PRAGMATIC ISSUES

This labor day weekend started off with millions of people thinking that Donald Trump had died because, well, no one had actually seen the guy in a few days so naturally, cue the internet.

On Saturday, the internet killed Donald Trump.

Not the Secret Service, not the Grim Reaper — the internet rumor mill, armed with nothing but all-caps tweets, blurry screenshots, and the collective will of a nation desperate for plot closure.

And how did America respond? By popping champagne before the autopsy was even scheduled. Cities looked like someone announced free Taco Bell for life. People danced in Target aisles. Someone in Milwaukee released 99 red balloons while a brass band tried to remember the chords to “Celebration.”

The whispers spread faster than a Truth Social typo: “Donald J. Trump is dead.” That’s all it took. Within hours, cities from Portland to Peoria looked like spontaneous Coachella pop-ups. Someone lit fireworks in a Walmart parking lot. TikTokers posted dance routines with captions like RIP King (of Bankruptcy). A guy in Cleveland allegedly shouted, “We finally won the Revolutionary War!” before being tackled by an off-duty mall cop who just wanted his Auntie Anne’s pretzel.

Cable news had a meltdown of its own. CNN ran with a “maybe,” Fox ran with a “never,” and MSNBC briefly aired a segment titled “Ding Dong, the Don is Dead” before being advised by lawyers that you cannot legally sing that on-air.

What People were saying

• Cynthia, 47, Denver: “I was in line at Costco when my phone buzzed. By the time I hit the frozen food aisle, people were already handing out samples of champagne popsicles. Honestly? Best Saturday in years.”
• Devon, 22, Brooklyn: “We don’t even know if it’s true, but I Venmo’d $5 to a stranger just to buy fireworks. Worth it.”
• Marty, 63, Florida: “I thought I heard church bells ringing. Turns out it was just my neighbor’s Ring doorbell glitching. Still — I teared up.”
• Anonymous MAGA fan, Alabama: “Fake news! Trump’s not dead. He’s just resting, like Jesus. Any minute now, he’ll rise and sue somebody.”

Of course, none of this was actually true. Trump is alive, very much tweeting (sorry, “truthing”), and probably annoyed that for 24 glorious hours, people dared to imagine a world that didn’t orbit around him. The man has built his career on being the headline, and for once the headline didn’t need him. Oh, the horror.

And let’s be honest the celebrations were less about grief and more about catharsis. Generations who are living through Trump’s cameo presidency, his reality show reruns, and his endless post-White House campaign rallies, finally thought they’d been released from Season 6 of a show that refused to get canceled. You could almost hear the collective sigh: We don’t have to reboot this one.

But the best part? Watching politicians and pundits scramble like they’d just lost cell service. The MAGA faithful were out there, wailing, “It can’t be true! He was going to save us from windmills!” Meanwhile, liberals clinked their mimosas with the kind of cautious optimism usually reserved for test results that read: “Probably benign.”

The truth is, rumors of Trump’s demise were greatly exaggerated. The man is alive, still tanning, still golfing, still yelling, still very much auditioning for dictator of the month.

Saturday gave us a very real glimpse into what that eventual day might look like: fireworks in Walmart, dance circles in Costco, champagne pops in the freezer aisle. America’s dry run for the biggest block party in history.

And let’s face it — people are ready. Someone’s already trademarked “Thanks for Dying” T-shirts. Etsy sellers are working overtime. A brass band in Cleveland has rehearsed “Another One Bites the Dust” just in case.

The party hasn’t started yet — but Saturday was proof: when it does, we’ll be ready.

Bring your own confetti.