Donald Trump's tantrums have become so familiar that they're almost comforting – but what really sets him off? The answer may lie not in the specifics of the issue, but rather in the emotional resonance it carries. Take, for instance, his recent meltdown over a Canadian TV commercial featuring Ronald Reagan.
The ad itself was innocuous enough: an audio clip of Reagan's 1987 radio address on tariffs, set to footage of the American West and industry. But Trump couldn't get past the fact that Reagan's words were being used to critique the very same policies he's championed in recent years. The problem wasn't the message itself, but rather the fact that it came from a figure who Trump sees as an icon of American authority – Ronald Reagan.
For Trump, Reagan represents a bygone era of patriotism and authenticity, one that his own brand of politics can only aspire to. The Ontario ad's juxtaposition of Reagan's words with footage of America's heartland was like a slap in the face to Trump's own vision for this country. It's not just about tariffs or trade policies; it's about identity.
Trump's response was classic: to lash out at Canada, and by extension, his perceived nemesis Reagan. By threatening to raise tariffs to 60% on some Canadian goods, he's putting American consumers and workers at risk – a price that may be worth paying for the satisfaction of defying an icon.
But this latest tantrum speaks to something deeper in Trump's psyche. He's a master of self-delusion, always aware of his own duplicity but unwilling to confront it. When Collins called him "financially embattled thousandaire" all those years ago, he responded with a furious display of bravado – sending the column back with a scrawled message that read "The Face of a Dog!" The image of Reagan in his cowboy shirt and rugged authenticity must have been particularly galling to Trump.
In the end, it's not about tariffs or politics; it's about how Trump feels about himself. And when he gets triggered, watch out – because it's not just a tantrum, but a glimpse into the depths of his own psychological fragility.
The ad itself was innocuous enough: an audio clip of Reagan's 1987 radio address on tariffs, set to footage of the American West and industry. But Trump couldn't get past the fact that Reagan's words were being used to critique the very same policies he's championed in recent years. The problem wasn't the message itself, but rather the fact that it came from a figure who Trump sees as an icon of American authority – Ronald Reagan.
For Trump, Reagan represents a bygone era of patriotism and authenticity, one that his own brand of politics can only aspire to. The Ontario ad's juxtaposition of Reagan's words with footage of America's heartland was like a slap in the face to Trump's own vision for this country. It's not just about tariffs or trade policies; it's about identity.
Trump's response was classic: to lash out at Canada, and by extension, his perceived nemesis Reagan. By threatening to raise tariffs to 60% on some Canadian goods, he's putting American consumers and workers at risk – a price that may be worth paying for the satisfaction of defying an icon.
But this latest tantrum speaks to something deeper in Trump's psyche. He's a master of self-delusion, always aware of his own duplicity but unwilling to confront it. When Collins called him "financially embattled thousandaire" all those years ago, he responded with a furious display of bravado – sending the column back with a scrawled message that read "The Face of a Dog!" The image of Reagan in his cowboy shirt and rugged authenticity must have been particularly galling to Trump.
In the end, it's not about tariffs or politics; it's about how Trump feels about himself. And when he gets triggered, watch out – because it's not just a tantrum, but a glimpse into the depths of his own psychological fragility.