“The world is on fire”
At a 2014 party at the “Breitbart Embassy/'ɛmbəsi/," Steve Bannon promised a remaking/'rimek/ of America/ə'merikə/
By Reid Cherlin
In September of 2014 I went to Steve Bannon’s house for a party. I was on assignment from Rolling Stone to embed/ɪm'bɛd/ with the staff of Breitbart.com. It was supposed to be a way of illuminating/ɪˈlumɪˌnetɪŋ/ the larger world of gonzo/ˈɡɑnzo/ right-wing media. I had never heard of Steve Bannon himself.
The invitation — to cocktails/'kɑktel/ and a seated/ˈsitɪd/ dinner — listed the location as the “Breitbart Embassy/'ɛmbəsi/.” It turned out to be a brick townhouse on Capitol Hill, a few blocks east of the Supreme/sə'prim/ Court /kɔrt/ building. The Embassy did triple/'trɪpl/ duty as a workspace for the website’s D.C. reporters, a handsome living quarters for Bannon and other company brass/bræs/, and a swank/swæŋk/ entertainment/'ɛntɚ'tenmənt/ venue/'vɛnju/ for a social circle drawn/drɔn/ from Washington’s misfit/'mɪsfɪt/ conservative/kən'sɝvətɪv/ fringe/frɪndʒ/.
Or at least they were fringe at the time. Bannon, now arguably/'ɑrɡjuəbli/ the surrogate/'sʌrəɡɪt/ president of the United States, was then Breitbart.com’s executive/ɪɡ'zɛkjətɪv/ chairman. He moved among clusters/'klʌstɚ/ of guests with a big smile. When I was introduced to him, I asked why he called the place the Embassy. “D.C. is like Saigon/sai'ɡɔn/ in ’68,” he said. “You don’t know who your friends are and who your enemies are.” Among friends for the moment at least, he promised that he’d set up time for the two of us to talk one-on-one, and then returned to his hosting duties/dj:tis/.
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https://news.vice.com/story/steve-bannon-breitbart-white-house
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