What do you think?
Rate this book
The Selling of the President: The Classical Account of the Packaging of a Candidate
What makes you cast your ballot?
A Presidential candidate or a good campaign?
How he stands on the issues or how he stands up to the camera?The Selling of the President is the enduring story of the 1968 campaign that wrote the script for modern Presidential politicking—and how that script came to be. It introduces:
Harry Treleaven, the first adman to suggest that issues bore voters, that image is what counts
Roger Ailes, a PR man who coordinated the TV presentations that delivered the product
Frank Shakespeare, the man behind the whole campaign, who, after eighteen years at CBS, cast the image that sold America a President
And the candidate, Richard Nixon himself—a politician running on television for the highest office in the land
In his introduction, Joe McGinniss discusses why—unfortunately—his classic book is as pertinent today to understanding our political culture as it was the year it was published.
A Presidential candidate or a good campaign?
How he stands on the issues or how he stands up to the camera?The Selling of the President is the enduring story of the 1968 campaign that wrote the script for modern Presidential politicking—and how that script came to be. It introduces:
Harry Treleaven, the first adman to suggest that issues bore voters, that image is what counts
Roger Ailes, a PR man who coordinated the TV presentations that delivered the product
Frank Shakespeare, the man behind the whole campaign, who, after eighteen years at CBS, cast the image that sold America a President
And the candidate, Richard Nixon himself—a politician running on television for the highest office in the land
In his introduction, Joe McGinniss discusses why—unfortunately—his classic book is as pertinent today to understanding our political culture as it was the year it was published.
253 pages, Paperback
First published October 6, 1969
35 people are currently reading
2059 people want to read
About the author
Joe McGinniss
34 books242 followersJoe McGinniss was an American journalist, non-fiction writer and novelist. He first came to prominence with the best-selling The Selling of the President 1968 which described the marketing of then-presidential candidate Richard Nixon. It spent more than six months on best-seller lists. He is popularly known for his trilogy of bestselling true crime books — Fatal Vision, Blind Faith and Cruel Doubt — which were adapted into several TV miniseries and movies. Over the course of forty years, McGinniss published twelve books.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 83 reviews
January 22, 2013
The Selling of the President 1968 tells the behind the scenes story of how Roger Ailes, now president of Fox News Channel, and others sold Richard Nixon -- this most flawed and corrupt politician -- as a leader of great sagacity and Main Street virtue.
It's one of a kind. Since McGinniss wrote this book, no other active journalist has been granted such free access to the media campaign of a presidential candidate.
It is a good read for those interested in political history and for all interested in the veracity of media portrayals, election year or otherwise.
It's one of a kind. Since McGinniss wrote this book, no other active journalist has been granted such free access to the media campaign of a presidential candidate.
It is a good read for those interested in political history and for all interested in the veracity of media portrayals, election year or otherwise.
September 29, 2018
The differences between THE SELLING OF THE PRESIDENT 1968 by Joe (FATAL VISION, BLIND FAITH) McGinnis and THE MAKING OF THE PRESIDENT 1960 (Theodore White) are striking, and saddening. MAKING presented the electoral process as complex, frustrating, occasionally maddening, but essentially a rational process of democracy despite its legacies and flaws. SELLING -- whose original hardcover dust jacket presented Richard Nixon's face as a packet of cigarettes, something to be hawked on TV as cigarettes still could be -- is an exercise in marketing a winning politician.
There is much truth in what McGinnis says. The slow usurpation of issues by images owing to the onslaught of commercial television in the 1960s was crucial if not fatal. Issue: John F. Kennedy's 1960 statement that although he was Catholic, he was American and would enforce American laws may have helped him clinch the Presidency in an agonizingly close campaign. Image: Richard Nixon went through take after take in a Calif0rnia studio to get the line "Sock it . . . to ME?" just right for a two-second clip on NBC's ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN comedy show in 1968, a sop to younger voters. That content-free sound bite (sound nibble?) may have been just as influential in terms of getting out the vote as Kennedy's statement eight years prior.
The problem with The Selling of the President, like some other McGinnis books, is that once the author gets his teeth into something he concedes no other point of view. Expediency and marketing-driven precepts are not only the main points, but the only points, in this hard-hitting book. But while many things had changed in the course of the 1960s, not everything had: in-person speeches to small groups, unofficial caucuses and straw polls, private fund-raisers and what might be called "smoke-filled rooms" still took place, though their impact may have been diminished. It was still no mere abstraction to speak of "the labor vote" or "the ethnic vote." The major parties' Presidential conventions had not yet become made-for-TV coronations.
Yet history has vindicated Joe McGinnis' outlook. Advertising, particularly paid television advertising, dominates political campaigns. This is painfully apparent in my own Illinois this year, where a slew of gubernatorial "attack" ads from both sides have much bad to say about the opponent, obscuring the fact that there is not much in the way of positive message that the candidates want to present about themselves, or promise to the electorate.
THE SELLING OF THE PRESIDENT 1968 is not a perfect book by any means, but it was and is an influential one. It's worth noting that SELLING is a much shorter book than MAKING was: about 275 pages compared to 400. Another sop to the coming era of shortened attention spans and sound bites?
There is much truth in what McGinnis says. The slow usurpation of issues by images owing to the onslaught of commercial television in the 1960s was crucial if not fatal. Issue: John F. Kennedy's 1960 statement that although he was Catholic, he was American and would enforce American laws may have helped him clinch the Presidency in an agonizingly close campaign. Image: Richard Nixon went through take after take in a Calif0rnia studio to get the line "Sock it . . . to ME?" just right for a two-second clip on NBC's ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN comedy show in 1968, a sop to younger voters. That content-free sound bite (sound nibble?) may have been just as influential in terms of getting out the vote as Kennedy's statement eight years prior.
The problem with The Selling of the President, like some other McGinnis books, is that once the author gets his teeth into something he concedes no other point of view. Expediency and marketing-driven precepts are not only the main points, but the only points, in this hard-hitting book. But while many things had changed in the course of the 1960s, not everything had: in-person speeches to small groups, unofficial caucuses and straw polls, private fund-raisers and what might be called "smoke-filled rooms" still took place, though their impact may have been diminished. It was still no mere abstraction to speak of "the labor vote" or "the ethnic vote." The major parties' Presidential conventions had not yet become made-for-TV coronations.
