trade war

Phil McCracken here, and Trump’s tariff war is the rare patriotic theater production where the audience gets charged twice: once at the door, and again when the snack tray arrives with higher prices. It’s sold as toughness, but the plot is mostly bluster, supply-chain side quests, and a hero who keeps mistaking shouting for strategy.

That’s the part the donor-class applause machine always skips. They call it protectionism, then hand the invoice to everybody else and act surprised when the shelves get jumpy and the bill gets ugly. A real trade plan has receipts, deadlines, and an exit ramp. This one feels like procurement jazz hands with a fog machine. Loud studio, dumb script, and the public stuck buying concessions.