The ugly truth about Cory Booker, New Jersey’s golden boy
It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday night in Jersey City, and for the first time this October it’s cold enough to see your breath in front of you with a deep exhale of the Hudson River air. It’s curious, given that, to see a group of a few dozen residents and visitors from neighboring towns assembled in a parking lot next to the train station—while the New York Giants are playing, no less. The workout-gear-clad mayor, Steven Fulop, is hopping up and down with his arms crossed over his chest for warmth, asking me when I think “he” will arrive. (Nuzzi/The Daily Beast)
