What Did Donald Trump Do Today?
Weekend Recap: May 3 & 4, 2025
Donald Trump’s Meet the Press interview with Kristen Welker, aired in early May 2025, is a chaotic and deeply revealing document of how he envisions power, accountability, and governance in his second term. Rather than offering clarity on national issues, Trump delivers a torrent of grievances, distortions, and menacing declarations that signal a governing philosophy rooted not in constitutional principles but in personal retribution and performative dominance. The interview functions less as a policy forum than as a projection of political force—rhetorically aimed at delegitimizing institutions, elevating himself as the sole arbiter of truth, and foreshadowing an increasingly autocratic posture in office.
On the economy, Trump begins with grandiose claims that the country is “booming again,” attributing declines in gasoline and energy prices to his leadership, while demanding that the Federal Reserve lower interest rates. He claims, falsely, that there is “no inflation,” contradicting ongoing cost pressures reported by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, especially in housing and healthcare. When pressed by Welker on how tariffs might be hurting consumers, Trump doubles down, insisting that “billions are pouring in” from China, and that any increase in prices is negligible. His remark—“people used to buy 30 dolls, now they buy three, it’s fine”—is emblematic of his dismissiveness toward the economic struggles of average Americans. It’s a window into his transactional populism: perform strength, blame others, and reduce economic suffering to consumer choice. His repeated claims that tariffs enrich the country betray either a willful misrepresentation or a fundamental misunderstanding of how trade economics work.
The most alarming portions of the interview concern his attitude toward immigration and the judiciary. Trump describes undocumented immigrants as “mental patients” released by foreign governments to destabilize the U.S.—a baseless claim with echoes of Cold War conspiracy rhetoric. When Welker asks about due process and humane treatment at the border, Trump waves off legal protections, saying “these are not people that deserve lawyers.” His language throughout is dehumanizing and militarized, presenting immigration not as a humanitarian challenge or a legal question, but as an invasion by design. Even more disturbing is his response to a question about Supreme Court rulings he disagrees with. “Let’s see if they can enforce it,” he says flatly, suggesting he may disregard high court decisions altogether. This is not just rhetorical defiance; it’s an explicit threat to judicial authority and the rule of law. Trump is not disguising his willingness to operate outside the constitutional structure—he’s advertising it.
His comments on foreign policy reveal the same lack of coherence, tempered only by dangerous improvisation. He claims to have brokered a peace agreement between Ukraine and Russia, though he provides no evidence, no plan, no sign of international cooperation, and tells Welker, “it’s done if they want it.” He refers to Vladimir Putin as “smart” and “tough,” framing the Russian invasion as a test of Biden’s weakness rather than as an act of aggression. On China, Trump vows to “decouple completely” and suggests that TikTok and other Chinese-owned firms should be seized outright. At one point, he muses about “taking Greenland” again and reviving control over the Panama Canal—flashes of colonial nostalgia wrapped in policy absurdity. These statements may sound unserious, but they align with Trump’s pattern: to erode traditional diplomatic norms, aggrandize unilateral executive power, and distract with spectacle while executing more substantive shifts behind the scenes.
On the use of government institutions, Trump speaks with unprecedented openness about weaponizing the executive branch. He justifies past attempts to have the Department of Justice investigate former staffers and political critics, citing loyalty to the “America First” movement as the litmus test. When Welker raises the issue of prosecutorial independence, Trump counters with personal betrayal narratives, likening dissent to treason. His view of the presidency is not managerial or even ideological—it is feudal. The president is sovereign; all others are either loyal subjects or enemies. In this vein, Trump hints again at possibly seeking a third term, calling the 22nd Amendment “a Democrat thing” and falsely claiming “a lot of people are saying” it could be repealed. He does not commit to abiding by constitutional limits—he floats the possibility that they are optional.
Welker attempts to challenge him repeatedly, but Trump overwhelms her with interruptions, evasions, and misdirection. He casts the press as enemies of the people, mocks the criminal justice system, and reduces every national challenge to a question of personal grievance or conquest. What’s left unspoken is as dangerous as what’s said: Trump never once articulates a vision of unity, never offers policy goals that involve democratic compromise, and never acknowledges the legitimacy of any institution that resists him. His view of leadership is entirely centered on control over the narrative, the levers of government, and the American public’s sense of what is normal.
This interview is not merely a chaotic media appearance but a declaration. Trump is signaling that in his second term, there will be even fewer constraints, even less deference to law or tradition, and an open embrace of autocracy masked in nationalist rhetoric. His economic claims are dishonest, his foreign policy is erratic, and his attitude toward law and institutions is openly defiant. Rather than restore order, he promises vengeance. Rather than govern, he intends to rule.
Donald Trump issued a post on Truth Social that offers a dramatic and nationalistic take on the U.S. film industry's challenges, but the argument is built on exaggeration, flawed logic, and policy overreach.
