Episode 29: Person of the Year, Youngest Press Flack, and the Dawn of Presidential Dread

Yesterday, Thursday, November 12, 2024, the Transitionarium was abuzz—and not the fun kind.

It was the anxious, “Oh dear, he’s actually going to be president again” kind.

You could see it on Trump’s face.

Yes, he basked in being Time’s Person of the Year (again) and rang the NYSE opening bell like it was a grand victory fanfare.

But now that the confetti had settled, the corners of his mouth drooped slightly, as if he was finally realizing: “Wait, I actually have to govern all these people?”

Part 1: The Musk Mirage

Let’s start with the Elon Musk fiasco. The press keeps accusing Musk of shadow-governing Trump’s policies.

In reality, Musk showed up once before the election—unexpectedly, like a party crasher who finishes the last of your dip and then claims credit for the entire soirée.

Trump hated that stage-hopping moment, and ever since he’s called Musk “Moose-Mouth Musk,” planning some petty revenge scenario where Musk gets forced behind a giant fern at a press event.

And yet, the media’s convinced Musk is some secret policy guru.

Our brand-new incoming White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt—27, fresh-faced, and hopefully not yet disillusioned—had to stand before the cameras and repeatedly assure the press: “No, Elon is not designing our immigration stance. No, he’s not beaming policy memos via SpaceX satellite.”

She said it with a smile that screamed, “I’m not being paid enough for this.”

Trump listened from the sidelines, arms folded, the same tense grin plastered on his face.

Perhaps this was the moment he realized: controlling the narrative is trickier than selling condos in Atlantic City.

Part 2: Time Person of the Year—Again

Sure, getting crowned Time’s Person of the Year a second time should have been a pure ego boost.

But after the NYSE bell-ringing and the parade of reporters asking “Why invite Xi Jinping to the inauguration? Is Putin on the guest list too?” even Trump looked a little rattled.

Back in 2016, it was simpler: take the helm and watch everyone scramble.

Now, he’s knee-deep in a return engagement.

He must actually show results, not just ratings.

His shoulders sagged as he realized Person of the Year doesn’t come with a magic wand to make allies compliant, opponents silent, or headlines pleasant.

Part 3: ICE, Ukraine, and the Grim Reality

The reporters pressed on about plans to let ICE agents make arrests at schools, hospitals, weddings—even funerals.

In 2016, such policy shocks would’ve been a moment of absolute showman glee.

Now, Trump’s eyes flickered.

Did he sense the human toll this might represent?

Or maybe just the looming PR nightmare?

Hard to say.

Meanwhile, his new stance on Ukraine—criticizing their use of American missiles—felt like a complicated knot he’d have to untie. International conflict wasn’t going to melt away just because he said so.

The reality that diplomacy isn’t just a mic-drop moment hit home, and he looked about as thrilled as a toddler forced to share his toys.

Part 4: Kellyanne’s Vanishing Act and Leavitt’s Baptism by Fire

Kellyanne Conway is gone—off to do some “radio show” thing (or “radion” as Trump once mispronounced it before glaring at us all for daring to remember). In her place stands Leavitt, the youngest incoming White House press secretary ever, who might still believe in the noble art of spin.

Poor thing.

She’s stuck fielding questions about Elon Musk’s “influence,” explaining ICE’s new overreach, and dodging queries about whether Canada is about to become the 51st state (after Trump’s little annexation “joke” to Trudeau).

If Leavitt had dreams of crafting inspiring narratives, she’s learning fast that every day here is an exercise in firefighting with a plastic squirt gun.

Part 5: The NATO Nod and the Canadian Cringe

NATO’s Mark Rutte agreeing with Trump’s stance on defense spending should have been a victory lap moment.

But the cheers sound hollow when you’re juggling so many controversies at once. And while Trudeau hasn’t retaliated for the Canada statehood joke (yet), the embarrassment lingers like an awkward uncle at Thanksgiving.

Trump, once a master of brash confidence, now has a hint of desperation behind that grin—how can he keep the show going when the world isn’t playing its part?

Part 6: The Weight of It All

By the time the day wound down, the President-elect’s bravado softened.

Staffers noticed him lingering by a window, staring at the city lights, muttering something about “Moose-Mouth Musk” and “Time covers don’t fix headaches.”

The realization that the next four years will involve more than rally chants and magazine covers might have finally struck.

The show rolls on, but there’s a new tension in the air. Maybe tomorrow he’ll bounce back with fresh bravado—he usually does.

But for one fleeting moment yesterday, we saw the faintest flicker of recognition: this job isn’t just lights, cameras, and tweets—it’s an endless maze of messy policy details and unruly global players, none of whom care about your Person of the Year accolade.

Yours in uneasy laughter and carefully stifled “I told you so”s,
Musk Mystery Manager and Wince-Worthy Policy Whisperer