500-Word Grievance

What astounds me isn’t just the rant. It’s the choreography around it. A seventy-nine-year-old president fires off a 500-word grievance opera because a comedian made a joke, and instead of anyone saying, “Sir, maybe let’s log off,” the entire apparatus swings into motion to protect the myth. Press secretaries polish it. Surrogates spin it. Cabinet members nod like dashboard figurines. The mandate of this administration isn’t governance, it’s maintenance of the illusion. Lie about the health. Lie about the stamina. Lie about the “brilliant strategy.” Lie about the foreign policy “masterstroke.” Smile while doing it. Applaud while the floorboards creak.

We’re told he’s sharp as ever. That the midnight posting sprees are “energy.” That the all-caps tirades are “strength.” That confusing jokes about hockey with geopolitical leverage is “humor.” Meanwhile the rest of the world watches the United States of America behave like a reality show in its final season. Allies squint at us like we’ve lost the plot. Adversaries smirk. Diplomats scramble to translate grievance into policy. And the people tasked with telling the truth? They’re drafted into flattery. Their job is not to assess. It’s to praise. Not to correct. To reinforce. Not to protect the country, to protect the ego.

Dementia, whether anyone dares use the word publicly or not, does not improve with applause. Cognitive decline does not reverse because a staffer says “historic” five times in a briefing. It progresses. And when it progresses inside a man who cannot tolerate ridicule, who cannot metabolize criticism, who must dominate every narrative even when it makes him look smaller, that’s combustible. So the administration lies. About his health. About his “perfect calls.” About his “tremendous relationships.” About humiliations rebranded as victories. They’re not governing. They’re buffering.

the exasperating truth is, the global humiliation is measurable. Trade allies alienated. NATO partners unsettled. Democratic norms eroded in broad daylight. Late-night comedians triggering presidential manifestos. This isn’t the projection of strength; it’s the projection of fragility amplified by power. A superpower should not feel emotionally hostage to a monologue on HBO. Yet here we are, watching staffers defend the indefensible because their real job description reads: Preserve the Leader at All Costs.

What frustrates me is the normalization. The quiet agreement among too many elected Republicans that it’s easier to lie with him than stand up to him. That it’s safer to praise than to question. That global embarrassment is preferable to personal political risk. So the myth persists while the man erodes. And as he erodes, the country absorbs the shock waves, economically, diplomatically, morally.

This isn’t partisan theater anymore. It’s structural denial. A deteriorating executive propped up by institutional dishonesty. And the longer we pretend that this is normal — that late-night rants and retaliatory press conferences are just “how he is,” the more complicit we become in the damage. The man is gradually imploding. The administration’s job is to tell us he’s flawless. And somewhere between those two realities lies the toll this is taking on the United States, a toll history will not spin away.

— Michael Jochum, Not Just a Drummer: Reflections on Art, Politics, Dogs, and the Human Condition.