If Boehner's barroom candor about the GOP's descent into dysfunction left you hungry for more insider carnage, Tim Miller delivers the sequel you didn't know you needed. This is the confessional from someone who helped build the machine before it ate itself—unfiltered, profane, and brutally funny about the operatives who sold their souls for relevance. Miller writes like a guy three drinks in at the hotel bar, naming names and burning bridges with the kind of self-aware savagery that makes you laugh and wince simultaneously.

This is the confessional from someone who helped build the machine before it ate itself.

Where Boehner mourned the Tea Party's sabotage from the Speaker's chair, Miller autopsy's the MAGA grift from the war room, dissecting how smart people convinced themselves that clown-show politics was worth the price. It's pragmatic Midwestern realism meets D.C. bloodsport.

This is the confessional from someone who helped build the machine before it ate itself.

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