Jim Jordan approached me. “We need to get the ladies off the aisle,” he said and put out his hand. “Let me help you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Get the ladies off the aisle? Really?! He and his coconspirators in the White House and Congress had provoked this attack on the heart of American democracy, and now he thought I needed or wanted his help? I swatted his hand away. “Get away from me. You f—ing did this.”
