Sure, Trump has a personality—if you can call the chaotic mix of Twitter rants, spray tan, and ego a "personality." He’s like that one guy at the office holiday party who shows up uninvited, drinks all the eggnog, and insists on karaoke-ing “My Way” until HR makes him stop.
Oh yeah, and has the nuclear codes.
But does personality alone merit the honor? If that’s the bar, why not give the title to the inflatable dancing tube man outside your local car dealership. At least it’s flexible and doesn’t sue everyone who looks at it funny.
How far TIME has fallen. We’re talking about the same magazine that once named Albert Einstein and Martin Luther King Jr. as Person of the Year. And now they want to lump Trump in there? That’s like putting a gas station sushi chef in the Michelin Guide.
Einstein gave us the theory of relativity. Trump gave us the phrase “Covfefe.” King led a movement for equality. Trump led a movement to redefine what counts as a “huge” crowd size.
Come on TIME, have some self-respect.
And what exactly are Cadet Bone Spurs achievements? And I use the word achievements as loosely as an oversized navy blue suit jacket.
The man wanted to build a border wall, but all he ended up constructing was a metaphor for divisiveness. If walls could talk, they’d probably point at him, laugh and say, “What an asshole.”
Trump also logged more hours on the golf course during his presidency than a PGA pro. Presidential? Not unless your country’s GDP is measured in bogeys.
And let’s not forget Twitter. Trump’s tweets were the literary equivalent of giving a toddler a blowhorn and a bag of sugar.
IQ45’s time in office and beyond has been defined by a relentless downpour of lies. Fact-checkers needed overtime to keep up with his claims, ranging from "historic tax cuts" that mostly benefited the wealthy to his bullshit assertions the 2020 election, the safest and freest in history, was "stolen."
His relationship with the truth is so shaky, it might as well file for divorce.
But at least he’s surrounded by “the best people.” Or who he thinks are the best people. From Steve Bannon to Rudy Giuliani to Michael Flynn, his inner circle seemed like the cast from America's Most Wanted. Many of these advisors ended up entangled in legal troubles, resigning in disgrace, or both.
Add to that Trump’s ongoing legal battles, including 34 felony counts related to falsifying business records. His presidency would make the most scandal-hardened observers shake their heads in disbelief.
TIME’s Person of the Year is supposed to recognize the individual who "most influenced the events of the year, for better or worse.” Fair enough. Trump has influenced things, much like a drunk raccoon influences the contents of your trash can. But if we’re celebrating chaos for chaos’s sake, why not name a literal hurricane Person of the Year?
At this point, suggesting Trump for Person of the Year feels like a practical joke, one step above naming your cat CEO of your company. Sure, it might be funny for five minutes, but then you remember you actually have to live with the consequences.
If TIME really wants to rile people up for clicks, they could at least consider something a little less obvious. Maybe name literally anyone else—a healthcare worker, a scientist, even the squirrel that keeps wire-walking and fucking up my cable tv would be more deserving.
Donald Trump as Person of the Year is a bigly no from me. The most tremendous "no" anyone's ever seen. Not because he’s a Republican. Not because he’s a former president. Not even because his idea of diplomacy involves sharpies and McDonalds. It’s because TIME Magazine’s Person of the Year should inspire us to be better humans, not serve as an excuse for our therapists to raise their rates.
So, TIME, do us all a favor and leave Trump where he belongs. In the blooper reel, and in the dumpster, of American history. Not on the cover of your magazine.
