The political world loves nothing more than a juicy tell-all meme that pulls the curtain from all of the evil stuff we know is really going on in government.

By that standard, the new book “The Fixer” coming out next month by former Deputy Illinois Gov. Bradley Tusk, has a few things to catch your attention. Like new details on how Tusk’s boss, ex-Gov. Rod Blagojevich, tried to shake down then-U.S. Rep. Rahm Emanuel. Or the story about how the feud between Blago and his father-in-law, retired Ald. Dick Mell, 33rd—the feud that many believe started his downfall—really got started.

My takeaway from the book is a little different though, and frankly gave me an appreciation of why President Donald Trump retains so much public support despite jaw-dropping boorish buffoonery that would have brought down a lesser pol.

The core of Tusk’s book is the suggestion that just about everyone and everything in public life is crooked, conniving, dumb as a rock or an ideological zealot—this from the guy who more or less ran Illinois government for a few years, served as communications director for U.S. Senate Democratic Leader Chuck Schumer, worked for former Philadelphia Mayor (and later Democratic National Committee Chair) Ed Rendell, and not only worked for but ran re-election campaigns for former New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg.

Of that crew, Bloomberg—and presumably himself—are the only ones that Tusk seems to have any fondness for. To quote just one of his many put-downs of the political class: “The vast majority of people who run for office are desperately insecure, often even self-loathing. They need attention and validation at all costs. Running for and holding office is the only way most of them can get it (since they typically lack the talent to meaningfully succeed at anything in the real world).”

His damnation of Blagojevich is particularly strong. The ex-state rep and congressman “possessed none of the skills, work ethic, discipline, integrity or focus to perform any real work once he won office,” he writes. It was so bad that when the governor was needed to act on pending legislation before a pending deadline, he couldn’t be bothered. “I’m picking out fabrics for three new suits (today),” Blagojevich supposedly said. "It’s gonna take a while.”

So Tusk pretty much took control of Blagojevich’s administration—too much control, the kind of thing a hungry young man would do, some others in the Blagojevich world tell me. But control nonetheless.

At least one of the key local stories in the book “is true,” Mell told me in a quick phone call. That’s how the two had a first-class falling-out, featuring Blagojevich on a day when critical state business was pending instead stomping and screaming in his house about the unfairness of it all because Mell had dared to send out an invite to a fundraiser featuring Blagojevich without checking with him first. “He landed at third base, and thinks he hit a triple,” says Mell, whose inside contacts by all indications were critical in getting his son-in-law through the Democratic primary.

Another story, a variation of testimony Tusk gave in Blagojevich’s corruption trial, is about how the governor “asked me to extort” Emanuel.