In a move that has sent shivers down the spines of marble busts and velvet ropes, the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts has been legally compelled to remove the former president’s name from its hallowed halls. A federal judge, no doubt tiring of the endless parade of culture war theatre, decreed that the Trump moniker must be expunged from the Center’s literature and plaques, effective immediately. The ruling came after a lawsuit by a cadre of disgruntled theatre critics who argued that having Trump’s name on a venue dedicated to the arts was like putting a bumper sticker for a broken-down jalopy on a vintage Rolls-Royce.
Let us pause to savour the delicious irony. This is the same man who, as president, threatened to slash the National Endowment for the Arts because he found it ‘too abstract.’ Now his own name is being abstracted from the very institution he sought to defund. The court order read, in part, that the continued association was ‘causing confusion among patrons and lowering the tone of the third balcony.’ One can only imagine the scene at the Kennedy Center box office: ‘I’d like two tickets for Hamlet, please. Oh, and could you make sure they’re nowhere near the Trump section?’
The Kennedy Center, looking somewhat relieved, immediately issued a statement saying they would comply with the ruling ‘with alacrity and a quiet sigh.’ Staff were seen cheerfully wielding sandpaper and paint thinner, scrubbing the offending name from donor walls and programme notes. ‘It’s like a bad tattoo finally being removed,’ said a janitor who asked to remain anonymous. ‘Only there’s more crying and fewer lasers.’
The former president, from his sofa in Mar-a-Lago, raged on social media, claiming the ruling was ‘another witch hunt’ and that his name was ‘more prestigious than the whole building and all the operas inside.’ He vowed to appeal, perhaps by writing his name in the concrete of the patio during a future visit. But for now, the Kennedy Center is officially Trump-free, a fact that has caused spontaneous flash-mob performances of ‘My Way’ in the lobby.
This is not just a legal victory for grammar and taste. It is a reminder that in a country where everything is branded, even shame has a shelf life. The Trump name, once gilded and attached to billion-dollar buildings, now finds itself a ticket stub from a show no one wants to see: the never-ending tour of a has-been reality star. And the Kennedy Center, for its part, can finally get back to the business of twirling and declaiming without the spectre of a man who once confused ‘Lés Miz’ with ‘Mick Jagger.’
In the end, the court did what the 2020 election could not: it removed the name from the building. But the echo of that narcissistic bellow? That still lingers in the rafters, like a stale whiff of cheap cologne in a dressing room. For now, though, the show must go on. Without the Trump placard. And with a little more class.
