Donald Trump’s Marshmallow Moment

Hi, Donald. It’s me, nobody, the only person you’ll listen to. That’s why I got charged with conveying this warning to you. It might be worth your while to attend. You see, a showdown is brewing, a very unexpected, serious showdown you may not like. It is known throughout the world as the marshmallow test.¹ The public does not think you are prepared.

You wanted to be president for a bunch of pretty urgent reasons: escape serious criminal charges; lame the several legal teams closing in on you;² secure your finances for life; latch onto an unlimited expense account; force-feed deals to the entire world;³ and, not least, get your hands again on Air Force One, a plane you covet. You’re as jealous of that craft as if it were your maiden. You don’t want anyone else touching it, riding in it, getting conveyed all over the world in it, being president in it. In your bones, you know that Air Force One — along with the power, prestige, and authority it represents — belongs to you alone. You love that plane.⁴

Using the ample weaponry of 21st century political battles, you slid into office again fair and square. But this time around, you are superbly equipped to do the presidency your way, that is to say, solo. No fussing with Congress. Those executive orders⁵ have put you on a trajectory far out of its reach as you declare with each one your authority as unitary executive to do all sorts of surprising things. You’ve dispensed with any fussing with the courts as well. Your team of first-rate rhetorical hacks helps you brush off court decisions with outlandish misinterpretations of its rulings and resuscitation of ancient laws to back you up when you go rogue. You almost tipped the scale a few times, but your true-blue allies, assistants, and fringe supporters sprang in for you each time. And finally, with your famous purloining hand so intimate with the treasuries, revenues, reserves, and funds of the wealthiest country in history, you are also on track to becoming the richest individual ever. And you’ve got your plane.

Your best buddy, the emir of Qatar, has just put you in a jam.

Yes, it’s gone very well, but now your best buddy has just put you in a jam. Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani,⁶ the emir of Qatar, has offered you a plane, a wonderful plane. For keeps. No strings attached. That $5.5 billion Qatar Trump golf club deal was settled an eternity ago. No funny business there. The plane is a gift of pure friendship no one can dispute because, as you said with such clarity so recently, “I don’t know. We like each other.” And that’s why he’s offering you this dreamy 13-year-old plane . . .

So that brings us, Donald, to marshmallow time! We fear that your having passed tough cognitive tests in the past may not have prepared you for this formidable challenge. Because we’re not talking marshmallows, no sirree. We’re talking Boeing 747-8 jumbo palaces in the sky, and I have been tasked to explain to you, yes, you, why you can’t — that is, cannot — win. 

First of all, you really want that plane. You and nobody (that’s me) both know you told Tammy yourself you’d sure like that plane. You gave him the word right after you toured that hot piece of machinery in February as it sat parked at the West Palm Beach International Airport just sort of waiting on the off chance that someone might want to drop by to inspect it. You told him real confidentially it would mean a lot to you.⁷ You had the effrontery to hint that it would mean a lot to Qatar. The noble emir betrayed no emotion at your ungentle insinuations; did not recoil at your offensive innuendo that it might be wise for him to do this; showed no surprise to hear that you considered such a gift from him to be a modest expression of his gratitude to you for letting him use the junky Trump brand for a golf course he couldn’t care less about; expressed no impatience that you had no idea who was doing whom a favor. No, he smiled a broad emir smile, showing unearthly white teeth you have never managed to manufacture into your face, no matter how much orangey glow your horsey beautician massages into the outer layers of the squamous epithelial cells that compose your jowls.

A gift of an emir’s luxury aircraft is a step too far even for your land of freedom-loving Trump cowboys who still fasten their seatbelts.

