So, Time magazine, in its infinite wisdom, has gone and done it. They’ve named Donald Trump Person of the Year. Again. And here I thought Time was running out of ways to make everyone collectively scream into the void. But no, they’ve managed to pull off a sequel. And like every bad sequel, it’s somehow worse than the original.
Now, let me break this down: the Person of the Year is supposed to recognize the individual who’s had the biggest “impact” on the world—good, bad, or ugly. But let’s be real, folks, we all know what this means. Time essentially hands out this title with the same energy as a parent muttering, “Fine, you win” to their screaming toddler in the cereal aisle. This isn’t an award—it’s a surrender flag.
And let’s not forget, they’ve been down this road before. Remember 1938? Adolf Freaking Hitler got the title. Hitler! The guy whose “impact” was literally destroying millions of lives and kicking off a global war. Time slapped his mug on the cover like, “Look, we’re just calling it like we see it.” Yeah, well, guess what? Sometimes what you “see” is a dumpster fire, and maybe don’t publish it like it’s the Mona Lisa.
Fast forward to 2024, and here we are again. Trump. The man who managed to turn democracy into his personal piñata. The guy who makes headlines for saying things that wouldn’t pass as dialogue in a bad soap opera. This is who Time thinks deserves to be the face of the year. It’s like giving the arsonist a “Firefighter of the Year” award because, hey, he’s really changed the landscape.
And the excuses? Oh, they’ve got plenty. “It’s about influence, not approval,” they say. Oh, really? Then why not put “influence” on the cover and leave it at that? Why not just have a flaming garbage can with a Post-It note that says “Most Influential”? At least then we’d know where we stand.
And let’s talk about the parallels. People are saying, “This is like when they named Hitler!” Well, yeah, because it is! General John Kelly—Trump’s own former Chief of Staff, mind you—straight-up called him a fascist. Said it out loud! You know how rare it is for a guy like that to go on record? That’s like a Starbucks barista openly admitting they spell your name wrong on purpose. It just doesn’t happen.
Meanwhile, Melania Trump is out here doing damage control, saying, “My husband is not Hitler!” Lady, that’s not the slam dunk you think it is. That’s like saying, “My husband isn’t the Zodiac Killer!” Congrats, but I’m not exactly reassured.
And let’s not forget what this really means. Time isn’t just trolling us for fun—they’re selling magazines. They know this decision is like tossing a live grenade into a room and then charging admission to watch the explosion. They’re banking on the outrage. They’re monetizing the meltdown. And we’re all playing into it because we can’t look away, like a cat staring at a laser pointer.
So, congratulations, Time. You’ve managed to unite the country—just not in the way you hoped. We’re not debating Trump’s “influence.” We’re just all collectively facepalming so hard, you can hear it echo across state lines. And honestly? That might be the most accurate summary of 2024 we could’ve asked for.
