Dwain Northey (Gen X)

All Hail the Return of the King (We Never Asked For)

Today marks the sacred anniversary—the near-holy day—when Dear Lord King Donald the First was inaugurated for the second time, bravely reclaiming the throne from the terrifying specter of… economic stabilization. And truly, we must pause, bow our heads, and give thanks. Because he did exactly what he promised. Exactly. Word for word. Like a prophecy carved into a gold-plated teleprompter.

Thank you, Donald Trump, for saving us from the unbearable nightmare of Biden’s economic “recovery.” Who among us could have survived such horrors as slowing inflation, steady job growth, and the faint possibility that a recession caused by Trump’s own spectacular economic face-plant might not return? That was a close one. A nation nearly doomed by competence. Thankfully, you were there to rescue us from that cliff by driving us straight off another—this time with confidence, volume, and a parade of self-congratulation.

And how successful you’ve been. Once again, America stands tall—alone—on the world stage. A beacon of something. Not leadership, not trust, not stability, but definitely attention. Allies squint at us the way one squints at a raccoon holding a lit match: fascinated, concerned, backing away slowly. Treaties are optional. Diplomacy is for the weak. Subtlety is for losers. Why work with the world when you can antagonize it and then demand applause for your bravery?

You promised us chaos, and by God you delivered. Markets jittery? Check. Institutions strained? Check. Norms shredded like classified documents in a Mar-a-Lago bathroom? Check. America once again reduced to a cautionary tale told in international relations classes: “And here we see what happens when grievance becomes governance.”

But let’s be fair. You didn’t just bring us back to chaos—you brought us back to a familiar chaos. The warm, nostalgic chaos of daily outrage, late-night constitutional crises, and waking up every morning wondering which ally we insulted, which law we bent, and which group we blamed before breakfast. It’s comforting, really. Like returning to a hometown you escaped, only to remember exactly why you left.

And the tone—oh, the tone. Regal. Vindictive. Perpetually aggrieved. A king who must always be praised, never questioned, and constantly reassured that everyone is being very unfair to him. A ruler whose greatest achievement is convincing millions that accountability is oppression and loyalty is patriotism. Long live the monarchy, where elections are suspicious, judges are enemies, and the press is treasonous unless it’s clapping.

So thank you, Donald Trump. Thank you for bringing us back to a world we always feared but somehow never quite wanted. A world where America is louder but weaker, prouder but smaller, and endlessly consumed with protecting one man’s ego at the expense of everything else. A world where “greatness” is measured not by how well a nation functions, but by how often its leader appears on screen.

Today, we mark the anniversary. Not with celebration, but with recognition. You kept your promise. And now we all get to live with it.