The Art of the Insult: Decoding Steven Cheung’s Political Theater
There’s something almost Shakespearean about the way Steven Cheung, President Trump’s Communications Director, wields insults like a court jester with a Twitter account. His latest tirade against Stephen Colbert, calling him a ‘sad and pathetic excuse for a human being,’ is just the latest act in a drama that feels both exhausting and oddly revealing. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how Cheung’s attacks aren’t just random outbursts—they’re calculated performances designed to distract, divide, and, most importantly, entertain a very specific audience.
The Colbert Takedown: More Than Meets the Eye
Let’s start with Cheung’s assault on Colbert. On the surface, it’s a classic Trumpian move: attack a cultural figure who dares to criticize the administration. But if you take a step back and think about it, the timing is curious. Colbert’s final season on The Late Show has been marked by emotional goodbyes and a sense of nostalgia, which, according to a Variety column, has started to feel a bit manufactured. What many people don’t realize is that Cheung’s attack isn’t just about Colbert—it’s about undermining the narrative of a beloved figure leaving the stage. By calling him a ‘loser’ who ‘killed the legacy of The Late Show,’ Cheung is trying to rewrite the story, painting Colbert as a villain rather than a victim of network politics.
From my perspective, this raises a deeper question: Why does the Trump administration feel the need to attack someone who’s already on their way out? The answer, I believe, lies in the psychology of distraction. By focusing on Colbert, Cheung shifts attention away from more pressing issues—like the merger between Skydance and Paramount, which led to The Late Show’s cancellation in the first place. It’s a classic misdirection, and one that Cheung has perfected.
The Pattern of Provocation
Cheung’s attack on Colbert isn’t an isolated incident. Earlier, he went after California Governor Gavin Newsom for criticizing Stephen Miller, calling Newsom a ‘loser’ sitting in his ‘cuck chair.’ Then there was his tirade against Senator Richard Blumenthal, whom he labeled a ‘known liar and fraud’ for misstating his military service. What this really suggests is that Cheung’s insults follow a predictable pattern: target anyone who dares to challenge the administration, no matter how tangential their criticism.
One thing that immediately stands out is the personal nature of these attacks. Cheung doesn’t just disagree with his opponents—he seeks to humiliate them. Take his jab at Jimmy Kimmel, where he brought up Kimmel’s past use of blackface. It’s not just a counter-attack; it’s an attempt to destroy credibility. In my opinion, this tactic is both effective and deeply troubling. It’s effective because it resonates with Trump’s base, who revel in seeing their enemies taken down a peg. But it’s troubling because it lowers the bar for political discourse, turning debates into mudslinging contests.
The Theater of the Absurd
Here’s where things get really interesting: Trump biographer Michael Wolff claims that Cheung’s persona is all an act. ‘Steven is actually a really sweet guy,’ Wolff said, adding that Cheung’s insults are ‘directed to an audience of one’—Donald Trump himself. This raises a provocative idea: What if Cheung’s tirades are less about politics and more about performance art?
If you think about it, there’s a certain tragicomic quality to Cheung’s role. Wolff suggests that Cheung’s size and appearance make him unfit to be Trump’s press secretary, a role typically reserved for a ‘young woman.’ Instead, Cheung is relegated to the role of the attack dog, hidden away but always ready to bark on command. A detail that I find especially interesting is Wolff’s observation that Trump personally approves Cheung’s insults, saying, ‘That’s a good one.’ It’s a reminder that Cheung isn’t just a rogue operative—he’s a tool in Trump’s larger strategy of dominance through degradation.
The Broader Implications
So, what does all this mean for the state of American politics? Personally, I think Cheung’s behavior is a symptom of a larger trend: the weaponization of insult as a political strategy. In an era where attention spans are short and outrage is currency, politicians like Trump have realized that a well-placed insult can dominate the news cycle for days. But here’s the thing: This approach doesn’t just damage individuals—it erodes trust in institutions. When every disagreement becomes a personal attack, it becomes harder to have meaningful conversations about policy.
What many people don’t realize is that this strategy also reflects a deeper cultural shift. In a society increasingly polarized by social media, insults are no longer just a means of attack—they’re a form of identity. By aligning himself with Trump’s brand of aggression, Cheung isn’t just doing his job; he’s reinforcing a worldview where strength is measured by the ability to humiliate others.
Final Thoughts
As I reflect on Cheung’s latest tirade against Colbert, I’m struck by how much it reveals about the state of American politics. It’s not just about one man’s insults—it’s about the system that rewards them. In my opinion, the real tragedy isn’t that Cheung attacks his opponents with such venom; it’s that we’ve come to expect it.
If there’s one takeaway from all this, it’s that the art of the insult has become the defining feature of our political landscape. And while it may be entertaining in the moment, the long-term consequences are anything but funny. So, the next time you see Cheung firing off another tirade on X, remember: It’s not just theater—it’s a reflection of who we’ve become. And that, in my opinion, is the most unsettling part of all.