First, the claim that the American movie industry is “DYING a very fast death” is hyperbolic. While U.S. film production has certainly faced post-pandemic struggles—including changing distribution models, streaming competition, and labor disputes—Hollywood remains a dominant global force in filmmaking and media exports. U.S. studios still generate billions annually and exert enormous cultural influence worldwide. The industry's problems are structural and technological, not the result of foreign sabotage.
Second, the notion that other countries offering production incentives amounts to a “National Security threat” stretches the concept beyond credibility. Nearly every nation uses tax credits or subsidies to support its domestic industries, including the U.S. itself. Georgia, New Mexico, and other U.S. states offer aggressive incentives to retain film production. Calling foreign competition “propaganda” conflates soft power with a direct security threat and risks undermining the U.S. tradition of open markets and cultural exchange.
Third, the proposed 100% tariff on all foreign-produced movies is protectionist, likely illegal under existing trade agreements, and almost certainly counterproductive. It would provoke retaliatory measures, hurt international film partnerships, increase consumer prices, and damage U.S. streaming platforms that rely heavily on global content. Moreover, it ignores the collaborative and transnational nature of modern filmmaking, where financing, talent, and production frequently span borders.
Finally, framing this as a “WE WANT MOVIES MADE IN AMERICA, AGAIN!” issue mimics Trump’s broader economic nationalism, but applies a blunt and poorly tailored tool to a nuanced industry. If the goal is to strengthen American filmmaking, targeted investment in domestic studios, labor support, and creative incentives would be more constructive than blanket tariffs.
In another Truth Social post, Donald Trump called to “REBUILD, AND OPEN ALCATRAZ” in an authoritarian-leaning proposal that substitutes spectacle for substance. The idea of resurrecting Alcatraz—a prison shuttered in 1963 due to high operational costs and its symbolic association with extreme punishment—amounts to little more than political theater. Trump invokes a punitive nostalgia, yearning for a past when, in his words, the nation "did not hesitate to lock up the most dangerous criminals." Rather than engaging with evidence-based approaches to criminal justice, rehabilitation, or public safety, Trump proposes a symbolic fortress of punishment, seemingly designed to project dominance rather than ensure justice.
His post is laced with inflammatory and dehumanizing language, referring to certain offenders as “the dregs of society” who “will never contribute anything other than Misery and Suffering.” This rhetoric is not just cruel—it undermines the foundational principles of due process and the belief that individuals, even those convicted of crimes, retain their human dignity and potential for rehabilitation. Worse, Trump once again conflates undocumented immigrants with violent offenders, claiming that judges are failing to remove “criminals who came into our Country illegally.” This assertion recycles long-debunked claims about immigrant criminality and inflames xenophobic sentiment for political gain.
Further, the post attacks the judiciary, accusing judges of cowardice and enabling lawlessness. This framing is part of Trump’s ongoing pattern of undermining the independence of the courts whenever they do not align with his personal or political agenda. It is an authoritarian gesture that seeks to delegitimize constitutional checks on executive power. The declaration that Trump is “directing” multiple federal agencies—the DOJ, FBI, DHS, and Bureau of Prisons—to coordinate on this plan is another example of his tendency to blur the line between campaigning and governance. Presidential directives typically follow formal channels, not social media posts filled with capital letters and political sloganeering.
Notably absent from the proposal is any legal rationale, fiscal plan, or acknowledgment of logistical feasibility. Alcatraz is now part of the National Park Service, and any effort to rebuild and reoccupy it would require significant congressional funding, environmental impact reviews, and years of planning. Trump’s post contains none of these considerations, because its purpose is not serious policy development—it is a performance designed to stir outrage, affirm loyalty among his base, and further the narrative of a country under siege by enemies from within and without. In that sense, the call to reopen Alcatraz is less about incarceration than about ideology: law and order as spectacle, justice as punishment, and governance as constant warfare.
The Trump administration’s FY2026 “skinny budget,” released by the Office of Management and Budget, functions more as a campaign manifesto than a standard fiscal policy document. The rhetoric throughout is highly charged and ideological, using inflammatory language like “cultural Marxism,” “Green New Scam,” and “criminal aliens” to justify sweeping reductions in non-defense discretionary spending. This approach frames many federal programs not as policy disagreements but as existential threats, eroding the neutrality and professionalism traditionally expected of budget documents. The proposed 23% cut to non-defense spending—amounting to $163 billion—is among the most severe reductions in recent history, targeting essential public investments in education, housing, health, environmental protection, and scientific research. The justifications lean heavily on cherry-picked examples and caricatures of government programs, such as grants supporting “Fa’afafine advocates” or preschool DEI programming, while ignoring the broader social benefits and statutory mandates behind these initiatives.
