At the Drive-Thru

Donald Trump has always been a master of the spectacle. Whether it’s descending from a gold-plated escalator or promising the biggest, greatest, most tremendous wall anyone’s ever seen, his political career has been one long, unbroken infomercial. And this weekend in suburban Pennsylvania, the Trump Show rolled into a McDonald's in Feasterville, where the former president put on quite the performance—apron-clad, fry station ready, and neck-deep in conspiracy theories.

Yes, the man who used to have private chefs and golden toilets found himself, for a brief moment, at the fry station of a McDonald’s drive-thru window. It was part of an attempt to connect with the “everyman,” though I’m not sure how many everymen we know spent months claiming they won an election they lost. But hey, we’re living in Trump’s America, where reality is more of a suggestion.

For about an hour on Sunday, Trump turned the fast-food joint into his own personal campaign stop, shutting down the restaurant entirely (because, naturally, nothing says populism like closing down the only McDonald’s in town to serve fries to your supporters). Trump, sporting an apron tied for him by an actual McDonald’s cashier (because tying aprons is apparently beneath him), proceeded to serve up meals while serving up—what else?—a fresh round of baseless claims about election fraud. It’s the Trump special: supersized conspiracy theories with a side of paranoia.

At one point, a reporter, as perplexed as the rest of us, asked Trump if he would accept the results of the 2024 election. Trump, leaning out of the drive-thru window like a salesman of electoral doom, replied, “Yeah, sure, if it’s a fair election.” Translation: Only if I win. Because for Trump, “fair” elections are the ones where he emerges victorious, and anything less is a rigged disaster orchestrated by—well, who really knows at this point? Deep state actors? Postal workers? Maybe the Hamburglar?

Of course, Trump’s long-running obsession with election fraud didn’t start yesterday. After losing the 2020 election, he spent months filing lawsuits like they were coupon deals, none of which panned out. Audits? Didn’t work. Recounts? No dice. Even his closest allies couldn’t find the fraud he was so sure lurked beneath every ballot. But like a bad song stuck on repeat, Trump has never stopped singing the same tune: fraud, fraud, fraud. Now, with 2024 looming, it seems he’s ready to belt out the chorus again—this time, from behind a McDonald's drive-thru window.

In some ways, this whole spectacle was Trumpism distilled to its essence: performative, absurd, and deeply unserious. But there’s a particular layer of insult here, too—especially to the millions of Americans who have worked at McDonald’s. For many, McDonald's has been their first job, a stepping stone into the workforce. For others, it has been a long-term career, providing opportunities for advancement and growth. The brand itself has even become a symbol of American economic diplomacy abroad. So, watching Trump turn this into a cheap campaign stunt? It feels like a slap in the face to every McDonald’s employee, past and present. While they’ve used the job to build skills and stability, Trump breezed in for an hour of play-acting, all while stoking division and paranoia, as if flipping fries were no more meaningful than a campaign prop.

Meanwhile, back in reality, Trump's antics have real-world consequences. Let’s not forget, his baseless claims about the 2020 election didn’t just fade into the ether. They culminated in an actual attack on the Capitol, an insurrection that left a lasting scar on the country. Congress even had to pass new legislation reforming how the Electoral College results are certified—because apparently, we now need laws to prevent future presidents from trying to turn the ceremonial process into a coup attempt.

But here we are again, with Trump poised to run the same playbook in 2024, only this time with the added wrinkle of a McDonald's apron. Sure, it’s laughable to watch a former president work the fry station while stoking fears of a stolen election, but the joke starts to sour when you remember how his last conspiracy-laden circus ended.

In the end, Trump’s McDonald’s stunt is less about “everyman” relatability and more about showmanship. It’s not about connecting with voters; it’s about crafting the image of a man who, despite his wealth and power, can still pretend to sling burgers like the rest of us. And while his supporters eat it up—literally and figuratively—the rest of us are left wondering if we’re watching a campaign or a never-ending reality TV rerun.

So what’s next? Will Trump flip pancakes at IHOP while questioning the legitimacy of the 2024 election results? Will we see him bag groceries at the local supermarket while telling shoppers the ballots are rigged? At this point, nothing’s off the table. One thing’s for sure, though: no matter where Trump goes next, he’ll be serving up more than just fast food. He’ll be serving up the same old claims—just with a side of fries.