You thought one term was enough excitement? Oh, you sweet summer child. Donald Trump is back, and this time, he’s brought friends. Welcome to Term Two, Day 100: a high-octane, free-wheeling sequel with all the subtlety and finesse of a monster truck show in an antique china shop.
Look, you don’t have to love the guy to acknowledge he’s a human tornado of productivity. A hundred forty executive orders—read it again, 140—fired off with all the grace of someone trying to win an argument on Twitter (oops, sorry, I meant X) at 3 a.m. From tariffs to immigration, from bureaucratic slash-and-burn to redefining America’s entire foreign policy in fewer than four months, Trump clearly knows his window to ram things through Congress might slam shut at the midterms. With Republicans in control of the House, Senate, and White House, this is Trump’s personal Fast and Furious film—except Vin Diesel is nowhere in sight and everyone’s retirement accounts are tied to the train he’s driving.
Speaking of those retirement accounts: if you’re one of those unfortunate souls who regularly checks your 401(k)—which you absolutely shouldn’t, unless you enjoy panic attacks—the past 100 days have been like an extended stay in a haunted house designed by hedge fund managers. Trump’s tariff war, especially the 145% tariff on China and substantial hikes on the rest of the globe, was intended to put America first by forcing factories home and revitalizing the U.S. economy. A J-curve economic recovery, they said. Short-term pain for long-term gain, they promised.
But here’s the thing: right now, it’s less J-curve and more “WTF-curve.” Inflation’s up. The stock market’s yo-yoing like a fifth grader with too much sugar, and consumer confidence is lower than the chances that Congress ever gets anything meaningful done again. The theory is sound enough, punish other countries until they give us better deals, but economic brinkmanship isn’t blackjack; you can’t just double down indefinitely without eventually going broke. At some point, you have to realize the house, economically speaking, always wins, and in this metaphor, the house is literally every other country who can also slap tariffs on us. Go figure.
Let’s talk immigration. The Trump administration hasn’t just doubled down on its immigration policies—it’s built a gilded, fortified, double-wide moat around them. Deportations are up, visas are down, sanctuary cities are under siege, and border policy has escalated to a fever pitch that’s managed to simultaneously anger progressives, moderates, and even some conservatives, truly bipartisan chaos. If you thought immigration was contentious during Trump’s first term, imagine this sequel as Immigration Policy 2: Electric Boogaloo, now with even more lawsuits.
Then there’s the delightful new agency, the Department of Government Efficiency, cleverly named DOGE, presumably because Elon Musk enjoys confusing bureaucrats and meme investors alike. DOGE, supposedly created to eliminate waste, streamline government, and usher in an era of efficiency, has quickly devolved into the kind of opaque governmental apparatus it promised to fight. It turns out, surprise surprise, that government efficiency is less about flashy departments and clever acronyms, and more about painstaking, unsexy policy details, details no one in this administration has much time for.
And now, for a moment, let’s pivot gracefully (imagine Trump pivoting gracefully, go ahead, I dare you) to foreign policy. You see, America First isn’t just a slogan anymore, it’s a diplomatic wrecking ball. Trump’s second-term vision of foreign policy seems to involve burning diplomatic bridges like he’s playing Civilization VI after six espressos. Cutting aid to Ukraine, antagonizing NATO, floating plans to annex Greenland, and even tossing around the possibility of Canada becoming the 51st state (sorry, Canada, we apologize in advance) has made allies anxious, enemies emboldened, and left everyone else scratching their heads, wondering if Trump is playing some kind of 5D chess or just flipping the board over in frustration.
His critics—and honestly, most level-headed people—worry about international isolation, damaged alliances, and the potential for long-term global instability. His supporters insist he’s simply flexing American muscle, shaking up stale global dynamics, and forcing nations to respect U.S. power again. So far, though, respect feels a lot like wary confusion, and shaking things up resembles more of a drunken bull rampaging through the carefully arranged china shop of international diplomacy.
As for his approval rating? It’s not great. Sitting at a grim 39% approval, Trump’s second term thus far is clearly divisive. But let’s be real: approval ratings never mattered much to Trump anyway. His presidency isn’t a popularity contest; it’s a blunt-force trauma event. And blunt force is what Trump does best. Love him or hate him, he knows exactly who his base is, and they’re eating this up like free popcorn at a matinee.
And this urgency? It’s intentional. Republicans control everything, right now. But Trump and his administration can read polls. They can sense that the midterms might swing the pendulum back toward balance, or even gridlock, giving them about two years to cram in as many policy changes as possible. Hence the executive orders, hence the aggressive legislation, hence the tariff fireworks and immigration crackdowns. They’re trying to carve their policies in stone before someone takes away the chisel.
But here’s the thing Trump, and maybe even Elon Musk, seems to have forgotten: governing isn’t just about cramming your ideology through while you have the power. It’s about sustainability, about building policies that will stand the test of time rather than merely scoring quick political victories. So far, these first 100 days look less like sustainable policy and more like shock therapy on the national scale.
Whether or not this strategy works—whether the American economy rebounds with strength, whether these tariffs lead to better trade deals, whether immigration policy stabilizes—is uncertain. But uncertainty is Trump’s brand. Love him, hate him, or just marvel in horror, Trump’s first hundred days of Term Two have reshaped America into a country on edge, bracing for whatever curveball comes next.
And knowing Trump? There’s always another curveball.