Yet history has vindicated Joe McGinnis' outlook. Advertising, particularly paid television advertising, dominates political campaigns. This is painfully apparent in my own Illinois this year, where a slew of gubernatorial "attack" ads from both sides have much bad to say about the opponent, obscuring the fact that there is not much in the way of positive message that the candidates want to present about themselves, or promise to the electorate.
THE SELLING OF THE PRESIDENT 1968 is not a perfect book by any means, but it was and is an influential one. It's worth noting that SELLING is a much shorter book than MAKING was: about 275 pages compared to 400. Another sop to the coming era of shortened attention spans and sound bites?
April 14, 2016
I've been meaning to read this book since it came out in 1969 and have only gotten around to it now because of my excitement about the 2016 primary campaign season.
1968 was, until this year, the most exciting presidential campaign I've been involved in. The only comparable campaigns to these were the Chicago mayoral campaigns of 1983 and '87.
Although I was only a high school kid in '68, Eugene McCarthy's campaign, like that of Bernie Sanders currently, was substantially soldiered by young people. Indeed, although five years too young to vote, I worked for Gene in both Illinois and Hawaii, serving both as a precinct captain in Hillary Clinton's hometown (visiting each home in the precinct up to three times) and as a 'security guard' for the candidate at the Hilton Hotel during the convention (meaning that I handed out press packets and joined arms with other youngsters to allow McCarthy to pass from caucus meeting to caucus meeting). Idealists all, no one was paid.
This book is about a very different candidate. Richard Nixon had been a congressman, vice president and Wall Street attorney, distinguishing himself as a Red-baiter and foreign policy hawk. In '68, having lost both the 1960 presidential and the '62 California gubenatorial races, but having cultivated the Republican party machine in the meantime, Nixon was off again. The trick was to overcome his right-wing, loser image and, most importantly, his colorlessness. Nixon was a glamorless foreign policy wonk.
In came the 'experts', men such as Roger Ailes, founder of Fox, to establish an attractive Nixon image in the new (color) television age. With them there was little or no concern with policy. Their concern was to make him all things to all men (except minorities, identified as a lost cause): a moderate progressive like Nelson Rockefeller in the Northeast, a good-old-boy like George Wallace to southern racists and a radical conservative like Ronald Reagan to the West and Southwest. To do so they had to control the environments within which Nixon was seen to operate, showing him at his best, hiding a good deal of the man and his prejudices from common view.
Some of this book is written in first person and framed as a struggle between the media experts and the political experts in Nixon's campaign. The author's interests side with the former and with their perspective on the hacks, not that he agreed politically with any of them. Nixon himself is represented as a difficult-to-manage character, his own worst enemy.
As giving insight into the cynical manipulation characteristic of most well-funded campaigns, this book remains relevant.
1968 was, until this year, the most exciting presidential campaign I've been involved in. The only comparable campaigns to these were the Chicago mayoral campaigns of 1983 and '87.
Although I was only a high school kid in '68, Eugene McCarthy's campaign, like that of Bernie Sanders currently, was substantially soldiered by young people. Indeed, although five years too young to vote, I worked for Gene in both Illinois and Hawaii, serving both as a precinct captain in Hillary Clinton's hometown (visiting each home in the precinct up to three times) and as a 'security guard' for the candidate at the Hilton Hotel during the convention (meaning that I handed out press packets and joined arms with other youngsters to allow McCarthy to pass from caucus meeting to caucus meeting). Idealists all, no one was paid.
This book is about a very different candidate. Richard Nixon had been a congressman, vice president and Wall Street attorney, distinguishing himself as a Red-baiter and foreign policy hawk. In '68, having lost both the 1960 presidential and the '62 California gubenatorial races, but having cultivated the Republican party machine in the meantime, Nixon was off again. The trick was to overcome his right-wing, loser image and, most importantly, his colorlessness. Nixon was a glamorless foreign policy wonk.
In came the 'experts', men such as Roger Ailes, founder of Fox, to establish an attractive Nixon image in the new (color) television age. With them there was little or no concern with policy. Their concern was to make him all things to all men (except minorities, identified as a lost cause): a moderate progressive like Nelson Rockefeller in the Northeast, a good-old-boy like George Wallace to southern racists and a radical conservative like Ronald Reagan to the West and Southwest. To do so they had to control the environments within which Nixon was seen to operate, showing him at his best, hiding a good deal of the man and his prejudices from common view.
Some of this book is written in first person and framed as a struggle between the media experts and the political experts in Nixon's campaign. The author's interests side with the former and with their perspective on the hacks, not that he agreed politically with any of them. Nixon himself is represented as a difficult-to-manage character, his own worst enemy.
As giving insight into the cynical manipulation characteristic of most well-funded campaigns, this book remains relevant.
November 7, 2009
If ignorance is bliss, then we can blame Joe McGinniss for spreading cynicism across America. In 1969, the release of The Selling of the President both shocked and sobered the nation. The truth was out. American voters have been conned. The man sitting in the White House—entrusted with the fate of their country—was sold to Americans like a tube of toothpaste.
Today, 40 years removed from the book’s original release and in midst of another public duel to the White House, Joe McGinnis’s book reaffirms what today’s voters already know—that politics is a con game. Yet time and again, we the voters allow ourselves to get swept up in the gimmick. We talk about how politicians are of a dishonest and deceptive breed; and yet somehow, sometimes, they can tug right at our heartstrings. Voters may have hardened since 1969, but we cannot help but be the sentimental and emotional creatures that we are. We know that the issues are important, but we are more easily moved by how the candidate makes us feel. This is why The Selling of the President continues to stand the test of time.
In a captivating and accessible fashion, McGinnis gives an insider’s account of the 1968 Nixon campaign. McGinnis’s focus, however, is not on Nixon, but on what then appeared to be a new phenomenon: “the marketing of political candidates as if they were consumer products”. No one political party is less guilty than the other—both campaigns hired the biggest names in advertising to craft and disseminate a winning image of their candidate. The book happens to be about Nixon because McGinniss was able to gain access to his campaign, and not Humphrey’s.
