The Trump Presidency Is Going Great

The Trump Labor Department has a bold new vision for your retirement: turn your 401(k) into a casino and hand the house keys to the Trump family. A new proposal would let 401(k) plans stuff workers’ savings into crypto, private credit, and private equity, because nothing says "prudent retirement planning" like chasing yield in the same asset class the FBI politely describes as a giant fraud magnet. Democrats, led by Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Bobby Scott, are pointing out that this would expose roughly $14.2 trillion in retirement savings to products that make roller coasters look stable.

To really underline the wisdom of the plan, critics cite Trump’s own memecoin, which mooned to $75 during his 2025 inauguration and is now languishing at $2 — a crash so brutal it should qualify as elder abuse. The FBI reports over $11bn in crypto fraud losses in 2025 alone, FINRA warns you can lose literally everything, and consumer advocates politely note that turning 401(k)s into a "Ponzi-like scheme" seems less like financial innovation and more like a bailout for an industry that’s run out of suckers.

Meanwhile, the Trump family is sitting on a new fortune from their very own digital currency, reportedly hauling in up to $5bn off the Trump-branded coin since launch. While Trump pretends to be president, his adult sons run the family’s crypto empire, and—what an astonishing coincidence—the administration is now trying to open the firehose of worker retirement savings directly into that same market. The Labor Department, which suddenly discovered a deep hatred of "picking winners and losers," is proposing a rule that just so happens to benefit the president’s business interests. Purely accidental, we’re sure.

Acting Labor Secretary Keith Sonderling claims this is about giving workers more "choice," because when you’re already facing a 22.8% senior poverty rate, why not add "rug-pulled by your own government" to the list of retirement risks? Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, never one to skip the cult-branding, calls it another step toward Trump’s "Golden Age"—a fitting name for an era where the gold is tokenized, wildly volatile, and somehow always ends up in the Trumps’ wallets.

The Trump administration spent an estimated $38 billion buying eleven mega-warehouses so ICE could detain up to 100,000 immigrants at once, then suddenly discovered that maybe building a nationwide archipelago of human storage units was a tad much. Under former DHS Secretary Kristi Noem, they went on a detention-space shopping spree so aggressive that one Georgia town says ICE paid more than five times the property’s assessed value. Now DHS under Secretary Markwayne Mullin is pondering whether to sell off some of these monuments to cruelty and fiscal malpractice, and hoping no one asks too many questions about how any of this made sense in the first place.

The pivot is being sold as a “cultural shift” and a commitment to being a “good steward of taxpayer dollars,” which is a bold line to deploy after lighting tens of billions on fire for empty warehouses and a government-owned deportation fleet that includes a luxury Boeing 737 Max 8. Communities that never wanted these facilities, from Maryland to Mississippi to Social Circle, Georgia, are now stuck in legal fights over detention centers they tried to block from the start, while the DHS inspector general investigates whether this was all even remotely cost-effective. So yes, Trump may now want a “softer touch” on immigration — presumably the kind where you still terrorize immigrants, just with slightly fewer luxury planes and abandoned prisons dotting the countryside.

The Trump-branded "Freedom 250" concert series for America’s 250th birthday is off to a strong start, assuming the goal was to create the first music festival where half the lineup learns they’re performing from Twitter and then immediately nopes out. Within a day of the announcement, Morris Day called his supposed slot a baseless "rumor", Young MC publicly fired himself from the bill, and the Commodores politely explained that their music is not, in fact, a house band for one political cult.

It somehow got dumber from there. C+C Music Factory’s Freedom Williams had to record a bathroom video to announce that no, he does not "fuck with Trump", and only found out he’d been drafted into MAGA-palooza when horrified friends texted him. Milli Vanilli’s Jodie Rocco said the group was just as surprised as everyone else to see their name on the poster, which helpfully featured Fab Morvan, who also isn’t involved. Trump’s team essentially staged a lineup the way they ran the government: slap some names on a flyer and hope reality eventually cooperates.

Holding it all together is Freedom 250, a "nonpartisan" 501(c)(3) that exists purely by coincidence to celebrate America’s 250th birthday under the watchful orange gaze of Donald Trump. Its spokesperson insists the group is about unity and uplifting America, which is a bold line to push when your marquee on-the-record supporter is Vanilla Ice, fresh off singing "Ice Ice Baby" with Stephen Miller and Kristi Noem during an ICE crackdown. If this is what nonpartisan looks like, the FEC might want earplugs.