The Washington Post unveiled what can only be described as America’s summer-long pay-per-view event: the cage match between President Donald Trump and California Governor Gavin Newsom. Forget inflation. Forget foreign policy. Forget climate collapse. The real fight for America’s soul is happening on X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, now better known as a public bathroom stall with better branding.
The story isn’t subtle: Trump trolls, Newsom trolls back. Trump screams, Newsom memes louder. The president calls him names, the governor pins unflattering photos. What began as governance has devolved into a digital slap fight, and America, predictably, cannot look away.
The irony is thick enough to spread on toast. Trump, who built his empire on spectacle, has finally met someone willing to weaponize parody against him. And Gavin Newsom, a California liberal with a hair gel budget that rivals military spending, has discovered that the most powerful way to oppose Trump is not through policy papers or speeches, but through the ancient art of trolling.
The Caps Lock Cold War
Let’s start with the obvious: both men are addicted to all caps.
Trump posts in caps because that’s how he’s always screamed into the void. Newsom, however, posts in caps as parody—mimicking Trump’s “FLOOD THE ZONE” tantrums until parody and original blur into one exhausting scroll.
The result? A Cold War fought entirely on keyboards. Not missiles. Not tanks. Just two grown men competing for who can shout “LOOK AT ME” the loudest with their thumbs.
And the worst part? It works.
The Numbers Don’t Lie (But They Do Scream)
According to The Post, influencers on both the left and the right have discussed Newsom more than any other Democrat since Trump’s inauguration. Think about that. Not Kamala Harris, the actual vice president. Not AOC, the right’s favorite bogeywoman. Not even JB Pritzker, who could probably finance his own moon colony if he wanted to.
No, the attention magnet is Newsom. Why? Because Trump has name-checked him 41 times this year alone. More than Harris. More than AOC. More than anyone else.
This is how attention works in 2025: whoever yells the most gets the coverage. Whoever baits Trump into yelling back gets the spotlight. And Newsom, savvy little operator that he is, has turned Trump’s feedback loop into a bullhorn.
The Pinned Photo Paradox
At the heart of Newsom’s trolling campaign is one simple move: pinning unflattering Trump photos to his feed.
In another era, this would be beneath a governor. In 2025, it’s strategy. One badly lit, double-chinned, mid-blink Trump photo can circulate faster than a thousand-word essay on tax reform. Memes beat manifestos every time.
Newsom understands that policy papers don’t go viral. But a photo that makes Trump look like he’s smelling spoiled milk? That’s the modern Gettysburg Address.
The Immigration Escalation
The feud isn’t just digital. It has policy roots—if you can call anything in 2025 “policy” without gagging.
This summer, Trump ordered federal agents and National Guard troops into Los Angeles to crack down on immigration. A judge later ruled it unconstitutional, but the spectacle was the point. Trump wanted headlines. He got them.
Newsom responded not with meek protests, but with open mockery—parody posts, fiery press conferences, and a lawsuit framed as performance art. It wasn’t just opposition. It was theater fighting theater.
And in this new age of governance, that might be the only language left.
Redrawing the Map (Literally)
Then came the wildest move of all: Newsom’s bid to redraw California’s state map mid-decade to offset new GOP gerrymanders.
Yes, you read that right. In response to Republican redistricting elsewhere, California decided to play offense. Temporary districts, new lines, political cartography as revenge.
The audacity was breathtaking. The legality? Dubious. But again, the point wasn’t legality. It was message. It was spectacle. It was proving that if Republicans could play Calvinball with democracy, Democrats could too.
Trump’s Doctored Videos vs. Newsom’s Mockery
Trump fired back the only way he knows how: with doctored videos. Grainy deepfakes of Newsom mumbling nonsense. Awkward edits that make him look like he’s malfunctioning. The president has weaponized bad iMovie projects like they’re policy briefs.
Newsom’s response? Open mockery of Trump’s cognition. Sarcasm sharper than any policy critique. He didn’t argue with the deepfakes. He laughed at them. And in Trump’s universe, laughter is the deadliest insult.
The White House Insults Factory
The White House, never one to be outdone in the race to the rhetorical bottom, unleashed its own volley of crude insults. Newsom was called “Nuisance,” “Pretty Boy,” “Hair Gel Gavin,” and a handful of others too juvenile to dignify.
It was less communication strategy and more middle school cafeteria banter. But again, it made headlines. Because apparently, the republic now runs on recess-level nicknames.
The Democratic Dilemma
Meanwhile, Democrats are torn. On one hand, Newsom is the only one effectively drawing Trump’s fire. On the other, he’s a California liberal with national ambitions in a country that still thinks avocado toast is treason.
Can a governor from San Francisco, armed with memes and gerrymanders, carry the country in 2028? Or is this all performance art destined to collapse under the weight of America’s allergy to coastal elitism?
Other governors—JB Pritzker in Illinois, Wes Moore in Maryland—are stepping into the spotlight too. But none of them have cracked the Trump code the way Newsom has. None of them have turned parody into power.
The Meme Feedback Loop
Here’s the real genius of Newsom’s strategy: he’s weaponized Trump’s addiction to attention.
Every time Newsom trolls him, Trump can’t resist responding. Every time Trump responds, Newsom gets more coverage. Every time Newsom gets coverage, Trump gets angrier. And every time Trump gets angrier, Newsom posts another meme.
It’s a feedback loop so perfect it could power California’s grid.
The Absurdity of Governance by Caps
And yet, here’s the tragedy: this is governance now. Not debate. Not policy. Not compromise. Memes. Caps lock. Doctored videos. Pinned photos.
We’ve replaced the marketplace of ideas with the comment section of a YouTube video. We’ve swapped statesmanship for subtweets. And we’re expected to believe this is sustainable.
It didn’t describe a clash of visions. It described a meme war. A summer-long slap fight between a sitting president and a California governor, each screaming into the void, each weaponizing parody, each addicted to the same algorithmic attention economy.
The haunting truth is this: America is no longer governed by laws. It’s governed by likes. Redistricting battles, immigration standoffs, constitutional crises—they’re all raw material for the same endless feedback loop. Whoever yells “LOOK AT ME” the loudest wins the news cycle.
And the worst part? We’re all still watching.