McGinniss tracks three of Nixon’s most influential campaign advisors: Henry Treleaven (the ad man with 20 years of experience at one of the nation’s biggest ad agencies), Roger Aisles (the PR guy who was a former executive producer of the Mike Douglas Show), and Frank Shakespeare (who came into the campaign after 8 years of working with CBS television). None of these guys were Washington-insiders. Treleaven and Aisles were political outsiders. But the three of them knew how to make things sell. It was this trio that magically—or rather, quite scientifically—took an uncharismatic, out-of-touch, stereotypical politician, and effectively sold him to an unsuspecting populace as their next President. Treleaven, Aisles and Shakespeare could only do so much about Nixon the man, but what they sought to craft and mold was Nixon, the image. As Nixon’s most prominent speech writer Richard K. Price explains, voters’ opinions are a product of “the particular chemistry between the voter and the image of the candidate…It’s not what’s there that counts, it’s what’s projected—and carrying it one step further, it’s not what he projects but rather what the voter receives.”
Politics have changed little in this respect—it’s still about which campaign can sell the winning image. And in 1968, that was the Nixon campaign. They had it boiled down to a science. Just about every clip and glance that voters saw of Nixon during the campaign season was carefully constructed and regulated. The more natural and amiable he looked, the more work and craftsmanship that went into it.
The Selling of the President opens with Nixon at a television studio recording and repeatedly re-recording the same commercial to a point of perfection. The process was long, controlled and detail-oriented. Everything was thought through and accounted for—the angle of Nixon’s head, the beads of sweat above his upper lip, the pauses between his sentences, the exact time it takes him to recite his script, the angle of the camera, the lighting and the kinds and colors of furniture on the set. Style, presentation and image was prioritized; substance and ‘the issues’ were left on the backburner. If readers find it difficult to differentiate politics from show business, it’s because it’s all the same thing.
The 1968 presidential campaign crystallized the union between the politician and the adman. They have been inseparable ever since. Upon Nixon’s victory, Aisles accurately pronounced that “this is the way that they’ll be elected forever more”. Since the rise of television, the politician has become a performer, judged by how well he can handle himself; how good he looks; and whether he can make the audience laugh or feel warm inside. As McGinniss writes, “Style becomes the substance. The medium is the massage and the masseur gets the vote.”
Television was Nixon’s saving grace, at least that’s how Shakespeare saw it. He credited Nixon’s victory to television because, at the time, it was the only tool that could get Americans to discard their old and more lucid view of Nixon as a grumpy, cold and aloof salesman from Wall Street; and transplant that with a renewed image: “Nixon, the leader, returning from exile. Perhaps not beloved, but respected. Firm but not harsh; just but compassionate. With flashes of warmth spaced evenly throughout.” Television gave Nixon want he needed to make a good sales pitch—distortion, control and shelter.
In his second-run for presidency, Nixon was able to play television to his strengths and weaknesses. No better is this illustrated than in his campaign’s then-novel approach of using still photography in 60-second television spots. It was used as a mean to create and instill a winning image of Nixon to the American public without actually having to film Nixon himself. The message was to be conveyed through a series of carefully selected images played to a voiceover of Nixon. The words used in the ads were neither novel nor of substance—they were the same words taken time and again from Nixon’s acceptance speech. But that didn’t matter. The viewers weren’t expected to listen, and substance does not sell. According to McGiniss, the series of images played to the background music of Nixon’s voice were intended to “create the impression that somehow Nixon represented competence, respect for tradition, serenity, faith that the American people were better than people anywhere else, and that all these problems others shouted about meant nothing in a land with the tallest buildings, strongest armies, biggest factories, cutest children and rosiest sunsets in the world. Even better: through association with the pictures, Richard Nixon could become these very things”.
Since then, photography stills have been used widely in campaign television ads. This election cycle is no different—we have watched and listened to countless ads of this type from both candidates, most likely without any consideration of its ingenuity. The value in revisiting McGinniss’s The Selling of the President, in part, lies in its ability to make readers reflect upon some modern practices of campaign advertising—where they come from; how the ads are made; and what message they are intended to convey.
Politics is the same game today as it was in 1968. It’s always been about who can make a better sales pitch. But American voters have changed since the last four decades. They are less trusting in the political system, and more cynical and skeptical toward politicians. From experience, they have discovered that the man that they elect to the White House is not necessarily the man that gets delivered. Yet, the American voter today is no less susceptible to a seductive sales pitch. We may be less trusting and more cynical, but a part of us holds out for the possibility that we will be proven wrong—that maybe this time around, the promises and the heroic aura being projected are not mere fabrications but realities. Politicians are deceptive; but according to McGiniss, the voter is hardly an unwilling victim.
The Selling of the President was written at a time when a substantial shift in how political campaigns were being conducted was taking place. Today, four decades later, we are witnessing another shift. Television continues to play a pivotal role. But with the introduction of technologies like TiVo, the rise of cable pundits, and the increasing popularity of political spoofs and satire, the “TV” that McGinniss’s refers to is no longer the same thing it is today. Television may have carried the Nixon campaign, but it wouldn’t be able to do so in the modern context. Today, there are a gazillion—well, a lot—more channels than there were forty years ago. Why would the average voter care to tune into a telethon staged by a political candidate, when Chris Matthews, Bill O’Reilly or Dancing with the Stars are all on at the same time? Today’s politician is not only competing with his opponent for attention but also with American Idol’s Simon Cowell.
In addition, many new mediums of communication have opened, starting with the World Wide Web. It would be near impossible for a campaign today to exercise the same amount of control over a candidate’s image as the Nixon campaign did in 68’. When a camera phone recording of President Bush saying “Wall Street got drunk” got uploaded onto YouTube and disseminated to the masses, we are reminded of how much more difficult it is to control and contain a public figure’s image—but not necessarily impossible. Politics today is still the same game that Treleaven, Aisles and Shakespeare played forty years ago, except with a few rule changes. McGinniss’s The Selling of the President reminds us that the winning campaign is the one who can best play these changes to their candidate’s advantage.
February 26, 2021
A pretty solid and often rather interesting look at how Richard Nixon ran his campaign in the 1968 election. Joe McGinniss tells an unbiased, almost distant account of how the Nixon campaign adapted itself to television and discusses the pushback they received from the future President. It's good. Interesting stuff to those who have a fascination with old Dick Nixon and the politics of the post-hippe craze and Vietnam.
It skids away from the point sometimes though, and with McGinniss' rigid, admirable focus on fact and fact alone, it is hard to engage with this or anyone mentioned within on an emotional or personal level. Much of it comes down to repetition, talking through the various highs and lows of the TV runs Nixon did in the lead-up to the '68 election. What is missing, though, is the context. Why Nixon utilised television is a mere note in the postscript, the impact of his utilisation of advertisements found in the back pages of the book. The interesting material is there, but not included in the narrative, which strikes me as a little odd.
