Manifest Destiny: the original delusion of grandeur. A
cocktail of American exceptionalism and
Romantic White nationalism, it was based on
the absurd belief that White men were divinely
ordained by baby Jesus to colonize the North
American continent. Democracy and capitalism
were their holy missions - never mind the
indigenous people already here or the land
they plundered along the way. Fast-forward a
couple of centuries, and here comes Donald
Trump, channeling that same narcissistic
energy, aiming to carve his own slice of
forever into the annals of hubris.
The all-high-and-mighty Trump doesn’t dream small. No,
he’s eyeing mineral-rich Canada for conquest.
But let’s be real, annexing Canada is a
logistical nightmare, and patience isn’t
exactly his strong suit. So what’s more
achievable? Slapping his name - and face -
onto Mount Rushmore. But here’s the kicker:
why share? Why settle for one-fourth of a
mountain when you can claim a whole peak for
yourself? After all, Trump’s already declared
George Washington’s digs overrated and Abraham
Lincoln a mere footnote to his own genius. As
for Jefferson, does anyone doubt Trump thinks
of him as some “soft liberal” who didn’t build
nearly enough hotels?
Trump dreams big - like “my-own-mountain” big. It’s not a
question of if he wants to be immortalized in
granite; it’s a question of when. You can
almost hear him now, lounging at Mar-a-Lago,
doodling crude sketches of “Mount Trump” on a
cocktail napkin between rounds of Diet Coke
and grievance tweets.
Let’s pause for a geology lesson: Mount Rushmore, carved
by the notorious bigot Gutzon Borglum, was
supposedly meant to commemorate the first 150
years of U.S. history. Borglum himself
abandoned the project to sculpt a Confederate
monument on Stone Mountain, Georgia - a little
historical tidbit for those keeping score on
whose legacies we celebrate in stone. Adding
new faces isn’t just historically contentious;
it’s structurally impossible. But since when
has structural integrity stopped Trump from
building anything?
Over the years, names like Susan B. Anthony, JFK, and even
Ronald “666” Reagan have been floated as
potential additions. Let’s toss Barack Obama
into the ring for fun. Imagine the MAGA
meltdown! But Trump’s not interested in
sharing. No way. A mountain with his likeness?
Forget a head - he’d demand a full-body
carving, complete with his signature red tie
billowing in the stone breeze. Subtlety, thy
name is not Donald.
Here’s the part where reality meets delusion. The National
Park Service has repeatedly made it clear: no
new faces on Mount Rushmore. But do you think
that’ll stop Trump? This is a man whose love
affair with himself is so shameless that he’s
already plastered photoshopped images of his
mug on Mount Rushmore across MAGA websites.
And then there’s his strategic installation of
Kristi Noem as Secretary of Homeland Security
and Doug Burgum as Secretary of the Interior.
With Noem’s South Dakota roots and Burgum’s
proximity to the Theodore Roosevelt Library -
which conveniently benefited from federal
funding - it’s almost as if Trump is
assembling a granite-dream team.
Let’s not overlook Senate Majority Leader John Thune, a
South Dakota native who’s gone from Trump
critic to begrudging ally. Picture it: Thune
standing at a podium, weighing whether to
fight for Mount Rushmore’s integrity or bow to
the orange overlord. It’s Shakespearean,
really - if Shakespeare wrote comedies about
late-stage democracy.
This isn’t just about Trump’s ego (though it’s mostly
about that). It’s about legitimizing him -
normalizing his brand of narcissism as a
cornerstone of American greatness. It’s the
same playbook the Right used with Reagan. I
remember being live on air in Denver when
Reagan died. I dared to mention his faults -
Iran-Contra, labor busting, mocking the poor.
Three days later, Gazillionaire Philip
Anschutz shut down the station and ended my
11-year run on Rocky Mountain airwaves. Why?
Because the Right understands propaganda, and
they wield it like a scalpel.
A Mount Trump carving would be the ultimate propaganda
victory. A literal monument to vanity and
division, it would cement his place in history
as the patron saint of chaos. But if there’s
one thing we know about Trump, it’s that
nothing - not a single, flippin’ thing - is
off the table. The man who turned branding
into an art form and reality TV into a
presidential campaign isn’t going to let a
little thing like public opinion stop him.
So buckle up, America. We’re living in the golden age of
audacious narcissism. Mount Trump? It’s not
just a pipe dream - it’s a cliffhanger.
