The Presidency
The empty helicopter pad is a forlorn reminder of power brutally rescinded. The scraggly-haired surfers shoulder their boards in the morning sun and scuff down the nearby path to their emerald waves, unmindful of Richard Nixon, who stirs beyond the fence in the skeletal complex that used to be the Western White House.
Though he does not now possess power, he still studies, thinks about it. Almost as if by instinct rather than command, his mind seizes on new information and assembles it into strategies and tactics for international and domestic leadership.
"The...
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