It skids away from the point sometimes though, and with McGinniss' rigid, admirable focus on fact and fact alone, it is hard to engage with this or anyone mentioned within on an emotional or personal level. Much of it comes down to repetition, talking through the various highs and lows of the TV runs Nixon did in the lead-up to the '68 election. What is missing, though, is the context. Why Nixon utilised television is a mere note in the postscript, the impact of his utilisation of advertisements found in the back pages of the book. The interesting material is there, but not included in the narrative, which strikes me as a little odd.
July 14, 2024
This book was written in 1968, and many things are still relevant today
“the television celebrity is a vessel. an inoffensive container in which someone else’s knowledge, insight, compassion, or wit can be presented.”
“americans have never quite digested television. the mystique which should fade grows stronger. we make celebrities not only of the men who cause events but of the men who read reports of them aloud.”
It is interesting how nixons campaign was one of the first to truly utilize tv and technology to create an image/package of a politician, focusing more on illusions and deception vs changing who nixon actually was
“the television celebrity is a vessel. an inoffensive container in which someone else’s knowledge, insight, compassion, or wit can be presented.”
“americans have never quite digested television. the mystique which should fade grows stronger. we make celebrities not only of the men who cause events but of the men who read reports of them aloud.”
It is interesting how nixons campaign was one of the first to truly utilize tv and technology to create an image/package of a politician, focusing more on illusions and deception vs changing who nixon actually was
March 4, 2017
I think this is a must read for those that are interested in Presidential politics. It is, even almost 50 years later, an eye opener to the behind the scene workings of "selling" a Presidential candidate. What many may not realize that during a campaign almost every moment, appearance by candidate, soundbite, camera angle, interview, even the temperature of room they are in is micromanaged behind the scenes. What may seem natural or casual on the screen is all a production.
Richard Nixon himself is only a modest character in the book. The story is of how he is sold to the voting public. It could have been anyone else before or since. We still learn what Nixon was like on a personal level. Nixon disliked the the press and television appearances. He still thought TV was a gimmick but realized he needed it if he wanted to become President.
Parts of the book also analyze what goes into how the public perceives the President and how they decide who to vote for. It actually made me think abut how I've decided and to understand how others decide. This is big issue these days as we are still trying to figure out what happened in our most recent election. Politics , especially Presidential, has more to do with emotion than rationality. This could explain a lot of what happened in November 2016. We tend to vote with our emotions. This didn't just happen in 1968 or 2016 but happens most Presidential elections. It was the same reason Obama won in 2008, Clinton 1992, Reagan 1980, Carter 1976 and so on.
In self reflection I thought about how twice in the last 8 years I voted for the losing Presidential candidates(McCain in 08 and Hillary in 16). Both Donald and Obama were the "change candidates". Also they had the stronger charisma and they were the exciting candidates. Let's face it despite their experience and intelligence(which were big reasons I supported them) both McCain and Hillary were relatively boring in comparison to their opposition.
I certainly recommend this book for civics geeks and for those wanting to gain an a stronger understanding political elections and how candidates are essentially packaged presented to us much like an advertising campaign. You may learn not only how others choose their President but how you make your choice.
Richard Nixon himself is only a modest character in the book. The story is of how he is sold to the voting public. It could have been anyone else before or since. We still learn what Nixon was like on a personal level. Nixon disliked the the press and television appearances. He still thought TV was a gimmick but realized he needed it if he wanted to become President.
Parts of the book also analyze what goes into how the public perceives the President and how they decide who to vote for. It actually made me think abut how I've decided and to understand how others decide. This is big issue these days as we are still trying to figure out what happened in our most recent election. Politics , especially Presidential, has more to do with emotion than rationality. This could explain a lot of what happened in November 2016. We tend to vote with our emotions. This didn't just happen in 1968 or 2016 but happens most Presidential elections. It was the same reason Obama won in 2008, Clinton 1992, Reagan 1980, Carter 1976 and so on.
In self reflection I thought about how twice in the last 8 years I voted for the losing Presidential candidates(McCain in 08 and Hillary in 16). Both Donald and Obama were the "change candidates". Also they had the stronger charisma and they were the exciting candidates. Let's face it despite their experience and intelligence(which were big reasons I supported them) both McCain and Hillary were relatively boring in comparison to their opposition.
I certainly recommend this book for civics geeks and for those wanting to gain an a stronger understanding political elections and how candidates are essentially packaged presented to us much like an advertising campaign. You may learn not only how others choose their President but how you make your choice.
March 13, 2014
I read this in an attempt to be a part of a book club in college. Unfortunately, I thought, "hey, I could get into anything as long as it isn't the books for my courses."
I was mistaken.
For me, this was simply a boring read. I am not political science-y inclined, and the information relayed is information I already knew. Back in the '60s I am sure this was an innovative look at elections and the candidates, and made people look at each other differently, questioning what is "real" and what is "created" personality.
The knowledge it conveys is outdated now.
I was mistaken.
For me, this was simply a boring read. I am not political science-y inclined, and the information relayed is information I already knew. Back in the '60s I am sure this was an innovative look at elections and the candidates, and made people look at each other differently, questioning what is "real" and what is "created" personality.
The knowledge it conveys is outdated now.
November 26, 2019
This book describes the beginning of the end. When we "package" a political candidate to "sell" to Americans like Frosted Mini Sugar Bombs breakfast cereal, we get the campaigns and the candidates we deserve (because we tolerate it and keep eating the cereal). The candidates we deserve, as the slackers that we have become, are those candidates who appeal to the lowest common denominator; those who offer us unhealthful and empty calories and carbs for breakfast; and are simply no good for us.
Jimmy Carter? Really?
Bob Dole? No thanks.
Walter Mondale? Are you kidding?
George W. Bush? Give me a break.
John Kerry? I'll pass.
Donald Trump? Aaaaaaaaugh!!!!!!
Dear Lord, am I right? Here's an idea: have a small bowl of Greek Yogurt and fresh fruit with some walnuts for breakfast instead! THINK! WAKE UP, SMELL THE COFFEE, AND throw away the Frosted Mini Sugar Bombs. Thank you, and may God bless the United States of America.
Jimmy Carter? Really?
Bob Dole? No thanks.
