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I never thought I’d see the day when the leader of the free world would so consistently sound like a 78-year-old toddler, perpetually aggrieved, forever the victim, always a snowflake. I genuinely never expected that not only would we elect such an unqualified person to the highest office, but that we’d put someone so chronically fragile and thin-skinned in charge of the nuclear codes. A man who has the power to shape the destiny of the world, yet spends his days on social media crying about how unfairly he’s treated. He’s the most powerful person on the planet, yet somehow always the victim.

It’s exhausting. For the last several years, Americans have watched this sideshow with a mix of shock, anger, and embarrassment. Trump, the self-styled alpha male, is in reality the weakest kind of leader – a man for whom every slight is a mortal wound, every criticism an unforgivable sin. He lashes out at late-night comedians, retired generals, Gold Star families, and 17-year-old climate activists. He whines about TV ratings, magazine covers, and polls that don’t sufficiently stroke his ego. If there’s one thing he’s consistent about, it’s his ability to make every minor inconvenience or critique about himself – a truly remarkable feat for a man who claimed he would restore American strength and resolve.

Think about it: every time Trump gets criticized, his first instinct isn’t to reflect, adapt, or push forward. It’s to whine. To blame. To find someone else to point the finger at. He’s the kid in the group project who insists he did all the work, even though everyone knows he didn’t. He’s the guy who shows up to a pickup basketball game, gets lightly bumped, and demands a foul – every single time.

I’m not saying a president has to be a stoic, stone-faced statue. I’m saying that in a country that prizes resilience, we ended up with a president who embodies its exact opposite. For someone who claims to be a fighter, he sure spends a lot of time throwing pity parties for himself.

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