The former president Trump went off in a Tuesday morning statement, scorching both Israel and Iran over the breakdown of a ceasefire that he had just stopped congratulating himself for bringing about.
As a man observing their Jenga tower crumble with all the serenity of a mudslide, Trump stepped up in front of a press pool hours before flying off to the NATO summit in The Hague and effectively put the pedal to the floor.
"We have two countries that have been fighting long and hard that don't know what the f* they're doing," he snarled at reporters, frustration practically steaming out of his ears.
Trump also sounded self-assured in an NBC interview, saying the ceasefire would last "forever." "I think it's unlimited," he added in his inimitable plume. "I don't think they will be shooting at each other ever again. By sunrise, that optimistic prediction had already aged like milk in the sun.
Overnight came reports of resurgent violence, and the mood of Trump began to plummet. All of a sudden, the self-proclaimed architect of Middle East peace was blaming everyone for the lack of progress, especially Israel.
"Israel, as soon as we made the deal, they take a lot of that pressure off, and that pressure, it works two ways, both ways … they came out with … they threw a load of bombs, and it was the first time ever in the history of the state of Israel, where that happened," Trump fumed. "The heaviest truck we've ever had."
He didn't mince words. "I'm not happy with Israel. You know, I say, 'OK, now you have 12 hours,' you don't go out in the first hour and just throw everything you have at them."
Iran did not escape his wrath, but the animus toward Tel Aviv stood out as unusually pointed. In a surprise to even his closest aides, Trump appeared on Truth Social and issued an all-caps warning:
"ISRAEL. DO NOT DROP THOSE BOMBS. IF YOU DO IT'S A BIG VIOLATION, Actually, I WOULD SAY, A MAJOR VIOLATION. BRING YOUR PILOTS HOME, NOW!"
The ceasefire had been a rare diplomatic triumph after weeks of direct Israel-Iran conflict, and it was supposed to bring a pause in this powder-keg region. Tensions had been running red hot, fueled in part by U.S. strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities.
This public disintegration felt personal for Trump, who likes to be the dealmaker-in-chief, even when that's not the title. He had pressed his name on the ceasefire before it could breathe. As bombs fall again, he's watching what was envisioned as a legacy-boosting moment disintegrate in real time.
But despite the fiery rhetoric, Trump's message was that the ceasefire hadn't been violated, a defense that sounded more like hopeful policy-making than diplomatic nuance.
As Trump's plane took off for NATO, the peacemaker is now the referee in a heavyweight fight he is having trouble controlling. And at the moment, at least, the only "endless" thing about this ceasefire may be the following mayhem.
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