Walter Mondale? Are you kidding?
George W. Bush? Give me a break.
John Kerry? I'll pass.
Donald Trump? Aaaaaaaaugh!!!!!!
Dear Lord, am I right? Here's an idea: have a small bowl of Greek Yogurt and fresh fruit with some walnuts for breakfast instead! THINK! WAKE UP, SMELL THE COFFEE, AND throw away the Frosted Mini Sugar Bombs. Thank you, and may God bless the United States of America.
October 11, 2024
Pretty decent for a random book I picked up, an interesting insight but very dreadfully dry
May 28, 2019
The title of this book is a bit of a joke, referencing a series of books by Theodore H. White titled The Making of the President, 1960 and ditto 1964, 1968 and 1972. White’s original book won big awards and was credited with revolutionizing the way journalists wrote about politics – which is the kind of buzz this book got. But instead of covering the presidential election of 1968 in general, this book focuses on the way the Richard Nixon campaign used an innovative approach to television advertising as part of its winning strategy. It’s the kind of wryly funny story that a historically ignorant reader might possibly mistake for a novel of satire, or perhaps speculative horror.
An early chapter of this book is a word-for-word transcript of a shooting session for a Nixon TV ad that I thought did a bang-up job of establishing the characters in the drama, including Nixon himself. Fair disclosure: I read this book while visiting my folks, and my father picked up the book when I set it down to deal myself a hand of solitaire, and he found that chapter very dull and concluded that the book would not be entertaining to read. I had to advise him to skip ahead a chapter or two to disabuse him of that opinion.
All this, of course, happened before I was born, and I’m no spring chicken. But if, as McGinniss contends, the people who designed Nixon’s televised campaign ads really were the first to sell us a president based on a profound understanding of how TV can be used to render people suggestible, then the way things are now in presidential politics and have been all my life started here. If what it reveals about Nixon and his supporters is less than creditable, it is just as discreditable to the critical thinking abilities of U.S. voters, and to the likelihood of a really worthy candidate getting elected in this politically fractured country.
Exactly how McGinniss pulled of this feat of journalism, I can scarcely imagine. The way he tells the story, it’s almost as if he was inside the campaign. At the very least, he had intimate access to the men who ran the TV side of it. He includes internal memos and position papers about the theory of what they were doing and how they meant to go about it. He brings it right down to the nerve-wracking final moments of election night, where McGinniss apparently spent time in the same hotel as many campaign staffers. The book is funny and chilling at the same time, revealing a cynical side of modern (or postmodern) American politics that one recognizes as alive, well, and if anything, even more deceptive and mind-controlling today.
Since my extant book reviews do not go back to the previous time I read a book by Joe McGinniss, I just want to take this opportunity to put in a plug for The Miracle of Castel di Sangro, a similar work of journalism-in-the-form-of-a-novel that I read a couple decades ago and found captivating. It’s about a small-town Italian soccer team that made the big time in a system where the top couple of teams at each level of competition go up a league at the end of the season, and the bottom couple go down. Previously ignorant of and indifferent to soccer, McGinniss suddenly became an enthusiast the year Castel di Sangro made it to Italy’s premier league, and he spent the entire next year following them around the boot of Europe, documenting their struggle to keep up with clubs backed by bigger and richer organizations. He got to know them, experienced their ups and downs, sympathized with their (at times tragic) losses and rejoiced with their victories.
Considering that I never before or since cared much about soccer, I think it’s really meaningful when I say that when I read this book, I felt completely invested in the outcome of the club’s campaign for “la salvezza.” It was a really fine book, and based on how much I enjoyed it and this earlier piece of his writing, I really should look into some of the books he wrote in between – including several notable true-crime books.
An early chapter of this book is a word-for-word transcript of a shooting session for a Nixon TV ad that I thought did a bang-up job of establishing the characters in the drama, including Nixon himself. Fair disclosure: I read this book while visiting my folks, and my father picked up the book when I set it down to deal myself a hand of solitaire, and he found that chapter very dull and concluded that the book would not be entertaining to read. I had to advise him to skip ahead a chapter or two to disabuse him of that opinion.
All this, of course, happened before I was born, and I’m no spring chicken. But if, as McGinniss contends, the people who designed Nixon’s televised campaign ads really were the first to sell us a president based on a profound understanding of how TV can be used to render people suggestible, then the way things are now in presidential politics and have been all my life started here. If what it reveals about Nixon and his supporters is less than creditable, it is just as discreditable to the critical thinking abilities of U.S. voters, and to the likelihood of a really worthy candidate getting elected in this politically fractured country.
Exactly how McGinniss pulled of this feat of journalism, I can scarcely imagine. The way he tells the story, it’s almost as if he was inside the campaign. At the very least, he had intimate access to the men who ran the TV side of it. He includes internal memos and position papers about the theory of what they were doing and how they meant to go about it. He brings it right down to the nerve-wracking final moments of election night, where McGinniss apparently spent time in the same hotel as many campaign staffers. The book is funny and chilling at the same time, revealing a cynical side of modern (or postmodern) American politics that one recognizes as alive, well, and if anything, even more deceptive and mind-controlling today.
Since my extant book reviews do not go back to the previous time I read a book by Joe McGinniss, I just want to take this opportunity to put in a plug for The Miracle of Castel di Sangro, a similar work of journalism-in-the-form-of-a-novel that I read a couple decades ago and found captivating. It’s about a small-town Italian soccer team that made the big time in a system where the top couple of teams at each level of competition go up a league at the end of the season, and the bottom couple go down. Previously ignorant of and indifferent to soccer, McGinniss suddenly became an enthusiast the year Castel di Sangro made it to Italy’s premier league, and he spent the entire next year following them around the boot of Europe, documenting their struggle to keep up with clubs backed by bigger and richer organizations. He got to know them, experienced their ups and downs, sympathized with their (at times tragic) losses and rejoiced with their victories.
Considering that I never before or since cared much about soccer, I think it’s really meaningful when I say that when I read this book, I felt completely invested in the outcome of the club’s campaign for “la salvezza.” It was a really fine book, and based on how much I enjoyed it and this earlier piece of his writing, I really should look into some of the books he wrote in between – including several notable true-crime books.
March 18, 2019
I imagine this book seemed shocking when it came out in the 1970s. But by now the operations described are so commonplace in the selling of any candidate - presidential down to dog catcher by now I suppose - it almost seems quaint that this was ever considered scandalous.
