If humiliation were an Olympic sport, Donald J. Trump would be the Serena Williams of self-inflicted disasters. The former reality TV host turned one-man constitutional crisis decided to strut into the US Open in New York City, expecting adoring applause. Instead, he was slapped with the sonic equivalent of a Yelp review from hell: 30 uninterrupted seconds of boos so loud, they could be heard echoing all the way to Mar-a-Lago’s panic room.
Yes, America: the crowd booed like they were auditioning for “Boo Idol,” and Trump was their unlucky William Hung.
THE “CENSORSHIP” THAT BACKFIRED HARDER THAN HIS SPRAY TAN
In a move that can only be described as peak authoritarian cosplay, Trump reportedly ordered the United States Tennis Association (USTA) to prevent broadcasters from airing the boos. Because nothing screams “land of the free” quite like a president demanding a censorship filter on his own public humiliation.
Unfortunately for Donnie, New Yorkers invented “not giving a damn,” and half the stadium had their phones out like paparazzi at a Kardashian divorce hearing. Within minutes, the footage hit the internet, and Trump’s attempt to squash the boos became the Streisand Effect of sports events.
EMPTY SEATS, EMPTY CHEERS
To make matters worse, Trump initially waltzed into the stadium before most fans were seated. This left him waving enthusiastically at… nobody. Just rows of empty chairs silently judging him. If there was ever a metaphor for Trump’s dwindling support, it was this: a sweaty man in an oversized suit saluting an army of unoccupied plastic seats.
Oh, and in true Trump fashion, his tardiness held up the start of the match. Because why wouldn’t the “man of the people” delay thousands of tennis fans just so he could enter dramatically to the sound of 20,000 people booing his toupee?
THE PROTESTORS KNEW WHAT TIME IT WAS
Outside the stadium, activists from RefuseFascism.org led chants of “Boo that mother—!” and “Trump must go now!”—which quickly turned into an impromptu New York street festival of anti-Trump catharsis. Somewhere between Broadway and WrestleMania, the scene featured effigies, chants, and enough megaphones to wake up Rudy Giuliani’s hair dye stains.
SCIENCE VS. TRUMP: ROUND 2
While Trump was dodging boos, the scientific community was busy delivering their own clapback. Over 85 climate scientists released a blistering 500-page takedown of a Trump administration report claiming climate change isn’t “that bad.” The rebuttal shredded Trump’s cherry-picked junk data with all the precision of Serena Williams dismantling a rookie opponent.
One scientist described the DOE report as “a feather vs. 1,000 pounds of metal,” which is also a pretty solid description of Trump’s brain vs. reality.
CLUB ROSE GARDEN: NOW WITH EXTRA CORRUPTION
Meanwhile, Trump has apparently transformed the White House Rose Garden into his own Mar-a-Lago spinoff, dubbed “Club Rose Garden.” Think: velvet ropes, overpriced shrimp cocktails, and oligarch karaoke nights—all courtesy of U.S. taxpayers. Because nothing screams patriotism like turning the nation’s most historic garden into a VIP lounge for billionaires who think paying taxes is socialism.
BOOING: THE NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM
As protests erupted from Washington D.C. to Chicago—where demonstrators beat Trump effigies with baseball bats like piñatas of fascism—Trump’s inner circle scrambled for excuses. Treasury stooges blamed the Federal Reserve for his cratering economy, forgetting that Trump himself appointed Jerome Powell. It’s like burning down your house and then blaming the smoke alarm.
And through it all, Trump doubled down, insisting we’re living in a “golden age.” Which is true, if you’re an oil executive, a Russian oligarch, or a Mar-a-Lago waiter pocketing hush money tips. For everyone else? Not so much.
FINAL SERVE: LOVE-30, TRUMP
Donald Trump, booed mercilessly by New Yorkers who weren’t buying his dictator-on-tour routine. And unlike the rigged rallies he’s used to, there was no MAGA DJ blasting “YMCA” loud enough to drown out reality. Just 30 seconds of pure, unfiltered democracy in action: a chorus of “nope” from the people who know him best.
And if Trump can’t handle New Yorkers booing him, maybe he should take his act overseas—to Russia, perhaps, where Vladimir Putin is always looking for new opening acts.
Because in America? The only crowd Trump’s winning over these days is the one in his own head.
