The Trump Presidency Timeline

The White House has announced that Donald Trump is going in for a totally normal, completely routine, absolutely nothing-to-see-here "annual" medical and dental exam at Walter Reed — just seven months after his last "annual" visit and a few months after a follow-up CT scan, and a few months after that was also declared perfectly fine. At this point, "annual" appears to be defined as "whenever the president’s hands look like a banana that lost a bar fight."

Trump, who turns 80 in June and is now the second-oldest president in U.S. history after Joe Biden, continues to be described by his revolving-door White House doctors as in "excellent overall health" despite the recurring bruised hands, swollen ankles, and on-camera lethargy that keep forcing them back to the podium to insist he’s basically a Marvel character. Capt. Sean Barbabella dutifully signed off after a CT scan of Trump’s cardiovascular and abdominal health, because nothing says medical independence like repeatedly vouching for the wellbeing of the guy who can end your career with a Truth Social post.

The administration line is that Trump is tireless and sharp, and they are working extremely hard to prove it, which is always a good sign. Communications Director Steven Cheung spent the weekend live-tweeting the president’s packed schedule during U.S.-Iran peace talks as if he were documenting a rare endangered species still capable of locomotion. Meanwhile, Trump is still bragging about "acing" cognitive tests like they’re the LSATs, and blaming his mystery bruises on taking too much aspirin, which is a refreshingly low-tech excuse from a man who once recommended injecting disinfectant.

Having ridden to power (again) by calling Biden "Sleepy Joe" and turning age and acuity into a political weapon, Trump is now very bravely demanding everyone stop talking about how old and fragile he looks on camera. The same movement that insisted Biden was unfit if he tripped on a sandbag now wants you to believe that three Walter Reed visits in 13 months, a CT scan, and visible makeup over bruises are just what peak male performance looks like. America, your Commander-in-Chief is fine. The press release says so.

Robert Reich has finally run out of normal presidential vocabulary and is now workshopping terms from the "oh cool, we live in a failing state" section of the dictionary. He argues that Trump doesn’t have an administration, he has a regime—the kind that blows off hundreds of federal court orders, screams for judges’ impeachment, grabs Congress’s war and spending powers like they’re classified documents at Mar-a-Lago, and tries to muzzle universities and the press for noticing.

The regime’s greatest hits: over 300,000 federal workers gone, inspectors general fired, whistleblowers punished, marginalized groups targeted, political opponents persecuted, and a pardon list that now includes a Honduran ex-president who helped ship 400 tons of cocaine into the US and a fan club of January 6 seditionists. ICE deaths are spiking, people merely suspected of immigration violations are disappeared by masked agents without hearings, and the US military is allegedly killing suspected smugglers in international waters. Totally normal democracy stuff.

On the corruption front, Trump is openly hoovering up foreign gifts in defiance of the Constitution while shilling his family’s crypto scheme from the Resolute Desk. He’s suing the IRS for $10 billion, and his DOJ’s response is to propose a $1.8 billion "compensation" slush fund that might conveniently shower cash on January 6 attackers, while also helpfully dropping IRS audits of Trump and his relatives. Reich concludes that calling this a "government of laws" is generous; the more accurate label is lawless catastrophe—though "banana republic, but make it crypto" also seems to fit.

Texas Republicans are having a runoff for U.S. Senate, which in a functional democracy would mostly be about, you know, the candidates. Instead, it’s about whether John Cornyn – a boring party man who occasionally remembers the Constitution exists – can survive a late-stage intervention from Dear Leader, who just endorsed Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton after people already started voting.

So while ballots are being cast, Trump strolls in from Mar-a-Lago to declare that the proper choice is the indicted attorney general who treats the law like a loose suggestion. Voters who already mailed in their Cornyn ballots now get to spend the week wondering if they’ve committed the ultimate sin in the modern GOP: failing to obey the leader’s most recent whim. The message is clear: elections are less a process than a live-streamed loyalty test, and Trump reserves the right to rewrite the script mid-show.

