Our Festivus in Chief
Trump’s presidency is less about a 'Groundhog Day' time loop of endless repetition than a never-ending airing of grievances
By Sam Kazman
In the 1993 film “Groundhog Day,” Bill Murray plays a cynical big-city TV weatherman stuck with an assignment he loathes—covering the annual groundhog ceremony in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Once he arrives in the small town, he finds himself stuck in a time loop, trapped in the same day and place over and again, despairing of ever breaking this cycle. At one point, he asks two locals in a bowling alley, “What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing you did mattered?”
For those who have their doubts about the Trump presidency, that film and that question are pretty relevant these days. “Groundhog Day” isn’t simply a film that got lucky in the relevance sweepstakes; it had long been viewed as highly significant in many ways ranging from philosophy to religion to ethics, and it’s been featured in numerous academic writings. With Trump’s election in 2016, the film seemed tailor-made to take on political meaning as well. As one columnist wrote for The Week, “This is our life under President Trump. Every day, we awaken to the same mean tweets from the president, the same outraged memes on social media, and the same screeching reports about lies, fake news, impeachment, the 25th Amendment, the wall, idiots and morons, and even treason.”
That column appeared not last week or last month, but nearly seven years ago. If the “Groundhog Day” metaphor for Trump was apt then, it’s even more fitting now. This past February, for example, on the occasion of Groundhog Day 2025, USA Today editorialized that “with Trump, every day is ‘Groundhog Day.’ A nightmare over and over again.” Not surprisingly, many other publications have picked up the theme.
But there’s another far shorter work that is arguably even more compelling as a meme for life during the Trump presidency: the 1997 “Festivus” episode of “Seinfeld.” In the episode, the Festivus anti-holiday features an aluminum pole as its decorative centerpiece; the pole requires no ornamentation because, as the host (George Costanza’s father) explains, he finds tinsel too distracting. Festivus begins with an “airing of grievances,” as each family member around a table tells the others “all the ways they’ve disappointed you over the past year.” It then culminates with “feats of strength” in which celebrants try to pin the host to the floor.
Festivus ultimately caught on with lots of people in the real world, but it’s the airing of grievances that is most relevant to the Trump presidency. Whether Trump has expressly said so or not (and he often has), a sense of grievance underlies a huge number of his statements and actions: his attacks on mass media, his diatribes against political opponents, his denunciations of other countries, his rebukes of judges who’ve ruled against him (even when he’s the one who appointed those judges) and so on—almost literally ad infinitum. As one news headline put it regarding one of his first press conferences in 2017, “Trump airs grievances ... in unprecedented fashion for a president.” Eight years later, the headlines haven’t changed: “Trump Delivers Gloating, Grievance-Filled Speech Hours After Sending Economy Reeling.”
Yes, this sounds a bit like the time loop in “Groundhog Day,” but it’s really more like one incredibly long Festivus. While very little changed from day to day in the film, Trump’s grievances cover a dizzying array of situations. Here are just a few of them:
Tariffs—I’ve got problems with a lot of you countries!
Trump’s tariff policy, unveiled in April, covered about 180 countries and territories. Trump claimed this would “end decades of the U.S. being ‘looted, pillaged, raped and plundered’ by trading partners.” He later declared that negotiating with other countries was hard because they’re “spoiled from having ripped us off for 30, 40 years.”
Air Force One—All the other kings have shinier planes
Trump has long disliked his aging Air Force One plane, and so he was happy to accept Qatar’s offer of a new plane as a gift. In mid-May, while traveling in the Middle East, he stated: “When you land and you see Saudi Arabia, and you see UAE, and you see Qatar and they have these brand new Boeing 747s mostly. And you see ours next to it, this is like a totally different plane. It’s much smaller. It’s much less impressive. ... We’re the United States of America – I believe we should have the most impressive plane.”
I continue to hate artists who didn’t endorse me
When Taylor Swift endorsed Kamala Harris before the 2024 election, Trump tweeted “I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT!” Then in mid-May, for no apparent reason, Trump tweeted “Has anyone noticed that, since I said ‘I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT,’ she’s no longer ‘HOT?’” Dream on, Mr. President.
I speak for Putin’s grievances too
In his notorious February Oval Office meeting with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Trump brought up the pain supposedly inflicted on Putin by the allegedly phony Russiagate investigation: Putin “had to suffer through the Russia hoax—Russia, Russia, Russia. It was a hoax. It was all Biden. It was nothing to do with him. He had to suffer through that.” In fact, Trump claimed that he and Putin both had to endure this suffering: “Putin went through a hell of a lot with me.” The airing of grievances, evidently, can generously encompass those who aren’t present at the Festivus table.
These judges have it in for me
In late May, a three-judge panel of the U.S. Court of International Trade unanimously ruled that Trump’s threatened tariffs exceeded his authority under the 1977 International Emergency Economic Powers Act. Trump took this very personally; on TruthSocial, he wrote: “Where do these initial three Judges come from? ... Is it purely a hatred of ‘TRUMP?’ What other reason could it be?”
What other reason? Well, for starters, there are the reasons laid out in the court’s 49-page ruling: The law’s narrow provision for regulating imports didn’t encompass anything as broad as the unlimited tariffs that Trump sought to impose, and Trump’s plan to use his tariffs as a pressure tactic ran counter to the law’s design. Then there’s a nearly identical ruling from another court in a second tariff challenge. And as for where those judges came from, one had been appointed by Trump himself (the other two by Ronald Reagan and Barack Obama).
And speaking of judges ...
In the best Festivus manner, Trump used that same TruthSocial post to vent about other things as well—specifically, the Federalist Society (“I am so disappointed ... because of the bad advice they gave me on numerous Judicial Nominations. This is something that cannot be forgotten!”) and its former head, Leonard Leo (“a real ‘sleazebag’ ... a bad person who, in his own way, probably hates America”).
“Groundhog Day” ends on a note of moral redemption and the character’s discovery of love. Festivus does not. This is in keeping with a rule laid down early on for “Seinfeld” by its creator, Larry David—there was to be “no hugging, no learning.” Its characters were to undergo no emotional growth whatsoever.
Now, comparing memes is an iffy task, and when it comes to “Groundhog Day” and Festivus there’s a David-versus-Goliath aspect as well—“Groundhog Day” is 100 minutes long, while the Festivus scene in “Seinfeld” is five. But Trump’s lack of “learning” makes Festivus the more compelling meme for Trump’s presidency.
The future may not be that bleak. Trump’s recent characterization of Putin as talking “bullshit” suggests he may indeed be starting to learn. Still, all in all, when it comes to the White House right now we have not just Festivus, but Festivus in Chief.
Sam Kazman is former general counsel of the Competitive Enterprise Institute, a free-market public interest organization in Washington, D.C.