But consider, Donald. Even though you may lust after that plane, the United States is a provincial country, after all. The population lacks your sophistication. A gift of an emir’s luxury aircraft is a step too far even for your land of freedom-loving Trump cowboys who still fasten their seatbelts. Sure, you can tell them that the royal family of Qatar is gifting that extraordinary aircraft to the Air Force, that the transaction is “very public and transparent.” Well, yeah, it’s real public now, but you’re trying to say it’s transparent? Transparent in what way? Transparent in the way that the royal family of Qatar would gift a $400 million aircraft to the U.S. Air Force? Well then, please explain why the Air Force — after spending millions of taxpayer dollars fitting it up to fly a U.S. president, the most fragile category of air freight — is contracted to gift it to your library foundation just days before your term ends. We know good old DOJ AG Pam Bondi said the plane wasn’t being given to you at all; that you would merely have exclusive right over everything about that aircraft except paying for it; and she is incensed that anyone would make such weaponized accusations. We also do not believe her.

So here comes your marshmallow test, Donald. 

Decide to take the plane now, and you won’t get it. Decide to wait and take it later, and you won’t get it. Regardless of your choice, you are destined to get no marshmallows this time around, and here’s why: 

If you take the plane, you lose the presidency.⁸ In losing the presidency, your civilian status will suggest to that nice man from Qatar, that Tammy fellow, that giving you the plane may not be such a good investment after all. He is sooner likely to flash that emir smile of his to the new president and realize rather quickly that no silly gift of a palace in the sky is necessary after all. 

Refuse the plane for the time being, Donald, and you can keep the presidency,⁹ but you won’t get that plane ever. For why should a man, who loves you ever so well, bestow upon you after leaving office and transforming into an average Joe — regardless of how vociferous, obstreperous, noisy, flat-footed, and stinky he may be — so costly an asset as his luxury jet? He will not, and only the wind will tolerate your tantrums then.

So, Donald, beware the nice man from Qatar for he has just set up for you a marshmallow test you cannot pass. This is the public’s claim, its warning, and my message to you.

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1. In the marshmallow test, “a child was offered a choice between one small but immediate reward, or two small rewards if they waited for a period of time. During this time, the researcher left the child in a room with a single marshmallow for about 15 minutes and then returned. If they did not eat the marshmallow, the reward was either another marshmallow or pretzel stick, depending on the child’s preference. In follow-up studies, the researchers found that children who were able to wait longer for the preferred rewards tended to have better life outcomes, as measured by SAT scores, educational attainment, body mass index (BMI), and other life measures.” Wikipedia contributors. “Stanford marshmallow experiment.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 15 Mar. 2025. Web. 15 May. 2025. ↩︎
2. One might say you went too far with those brazen acts of lawlessness, Donald, but no. You proved to the world you didn’t go too far at all. You got yourself back from the ledge while shoving your persecutors out there and leaving them to teeter in great uncertainty as to their fate. That fancy footwork sprinkled more stars on your dazzling cape, enabling you to career on with ever greater clout. ↩︎
3. You were determined to use the presidency this time around as the platform from which to rule the world, and you succeeded by snarling global trading, alliances, expectations, and diplomacy, to much of which the United States serves as fulcrum, then letting players and victims alike know you’re willing to cut a break to the countries that asked nicely for one. It’s gotten the entire world whipped up and worried. ↩︎
4. Everyone but maybe you know that Air Force One is not one plane, but the official air traffic control-designated call sign used by the plane flying the U.S. president at any one particular time. ↩︎
5. Project 2025 poured years of hard work into writing those endless executive orders for you to sign, which are shaping the government and the country in ways you never bothered to find out about. ↩︎
6. You, as a man of good commonsense, call him Tammy. ↩︎
7. You were so excited about that plane that you forgot to mention how much it would mean to the country, the military, or the Air Force. ↩︎
8. If the United States government retains any shred of sanity or decency, you will be blasted for conspicuous, willful, enthusiastic violation of the emoluments clause. If the government does not blast you for it, then we must acknowledge that we are living in a world of no marshmallow tests and that all hope is lost. ↩︎
9. That is, if you manage to roadblock all the other lawsuits flooding the courts against the scores of your illegal and unconstitutional acts as president so far. ↩︎