirty to the media.”
On bodybagging Roy Moore and Steve Bannon:
“We helped craft a series of ads for a SuperPAC that carefully targeted Republican women in six Alabama counties, pouring in tightly targeted, researched, and tested messages. The strongest was released the night Bannon held his infamous rally in Fairhope, Alabama. You’re welcome, Steve.
Our closing ad was simple: a series of pretty, upset girls on screen look straight to camera while a voice-over asks, “What if she was your little girl? Your daughter? Your sister? What if she was sixteen years old? Fifteen? Or even fourteen? Would you let a thirty-two-year-old man date her? Undress her? Touch her? He called it dating. We call it unacceptable. That’s why we can’t support Roy Moore.”
Beating Roy Moore was a moral obligation. Beating Steve Bannon was a pleasure. Within days of the loss in Alabama, Bannon went from the GOP’s newest kingmaker to political leper. We all piled on, savagely. That’s how politics still works, even for people who think they’ve reset all the rules and defied all the structures.”