Simultaneously, the budget dramatically increases funding for defense and border security, including a 13% increase for the Pentagon and a nearly 65% increase for the Department of Homeland Security. The stated purpose is to support military readiness and immigration enforcement, but the framing—describing immigration as an “invasion” and proposing a “mass removal campaign”—relies on dehumanizing and alarmist rhetoric that distorts policy discussion. These priorities reflect a militarized approach to governance that sidelines diplomacy, social cohesion, and humanitarian obligations. Despite claiming fiscal responsibility, the budget offers no detailed strategy for deficit reduction and proposes billions in new spending—on defense, deportation infrastructure, artificial intelligence, and space exploration—while maintaining promises not to touch politically sensitive entitlements like Social Security.
Environmental policy is gutted through the elimination of renewable energy investments, carbon capture programs, and EV infrastructure funding—moves that will likely harm U.S. competitiveness in clean energy markets. In education, the document advocates shutting down the Department of Education, collapsing funding streams into block grants, and diverting resources toward charter schools, all while disparaging DEI and civil rights enforcement efforts. Workforce development is reframed as an anti-immigrant and anti-progressive initiative, with an emphasis on reducing support for nonprofits that help marginalized communities. The proposal simultaneously demands more flexibility for states while aggressively centralizing enforcement powers at the federal level, exposing a selective approach to federalism based on ideological alignment rather than governance efficacy.
What’s most alarming is the authoritarian undertone: the document envisions a government purged of ideological opposition, stripped of regulatory checks, and empowered to act unilaterally through reconciliation bills like the so-called “One Big Beautiful Bill.” It represents a fundamental shift from pluralistic, representative budgeting toward a centralized and politicized redistribution of federal power. Ultimately, this is not a blueprint for responsible governance—it’s a manifesto for consolidating authority under a singular ideological vision, at the expense of institutional independence, factual integrity, and inclusive democracy.
Source: White House Briefing Room
Elon Musk appeared on the Fox News program “My View With Lara Trump” in an interview filled with an incoherent blend of political propaganda, conspiracy theory, and tech-industry self-mythologizing. Musk’s central claims rely heavily on unfounded assertions—most notably, that the Democratic Party is deliberately “importing” illegal immigrants to permanently shift electoral outcomes and establish a one-party state. This echoes the discredited “great replacement” conspiracy theory and rests on a false understanding of how naturalization and voter eligibility work in the United States.
Musk’s anecdotes about government inefficiency—such as supposed 360-year-olds receiving benefits or babies receiving business loans—are presented without data or context and used as rhetorical bludgeons to justify sweeping claims about fraud. These kinds of extreme examples, absent evidence, serve more to provoke outrage than inform public understanding. The tone of the conversation also raises serious concerns about journalistic integrity. Lara Trump, a campaign surrogate and daughter-in-law to Donald Trump, offers no pushback and instead prompts Musk with leading, affirming questions. The entire segment functions more as campaign messaging than legitimate journalism.
Musk repeatedly invokes “free speech” to justify his actions in the social media outlet he now owns (X), portraying himself as a lone warrior against censorship. But his characterization lacks nuance and ignores the complexities of content moderation, platform governance, and the well-documented fact that misinformation and hate speech also require accountability. He suggests that left-leaning accounts are never suspended, which is demonstrably false, and uses this narrative to position himself—and by extension, Trump—as victims of a coordinated effort to silence dissent. Meanwhile, his lavish praise for Trump’s supposed achievements, including “preventing wars,” is contradicted by Trump’s own foreign policy record, which includes inflammatory rhetoric and a destabilizing approach to international relations.
This interview is an exercise in uncritical hero worship and partisan messaging. Musk frames himself as a visionary reformer and Trump as the only safeguard against national collapse, but offers no substantive policy discussion or evidence-based reasoning. Instead, viewers are treated to a stream of conspiratorial talking points, inflated anecdotes, and unverifiable claims. What emerges is not insight, but a cautionary portrait of how wealth, media access, and ideology can distort public discourse.
The Trump administration has begun canceling existing grants from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), affecting hundreds of arts organizations across the U.S. Notifications were sent via email just hours after President Trump proposed eliminating the NEA in his 2026 budget, which also seeks to dismantle other small cultural agencies. The administration cited a shift in funding priorities toward projects that support nationalistic and conservative themes, such as military and veteran support, skilled trades, and religious institutions. Grants to organizations like Berkeley Repertory Theater and Open Studio Project were revoked for not aligning with these new directives.
Arts leaders have expressed outrage, calling the move politically motivated, destabilizing, and harmful to vulnerable communities and the creative economy. Critics argue the NEA’s funding, which accounts for just 0.003% of the federal budget, is a bipartisan investment that supports jobs and American cultural life nationwide. While past Trump budgets sought NEA’s elimination, Congress has historically rejected such efforts. Arts advocates now vow to fight the proposed cuts and agency closures.