Greetings and welcome to this whirlwind 63rd edition of the Carnival of Fools! The gale forces are up, the windowpanes are rattling, and the house is rockin’ (with domestic problems as much as anything else). Soon it may be levitating in the air and flying apart. But perhaps the Carnival is built on firmer foundations than the pessimists suspect. One way or another, a storm is passing through, so let’s stop speaking in metaphor and address what’s suddenly on the minds of everyone in the political world this week: the future of the Trump administration.

The Crisis Point Cometh

Donald Trump’s political career — at least the one that began in 2015 with his candidacy for the Republican presidential nomination — is arguably best described as a series of crisis points, ones he has forever been able to overcome simply because the next, bigger goal was always out there ahead to goad him onward: Redemption was only another trial or election away. You just could not keep this man down. A legendary Twitter meme expresses the reaction of too many observers to Trump’s indestructible relevance:

“Well, I’d like to see ol Donny Trump wriggle his way out of THIS jam!”

*Trump wriggles his way out of the jam easily*

“Ah! Well. Nevertheless…”

Trump has made fools out of his naysayers, myself very much included, so many times at this point that predicting his political defeat is a mug’s game. (Maybe aliens invade next — the gray ones, I mean, not the Central American ones.) I am instead going to note that these last few weeks have felt like an uncomfortable inflection point, as the right awakens from the daze of Trump’s 2024 reelection and his early flurry of action to realize (1) he has pot-committed the Republicans to an unpopular economic regime that has only further immiserated the new voters he won over last November; and (2) he will never be on the ballot again: whatever personal electoral appeal he holds disappears with him, leaving behind only the unpopular residue of his policies.

With that awareness comes the most natural instinct of all: bracing and positioning yourself for the aftermath. Why are chattering classes fixated on this question now? I can only speculate — everybody has their own theories as to why the animal spirits of politics bestir themselves — and that is of limited value. But I will note that, as a matter of pure chronology, it wasn’t the Tucker Carlson/Nick Fuentes interview (and the attendant controversy engulfing the Heritage Foundation) that really triggered these industry-wide agonistes. It was the November election wipeout.

That Tuesday morning, I warned that “next year’s midterms will prove the ultimate test, but tonight we receive a premonition of their outcome. I predict it will look something like a visitation from Jacob Marley’s ghost.” And that is exactly how it has played: People are shaken at the clear vision of the Republican Party’s post-Trump mortality. The policies aren’t popular; what happens when the man who still personally is can no longer be on the ballot? Where do we go from here?

Now both politicians and policy organizations are beginning to jockey for position on a playing field they can already envision materializing a year or two down the road. As they do so, the implied purpose is to put strategic distance between Trump’s brand and their own. Last Friday, the Indiana State Senate said no to redistricting congressional Democrats out of their seats in 2026 at Trump’s behest. You may approve or disapprove of this. I instead make a neutral observation: A move of defiance this direct tells me, above all else, that these people are contemplating a post-Trump world.

Marjorie Taylor Greene’s public rebellion against Trump is only the outlying most public example of this, the exposed edge of a larger iceberg: The fact that Trump was bullied into endorsing a House vote on the “Epstein files” — after spending all year vehemently, constantly, and publicly opposing it — is far more telling. It is proof that he lacks the ability to bend the GOP caucus to his will. (Technically speaking, only a few members of the GOP caucus defected on the final vote to join with the great mass of Democrats. But in a narrow and ungovernable majority herd of cats, every stray counts.)

More importantly, it is proof that, for the first time since his return to office, he can no longer control the master political narrative. I myself would spin out countless ways Trump could have made the “Epstein files” issue go away in January with little controversy. (In my alternate universe, of course, he hires a competent attorney general and not Pam Bondi.) But that didn’t happen; the reality is that he has fumbled this issue from Day One, refused to cut his losses, and now finds it tethered alongside his limping administration like a hunk of rotten meat putrefying in the noonday sun, attracting flies and other carrion-feeders. He drags it like a ball and chain that holds him captive. And Trump hates nothing in this world so much as being captive to events, as opposed to the maker of them.

I am not dismissing the president as a spent force, not at all. (I emphasize this because I know my critics will invariably accuse me of having done as much.) Trump will retain primary relevance in our political discourse for three more years no matter what, simply because as president, he is The Man Who Decides. (In fact, expect Trump to lean into his executive powers ever more aggressively as his electoral and persuasive ones fade.)

There is no real open rebellion against him, and I doubt one will ever come. Only a politically suicidal fool or an authentic moron would actively court his displeasure. (I rank Thomas Massie among the former and Marjorie Taylor Greene among the latter.) But what clearly now exists — as evidenced by the rumblings of lawmakers who only recently felt a sharp gust of cold electoral wind and know which way it’s blowing — is a newfound willingness to find places to buck Trump or differentiate themselves from him. They no longer fear disobeying him, particularly when they can hide among numbers.

The spell is broken, and people whose lives are professionally devoted to winning elections are beginning to think of a world after Trump. These inchoate forces will take firmer shape once the crest of the 2026 electoral wave rises into view. For now, think of this moment as the deep ocean rumbles before a coming tsunami next year.

Brad Sherman Is a Decrepit Old Pervert

According to Fox News, yet another dirty old sod lurks among the California congressional delegation. “California Democratic Representative Brad Sherman, 71, is defending himself after viral photos appeared to show him viewing pictures of women in their underwear during a flight.”

I’ve seen the photographs of an aged Sherman intently scanning cheesecake shots on his tablet while sitting in the window seat of an airplane, and they’re really quite unfortunate. “This was nothing more than scrolling through Twitter,” said Sherman’s spokesman, blaming Elon Musk and “the algorithm” as he hoped his excuse would never be read by anyone familiar with how Twitter works.

My primary objection here isn’t to the idea of a decrepit old congressman getting caught being “Horny on Main.” (That is my secondary objection, though. Good God, nobody needs that image.) My objection is to Congressman Sherman’s rudeness in scrolling through such stuff in public — obviously more than long enough for a fellow passenger to grab his phone and snap a disgusted picture. It’s selfish and obnoxious personal behavior — akin to listening to music on your phone without earphones — a sign of our degraded times. Some people have no proper sense of place, but it’s depressing to see even aged veteran politicians falling into such indignity.

Imagine No Maduro, It’s Easy If You Try

Donald Trump has ramped up the rhetoric and the international action against Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro in recent weeks, as he blows drug-smuggling boats out of the water and bloviates on Truth Social about the potential for regime change. People are naturally concerned about this, and not just because Marco Rubio has probably been war-gaming this scenario out since he was in his early thirties; it’s because Trump seems like the kind of guy who actually would idly topple a weak and hated South American dictator just to acquire a “neighborhood rep” for doing it.

So you can count me a skeptic of any war for Venezuelan regime change. Or at least you could have until Saturday, when the madman Maduro inflicted a rendition of John Lennon’s “Imagine” upon his people, and the world. (“Peace, peace, peace! Do everything for peace! As John Lennon used to say, right?” Then the slaughter began.) I am now fully committed to the overthrow of Nicolás Maduro, who, after committing one Marxist cruelty after another against his people, has committed an equally great one — perpetuating the memory of that damned song — against us all.

Until next week.