The North Lawn press pen briefly turned into a live-action drill for "so you wanted to cover politics in a collapsing empire" as journalists sprinted for cover amid reports of possible gunfire near the White House. ABC’s Selina Wang posted video of herself taking shelter while a volley of bangs echoed across what used to be the postcard backdrop for "peaceful transfer of power" and is now apparently an ambient soundtrack of America, 2026.

Reporters say they were told to run to the briefing room and stay put, which is probably the most decisive security instruction anyone’s gotten out of official Washington in years. The Secret Service says it’s "aware" of reports of shots fired near 17th and Pennsylvania and is trying to "corroborate the information," which is a very polite way of saying they’re not sure yet if this was an attack, fireworks, or just the sound of a country that treats public spaces like a shooting range.

So yes, the people whose job is to inform the public about what their government is doing are now also dodging potential gunfire at the front door of the executive branch. But tell us again how everything’s totally normal and the real threat to America is mean headlines and fact-checks.

The Trump administration’s grand experiment in criminalizing protest has hit another wall labeled "First Amendment." Federal prosecutors in Chicago quietly tossed the remaining charges against the so-called Broadview Six — including Democratic congressional candidate Kat Abughazaleh — after their big anti-protester show trial dissolved into questions about grand jury misconduct and mysteriously redacted transcripts. The government went from screaming "felony conspiracy to impede an officer" to backing away from misdemeanor charges like a kid caught shoplifting gum.

US attorney Andrew Boutros told the judge the protesters’ conduct was "unacceptable in a civilized society," which is a bold statement from an office now under threat of sanctions for how it handled the case. Defense attorneys say their clients spent months under the threat of prison for the crime of being "decent, honorable citizens" who protested ICE; the government’s case has now been dismissed with prejudice, meaning it’s dead, buried, and not even Stephen Miller’s necromancy can bring it back.

This isn’t a one-off embarrassment, it’s a pattern. Prosecutors previously dropped charges against Marimar Martinez, a Montessori teacher shot five times by a border patrol agent, and a jury acquitted Juan Espinoza Martinez, whom the Trump team tried to sell as some kind of border-patrol-assassin mastermind. Meanwhile, Illinois state police are investigating an ICE agent who shot and killed Silverio Villegas Gonzalez. So the scoreboard under Trump’s second-term immigration crusade looks like this: protesters, teachers, and random Chicagoans walk free; law enforcement keeps shooting people; and the Justice Department keeps faceplanting every time it tries to turn dissent into a felony.

Elon Musk, a man who spent nearly $300m buying Trump and Republicans an election and got an extra half-trillion dollars out of the deal, is now using his state-subsidized megaphone to rage that Lupita Nyong’o is playing Helen of Troy. The guy who helped install a government that showers him with cash is convinced that a Black woman in a movie about a swan-egg myth lady is the real existential threat to western civilization. Democracy, antitrust enforcement, campaign-finance laws? Those are fine. The problem is clearly casting.

Between arranging taxpayer-backed space contracts, tagging along on Trump’s China field trips, and watching his net worth balloon from about $270bn to roughly $800bn under the new regime, Musk has apparently decided his main job is chief culture-war propagandist. He spends most days on X amplifying accounts that insist the "white race" is under siege, nodding along to race science cosplay, and agreeing that a Nolan movie is the frontline of a leftist plot to erase the west. Civil rights groups read his feed and say, "if you stripped the name off this, you’d assume it was a white supremacist"; the Trump administration reads it and says, "policy agenda."

And when he’s not whining about Nyong’o’s beauty or the skin tone of a fictional demi-bird princess, he’s obsessively interacting with an anonymous account whose main function is to praise him like a North Korean newscast with worse graphic design. The man who bought an election, a platform, and probably a new hairline still can’t buy inner peace, but he can bankroll a government that deregulates him into the stratosphere while he turns its pet social network into a 24/7 race panic machine. Western civilization isn’t being destroyed by Christopher Nolan, it’s being pawned off by its richest hall monitor for stock options and quote-tweets.