Dwain Northey (Gen X)

The Invisible Hand of Incompetence: DJ T’s Shutdown Safari

Some presidents lead from the Oval Office. Others lead from the golf course. But our dear DJ T — America’s first “Remote Control President” — prefers to lead from 30,000 feet in the air while being flattered by foreign dignitaries who’ve learned that the only thing bigger than his tariffs are his insecurities.

While the government wheezes into week four of total shutdown, national parks are closed, federal workers are pawning Christmas gifts to pay rent, and the Department of Agriculture is now operating on the barter system, our Commander in Chief is off on an international mission of utmost importance — to ensure his boots remain thoroughly shined by the trembling tongues of nations terrified of his next tariff tantrum.

You see, DJ T believes in the art of distraction. Why fix a shutdown when you can stage a global ego tour? Why meet with Congressional leaders when you can pose for photo ops with foreign strongmen who know exactly how to keep the toddler-in-chief happy: compliment his tie, nod gravely at his word salad about “tremendous deals,” and never — ever — mention the national crisis he left behind like a dog that chews up the couch and blames the cat.

At home, the American people are staring into the void of “limited government” — not the libertarian fantasy version, but the actual, horrifying reality of unpaid workers, stalled benefits, and shuttered services. Meanwhile, DJ T is somewhere overseas explaining to a confused crowd that “nobody’s ever done a shutdown like this before — people are saying it’s the best one ever.”

This is leadership, Trump-style: when the country is burning, you don’t grab a hose — you grab a flight. The shutdown isn’t a problem to solve; it’s a prop to wield. Every missed paycheck, every furloughed worker, every hungry family is just another line in his campaign speech about “draining the swamp” — never mind that the swamp is now overflowing with his own staffers’ resignation letters.

And yet, to hear him tell it, this chaos is all part of the master plan. “You need a little pain for greatness,” he insists, as if he’s some Ayn Rand character and not the living embodiment of a reality show that got out of hand. Of course, the pain is never his. It’s for “the little people” — the ones who believed him when he said he’d fight for them, not flee the country mid-crisis like a monarch avoiding the peasants’ pitchforks.

As DJ T parades around the globe demanding praise, the United States sits in bureaucratic purgatory — a nation held hostage by a man whose definition of leadership is making sure someone, somewhere, is still calling him “Sir.”

The government shutdown may be historic in scope, but the president’s absence is historic in scale. If leadership is presence, accountability, and action — then DJ T has perfected the opposite: absentee arrogance, deflection, and ego tourism.

America doesn’t have a president right now. It has a brand ambassador — one who’s too busy hawking his myth of greatness abroad to notice the country collapsing at home.

So as the lights flicker out in Washington, remember: the man who promised to “make America great again” can’t even be bothered to stay in it.