There’s something so repulsive about the spectacle of Trump’s “Rose Garden Club” that it seems to only have been possible in this specific time. Trump time. On September 5, as the president unveiled his $2 million renovation—yellow-and-white striped umbrellas straight out of Mar-a-Lago, embedded presidential seals in the stonework, speakers piping Billy Joel across what used to be Jackie Kennedy’s garden—Republican lawmakers gathered for the inaugural feast. House Speaker Mike Johnson, Representative Ronny Jackson, Senator Dave McCormick, arranged at corner tables draped in white linen, yellow roses, place cards announcing “The Rose Garden Club at the White House.” Rose Garden Salad (tomatoes, iceberg lettuce), followed by steak or chicken, chocolate cake for dessert. Trump, gripping his microphone like a cruise director, welcomed his guests to what he called “a club” for “people that can bring peace and success to our country.”
One thinks of Versailles. One thinks of Louis XVI and his…
