# Trump Reportedly Planning To Add His Own Face To Mount Rushmore, Because Of Course He Is
Look, I know we've all been struggling to find a way to make 2025 even worse, but apparently the universe heard our prayers and decided to send us the ultimate "hold my Diet Coke" moment. According to sources that are definitely not just my neighbor's cousin's Uber driver, Donald Trump is reportedly in the early stages of exploring how to get his magnificent, spray-tanned visage blasted into the side of Mount Rushmore. Because nothing says "presidential legacy" like committing a federal crime against a national monument.
For those of you who somehow missed this news while doom-scrolling through the latest geopolitical crisis, let me break it down. Apparently, the guy who spent four years trying to drain the swamp is now trying to literally carve himself into a mountain. Real "I'm the captain now" energy coming from Mar-a-Lago. According to a New York Times report that I'm 90% sure was written by a speed-addled intern at 3 AM, Trump has been asking advisers about the feasibility of getting his face added to the iconic South Dakota monument alongside Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln. You know, the guys who actually did things like "found the country" and "free the slaves" and "not get impeached twice."
The logic here is so beautifully unhinged that it almost makes sense in the Trumpian universe. The man who famously complained that his portrait in the Colorado State Capitol made him look "like a ghost" is now apparently ready to immortalize himself in 60 feet of solid granite. I'm sure the National Park Service will be thrilled to explain to the Secret Service why dynamite and a former president's ego don't mix well.
But let's talk about the actual logistics here, because this is where it gets really stupid. Mount Rushmore isn't exactly a blank canvas. The monument is literally a protected national memorial managed by the National Park Service. You can't just roll up with a jackhammer and a dream. You'd need an act of Congress. You'd need environmental impact studies. You'd need to somehow explain to the Lakota people, who consider the Black Hills sacred land that was illegally seized from them, that you want to add a reality TV star to their holy mountain. I'm sure that conversation will go great.
And let's be real about the aesthetic implications here. Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln all have dignified, classical profiles. They look like the kind of guys who would read you a bedtime story about democracy. Trump's face, on the other hand, is a combination of orange spray tan, a suspicious hair situation, and an expression that says "I'm about to tweet something that will cause a market crash." Imagine that carved into a mountain. It would look like a haunted pumpkin that got lost on its way to a Halloween party.
But here's the thing that really gets me: this isn't even the first time Trump has floated this idea. Back in 2019, during his first term, he reportedly asked South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem about adding his face to Rushmore. Noem, who has all the backbone of a wet napkin, apparently said she'd "look into it." Because of course she did. The woman is so desperate for a VP nod that she'd probably endorse carving Trump's face into her own forehead if given the chance.
The irony here is so thick you could spread it on a bagel. Trump has spent years complaining about "cancel culture" and "woke mobs" trying to tear down statues, and now he wants to build a monument to himself that's literally bigger than Mount Rushmore. It's like when a toddler throws a tantrum because someone else got a bigger cookie, so he demands the entire bakery.
And look, I get it. Every president wants a legacy. Obama has the Affordable Care Act. Biden has the infrastructure bill. Trump has... a mountain face that would probably require a 24/7 security detail to prevent people from spray-painting "Liar" on his granite nose. Not to mention the maintenance costs. Do you have any idea how much it costs to power a floodlight system to illuminate Trump's face at night? We're talking about a guy who allegedly complained that the White House lights were too bright. Imagine the phone calls: "Fix the lighting on my face! It makes me look old! Also, make the hair bigger!"
The environmental impact alone would be catastrophic. We're talking about blasting tons of granite off a mountain that's been there for millions of years. The dust alone would probably trigger some kind of allergic reaction in every liberal within a 500-mile radius. And let's not even get started on the carbon footprint of the construction vehicles needed to haul Trump's ego up a mountain.
But the most hilarious part of this whole debacle? The funding. Trump's campaign is reportedly asking for donations to "save America" while simultaneously exploring how to spend taxpayer money on a vanity project that would make a Roman emperor blush. I can see the GoFundMe now: "Help me become a mountain. Gold level donors get their names carved into my left nostril."
In the end, this is just another chapter in the ongoing saga of a man who genuinely believes he's the main character of American history. Mount Rushmore isn't a monument to presidents; it's a monument to the idea of America itself. It represents the best of who we are: the founders, the emancipator, the progressive, the unifier. Adding Trump to that lineup would be like putting a pimple on the Mona Lisa. Or worse, like putting a Trump Tower sticker on the Sistine Chapel.
But hey, maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe this is just another one of those "sources say" stories that will fizzle out like a wet firework. Or maybe, just maybe, we're about to witness the most American thing since deep-fried butter on a stick: a former president carving his own face into a mountain because he got rejected from the actual Hall of Presidents.
Final Thoughts
As a veteran observer of the nexus between political ego and historical symbolism, Trump’s reported fixation on Mount Rushmore feels less like a tribute to national greatness and more like a desperate attempt to carve his own face into a monument already teetering on the edge of cultural controversy. The logistical and legal nightmares of altering a protected national landmark for the sake of personal legacy would be a fool’s errand, revealing a profound misunderstanding of what makes American icons enduring—they are earned through history, not bulldozed by vanity. Ultimately, this episode is a stark reminder that when a leader conflates his own image with the nation’s bedrock, he risks chiseling away at the very foundation he claims to protect.