I was enjoying a perfectly respectable White Russian on Friday when I came across a piece by Jonathan V. Last over at The Bulwark titled Trumpfall.1 JVL was wondering whether we’d finally broken Donald Trump.
Not politically. That much seemed reasonably settled. The Democrats had just taken both houses of Congress in an electoral ass-kicking of historic proportions.
No, JVL was contemplating something more profound. Maybe the old man had finally run out of gas. Maybe the endless need to dominate every news cycle, settle every score, and remind everyone of his magnificence had finally exhausted whatever strange biological mechanism keeps the man running.
Trump had been unusually quiet after the election. He wasn’t disputing the results. He wasn’t announcing some grand strategy. He’d spent Wednesday wandering around his unfinished ballroom like a retired casino manager inspecting a renovation that had gotten out of hand.
Maybe, JVL wondered, he’d finally reached the point where he just wanted to sit in front of the television, eat his cheeseburgers, and let somebody else run things.
It was an intriguing thought.
I showed it to Walter.
“He’s not dead, Dude.”
“Nobody said he’s dead, Walter.”
“You’re reading his fucking obituary.”
“JVL’s just asking a question.”
“WELL, I’M ANSWERING IT.”
Walter had a point. We’ve been burying Donald Trump for ten years, and the son of a bitch keeps climbing out of the coffin and demanding to know who authorized the funeral.
But for a couple of hours Friday, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that perhaps this time was different.
Then my phone buzzed.
Stephen Miller was replacing Susie Wiles as White House chief of staff.
Well, shit.
The corpse hires Nosferatu
You have to appreciate the timing.
Here was JVL, carefully examining the possibility that Trump might finally become a passive figurehead, and the president’s first significant personnel announcement after the election was to hand the White House machinery to Stephen Miller.
Nosferatu himself.
Miller, the architect of the administration’s maximalist immigration enforcement program, a man whose apparent solution to every governmental difficulty involves finding a larger federal agency and giving it more authority to make people miserable.
Apparently the lesson Trump drew from Tuesday’s electoral catastrophe was that his administration had been insufficiently aggressive.
Walter was delighted to explain the strategic logic.
“He’s preparing for WAR, Dude. The Democrats are coming after him. Subpoenas, investigations, impeachment, the whole fucking operation. He needs somebody who knows how to fight.”
“Sure, Walter. But the voters just told him they don’t particularly like what he’s doing.”
“SO WHAT? YOU DON’T SURRENDER BECAUSE YOU LOST A BATTLE.”
“He’s not surrendering. He’s supposed to be governing.”
“Same fucking thing, apparently.”
And here’s the uncomfortable part: Walter wasn’t entirely wrong.
Miller understands the federal bureaucracy. He’s been part of Trump’s operation since the first campaign. He knows where the administrative levers are, which officials can be pressured, and how to pursue an agenda through executive authority when Congress isn’t cooperating.
From Trump’s perspective, that’s a useful skill set.
From the perspective of people hoping Tuesday’s election would produce some moderation, it’s rather like responding to a restaurant’s terrible health inspection by promoting the guy responsible for storing the chicken.
But we weren’t finished.
Welcome to the octagon
Saturday brought the announcement that Trump had offered the White House press secretary position to Dana White, the head of the UFC.
Not content with the possibility of a professional cage-fighting promoter running the daily press briefings, Trump suggested White bring along six UFC fighters as assistants.
I checked twice to make sure I hadn’t accidentally opened The Onion.
“That is fucking brilliant,” Walter said.
“What’s brilliant?”
“Press briefings with actual enforcement. No more of these reporters asking the same stupid questions. You get one question, and if it’s bullshit, Daniel Cormier puts you in a headlock.”
“That’s not how press freedom works, Walter.”
“IT COULD.”
Donny looked up from his phone.
“Do the reporters have to make weight?”
Nobody had a particularly good answer.
To be fair, White hadn’t accepted the job, and the whole proposal might have been another one of Trump’s elaborate attempts to keep himself in the headlines.
But that was rather the point.
The man JVL had wondered might finally be surrendering control of the narrative was already contemplating turning the White House
This is likely a reference to the movie “Downfall” that has an iconic scene where Hitler’s generals inform him that the end is near. And of course, there is already an adaptation for the Midterms:
There are multiple “Downfall” adaptations. That one is definitely the best.
Brilliant, man. Please keep abiding.