A warts-and-all look inside the 1968 Nixon campaign, we get up close with future big dogs Roger Ailes and Kevin Phillips when they were just wunderkinds. It was a fun read and occasionally insightful. A little more inside than the typical campaign diary since McGinniss wasn't actually part of the campaign and doesn't have a personal stake in whether or not everybody looks like a schmuck.
A warts-and-all look inside the 1968 Nixon campaign, we get up close with future big dogs Roger Ailes and Kevin Phillips when they were just wunderkinds. It was a fun read and occasionally insightful. A little more inside than the typical campaign diary since McGinniss wasn't actually part of the campaign and doesn't have a personal stake in whether or not everybody looks like a schmuck.
December 26, 2025
McGinnis thinks that television is a cynical way to sell a candidate. He does so in a humorous way by commenting on the absurdity of Nixon as an advertising campaign. The book was an indictment of the process. But having seen so many campaigns since I first read this in 1990s, I'm thinking that selling Nixon like shampoo might be superior than trying to decide between Grover Cleveland and Benjamin Harrison when I wouldn't even know how either of them sounded and might not even recognize them in person. How would I know the difference between any two candidates in 19th century? I'd probably just vote the party of the local politician I liked the most. And considering that Nixon would win 49 states in his re-election in 1972 and be ousted by an FBI insider named Mark Felt and a Navy Intelligence officer, Bob Woodward, would it have even mattered who anyone voted for? The real cynics might have seen that elections themselves were a fig leaf over the corruption that had been built since World War I. What use to take a constitutional amendment can now be done by voice vote. So going on Laugh-In was at least an entertaining circus that made us feel much better about things when our mind might otherwise drift off to the gun men over on grassy knoll.
May 23, 2017
Interesting read. The book is dated in many ways (it was written nearly 50 years ago after all) but the 'spin' hasn't changed, just a lot of the technology. Obviously the book is about Nixon's 1968 campaign, but it's also a forerunner of sorts for Roger Ailes who plays an integral role and of Kevin Phillips, someone I'd never heard of previously, but was the 60s version of Nate Silver. Without trying to take it out of context, Ailes's comment "Have him kiss one of the other broads" is telling in light of what followed, but for me, the best quote was extracted from a column by Murray Kempton: "he is the President of every place in this country which does not have a bookstore ..." Some things never change.
November 27, 2017
The problem: How do you make an aloof, sourpuss of a politician appealing to a large audience?
The solution: Use all of the tricks of television to package and sell him to the American electorate.
The aftermath: Change the model of presidential campaigns for generations to come.
To the contemporary audience, there is nothing new or shocking in the book. However it is worthwhile to help understand how we got to where we are today as it relates to the theatrics of America's politics. Before Twitter, there was TV.
The solution: Use all of the tricks of television to package and sell him to the American electorate.
The aftermath: Change the model of presidential campaigns for generations to come.
To the contemporary audience, there is nothing new or shocking in the book. However it is worthwhile to help understand how we got to where we are today as it relates to the theatrics of America's politics. Before Twitter, there was TV.
February 4, 2022
This book is very insightful and kind of terrifying with over 50 years of hindsight. It concisely portrays the ins and outs of the Nixon campaign and allows the actions of the campaign managers to speak for themselves. McGinniss barely comments on his own impressions of the situation, but they are nonetheless very clear. It is predictive of lots of campaigns as I have known them in my lifetime.
I do feel I should warn potential readers that there are a few instances of offensive language in this book, but it is exclusively limited to quotes from actual people in the story.
I do feel I should warn potential readers that there are a few instances of offensive language in this book, but it is exclusively limited to quotes from actual people in the story.
October 17, 2017
Being that it is October, I've been trying to read scary books. Not certain that there is anything more scary than a firsthand account about how as early as 1968 politicians used television and multimedia to package their candidates and sell them as products to the people of the United States. If I had read this before 2016, I think I would say that there is no scarier ending to a book than one where Richard Nixon gets elected. Obviously, I would not say that now.
December 5, 2018
In 1967 and 1968, as the presidential campaign that would eventually pit Dick Nixon and Hubert Humphrey against one another was revving up, newspaper columnist Joe McGinniss embedded himself within the Nixon campaign to see how the candidate was relying on television to reach the electorate.
Television was still fairly novel at the time – particularly as it related to presidential politics. In spite of the efforts of the Brinkleys and Cronkites and Murrows, it was still seen a largely unserious medium and beneath the level of presidential dignity.
Things have changed a bit over the past 50 years.
Television contributed to Nixon's defeat in the 1960 campaign – his performance in the first televised presidential debate was fine on substance, but poor on visuals. In 1968, he reluctantly leaned into the medium once more, but this time he put himself in the hands of experts in the field. Waiting there to receive him was one young TV expert – Roger Ailes – who did more to guide his media strategy than any one else during that campaign – and in so doing, he created the modern playbook for presidential media relations.
As you would expect for a 49-year-old book on presidential politics, McGinniss's book is both startlingly prescient and shockingly dated.
Prescient:
"Television seems particularly useful to the political who can be charming but lacks ideas. Print is for ideas ... on television it matters less that he does not have ideas. His personality is what the viewers want to share. He need be neither statesman nor crusader; he must only show up on time ... the TV candidate, then, is measured not against his predecessors – not against a standard of performance established by two centuries of democracy – but against Mike Douglas ... style becomes substance, the medium is the massage and the masseur gets the votes."
Also prescient:
"'This is the beginning of a whole new concept,' Ailes said. 'This is it. This is the way they'll be elected forevermore. The next guys up will have to be performers.'"
Dated:
Roger Ailes, filling out a TV panel for a Nixon TV special: "On this one, we definitely need a Negro ... the press will make a big deal out of why no Negro.'
'I know one in Philadelphia,' the local man, whose name was Dan Buser, said. 'He's a dynamic type, the head of a self-help organization, that kind of thing. And he's black.'
'What do you mean, he's black?'
'I mean he's dark. It will be obvious on television that he's not white.'
'You mean we won't have to put a sign around him that says, 'this is our Negro'?"
The highlight of the book for me is the description of an interview that Nixon's team filmed with running mate Spiro Agnew. In the pantheon of poor vice presidents, Agnew ranks in the trifecta of the worst – Aaron Burr and Dick Cheney being the bookends. In the book, three of Nixon's TV braintrust gather to review the Agnew film. They are underwhelmed.
