Donald Trump swept into Kerrville today for what was ostensibly a visit to console flood-ravaged Texans but quickly became another episode of Donald Trump: The Disaster Tourist Chronicles. As Trump himself put it, he’s “gone to a lot of hurricanes, a lot of tornadoes,” but “never seen anything like this.” Which, if you’ve listened to a single Trump presser in your life, you know he says every single time he visits a disaster zone.
In a room stuffed with Texas officials, grieving families, Dr. Phil (yes, really), and the usual wall of TV cameras, Trump launched into his greatest hits. “Nobody has any idea how and why a thing like this could happen,” he said, as if flash flooding during record rain in a state with insufficient infrastructure was some unsolvable cosmic riddle.
He praised the Coast Guard, noting they rescued “an incredible 169 children at Camp Mystic,” before pivoting to his own hero’s journey: “I had to be here as president, first lady wanted to be here.” Because, you see, it’s about him showing up, not about the children swept away by a monstrous river at 3 AM. Melania, clutching a bracelet given to her by camp survivors, shared that they were there to “honor them and also to give the support, help, and I will be back. I promise.” You could almost hear the Trump campaign ad music swelling in the background.
Trump took a moment to rattle off every Republican in Texas and Washington he could remember, praising each for their “unbelievable” work, because if there’s one thing Trump loves during a national tragedy, it’s making sure people know which GOP loyalists showed up to clap for him. “Governor Abbott, he’s an amazing guy,” Trump said, while Abbott beamed like a teenager getting noticed by a celebrity at the mall.
Of course, when a CBS reporter dared ask about the reportedly delayed flood warnings, Trump’s patience for the suffering of Texans vanished like FEMA stockpiles under Jared Kushner’s watch: “Only a bad person would ask a question like that, to be honest with you. I don’t know who you are, but only a very evil person would ask a question like that.” The children may be dead, but Trump’s inability to take the mildest accountability remains eternal.
What Trump didn’t mention, because of course he didn’t, is that it took 72 hours before Kristi Noem signed off on disaster assistance for Texas because she has a rule requiring her personal signature for any federal expenditure over $100,000. Three days of delay while children were missing, parents were digging through debris with their bare hands, and entire communities were underwater. And where was Kristi Noem during this humanitarian crisis she was actively prolonging? Posting Instagram pictures of herself on horseback, grinning under the Texas sun, the aesthetic of personal branding apparently more urgent than signing the paper that would unlock rescue and recovery funds.
It is hard to imagine a cleaner demonstration of the sociopathy that has become the default operating system for MAGA leadership: photo ops on horseback while families wait for rescue, reality-show presidency in front of flood wreckage, and rage at reporters for daring to ask why children had to die before the paperwork got filed.
The event took a surreal turn as Dr. Phil, who apparently wandered in from the local Texas Starbucks, delivered a TED Talk on grief, declaring that “you never get over it, you get through it.” Dr. Phil then described a rescuer yelling “throw me your baby” as the floodwaters rose, while Trump nodded gravely as if this was a scene from one of his many reality shows.
Ted Cruz, ever eager to appear useful, shared a tragic account of visiting Camp Mystic and seeing “17 small white crosses in the ground,” each for a little girl who drowned, and added that the camp director “gave his life trying to save his girls.” In typical Ted Cruz fashion, he then pivoted back to the comforting embrace of Christian hymns and Republican unity, because no Texas tragedy is complete without a performative appeal to God and bootstraps.
Meanwhile, Trump bragged about getting emergency funds to Texas “within about 2 minutes,” claiming “no other president would do that.” Not to be outdone by the suffering of children, Trump managed to insert a bizarre aside about how his administration “got the cost of eggs right down,” which presumably will be a huge comfort to parents who just lost their kids in a flash flood.
At one point, Chip Roy leapt in to thank Trump for dropping everything to help, telling the media that “pointing fingers is for losers.” Because, you see, wanting to know why an alert system failed as children were swept from their beds is just “loser behavior” in Texas Strong™ world.
Ted Cruz closed by telling the story of a 14-year-old boy at another camp who helped save younger children from the rising water, calling it trauma but also “something to be proud of.” The event crescendoed with Trump declaring the spirit of Texas was “unity and competence,” a phrase so jarringly detached from the Trump brand that it practically echoed in the room.
In the end, Trump told the room: “We’re gonna make it back, we’re gonna make it back and we’re gonna make it good again,” not missing the opportunity to align the loss of children and homes with a vague campaign slogan about winning.
The entire event functioned as a grimly familiar blend of infomercial vibes, grief tourism, partisan attaboys, and disjointed bragging, with the dead and missing children held up as tragic proof of leadership, rather than as evidence of the profound failures of policy and preparedness that made this disaster so devastating. But hey, at least the president showed up for the photo op, promised to rebuild a store, and reminded Texas that eggs are cheaper now. So, mission accomplished, right?
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