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Folks, do you hear that?
That’s the sound of a presidency losing its grip. Not with a whisper, but a chorus of whistles, hisses and taunts echoing through Arthur Ashe Stadium as Donald Trump occupied the U.S. Open in much the same way he had troops invade Washington, D.C.
Troops and Trump don’t have a lot in common, with the national guard having volunteered to join the military. Instead of bone-spurring their way out of service to head to the nearest beauty-pageant-changing room to peak in on any 15-yr olds present.
But they are all in places nobody wants them. That they do share.
Yes, yesterday Trump showed up at the U.S. Open men’s final. And the crowd made clear exactly how they felt about this particular disturbance in the force.
Despite the USTA’s panicked plea to broadcasters to suppress any negative reaction, the boos exploded through the microphones of ESPN and ABC.
“Clearly audible,” was how one reporter put it. Sort of like a Giuliani fart during a hearing to try and swipe an election in Michigan.
This wasn't just a tennis match. These are supposed to be Trump’s people. More well-to-do than your average MAGA diaper-donner. Including the super-elite that even qualify for Trump tax cuts.
And, yet, like everyone else exposed to this miserable lifetime failure at…doing everything, over the past six to seven months, they’re ready to place him on the nearest Venezuelan vessel in the South Caribbean.
And he can lie all day about how much they loved him—and he will—but he knew it, and it killed him inside.
It was the most unflattering metaphor yet for the physically faltering felon’s crumbling stature.
Instead of genuine fanfare, what we saw was a political splash back, a reminder that even on what should be his home turf, Trump's aura of colossal cock-up now tempts overwhelming contempt.
Meanwhile, while Trump retreats—or TACOs, if you will—from major flashpoints, like reversing his threats to bring war to Chicago, something deeper is swirling just below the surface.
The vice president, equal parts socially dumbfounded and loyal on the record, did note he’s ready to lead if “God forbid” something were to happen to Trump. Even as he insisted the president is “in great health.”
This during a week when Trump looked like someone had dug up Warren Harding and he avoided the press, the latter of which he loves like the son he never had.
Meanwhile, Vance’s remark and growing opposition from other former supporters— from Elon Musk to MTG—prompted speculation that JD, with some help from his Christian fascist friends and broligarch fascist friends, may just be eyeing the top job. And thinking it may become available sooner than 2028.
This one’s gotta still sting
In other words, if you walked in on Vance suddenly, besides the sofa porn strewn all over the floor, you shouldn’t be surprised to see him leafing through the succession manual.
Or practicing donut orders so he can really nail that one in the future! Also the whole knocking on people’s doors in Greenland and maybe finding one family who won’t tell him to “fuck off” in .02 seconds thing.
On another front, the pharma giants aren’t waiting patiently. Trump’s “most-favored-nation” drug pricing diktat—demanding that U.S. drug prices match the lowest developed-nation price—was only the beginning.
Threats of 250% tariffs (because, of course, threaten and then back off, right Cankles McTacoTits?) on drug imports and other heavy-handed tactics have pharma writ large girding for a fight. They might just get their revenge, and wouldn’t that be fun for us all to see those two duking it out.
Then there’s Kentucky’s Thomas Massie—ever the rogue Republican—leaning into transparency over the Epstein files. And pushing a discharge petition to drag them into the light, right on the House floor.
If one listened closely enough, they could almost hear him belching “booo,” “booo,” at the U.S. Open.
Trump has called Massie an “embarrassment,” and threatened his seat.
But Massie has survived Trump’s threats before, and more than any other Republican elected official in Trump’s entire Washington experience, seems to have openly declared war on the doughy, eggplant-handed, cankle-sore.
He’s out there, pulling at the threads of an administration he once helped elevate.
So what unites all of these disparate folks and organizations now ready to take on Trump? The story is simple:
Trump—once in control, now at best tolerated, at worst outright booed.
Vance—positioning himself as the backup plan, just in case.
U.S Open attendees—know a dick when they see one
MTG/Musk—sensing weakness, ready to pounce
Big Pharma—readying its legal musketeers to pull Trump into their world.
Massie—flinging open doors on controversies Trump desperately wants swept under the rug.
Each piece of this tapestry paints an exquisite portrait of a onetime bully who’s lost a step.
Who has folks speculating on just how often he adorns the Epstein files. Wondering if the Grim Reaper was in town last week and just had the wrong address.
Trump is like an old mob boss on his way to Sparks Steak House for a nice New York Strip. His weakness has created a vacuum. And we know what loves a vacuum, right?
That doesn’t mean we should all be ready to pop a cork. That we won’t have to fight every damn day to get past this misbegotten era of our politics with an absurd clown-in-chief.
Trump, even if he’s falling, will try and tear every last thing down with him, because outside of his own foul corpus, he cares for nothing.
But this does provide some promise. The crowd at the U.S. Open wasn’t just booing a politician—they were sounding the trumpet for every fracture beneath the glittering surface of power.
And if you’re paying attention, that sound is only getting louder.
