To borrow a phrase from George W. Bush, that was "some weird s**t." Holly Baxter's assessment of Donald Trump's peculiar one-year anniversary takeover of the White House briefing room captures the bewildering nature of Tuesday's events. The 20th of January 2026 marked the first anniversary of Trump's second presidency, yet the spectacle that unfolded was far from the explosive, high-octane performances that have defined his political career.
A Departure from Trump Normal
It's challenging to articulate precisely how strange this press conference appeared, primarily because it demands a firm grasp of what constitutes "Trump Normal." Trump Normal, of course, is inherently abnormal. Yet it follows a predictable pattern: random shouting, dramatic gesticulations, rambling monologues punctuated by grandiose announcements, aggressive rhetorical questions, and insults directed at perceived opponents. This familiar format has become almost reliable, even oddly comforting in a Stockholm Syndrome-esque manner for seasoned observers. Today's display, however, deviated sharply from that established norm.
A Low-Energy Presentation
A visibly struggling President Trump emerged before the White House press corps, remarking with subdued surprise, "Wow, that's a lot of people." He carried an A4 binder hundreds of pages thick, labelled "ACHIEVEMENTS," alongside colour printouts concerning "Minnesota criminals." Strikingly, he seemed unable to muster his characteristic vitriol towards the subjects of these documents.
In a baffling, meandering session, the president approached the podium and awkwardly stated, "These are achievements," as if clarifying the obvious title on his binder. He then embarked on a visual tour of materials headlined "MINNESOTA: WORST OF THE WORST." The intended message was a show of strength, alleging protesters in Minnesota were murderers, drug dealers, and possibly involved in genocide. He described "vicious, mentally insane killers" and "paid agitators and insurrectionists," focusing particularly on "Somalians" with "low IQs" who allegedly fund "Democrat protesters" purchasing luxury vehicles.
Yet, the customary rage was absent. His delivery evoked a grandfather post-Thanksgiving dinner, drowsy and lethargic. Among the rambling claims were assertions that Ilhan Omar is corrupt and jobless, that Somalia isn't a proper country but would be the worst if it were, that South American insane asylums are empty due to a border conspiracy to disrespect Biden, and that California would instantly become Venezuela under Gavin Newsom. Hearing such statements delivered with the energy of a hungover uncle was profoundly disconcerting.
Muttering and Misfiring
As he displayed picture after picture, Trump occasionally muttered, "Look—he killed somebody," or, "Weapons. This one was very bad." Upon reaching the end of his stack, he simply let the pages fall to the floor. The presentation then shifted to familiar topics: the border, tariffs, the economy. He argued unemployment numbers are misleadingly named, accused Democrats of inflating employment figures via federal payrolls, and claimed firing millions led to better private-sector jobs.
"I don't like to do this, to be honest with you," the president remarked at one point, and for once, he seemed believable. Leaning heavily on the podium, his complexion appeared paler than usual. He paused for breath between ordinary sentences, and his thoughts spiralled not in the calculated rage-bait weave he typically employs, but in a manner suggesting confusion or memory lapse regarding his earlier statements.
He claimed, "I like the Hells Angels, they voted for me. They protected me," moments after seemingly insulting them. Discussing criminals needing deportation, he stated, "They came from the Congo. I know the Congo because I ended the war with the Congo and Rwanda. Tough group." Referring to border crossers, he described them as "Democrat..." followed by a long pause, "...sort of aligned." The event eventually petered out in an uncharacteristically subdued fashion.
An Exhausted Performance
In essence, this Very Special Episode was neither a rally nor a policy speech, nor even a coherent attempt at either. It featured a tired man mechanically performing his standard act—shouting into the void, hurling paper at a room—yet the engine was misfiring. The theoretical rage remained, but the delivery was exhausted. The conviction had vanished, evoking comparisons to the final days of the Biden administration.
Happy anniversary, Mr. President. Against all odds, you have achieved the seemingly impossible: sustaining this act long enough to become, astonishingly, boring.
