When reading Nuzzi’s A Conversation with Rudy Guiliani keep in mind that the GOP will continue its downhill slide from here.
Over a sweater, he wore a navy-blue suit, the fly of the pants unzipped. He accessorized with an American-flag lapel pin, American-flag woven wallet, a diamond-encrusted pinky ring, and a diamond-encrusted Yankees World Series ring (about which an innocent question resulted in a 15-minute rant about “fucking Wayne Barrett,” a journalist who manages to enrage Giuliani even in death).
In addition to being the president’s free personal attorney, Giuliani, who is 75, is an informal White House cybersecurity adviser and a high-priced cyber-security contractor. In one hand, he clutched three phones of varying sizes. Two of the devices were unlocked, their screens revealing open tabs and a barrage of banner notifications as they knocked into each other and reacted to Giuliani’s grip. He accidentally activated Siri, who said she didn’t understand his command. “She never understands me,” he said. He sighed and poked at the device, attempting to quiet her.
It gets worse and includes drool and an anti-Semitic rant.
And the frequent realization that the person running this country is just as much a mobile bucket of brain worms as his personal attorney. Most of the quotes could have just as easily fallen out of the IMPOTUS’ facehole.
I asked him how he ever trusted Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman, two Russian associates with a business called Fraud Guarantee who were arrested by the FBI in October. “They look like Miami people. I know a lot of Miami people that look like that that are perfectly legitimate and act like them,” Giuliani said. “Neither one of them have ever been convicted of a crime. Neither one. And generally that’s my cutoff point, because if you do it based on allegations and claims and — you’re not gonna work with anybody,” he said, laughing. “Particularly in business.”
Everything Rudy does is brilliant, his enemies are jealous wimps, people are plotting against him because of the aforementioned brilliance and jealousy. Then he forgets what the fuck he’s talking about. I read the article expecting it end with Rudy getting so worked up he chokes on a martini swizzle stick. It doesn’t. Here’s how it ends.
“Do you have all three phones?,” his bodyguard said as Giuliani stepped out of the car. “Yeah, I got all three phones,” he said. “I gotta get down to two. I’m gonna try that tonight.”
A few minutes later, as we made our way downtown, I saw from the corner of my eye the sun reflecting off of something. It was the screen of one of the phones, which he had left on the seat next to me.
I handed it to the bodyguard, who laughed. He called Giuliani to tell him, and Giuliani laughed too.