#nyny

From "The Big Snake!" in Tales of Horror #3, November 1952. Mel Keefer pencils & inks.

He Came to Be Seen. That Was the Problem

By Tony Pentimalli

Thank God for New York. Thank God the room did not pretend. Donald Trump did not go to Madison Square Garden because he loves basketball. He went because he wanted the room to look at him. He wanted the cameras, the salute, the borrowed glory, and the big-screen reminder that even the NBA Finals could be turned into another Trump scene. Instead, when his face showed up above the court, the Garden gave him the sound he deserved. Not respect. Not love. Boos.

That is why the moment mattered. This was not just some game. This was the NBA Finals at Madison Square Garden. This was New York at full blast. This was a city getting one of those rare nights that belongs to the fans, the players, the workers, the vendors, the neighborhoods, and everyone who waited for joy in a country that keeps draining it out of people. The night did not need Trump. It was already big enough. Then he walked in, and the usual disease came with him: one powerful man expecting everyone else’s joy to bend around his ego.

The picture was brutal because it was honest. Trump sells himself as strong, tireless, loved, feared, and larger than life, then he appeared to doze during one of the loudest sporting events in America after his visit had already turned the night into a security mess. Fans came for basketball and got barricades. They came for the Knicks and got checkpoints. They came for the Finals and got another reminder that when Trump shows up for the camera, regular people pay the price.

The Garden did not boo him because New York failed to understand him. New York understands him perfectly. It knew him before the red hats, before the golden escalator, before the strongman act took over the government. It knew the tabloid fraud, the fake rich-guy routine, the stiffed workers, the bankrupt casinos, the race-baiting, the hunger to be treated like a king, and the lifelong need to look bigger than he is. New York watched him build a public life out of rented wealth, unpaid bills, and endless self-worship. So when his face appeared over the court, the city did not need to think about it. It remembered.

That is why the booing hit harder than a normal celebrity embarrassment. Trump has built his politics around making people submit. He wants courts to bend, prosecutors punished, enemies marked, immigrants hunted, and every public space turned into a test of loyalty. But the Garden refused the test, and for one clean moment, the country heard a room full of people tell power no. Even on a night wrapped in presidential security, even with the cameras waiting, even with the machinery of power surrounding him, he could not force people to pretend. He could take the suite. He could bring the convoy. He could clog the sidewalks. But he could not make the room love him.

Then came the image of him appearing to nod off, and the whole strongman act shrank in public. The point is not that an old man looked tired. The point is that Trump was awake for the camera and asleep for the thing itself. He wanted the symbol, not the substance. The attention, not the game. The room, not the joy inside it. He did not need to love basketball. He needed basketball to love him back.

That is why this moment will stick. Not because booing replaces organizing, voting, striking, suing, exposing, and resisting. It does not. It will stick because Trump’s whole politics depends on the fake roar, the staged crowd, the managed room, and the lie that he is too loved to reject and too powerful to mock. The crowd at Madison Square Garden did not need a speech, a memo, a panel, or a perfect slogan. It booed. New Yorkers sent a clear, unmistakable message in the oldest language power understands: no.

Trump wanted the Garden to make him look powerful. Instead, it made him look like a burden. He came for the roar and got rejection. He came for the image and gave the country a better one: the emperor in the luxury box, booed by his hometown, appearing to drift off while the people below him stayed wide awake. He came to Madison Square Garden to be seen. He was. That was the problem.

Does that mean youre naked when you turn back to humany? Or you all have same brand of pants hulk wears-

Would you be interested in hearing about my favourite passages of NYNY, like chapterwise, in case you don't find that boring? I enjoy sharing favourite parts because I find fascinating to see what exactly caught other people's attention and what they like best - especially when it comes to the authors themselves. 🤗

Are there passages you love and are specifically proud of? Like for example you had one sentence/passage/setting in mind and felt the need to create a whole chapter, story or even world around it?👁👁🧠💥💋

(Is that too private to ask? In case you wouldn't want to answer (in public), just let me know.🤫)

((It might sometimes take me a bit of time to answer but I would never NOT react at all sooner or later. Hope that's not too frustrating a prospect...👉👈))

Enjoy the day/night 🤘

YESS OMG! Ok so I’d love to answer this with you but it’s gonna be lengthy LMAO so I’m gonna drop it under a read more 😅