"It had been shot in color, with sailboats in the blue bay as a backdrop. Agnew was squinting in the sun.
'All life,' he said, 'is essentially the contributions that come from compromise.' His voice was sleepy, his face without expression. The questions fit right in.
'It must really have been a thrill to have been picked for Vice President. Were you happy?'
'The ability to be happy is directly proportional to the ability to suffer, and as you grow older you feel everything less.'
He stopped. There was silence on the film. The the voice of the interviewer: 'I see.'
'Jesus Christ!' someone said out loud in the dark little theater."
I have a metal trash can with Agnew's face on it. It's a prized possession.
Television was still fairly novel at the time – particularly as it related to presidential politics. In spite of the efforts of the Brinkleys and Cronkites and Murrows, it was still seen a largely unserious medium and beneath the level of presidential dignity.
Things have changed a bit over the past 50 years.
Television contributed to Nixon's defeat in the 1960 campaign – his performance in the first televised presidential debate was fine on substance, but poor on visuals. In 1968, he reluctantly leaned into the medium once more, but this time he put himself in the hands of experts in the field. Waiting there to receive him was one young TV expert – Roger Ailes – who did more to guide his media strategy than any one else during that campaign – and in so doing, he created the modern playbook for presidential media relations.
As you would expect for a 49-year-old book on presidential politics, McGinniss's book is both startlingly prescient and shockingly dated.
Prescient:
"Television seems particularly useful to the political who can be charming but lacks ideas. Print is for ideas ... on television it matters less that he does not have ideas. His personality is what the viewers want to share. He need be neither statesman nor crusader; he must only show up on time ... the TV candidate, then, is measured not against his predecessors – not against a standard of performance established by two centuries of democracy – but against Mike Douglas ... style becomes substance, the medium is the massage and the masseur gets the votes."
Also prescient:
"'This is the beginning of a whole new concept,' Ailes said. 'This is it. This is the way they'll be elected forevermore. The next guys up will have to be performers.'"
Dated:
Roger Ailes, filling out a TV panel for a Nixon TV special: "On this one, we definitely need a Negro ... the press will make a big deal out of why no Negro.'
'I know one in Philadelphia,' the local man, whose name was Dan Buser, said. 'He's a dynamic type, the head of a self-help organization, that kind of thing. And he's black.'
'What do you mean, he's black?'
'I mean he's dark. It will be obvious on television that he's not white.'
'You mean we won't have to put a sign around him that says, 'this is our Negro'?"
The highlight of the book for me is the description of an interview that Nixon's team filmed with running mate Spiro Agnew. In the pantheon of poor vice presidents, Agnew ranks in the trifecta of the worst – Aaron Burr and Dick Cheney being the bookends. In the book, three of Nixon's TV braintrust gather to review the Agnew film. They are underwhelmed.
"It had been shot in color, with sailboats in the blue bay as a backdrop. Agnew was squinting in the sun.
'All life,' he said, 'is essentially the contributions that come from compromise.' His voice was sleepy, his face without expression. The questions fit right in.
'It must really have been a thrill to have been picked for Vice President. Were you happy?'
'The ability to be happy is directly proportional to the ability to suffer, and as you grow older you feel everything less.'
He stopped. There was silence on the film. The the voice of the interviewer: 'I see.'
'Jesus Christ!' someone said out loud in the dark little theater."
I have a metal trash can with Agnew's face on it. It's a prized possession.
March 27, 2020
Trapped in our homes by the coronavirus, now more than ever is a time for reading. It has actually been slower than I anticipated because I've been too tempted to keep up with the constantly changing news. But we need something else to occupy us. As The Police said, "When the world is running down/You make the best of what's still around."
At the last UNC Charlotte library sale, I picked up Joe McGinniss' The Selling of the President 1968. I went through a serious Nixon period in the early 1990s as the anniversary of his resignation neared, and read a ton on him and Watergate, and that interest never went away. This book is a breezily written and entertaining account of how consultants used TV to transform an often unlikable candidate into a winning image, devoid of substance but full of nostalgia. It's also depressing, because you can see how vacuity became a political goal.
As one of the filmmakers hired to do some commercials said, "Nixon has not only developed the use of the platitude, he's raised it to an art form. It's mashed potatoes. It appeals to the lowest common denominator of American taste. It's a farce, a delicious farce, self-deception carried to the nth degree" (115).
Hostility toward the common person was evident. You wanted enough "Negroes" in ads or staged events, but definitely not more than one because you would offend the "Yahoo belt" of the South. And they wondered why they were unwelcome in Harlem. They didn't even want to advertise with college students--it might offend people. Roger Ailes (only 28 at the time) plays a big role and is as offensive as you would expect, with references to "broads" and the like.
Hostility toward the press undergirded the entire effort, precisely as Twitter does now for Donald Trump. The leftist press would never give Nixon a fair shake, so TV gave him the opportunity to do things his way without their filter. More precisely, he could appeal to people's worst instincts without interference.
Overall there was, as one consultant put it, "the basic problem of Nixon's personality" (161). The whole point was to avoid showing the real him. McGinniss closes with the funny irony that Nixon believed that image didn't matter at all.
From http://weeksnotice.blogspot.com/2020/...
At the last UNC Charlotte library sale, I picked up Joe McGinniss' The Selling of the President 1968. I went through a serious Nixon period in the early 1990s as the anniversary of his resignation neared, and read a ton on him and Watergate, and that interest never went away. This book is a breezily written and entertaining account of how consultants used TV to transform an often unlikable candidate into a winning image, devoid of substance but full of nostalgia. It's also depressing, because you can see how vacuity became a political goal.
As one of the filmmakers hired to do some commercials said, "Nixon has not only developed the use of the platitude, he's raised it to an art form. It's mashed potatoes. It appeals to the lowest common denominator of American taste. It's a farce, a delicious farce, self-deception carried to the nth degree" (115).
Hostility toward the common person was evident. You wanted enough "Negroes" in ads or staged events, but definitely not more than one because you would offend the "Yahoo belt" of the South. And they wondered why they were unwelcome in Harlem. They didn't even want to advertise with college students--it might offend people. Roger Ailes (only 28 at the time) plays a big role and is as offensive as you would expect, with references to "broads" and the like.
