WASHINGTON, D.C. — In a move that has stunned observers and amplified divisions in an already polarized nation, President Donald Trump on October 18, 2025, shared an AI-generated video on his Truth Social platform depicting himself as a crowned monarch piloting a fighter jet labeled “King Trump” and unleashing streams of brown sludge—widely interpreted as feces—onto crowds of protesters below. The post, timed to coincide with nationwide “No Kings” rallies protesting his administration, has drawn widespread condemnation as juvenile, authoritarian, and a direct assault on democratic norms. Critics argue it underscores the very “king-like” behavior the demonstrations seek to oppose, while supporters dismiss it as harmless satire.
The 19-second clip, set to the pulsating strains of Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone” from the 1986 film Top Gun, opens with an animated Trump donning a golden crown in the cockpit of the jet. As the aircraft soars over a bustling urban scene resembling New York City’s Times Square, it releases massive payloads of the viscous brown material, splattering demonstrators who scatter in cartoonish dismay. The video cuts to ground level, showing protesters—including a likeness of Democratic influencer Harry Sisson—covered in the muck, with exaggerated expressions of shock. Trump captioned the post simply: “No Kings? Enjoy the shower! #MAGA.”
Posted late Saturday evening, the video quickly amassed millions of views on Truth Social and was reposted by the official White House X account, escalating its reach. An NBC News analysis released earlier this month revealed that Trump has shared dozens of such AI-generated memes since his January 2025 inauguration, with a surge in August and September often targeting political opponents or critics. This latest entry fits a pattern that includes an August video showing former President Barack Obama in handcuffs and a May image of Trump as Pope shortly after Pope Francis’s death, which drew rebukes from the Vatican.
The backlash erupted almost immediately across social media and traditional outlets. “This isn’t leadership; it’s the tantrum of a 12-year-old with access to Photoshop and a grudge,” tweeted actor and rally participant Robert De Niro, who joined thousands in Manhattan. Comedian Jimmy Kimmel, speaking from the Los Angeles march, called it “disgusting and deeply unpresidential,” adding, “If this is how he responds to citizens exercising their First Amendment rights, what does that say about his respect for the Constitution?” Social media users piled on, with one viral post reading: “Him taking a dump on the country is the most honest thing he’s ever posted.” Another user quipped, “Can’t believe that’s the president of a country,” echoing sentiments of disbelief and embarrassment.
Human rights attorney Qasim Rashid drew a stark historical parallel on X: “On Jan. 6, MAGA insurrectionists smeared feces on the halls of Congress. Today, the MAGA cult leader Donald Trump posted an AI-generated video of him smearing feces on peaceful protesters.” The video’s graphic nature prompted even CNN’s Manu Raju to preface its broadcast with a viewer warning: “I just have to warn our Sunday morning viewers here—this is the president of the United States posting this. I don’t really know what to say about it.”
Compounding the outrage, Loggins himself condemned the unauthorized use of his song in a statement Monday, demanding its removal. “This video was created with the sole purpose of dividing us, and I want no part of it,” the 82-year-old musician said. “’Danger Zone’ is about thrill and heroism, not hate or humiliation.” Legal experts speculate that Sisson, a prominent Gen-Z activist, may pursue action; reports indicate his attorney sent a cease-and-desist letter to the White House on Sunday, citing unauthorized use of his likeness and emotional distress.
The video’s release came mere hours after the “No Kings” protests, which organizers hailed as the largest single-day demonstration against a sitting U.S. president in modern history. Coordinated by a coalition of progressive groups including the ACLU, MoveOn, and Indivisible, the events unfolded across more than 2,700 locations in all 50 states, drawing an estimated 7 million participants—up from 5 million in June’s inaugural wave. Billed as a “day of defiance against authoritarianism,” the rallies decried Trump’s policies on immigration, federal program cuts, and the militarization of Democratic-led cities.
