Kick Him Right In the Ballroom

My plan for the part of Trump's legacy he cares most about.

I wonder if as he lies in bed, Donald Trump’s last thought before drifting off to sleep is how wonderful it would be if all of the world was a giant ballroom dripping with gold, the DJ playing his favorite tunes while one hot broad after another in a low-cut gown comes up to the dais to tell him how great he looks, forever and ever.

Even before the attempted assassination at the White House Correspondents Association dinner gave him the opportunity to enlist his small army of sycophants in an intense round of ballroom advocacy, the subject had been increasingly occupying Trump’s mind and attention. As the Wall Street Journal reported week before last, he has been preoccupied with the ballroom, bringing it up in meetings about more serious issues and digressing into monologues about the it when he’s supposed to be speaking about other issues. “Advisers said he has multiple meetings a week on the topic and views himself as the general contractor,” the paper wrote.

There are a number of reasons why he might be focused so intently on the ballroom, but my take is that deep down, Trump knows he’s terrible at being president. But building a ballroom? This, he knows how to do. It’s comfortable ground for him. He doesn’t have to deal with recalcitrant Iranians, snooty Europeans, a feckless Congress, or a public that refuses to give him the credit he deserves. He can retreat to his happy place, looking over blueprints and fabric swatches, bullying contractors, and fantasizing about how great things will be when it’s finally built.

Ever since he took office last January, he has been trying to alter the physical landscape of Washington, DC. He may not be able to seize Greenland, but he can slap his name on half the buildings the federal government owns and build more monuments to himself, so his greatness will live on. He wants to erect a gargantuan arch near Arlington National Cemetery. He wants to create a “golden fleet” of battleships, of course to be named for him (“The US Navy will lead the design of these ships along with me, because I’m a very aesthetic person,” he said). And above all there is the ballroom, so every subsequent president, losers all, will have to spend time in what he created.

The moment the Secret Service hustled him out of the Washington Hilton on Saturday night, he knew this was his chance to sell the ballroom. After all, if a president can’t go to gala dinners every few days within the comfort and security of the White House, is he even really the president at all? What could be more important than ballroom construction?

So he took to Truth Social, which serves as a talking points distribution method for his staff, Republicans in Congress, and conservative pundits, to tell them what to say.

The troops did their duty. “The ballroom will be a solution for this. It’ll have 7-inch thick glass, so it’ll be a very safe environment to do events like that,” said House Speaker Mike Johnson. “A ballroom is imperative,” said Rep. Mike Lawler. “This is why the president should get his ballroom,” said Louisiana Gov. Jeff Landry. “We gotta build that ballroom as soon as possible,” said Rep. Michael Rulli. What would improve security at events like this, Fox News asked Rep. Pat Fallon? “Certainly, the White House ballroom,” he responded. In fact, you’d have to literally have lost your mind not to want this ballroom. “Trying to stop a ballroom? This is Trump derangement syndrome,” said Sen. Rick Scott. That’s not to mention what happened on social media, where too many Trump fans to count explained that the case for the ballroom is now closed.

“The one good thing is now everybody knows how badly needed [the ballroom] is,” Trump told Fox News. “The White House ballroom project is not just a fun project for President Trump like you will read in the media. It is actually critical for our national security,” said spokesperson Karoline Leavitt. Why just imagine if, rather than riding through Dealey Plaza in a convertible, John F. Kennedy had been driving in circles around a ballroom? Checkmate, libs. The ballroom is apparently the ivermectin of presidential security: Whatever the problem is, the ballroom can solve it.

At the moment, construction of the ballroom is somewhat in doubt because of a lawsuit filed by the National Trust for Historic Preservation (naturally, after Saturday’s incident the acting attorney general sent a threatening letter to the group demanding it drop its suit and claiming that “Your lawsuit puts the lives of the President, his family, and his staff at grave risk”). But I suspect that Trump will eventually succeed in getting this pyrite monstrosity built before he leaves office.

On the day it is completed, Trump will walk in, look around at the gold chandeliers and gold curtains and gold sconces, thrust his arms out, and spin around like Julie Andrews at the opening of The Sound of Music.

But that’s okay. Because that will give us the satisfaction of seeing it destroyed, knowing that it will drive him absolutely mad with rage. In fact, Democratic primary voters should demand that anyone who wants to be president in 2028 come up with a post-ballroom plan, just as they feel obligated to release plans on health care, immigration, and other policy issues.

It shouldn’t be enough to just say “I’ll tear that sucker down” — that’s just the starting point. They should detail what they want to replace it with. Have some architects and designers come up with plans. It’s big enough that you could use it for many purposes. A museum space honoring the contributions of immigrants to American progress? Absolutely. A child care center for the kids of White House staff? Why not? Throw all Trump’s chintzy gold junk in the trash, and use the space for something worthwhile. Have a dedication ceremony on live TV with all the people he hates in attendance — the Obamas, the Clintons, Adam Schiff, John Brennan, Bruce Springsteen, maybe even Rosie O’Donnell for good measure.

And one day, when Trump’s time on this Earth is done, he will lie in his bed and, like Charles Foster Kane croaking out “Rosebud” with his dying breath, say one final word: “Ballroom.”

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