Hostility toward the press undergirded the entire effort, precisely as Twitter does now for Donald Trump. The leftist press would never give Nixon a fair shake, so TV gave him the opportunity to do things his way without their filter. More precisely, he could appeal to people's worst instincts without interference.
Overall there was, as one consultant put it, "the basic problem of Nixon's personality" (161). The whole point was to avoid showing the real him. McGinniss closes with the funny irony that Nixon believed that image didn't matter at all.
From http://weeksnotice.blogspot.com/2020/...
September 10, 2018
I heard about ‘Selling of the President’ after reading ‘Nixon’s Shadow’ by David Greenberg – which I highly recommend – and managed to find an old yellow-paged paperback which looks to have come from the initial print back in 1969.
We take it for granted in 2018 but the lifting of the curtain of political campaigns was not the norm fifty years ago. This book turned out to be as ground-breaking as it was because it was one of the first, if not the first, efforts to show us how stage-managed our political candidates were. It paved the way for what we now know and expect from political campaigns – an ultra-tight grip on the image the candidate projects to the world, led by ‘consultants’ and ‘advisers’ who believe it axiomatic that in a modern campaign you cannot leave the choice of tie colour to chance.
This is a short book, but it packs a mighty punch. In Theodore White’s ‘Making of the President, 1960’ he writes about his frustration and disappointment at not being able to get close to Richard Nixon’s inner circle, or Nixon himself. Anyone who knows about Richard Nixon will not be surprised to read this. It makes ‘Selling of the President’ is a stunning achievement. It’s easy to see why it was a bestseller and even two decades on Nixon, rehabilitated but still a bit sore, continued to criticise, among other so-called slights in his life, what is a classic book that left a mark.
We take it for granted in 2018 but the lifting of the curtain of political campaigns was not the norm fifty years ago. This book turned out to be as ground-breaking as it was because it was one of the first, if not the first, efforts to show us how stage-managed our political candidates were. It paved the way for what we now know and expect from political campaigns – an ultra-tight grip on the image the candidate projects to the world, led by ‘consultants’ and ‘advisers’ who believe it axiomatic that in a modern campaign you cannot leave the choice of tie colour to chance.
This is a short book, but it packs a mighty punch. In Theodore White’s ‘Making of the President, 1960’ he writes about his frustration and disappointment at not being able to get close to Richard Nixon’s inner circle, or Nixon himself. Anyone who knows about Richard Nixon will not be surprised to read this. It makes ‘Selling of the President’ is a stunning achievement. It’s easy to see why it was a bestseller and even two decades on Nixon, rehabilitated but still a bit sore, continued to criticise, among other so-called slights in his life, what is a classic book that left a mark.
July 11, 2021
Unique insight into the machinations of a political campaign and the incorporation of a new communications medium into political strategy. The book shows how the ad men used TV to create a new impression of Nixon. Nixon was a two-time loser and unlikable political striver. In the 1968 campaign, they suggested that Nixon had matured away from public life, played up Nixon’s experience to make him seem presidential and above the fray, downplayed issues to avoid defensive wonky debates and created pre-packaged TV Q&As to make Nixon appear relatable in a controlled environment. The book suggests that TV can create an image of a man, apart from than the man himself, and that people elect the image of the candidate, rather than the candidate himself. It could be argued that the Nixon campaign used TV to hide its candidate from the public, hoping to avoid public missteps. Given Nixon was leading in the polls from the start and faced unusually disorganized competition, it’s possible the impact of the TV strategy related in the book is overstated.
December 7, 2020
This is the rare book that is historically important without being particularly well-written. I really enjoyed being a fly on the wall in the Nixon Campaign; overall, the book is an insightful political document and many of the scenes would play well on Veep today. Somewhat horrifying, as we watch RN become president, but the past is the past and all that. McGinniss is good at capturing dialogue and finding the right scenes to highlight, but whenever he has to add his own commentary, he falters. He cites Mailer but is no Mailer. I think this is probably an important read, and not an unenjoyable one, but don't go in expecting transcendent prose. Maybe it's the amateurish nature of the reporting that adds realism, IDK.
November 16, 2025
I found this to be a quick and entertaining read since I am interested in Nixon as a character. Not a significant book in the grand scheme of things imo, but it was interesting to see the roots of our polarized, low-quality political discourse in the Nixon campaign strategy. Crazy focus on tokenizing POC while also using racist dogwhistles in the South.
Some of the people working for Nixon had a great sense of humour in describing the impossible project of making him palatable - "it's like trying to grow grass on the moon." This is one of many insults I will remember fondly.
Some of the people working for Nixon had a great sense of humour in describing the impossible project of making him palatable - "it's like trying to grow grass on the moon." This is one of many insults I will remember fondly.
January 22, 2024
An interesting account of how Nixons campaign thought about using television as part of their strategy. Some of the sinister characters in our current political system made their debut at this time. Like Roger Ailes.
Nixon was calculating, unaware, brilliant and stupid! Made me a bit curious to read a biography on Nixon
Nixon was calculating, unaware, brilliant and stupid! Made me a bit curious to read a biography on Nixon
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 5, 2019
It still holds up after all these years. It's worth your time to look back at how television changed politicians into commodities to sell. The number of platforms is bigger, but the techniques are the same. The question is why aren't we better informed? The answers are found here.
August 24, 2021
Good and insightful journalism. A somewhat jarring read in the age of the Internet, given the subjects’ touchy relationship with TV as a new medium. Nevertheless, it’s a revealing look into a landmark campaign.
March 15, 2024
Interesting look at the campaign through the advertising part. Goes in depth on this topic.
And very much holds true for todays campaigns as well.
Will really recommend, especially as a companion to White's "Making of..."
And very much holds true for todays campaigns as well.
Will really recommend, especially as a companion to White's "Making of..."
July 7, 2024
"Harry Treleaven loves artificial plants. There was an artificial flower and plant store on [his way to work]. He would stop, whenever he had time, and browse tenderly, as one might in a bookstore. What impressed him most, he said, was how skillfully something artificial could be made."
July 23, 2024
This election was 56 years ago, but the way Nixon's men frame him as a candidate still seems to be how American politicians go about their business now. McGinniss does a great job in this book to let people talk, almost Maysles-brothers style.
September 21, 2024
In today’s technological and political world, none of what went down in the strategizing of this campaign was particularly shocking to me, but I can’t imagine how shocked people might have been in the late 60s upon this insight being made available. Politicians don’t give a #fuck about us.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 83 reviews