In Washington, D.C., tens of thousands flooded Pennsylvania Avenue, waving signs reading “No Kings, No Tyrants” and donning yellow attire as a symbol of unity. Independent Sen. Bernie Sanders headlined the capital event, lambasting tech billionaires like Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg for amassing power under Trump. “These multibillionaires sat right behind him at the inauguration, and now they’re pulling the strings,” Sanders thundered to cheers. “We the people will rule—not kings or oligarchs.”
New York’s Times Square rally, ironically the setting mimicked in Trump’s video, saw over 100,000 marchers, including Hollywood heavyweights Spike Lee and Glenn Close. Lee, microphone in hand, invoked civil rights icons: “This ain’t about left or right; it’s about right and wrong. No one man is above the law.” Close read from the Declaration of Independence, her voice steady amid chants of “Defend Democracy.” In Chicago, Mayor Brandon Johnson vowed resistance to Trump’s National Guard deployments, declaring, “We will defend our humanity and tear down tyranny together.” Protests in smaller locales added a grassroots flavor: In San Francisco, hundreds formed a human banner spelling “No King!” on Ocean Beach, while Memphis revelers donned inflatable costumes for a festive yet pointed street party vibe.
The demonstrations remained overwhelmingly peaceful, with police reporting no major incidents or arrests in major cities. Organizers emphasized family-friendly elements—music, speeches, and hope-filled messages—contrasting sharply with Republican characterizations. House Speaker Mike Johnson labeled them a “hate America rally” tied to “Hamas and Antifa,” while Texas Gov. Greg Abbott preemptively mobilized state troopers and the National Guard for Austin’s event. Trump, in a Fox Business interview days prior, scoffed at the protests, insisting, “I’m not a king. I work my ass off to make our country great.” Yet his video suggested otherwise, prompting accusations of irony and projection.
Defenders, however, framed the clip as playful ribbing. Johnson, confronted by reporters Monday, called it “satire to make a point.” “You can argue he’s probably the most effective person who’s ever used social media,” the speaker said. “He’s not calling for the murder of his political opponents.” Vice President J.D. Vance echoed this on Bluesky, sharing a separate AI video of Trump crowning himself and unsheathing a sword, captioned: “Kings? Nah, just winners.” Rep. Virginia Foxx (R-N.C.) was blunter: “Donald J. Trump is your president. Cry more, losers.”
House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) fired back, deeming the video “deeply unserious, deeply unpresidential.” “This isn’t satire; it’s a symptom of a leader who views dissent as dirt to be dumped on,” he said in a statement. The clip also reignited debates over Trump’s past skepticism toward protest rights. In July, he publicly questioned whether opponents “have the right, as guaranteed under the U.S. Constitution, to protest his presidency,” a remark civil liberties groups called chilling.
Broader context reveals a nation fraying at the edges. The protests coincide with an 18-day government shutdown, triggered by Trump’s demands for border wall funding amid stalled bipartisan talks. Federal workers like Monica, a D.C. retiree at the rally, voiced desperation: “There’s a lack of compassion for us losing jobs—can we survive another three years?” Immigration fears loomed large; in San Pablo, California, Maria Floriano, adorned in butterfly motifs, called migration “an act of courage.” Meanwhile, Trump’s military deployments to cities like Chicago and Portland—challenged in courts—fueled cries of overreach.
As the dust settles, the video’s fallout lingers. Fact-checkers like Snopes confirmed its authenticity as an AI creation, describing the substance as “poop-like” but noting no calls to real violence. Yet columnists like the Los Angeles Times’ Anita Chabria warned it normalizes dehumanization: “Satire embarrasses the indefensible, but here it degrades protesters so Trump avoids accountability.” Pastor Brandon, in a viral X thread, decried the administration’s “intentional cruelty” as “spiritual and moral decay dressed in performative Christianity.”
For many, the episode crystallizes a presidency defined by memes over policy, division over dialogue. As one Salt Lake City marcher, reflecting on a fatal shooting at June’s rally, put it: “We’re here for hope and healing—not hate.” With midterm elections looming and shutdown pressures mounting, Trump’s digital escapade may rally his base but risks alienating moderates weary of spectacle. In a republic founded on rejecting kings, the question persists: Who truly wears the crown?