Trump Puts His Face on U.S. Passports

Hilarity ensues. (*CALL THE MEDICS.)

BUT FIRST!

I promised you guys I’d try to figure out how to create a subscriber directory… and I *think* I did it. It took me 3,294 tries [actual figure] and I am eleventy thousand percent positive there will be glitches, issues, and possibly (but hopefully not), a need to start over from scratch. But if you’re up for being part of the beta launch, check it out. Sign up. Search it. Let me know how it works… or if it doesn’t.

NOTES: For privacy and safety reasons, I did not include fields for home address, phone, or email. (I did put city/state/country/zip code, however, so you should be able to find folks in your area.) If you want to connect with someone, click on their @handle and it should take you to their Substack home page, where you can reach out via DM.

It’s hard for me to test the functionality because as of this minute, there are exactly two members—me and my very patient and supportive husband WHO BY THE WAY EXACTLY 26 YEARS AGO TODAY stood on a cliff and promised to love me for the rest of ever—or at least until one of us was finally able to rest in peace.
(You know, because we can’t hear the other one snoring anymore.)

Happy anniversary, baby—I got you on my miiiiiind ♫♪♩♬♭.

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If there’s one thing Donald Trump isn’t, it’s modest. He’s called himself “a very stable genius,” “more presidential than anybody other than the great Abe Lincoln,” and “an extraordinarily brilliant person—as everyone knows.” He loves his moniker more than a suburban dad loves his leaf blower. He wanted Dulles Airport and Penn Station renamed after him. There’s been Trump Tower. Trump Steaks. Trump Vodka (“Success, Distilled,” which feels like satire but wasn’t). Trump University (RIP). Trump: The Game (all proceeds donated to charity though!). Bottled water. Hotels. Neckties. Golf courses. Donald Trump, The Fragrance (smells like… ego).

If there were a way to brand oxygen, we’d all be breathing Trump Air™.

And yet somehow, people are absolutely flabbergasted that POTUS is plastering his mug on the inside cover of a new, limited-edition U.S. passport.

“No sitting president has ever done this,” carped Democratic California Congressman Mike Levin. “Coins, park passes, battleships, and now your passport. The man cannot find a surface he will not slap his name or face on. This is not patriotism. It is vanity.”

It’s the mock-shock that gets me.

An optional, limited-edition design needs to be challenged in court? Calm down, Specter.

According to the press, we are one commemorative stamp away from a full monarchy. But let’s zoom out for a second and assess the actual threat level here.

This is a passport. Not all passports. Some passports. Passports issued to mark the United States’ 250th anniversary (something our Very Patriotic President is ESPECIALLY KEEN ON). Passports that you can choose to get—or not. Containing… a picture. On the inside. That you will see approximately once every two to ten years while mildly panicking about whether your shampoo is TSA-compliant.

That’s it. That’s the whole situation. And still—still!—we’re doing the full “this is a deeply concerning threat to democracy” dance.

Ah yes—ETHICS.

“The passport redesign is the latest example of the president or his allies pushing to put his name, image or signature on institutions in Washington and across the country,” tsked The New York Times. “This year’s National Parks passes display his face alongside George Washington’s, and some of his administration’s initiatives, such as Trump savings accounts for children and TrumpRx, where Americans can buy prescription drugs directly, are named after him.”

“Trump loves putting his name on things!” the panic factory cries. That’s not a revelation—it’s his entire personality, business model, and probably his love language.

No one does satire better than the Bee. (The RFK one had me rolling.)

I know, I know. Most presidents wait until they leave office—or die—and then let other people suggest naming buildings, bridges, highways, hospitals, clinics, libraries, museums, institutions, theaters, and random university wings after them. But saying “Trump is not most presidents” is like saying “Lia Thomas is not most female swimmers.” Congrats on picking up on that. Really. Maybe you’ll get a shot at performing at the rescheduled White House Correspondents’ Dinner.

I can’t stand Newscum, but I’ll give him props for Trump-level trolling.

A conspiracy theorist might speculate that the president’s eponym addiction isn’t delusional; it’s deliberate. That perhaps the goal is to gently discourage a certain segment of the population from traveling internationally, visiting our nation’s most spectacular parks, purchasing commemorative coins, buying discounted prescription drugs, hitting top-notch links, sipping “super premium” spirits, or staying in luxury hotels. Why force anyone to boycott your resorts, your golf courses, your neckties, or your vodka, when you can simply make participation feel morally incompatible with their existence?

I’ll reiterate, the retooled artwork is an option. A free upgrade for the fan club. If Trump had merely authorized a “special 250th anniversary passport design” featuring a bald eagle and some fireworks, no one would even know about it. But the man is savvy enough to know that if he Mount Rushmores that thing, the media will pounce. If “How to Get Immediate, Free Advertising” isn’t a chapter in The Art of the Deal… it should be. The only way he could have trumped his own ingenuity would’ve been to charge a premium and funnel the proceeds into his gilded ballroom.

The unintentionally hilarious twist in the “we’re basically a monarchy now” crisis came when—basically the same day the passport refresh dropped—the UK’s Daily Mail enlisted some genealogists to trace Trump’s family tree. Imagine their surprise when their digging revealed that he is actually King Charles’s cousin. Sorry, very distant cousin. The New York Times would like that noted.

But actually.

In what Yahoo breathlessly dubbed “bombshell research” (and The New York Times more or less described as “you and half of Britain, congratulations”), it turns out the two men share a common ancestor, the third Earl of Lennox, who was a great-grandson of King James II of Scotland—a connection that makes them [*checks notes*] 15th cousins. Practically twins.

“Many of the present-day residents of the U.K. and the diaspora all over the world will be descended from medieval kings and queens,” the Times was quick to add. “You could be talking about millions. Over the centuries many royal descendants will have reproduced with those of lower social status, spreading their genes.”

New York Times Editor: “Don’t come out and call Trump a filthy commoner directly… but make it CRYSTAL CLEAR, do you understand?”

Trump, as one might imagine, is delighted by the discovery of his royal bloodline and shared the news—along with his lifelong dream of living in Buckingham Palace—on Truth Social (URL: trumpstruth.org, obviously).

TRUMP: “They said no kings. I said, actually, I’m related to the king. Very good genes. Beautiful bloodline. Just tremendous. People say it’s one of the best.”

Now that Trump can claim to be royal-adjacent, there’s only one thing left to brand: United States currency. Because if there’s one place monarchs consistently put their faces, it’s money. I would not be surprised if POTUS released $45 bills (and $47… and maybe even $48 just to troll folks) with his kisser stamped on the front and “Donald Bucks™” across the top in gold. We’d be the first country on earth with a currency whose “face value” is… subjective.

What do you think about POTUS putting his puss on everything from trading cards and T-shirts to park passes and passports? LMK in the comments!