The Trump Presidency Is Going Great

Robert Kraft, longtime Good Billionaire cosplayer and friend of Donald Trump, has decided that the true threat to America isn’t cops sweeping protesters into unmarked vans or the president telling people to inject bleach — it’s Macklemore doing a set before Ed Sheeran while supporting Palestine. So Kraft reportedly banned Macklemore from Gillette Stadium and, according to the rapper, leaned on other NFL owners to shut him out of most of the tour’s stadium dates too. When you own the toy, you get to decide who talks.

The justification? Kraft says this is about Macklemore’s “recent actions” and a “broader history of antisemitic rhetoric and imagery” — citing, among other things, a 2013 costume the artist apologized for years ago. Conveniently, the line between combating antisemitism and punishing pro-Palestinian speech keeps landing exactly where billionaires and NFL owners want it: anywhere that might threaten their comfort or their donor network.

This is the same Kraft who spent the Trump years polishing his halo: backing criminal justice reform, helping Meek Mill, flying Parkland students to DC, sending his jet for N95 masks while Trump was calling Covid a hoax. He positioned himself as the rare owner with a conscience… while being part of the same cartel that colluded to erase Colin Kaepernick from football for the crime of saying, “Cops are getting paid leave for killing people. That’s not right.” Apparently that was hate speech, but blackballing dissenters is just good business.

Now the mask slips. The self-styled everyman who once sat on the cold metal bleachers is just another oligarch deciding which opinions are allowed on his property and which artists get to work. The league that helped Trump turn protests into culture-war chum is still doing what it does best: protecting power, punishing speech, and calling it "values." The only thing more fragile than the NFL’s brand is the ego of the men who own it.

Trump’s Qatari-supplied faux Air Force One decided to express its feelings Wednesday by spontaneously deploying an inflatable emergency slide on the tarmac, just before Trump was supposed to board for Dallas. While the crew stared at the giant yellow indictment of basic competence, Trump stayed in Marine One for a few extra minutes, then emerged to inform reporters that they were simply "checking the slide" — which is certainly one way to describe "someone pushed the wrong button on your foreign-monarchy-donated presidential plane."

The White House, via Steven Cheung, insisted that the slide was just being tested so everything would work "perfectly" and that Air Force One was totally safe and en route to deliver Trump to his "raucous and sold-out" midterm pep rally. This is the same plane that the Secret Service has already quietly flagged as lacking the full security suite of the older, actual Air Force One — the one they suggested Trump use instead, because "less secure than the old one" is not typically what you want in a presidential aircraft, unless your national security policy is vibes-based.

Officials keep insisting the Qatar-gifted 747-8 is "perfectly safe" even as anonymous sources admit, on background, that it is not, in fact, perfectly anything. Trump announced in July that the jet would be sent away to get "maxed out" on security, while then-press secretary Karoline Leavitt downgraded that to some light "upgrades and enhancements." So the president of the United States is currently hitching rides on a luxury jumbo jet provided by a foreign royal family, with incomplete security systems, while the real Boeing replacements continue their multi-year delay marathon. But sure, let’s all focus on the funny slide.

The Trump administration is once again speedrunning the "what if foreign policy, but as a family side hustle" experiment. Jared Kushner and real estate mogul Steve Witkoff – two men whose main qualifications are "being related to Trump" and "having his number" – are heading to Moscow and Kyiv to negotiate peace in a war that has killed hundreds of thousands of people. The State Department, career diplomats, and anyone with actual regional expertise will be playing their usual role in Trumpworld: background extras.

Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky says he’ll meet them after they drop in on Vladimir Putin, because apparently this peace process is being run like a timeshare pitch: Russia gets the first presentation, Ukraine gets the follow-up. Putin, for his part, is still publicly demanding more Ukrainian territory while mumbling about "chances" for peace, which makes this less a negotiation and more an attempted surrender ceremony with better catering. Meanwhile, Trump’s envoys – who have already made multiple trips to Russia – are being treated as serious players, despite their combined diplomatic résumé consisting mostly of tax breaks, luxury condos, and Middle East photo ops.

The Kremlin is coyly hinting about "contacts" while Zelensky is literally asking both sides to guarantee airspace safety so Trump’s personal emissaries don’t get blown out of the sky. It’s a perfect encapsulation of the era: a brutal land war, maximalist imperial demands, and into the middle of it all, the guy who married into the family business and the guy who usually negotiates hotel deals. American foreign policy has been outsourced to the Mar-a-Lago LinkedIn network, and the rest of the world just has to hope the peace plan isn’t written on a cocktail napkin.

Donald Trump has discovered a new freedom-branding opportunity: massive AI data centers that guzzle power like Mar-a-Lago’s AC in August. His administration is all-in on turning half the country into a glorified cooling system for server racks, and — minor detail — voters kind of hate it. Local communities are noticing that "the future of AI" mostly looks like higher electric bills, drained water supplies, and a few tech bros getting richer while the rest of them get to stare at another concrete box humming in the distance.

