Well, good morning, Mugwumps. Pour yourself some strong coffee, because this past weekend was a Lot.
In case you somehow slept through it — bless you, honestly — President Trump was hastily evacuated from the White House Correspondents’ Dinner last Saturday night after a gunman tried to breach security and was apprehended by Secret Service. A “lone actor,” armed with a shotgun and other weapons, charged a security checkpoint at the Washington Hilton, exchanging gunfire with law enforcement and sparking absolute chaos inside the ballroom where Trump and other dignitaries were rushed from the stage. A Secret Service agent wearing a bullet-resistant vest was shot and taken to a hospital. He’s okay. Thank God for that.
Here’s the thing though. Before the smoke had even cleared — before anyone had fully processed the sight of tuxedoed guests ducking under their tables while officers in tactical gear with long guns jumped over them — our president had already figured out the real takeaway from the evening.
It was about the ballroom.
His ballroom. The one he’s building. The one that’s going to be the greatest, most beautiful ballroom anyone has ever seen in the history of ballrooms, possibly in the history of the universe itself.
In the briefing and then on his vanity social media, Truth Social, Trump said the venue was “not a particularly secure building” and that this incident emphasized the need for the White House ballroom he is having built.
There it is. Gun smoke still hanging in the air. A Secret Service agent recovering. And Donald Trump’s most pressing thought is to pivot to real estate.
Because this is the man who will not — will not — lift a single presidential finger to protect the children and citizens of this country from gun violence. No universal background checks. No red flag laws with any teeth. No meaningful action of any kind on the epidemic of mass shootings that has become so normalized we barely flinch anymore. The eight children in Shreveport killed just days before this dinner? The kids at Uvalde? Sandy Hook? Parkland? Those shootings weren’t useful to Donald Trump, so they were tragedies to be briefly acknowledged and then efficiently forgotten.
But this shooting? Oh, now we’re talking. Now guns are a problem worth solving. Specifically, the problem of Donald Trump not having a grand enough venue in which to impress foreign dignitaries.
The man has the emotional consistency of a weathervane in a tornado.
And let’s talk about this ballroom, while we’re here, because it is truly one of the great grifts of our age, presented with the kind of shameless grandeur that you almost have to admire, the way you almost admire a really audacious con artist right before they take your wallet. Initially announced at a cost of $200 million, the price tag increased to $300 million by October 2025, and then to $400 million by December. Architects have identified numerous problems with the design plans, including an exterior grand staircase leading to a side of the building that has no door, columns that would block interior views and daylight, fake windows, and a staircase that would break the symmetry of the White House driveway.
A staircase to nowhere, folks. A $400 million staircase to nowhere. I genuinely could not make this up.
He demolished historic magnolia trees planted as memorials for Presidents Harding and Roosevelt. A federal judge — a George W. Bush appointee, mind you — ruled that Trump had no legal authority to do any of this, writing that “The President of the United States is the steward of the White House for future generations of First Families. He is not, however, the owner!” Trump responded by continuing construction anyway, because laws are for other people.
Meanwhile, the White House is now estimating $377 million in renovation spending this year alone — an 866% increase from what was spent during fiscal year 2025.
Eight hundred and sixty-six percent. On a ballroom. With a staircase that goes nowhere.
And the point of all this? Trump’s stated rationale is that the White House is “unable to host major functions honoring world leaders and other countries without having to install a large and unsightly tent approximately 100 yards away from the main building entrance.” Tents, people. The man torched the East Wing of the White House because he doesn’t like tents. Joe Biden held state dinners in tents. Most of us have weddings in tents. Tents are fine.
But last night, as chaos erupted around him and a gunman charged the checkpoint just outside the ballroom, Donald Trump saw clearly — perhaps for the first time with crystalline moral precision — that the real lesson here was about square footage. About seating capacity. About his building, his legacy, his vision for the greatest ballroom of all time.
The children shot in their classrooms didn’t give him that clarity.
The shamelessness is almost theatrical. Almost. If it weren’t attached to actual policy consequences for actual human beings, you could almost sit back and marvel at the performance.
Almost.
Stay curious, stay mouthy, and for the love of all that is holy — stay safe out there.
— Randy
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