Brow Beat

I Am Donald Trump’s Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and I’ve Seen Enough. It’s Time for Impeachment.

This is about constitutional principles, not the fact that people keep vandalizing me.

Protest posters are placed at President Donald Trump's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Please welcome me to the Resistance. Ringo Chiu/AFP/Getty Images

I am Donald Trump’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and I am a patriot. Over the course of my 12-year, immensely profitable association with the president, I have prided myself on my reputation for loyalty, silently refusing to criticize my one-time friend and mentor even as his obvious, virulent racism metastasized into racism that was exactly as obvious and virulent but also new and shocking to me, somehow. I have always believed it was not the place of a terrazzo-and-brass sidewalk tile to weigh in on political matters, primarily because terrazzo-and-brass sidewalk tiles are made of terrazzo and brass and cannot, under normal circumstances, think or speak or write. But Donald Trump is not a normal president. On Wednesday morning, I read the Mueller report—I cannot emphasize enough that my change of heart was prompted by a combination of love of country and the conclusions in the Mueller Report and is completely unrelated to the fact that someone spray-painted “PUTINS BITCH” on me at 3:40 in the morning—and I realized that enough was enough. I had to do something! I had to speak out! Because of all my patriotism!

If you think calling for the impeachment of a sitting Republican president would constitute career suicide for someone like me, a Hollywood Walk of Fame star bearing the name of that sitting Republican president in big block letters, you may end up being right. But before getting bogged down in questions about how Donald Trump’s name got written on me in the first place, or whether or not a Hollywood Walk of Fame star with Donald Trump’s name written on it should have a career, I think we should all take a minute to consider how courageous it is for me to finally distance myself from the president in 2019, after the Muslim ban, after Charlottesville, after family separation, ostensibly because of the Mueller report. It’s not that I’ve finally gotten fed up with the sledgehammers, the golden toilets, the pickaxes, the dog shit, or the non-binding resolutions, and it’s certainly not that it’s finally gotten through my thick terrazzo head that some of my fellow Americans are surprisingly uncool about teaming up with a guy who steals other people’s children. No, the disturbing portrait of a lawless president in the Mueller Report was the tipping point for me, not fear of social censure or that time George Lopez pretended to pee on me. I live on Hollywood Boulevard: You’re not going to scare me with fake urine. You’re also not going to hold the fact that I promoted Donald Trump for years and years against me. Are you?

Incidentally, it is pretty fucking rich for my next-door neighbor, Kevin Spacey’s Hollywood Walk of Fame star, to be putting on airs about any of this.

Hindsight is 20/20, and it’s easy for the loony left to say today that I should have never cast my lot in with Donald Trump in the first place. But when I first began working with Trump, lending him legitimacy, helping to promote his television career, and paving the way to his presidency—quite literally!—something was different about him. I’m not certain how to articulate what was different in a way anyone would find remotely credible, but I’m certain that it was real, and that it exculpates me. The man in the White House today is not the man I met at my unveiling ceremony back in 2007. That man held his beloved son Barron, not yet a year old, up to the cameras and said:

He’s strong, he’s smart, he’s tough, he’s vicious, he’s violent—all of the ingredients you need to be an entrepreneur. And most importantly, hopefully he’s smart, because smart is really the ingredient. So, Barron, good luck—you have a long way to go.

OK, in retrospect that does sound like it should maybe have given me a qualm or two. But my childhood dream of being a Hollywood Walk of Fame star for Mitt Romney died when he lost Mamma Mia! to Pierce Brosnan. What was I supposed to do, pass up the opportunity for professional advancement just because I’d be helping a monster amass more wealth and power? Talk about un-American! It’s also important to remember that in 2007, Donald Trump came highly recommended by all the best people. Am I really to be blamed for believing the glowing endorsement Mark Burnett gave him at that same ceremony?

There’s two things to know about Donald. One is if you’re his friend, he’ll go to war for you. But never become his enemy. You never want to become this man’s enemy because he’ll get you.

Oh sure, it’s easy to see the red flags now. But you weren’t softened up by the delightful comedy stylings of Jay Leno first, the way the people who attended the ceremony that day were. Pretty much everyone was rolling in the Boulevard, except for my other neighbor, Y. Frank Freeman’s Hollywood Walk of Fame star. I never expected to get along with Freeman’s star—your namesake lost his war on smut, Frankie, and Donald Trump is the proof! Now I live next door forever!—but even once things started going downhill, I thought Spacey’s star and I would have a lot to talk about. But these days, If I say so much as hello, you’d think he was Keyser Söze’s Hollywood Walk of Fame star.

This kind of shameful condescension from Hollywood’s so-called elite is exactly how Trump got elected in the first place, and now that I am bravely speaking out against him, it is more important than ever to invite me to parties and conferences and symposiums, to say nothing of hiring me to work at think tanks, lest Trump be reelected. Fortunately, the Founders provided a constitutional remedy for exactly this situation: Publicly calling for impeachment in liberal media outlets dumb enough to hand a microphone to a former Trump supporter. So Mr. Trump, I am putting you on notice: It is time for me to reinvent myself. It is time for impeachment.

At this point I would like to quietly reassure my old friends that I still support the larger Republican project of robbing the poor to pay the rich while taking away women’s reproductive rights and flat-out murdering as many people of color as possible until we successfully boil the entire planet.

As I was saying, respect for the rule of law and love of my fellow Americans compel me, Donald Trump’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, to support his impeachment. The sooner he is removed from office, the sooner the wounds he has inflicted on the country can begin to heal. More importantly, the sooner Trump vanishes from the headlines, the sooner I can pretend I had nothing to do with any of this and was on the right side of history from the beginning. After all, in this country, we’re not divided into “former Trump supporters” and “people who don’t have quite as much blood on their hands”: We’re Americans, and as Americans, it’s our duty to forget who went MAGA. I mean, what are you going to do, write Donald Trump’s name on my face in giant brass letters?