The Gospel According to Don

Now with More Tear Gas

The Gospel According to Don: Now with More Tear Gas

Ah, yes, the ancient proverb: "Speak softly and carry a big stick, unless you’re Donald Trump, in which case, just poke the hornet’s nest with a golf club and see what happens." Our commander-in-chief, a man whose love for drama is surpassed only by his love for a well-done steak with ketchup, has once again demonstrated his unique talent for escalating a backyard barbecue into a full-blown international incident.

Let us pilgrimage back to that hallowed moment of national unity when Trump, clutching a Bible with the enthusiasm of a man who’s just been handed a book in a language he doesn’t read (and upside-down, no less—perhaps for a more divine perspective?), decided that peaceful protesters were cramping his style. The solution? A dash of tear gas to clear the way for a photo op in front of a church. It was a masterclass in subtlety, a real testament to his deep, abiding respect for both the First Amendment and religious texts. The scene had all the gravity of a reality TV star pausing a catfight to plug his new fragrance. Except the tear gas was real, and so was the audacity.

Flash forward to the latest installment of "Pimp My Presidency," where the golden-maned protagonist decided California was in dire need of some federal tough love. On the menu: 2,000 National Guard troops and a side of 700 Marines. The supposed offense? Citizens exercising that pesky little right to protest, this time against immigration raids. Because nothing says "let's have a calm, reasoned dialogue" quite like sending in the cavalry. It’s the political equivalent of using a bazooka to kill a mosquito—effective, perhaps, in a scorched-earth sort of way, but you can probably kiss your patio goodbye.

Newsom's Complaint vs. Trump's 'Charm'

Enter Gavin Newsom, California’s governor, a man who appears to have misplaced his "Make America Great Again" hat and isn't in a hurry to find it. Newsom, in a shocking display of common sense, accused Trump of turning a manageable kerfuffle into a five-alarm dumpster fire. His analogy? Giving a toddler a flamethrower. We can all agree that’s probably not in the parenting handbook. The governor has been quite vocal about his displeasure with the federal government commandeering his state's National Guard, calling it a flagrant overreach.

But Trump, a man who has never seen a hill he wouldn’t die on (or at least tweet furiously from), naturally doubled down. He painted a grim picture of Los Angeles on the brink of anarchy, with him as the lone hero standing between civilization and total collapse. This from the man who reportedly suggested that nuclear weapons might be an effective hurricane deterrent. His problem-solving skills, it seems, are as unconventional as his coiffure.

When Robots Flee and Protests Rage

The protests, meanwhile, have been a veritable buffet of civic engagement. You had your peaceful, hymn-singing crowds, and then you had the more... spirited... participants who decided that self-driving cars were symbols of an oppressive automated future and should be sacrificed to the gods of chaos. Waymo, presumably after its AI calculated the odds of its vehicles surviving another round of "spontaneous public redesign," wisely suspended its services. Even the robots knew it was time to leave the party.

Amid the turmoil, the arrest of a union leader during immigration enforcement actions added yet another log to the bonfire of public outrage. It’s a political Jenga tower trembling under the weight of its own absurdity, and Trump seems determined to pull out every last block just to see it all come crashing down.

The Inevitable Legal Drama

As if the street theater weren't enough, California is now lawyering up to sue the administration over the National Guard deployment. Legal eagles are sharpening their talons, debating whether this is a legitimate use of the Insurrection Act or just another Tuesday in Trump's America, where constitutional boundaries are treated more like friendly suggestions. Critics posit that this isn't about law and order at all, but rather a ham-fisted attempt to intimidate blue states into submission. It's the bully on the playground, but instead of stealing your lunch money, he's federalizing your militia.

The Grand Finale That Never Ends

So, what have we learned? Mainly, that Donald Trump will always find a way to be the main character. He’s the director, producer, and star of this never-ending political drama, and the rest of us are just unwilling extras. Whether you view him as a bulwark against chaos or the chaos itself, there’s no denying his ability to command the spotlight.

California, for its part, remains unbowed, with Newsom and his legal team ready to fight this out in the courts and the court of public opinion. It’s a high-stakes showdown that feels less like governance and more like a particularly nasty season of reality television.

And for the rest of us? We're left with a front-row seat to the spectacle, munching on our popcorn and wondering if the season finale will ever arrive. Because one thing is certain with Trump: he never does anything by half-measures. He goes big, even when—especially when—it would be infinitely better for everyone if he just went home. In the end, his legacy will be that of one of the most divisive figures in American history. A man who knew how to start a fire, but seemed to have no interest in putting it out.