⚠️ Warning: Viewer Self-Awareness Advised
If you’re an unshakable devotee of the current administration—someone who thinks every blunder is “strategic,” every reversal is “tactical,” and that penguin tariffs are just “bold economic innovation”—this might not be the article for you.
You may want to turn back now and find comfort in a more curated corner of the internet—perhaps an op-ed titled “Why Chaos is Leadership”, or a podcast where everything is always going according to plan.
What follows is a candid, point-by-point reckoning of the first 100 days of this administration: unvarnished, unfiltered, and rooted in verifiable facts. This isn’t about partisanship, it’s about performance. Consequently, if you’re open to an honest look at what’s happened so far, you’re in the right place. If not, consider revisiting when you're ready—we’ll still be here, facts intact.
Still with us?
Ok!
Without any further ado……..
The first 100 days of this administration—I'll be blunt—have been a blend of disbelief and dismay. No reasonable observer could describe this period as one of reasoned governance, or a period in which a steady hand was at the tiller of state. Instead, it's been a parade of missteps, market jitters, and head-scratching decisions that left prudent minds reeling.
Let’s start with the bold move to freeze all federal funding. A sweeping, ill-conceived order that ground essential government operations to a halt. Education grants, scientific research, and support for Native American and veteran communities—cut off, cold. Within 48 hours, the policy was reversed. Why? Because no one seemed to know what the hell was happening. That ill-conceived decision triggered such bureaucratic chaos and legal confusion that the administration backpedaled so fast they nearly invented time travel.
The saddest part? No one appeared to consider the consequences beforehand. Sadder still? No one was held accountable.
Then came a public health blunder: the firing of key personnel responsible for responding to the bird flu—right in the middle of an outbreak. Any rational response would have been to reinforce our capabilities, not gut them. But instead of leadership, we got a rash decision followed by another embarrassing reversal. It was a clear display of short-sightedness, poor planning, and a leadership vacuum.
And who could forget the surreal moment when the administration announced the mass firing of thousands of federal employees—only for the Office of Personnel Management to later state that no such firings had actually occurred. To be perfectly clear - this wasn’t just a communications breakdown; it was a fundamental failure to grasp how the federal government works.
Oh—and then there were the tariffs on penguins. Yes, penguins. Tariffs on an uninhabited island populated solely by waddling birds. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so indicative of policy-making that feels less like governance and more like a toddler throwing a fit in the frozen food aisle.
But wait, there's more. The administration actually listed the wrong person as Acting FBI Director on their own website. For a brief window of time, two people thought they were running the FBI. And rather than fixing it immediately, they let both carry on as if this were some surreal trust exercise.
And yes, in a final flourish of absurdity, there was a plan to incinerate free COVID tests—taxpayer-funded supplies. Why? Who knows. Perhaps to create warmth. Or irony. Either way, it’s emblematic of a leadership style that feels less like governance and more like satire.
And let’s not forget—because how in the name of basic decency could we—the time the administration floated the brilliant idea of cutting legal aid for migrant children. That’s right. Actual children. Toddlers. Tiny humans who still think peekaboo is a magic trick were apparently expected to stand up in court and mount their own legal defense. Because nothing says “due process” like a three-year-old trying to explain immigration law while holding a juice box and a stuffed giraffe.
Now, at some point, someone must’ve realized that expecting a kid who can’t reach the sink to understand federal statutes is maybe—just maybe—a smidge unreasonable. Or cruel. Or both. And so, after enough people screamed “What the hell are you doing?” into the void, they walked it back.
But the fact that it was even on the table? That’s not just a bureaucratic blunder—it’s a moral faceplant. Compassion and common sense didn’t lead the policy. It had to be dragged in, kicking and screaming.
Then there was the time they cut the 9/11 First Responders Program—yes, that one—got caught, and quietly reversed course like a raccoon backing out of a garbage bin when the lights come on.
And let’s not skip the Veterans Crisis Line hiring freeze. They revoked job offers, apparently under the bold new strategy of “Let’s see how close we can get to actively sabotaging people who served the country.” Unsurprisingly, once the press noticed and went, “Wait, you’re doing what now?”, those offers were magically re-issued. Because nothing says “stable governance” like a constant loop of terrible decisions followed by public shaming and frantic backpedaling.
And yes—I’ve still got more. Because, unbelievably, so do they.
Take the time they claimed they saved $8 billion. $8 billion! Big, impressive number—until someone checked the math and it turned out to be... $8 million. That’s not a typo—that’s a delusion. It’s the financial equivalent of saying, “I lost 40 pounds,” when what you really did was skip lunch.
And then—because you can't make this up—there was a plan to sell off 443 federal buildings, including major government headquarters. That’s right, someone actually proposed we solve our national problems by putting the government on Craigslist. “For sale: lightly used Department of Education, a few broken parts, buyer picks up.” And this wasn’t a joke—it made it to a real list. Until, apparently, someone sobered up and asked, “Wait... are we selling the government?” Over 100 buildings disappeared from that list overnight. And by the next morning, the whole thing vanished like it never happened. Which is basically how they handle all their bad ideas: throw it out there, get roasted for it, pretend it was never real, and move on like gaslighting is a governing philosophy.
I did warn you at the beginning, and now—look at that—we’ve made it to the end. So, if you're feeling outraged, confused, or vaguely called out… good! That probably means you're actually listening.
Conversely, should my words stir anger within you, I urge you to look not at the words themselves, but rather at the reaction they provoke within you. It costs nothing to listen, to entertain a different perspective, yet too many choose the easier path of clinging to their own convictions—convictions often formed without the benefit of reflection or understanding.
Now, you have another choice. You can take a moment to reflect like a thoughtful adult, or you can dig in, get defensive, and continue living in the warm, soothing bubble of righteous indignation. Just know—being challenged isn’t an attack. It’s an opportunity. And occasionally, yes, it stings a bit—but so does progress.
But if you desire true change, I offer this simple counsel: Stop tearing down and start building. The world offers many roads forward, but the first step begins with the willingness to listen, to acknowledge that perhaps there is another way—one you have yet to see.
Now think about this: if one ordinary person—armed with nothing more than curiosity and a functioning prefrontal cortex—can entertain a new perspective and come out a little wiser… why is it that entire governments, stacked to the rafters with advisors, data, and very expensive coffee, seem utterly incapable of doing the same?
And perhaps the more uncomfortable question is this: why aren’t we more outraged by that? Because if we keep treating predictability as a proxy for competence, and complexity as an excuse for inaction, we’ll never demand the kind of creative, adaptive thinking that progress actually requires.
Simply put, change doesn’t just come from having all the answers—it often starts with asking better questions.