Dwain Northey (Gen X)

There’s a special kind of clarity that comes from watching someone accuse another person of losing touch with reality while simultaneously uploading Renaissance fan fiction of themselves as the Son of God.

I mean, I try to stay open-minded. Maybe I’m the one who’s confused. Maybe this is what humility looks like now. Maybe when Donald John Trump criticizes the pope, it’s not hypocrisy—it’s just… peer review. You know, one spiritual authority checking another. Totally normal. Happens all the time. I’m sure Pope Francis wakes up every morning wondering, “But what would Donald-as-Jesus think about this?”

Because that’s where we are. Not metaphorically. Not “he thinks highly of himself.” No, we’ve blown past metaphor and landed squarely in full-color, soft-focus imagery of Trump performing miracles like he just wandered off the set of a low-budget Easter special. Healing the sick, blessing the masses—probably just one executive order away from turning Mar-a-Lago water into wine.

And somehow, in the middle of all this, the pope is the one being called out.

Now, I’m not a theologian, but I feel like there used to be some ground rules. Modesty, maybe? A vague hesitation before self-appointing as the central figure of Christianity? But perhaps that’s outdated. Maybe the new gospel starts with, “In the beginning was the brand, and the brand was tremendous.”

What fascinates me isn’t even the imagery—it’s the absolute confidence. The kind of confidence where you can post yourself as Jesus on Monday and question someone else’s moral authority on Tuesday without even a hint of internal friction. That’s not cognitive dissonance. That’s cognitive surround sound.

And look, maybe it’s not hypocrisy. Maybe it’s performance art. Maybe we’re all just too unsophisticated to appreciate the nuance of a man who can simultaneously play critic, savior, and social media influencer in the same news cycle. That’s range. That’s versatility. That’s… exhausting.

Because from where I’m sitting, it feels less like a debate about faith and more like a casting call where one guy decided, “You know what? I’ll just play all the roles. God, prophet, critic—why limit myself?”

And the rest of us are left squinting at our screens, wondering if we’re witnessing satire, delusion, or just the logical endpoint of a world where self-awareness quietly packed its bags and left years ago.

But hey, maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe tomorrow he’ll post himself parting the Red Sea, and we can all finally agree—it’s not hypocrisy.

It’s just content.