Scenes from A Humiliation

A picture really does speak louder than words, and yesterday’s Oval Office briefing by President Elon Musk proved it in spades. There he was, in the most exclusive office in D.C., simultaneously manhandling the press while having one of his 11 spawn babysat by some poor subordinate. If Michelangelo were around, this tableau would be on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel—commissioned by a Medici who wanted to show off his power over the Pope

L-R, the Presient, his son, and his manny.

Meanwhile, a slumped Donald Trump sat nearby, wearing the bored, empty stare of a man who wants nothing more than his afternoon pudding. You don’t need a body-language guru to see he’s thoroughly checked out: drooping shoulders, slack jaw, glazed eyes. His single moment of real engagement was with Musk’s kid, Glorbax_Rocketchild42069.¹

Musk—who has apparently given up even the faintest nod toward business casual—rocked a MAGA trucker hat, jeans, boots, and a T-shirt.

Imagine the howls of fury from Fox if an Obama (remember Tan Suitgate?) or Biden advisor tried that look in the Oval. I can say from personal experience that any self-respecting political hack of yesteryear would rather die than step foot in that room without a jacket and tie. In my day, you marched to Brooks Brothers and bought a dark suit, crisp shirt, and red tie. That was the uniform.