Republicans on the ballot, of course, are now stuck between Trump’s Very Important AI Agenda and the people who actually live next to these digital sweatshops. On one side: the president promising innovation, growth, and probably a gold-plated GPU somewhere. On the other: constituents wondering why "making America great again" involves handing their grid and land over to data centers so Silicon Valley and Wall Street can squeeze out a few more points of profit. The party of states’ rights and local control is once again discovering that all those principles have an off switch when a president with a fragile ego and a tech-donor wish list shows up.

The Trump administration has discovered a bold new strategy for forest management: if you cut down enough trees, there’s nothing left to burn. The USDA, led by Secretary Brooke Rollins, is moving to scrap the Clinton-era "roadless rule" that has protected tens of millions of acres of untouched national forests from roads, logging, and mining. The sales pitch? This will "return our forests to health and productivity"—because nothing says ecological health like bulldozers and clearcuts.

Republican governors in Montana, Utah, and Wyoming dutifully lined up in the USDA press release to praise this as "flexibility" and "thoughtful decisions," a poetic way of saying "let’s hand over public lands to timber and mining companies at a discount." Conservation groups point out that the rule is one of the most important land protections in the last 60 years, while a taxpayer watchdog helpfully reminds everyone that pre-roadless timber sales were such a financial disaster they effectively turned the Forest Service into a subsidy program for private logging firms. So yes, this isn’t just an attack on the environment—it’s also a plan to torch billions in public money so corporations can drive new roads into what used to be wilderness. Productivity, Trump-style.

Elon Musk reportedly pulled down a $158.3 billion pay package from Tesla in 2025, which works out to the median Tesla worker’s annual salary every 4.23 seconds. That’s not a compensation plan, that’s a particle accelerator for wealth. Toss Musk into the S&P 500 numbers and the average CEO-to-worker pay ratio jumps from a grotesque 312:1 to a full dystopian 5,387:1. Workers’ share of national income? Lowest since World War II. But hey, at least the stock buybacks are feeling loved.

Meanwhile, Donald Trump is running his own prosperity gospel, minus the gospel. The AFL-CIO notes Trump’s 2025 income hit $2.2 billion, mostly from crypto, a 254% jump from 2024. The median US worker would need 43,154 years to match that, assuming they don’t die first from skipping medical care, falling behind on rent, or being bankrupted by a $400 emergency — all of which are now routine for huge chunks of the country.

How did this miracle of wealth concentration happen? Trump’s "radical budget" and GOP friends hacked away at healthcare and food assistance for kids and families so they could shower corporations and the ultra-rich with tax cuts. The White House insists there are "no conflicts of interest" because Trump’s assets are in "fully discretionary" accounts managed by third parties — a phrase that does a lot of work for a guy whose policies somehow keep lining up perfectly with his balance sheet. It’s not governance, it’s a live-action experiment in how far you can rig an economy before the word oligarchy stops sounding hyperbolic.

Laura Loomer, professional outrage dispenser and Trump barnacle, flew to Kyiv, heard one (1) air raid siren, and suddenly realized that maybe Russia’s full-scale invasion is not, in fact, a Based Anti-Woke Liberation Tour. After years of calling Ukraine a land of “Nazi apologists” and recycling Kremlin fanfic for her followers, she is now posting about “moral clarity” and endorsing crushing Russian sanctions because, crucial detail, Iran wants Trump dead. Foreign policy, brought to you by the “will this hurt Dear Leader personally?” school of geopolitics.

The best part? Loomer’s new line is being treated as a major diplomatic development, because Zelenskyy says he’ll likely meet Trump in Washington while he’s in town for Lindsey Graham’s funeral. Trump jumped on Truth Social to grunt out a “Very good!!!!” about Loomer’s interview, which Kyiv commentators are reading as a sign the White House’s anti-Ukraine stance is softening. US strategy toward a live war zone now runs through a woman who just filmed herself eating a cheeseburger outside a missile-shredded McDonald’s to own… Vladimir Putin? Evangelicals get a bespoke message too: Loomer toured a bombed cathedral and explained you can’t really “protect Christianity” by, as she put it, trying to drone-strike Jesus.

Ukrainian officials, staring down ballistic missiles and daily civilian deaths, are understandably grateful for any crack in the MAGA-Russia bromance, so they’re rolling out the red carpet for Loomer and thanking her for her “courage” on social media. A former government adviser even calls this a historic break with Russian propaganda by part of the MAGA movement, which is a polite way of saying: we now depend on Trumpworld’s least hinged influencers to talk the base out of cheering for war crimes. American foreign policy has officially become a spin-off of the Trump Extended Universe, where a 15-minute Vatican chat and a Guardian write-up count as a “historic moment” in US-Ukraine relations.