Trump’s Clown Diplomacy
TBR Sunday Read
As the world’s most famous bone-spur patient launches the dumbest war in American history, let’s examine a more under-the-radar act of idiocy he’s committed on the world stage. Thankfully, this one hasn’t resulted in war—yet.
Last year, when Trump was cramming floppy-shoed passengers into his Clown Cybertruck—I mean, choosing members of his new administration—we could be forgiven if his appointment of a US ambassador to The Bahamas eluded our attention.
Distracted by the nomination of such highly-qualified luminaries as Pete Hegseth, Dr. Oz, and Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., we might have overlooked Trump’s stellar addition to the American diplomatic corps: Herschel Walker.
Trump and Herschel go way back. In the 1980s, Walker was a star running back in the USFL, the football league Trump drove into bankruptcy before he launched his storied career of driving casinos into bankruptcy.
Nearly four decades later, Trump rescued his old pal from the purgatory of the football card signing booth. Deeming him a sure bet to win a US Senate seat in Georgia, in 2022 Trump touted the pigskin great’s gridiron achievements while burying aspects of Walker’s biography that mirrored his own: business defaults, the abuse of women, and a false academic claim. (Trump lied about graduating at the top of his class in college; Walker, somewhat less ambitiously, only lied about about being valedictorian in high school.)
But perhaps it was Walker’s similarity to Trump that made Metamucilini think the ex-running back would be an amazing candidate in the first place. In addition to gaining fame through endeavors that had nothing to do with government, Walker exhibited weird obsessions that rivaled Trump’s fixation on the late, great Hannibal Lecter. Campaigning in Hiram, Georgia, Herschel promised, “If you’re a Martian and you live in the United States of America, I’m gonna protect you, too. Because you belong to my family.” In light of the way Walker reportedly treated his family, Martians might want to reconsider invading.
Walker’s most indelible contribution to American political oratory, however, came at a rally in McDonough, Georgia. Telling his audience that he had watched a late-night horror film called “Fright Night, Freak Night, or some kind of night,” he reported, “I don’t know if you know, but vampires are some cool people, are they not? But let me tell you something that I found out: a werewolf can kill a vampire. Did you know that? I never knew that. So, I don’t want to be a vampire anymore. I want to be a werewolf.” Only time will tell whether Herschel realizes his dream of being a werewolf, but on Election Day Georgia’s voters decided he would not be their senator.
But Trump wasn’t done advancing Herschel’s career in public service. On the final Sunday before the 2024 election, he enlisted Walker to introduce him at a campaign rally in Macon, Georgia. The wannabe werewolf complied, screwing up Trump’s name only twice in the process: “my friend, and your friend, Donald Trump Jr.—Donald Trump. Jonald J. Trump.” Apparently, these slip-ups did not diminish Walker in the eyes of Jonald. He told the crowd that, if elected, he would put the former running back in charge of the nation’s missile defense shield.
Fortunately for the American people, he was kidding. Unfortunately for the Bahamian people, Trump had other plans for Herschel. And those plans are going very, very badly.