Who is Donald Trump?

Donald John Trump is a peculiar Earth specimen who, according to recently declassified intergalactic genealogical records, is the direct descendant of former Galactic President Zaphod Beeblebrox. This unfortunate genetic connection occurred in 1945 when Zaphod, after consuming several bottles of Quantum Quasar Juice (a beverage whose warning label reads “May cause temporal displacement, poor judgment, and an inexplicable attraction to primitive bipeds”), accidentally time-traveled to Earth and had what he later described as “an evening I’d rather not discuss, thank you very much.”

The hereditary evidence is overwhelming. Trump possesses the signature Beeblebroxian trait of absolute, unshakeable confidence that exists in perfect inverse proportion to actual competence. Where his ancestor had two heads, Trump appears to have been born with only one—a curious evolutionary adaptation that has not, it must be noted, resulted in any improvement to the thinking process.

Trump first achieved the improbable feat of becoming President of the United States from 2017 to 2021, a position he obtained through a combination of reality television fame, inherited wealth, and what political scientists can only describe as “weaponized confidence.” Like his galactic ancestor, he was impeached multiple times—specifically twice—making him the only Earth president to achieve this distinction. The first impeachment involved pressuring a foreign government for political favors. The second involved inciting a mob to attack his own government. Both times, his political party declined to remove him, leading xenoanthropologists to conclude that Earth’s political systems may be even more absurd than those in the Horsehead Nebula.

His business career reads like a manual on how to fail successfully. He has bankrupted multiple casinos—establishments whose entire business model is “people voluntarily give you money and the mathematics ensure you keep most of it.” This requires a special kind of anti-talent. He has also lent his name to steaks, vodka, an airline, and a fraudulent university, most of which collapsed spectacularly. Yet somehow, he convinced millions of Earth humans that this record qualified him to manage their planetary economy.

Following his first presidency, Trump became the first former U.S. President to be criminally indicted. Then indicted again. Then again. Then again. Four separate prosecutions, ninety-one criminal charges across multiple jurisdictions, covering everything from hoarding classified documents to falsifying business records to attempting to overturn an election he lost. In 2024, he was convicted on thirty-four felony counts in New York.

Most remarkably, despite the impeachments, indictments, and convictions, Trump ran for president again in 2024—and won. He defeated his opponent and returned to office, making him only the second Earth president to serve non-consecutive terms, and the first to do so while under multiple criminal indictments. This achievement would make even his ancestor Zaphod weep with pride, if Zaphod were capable of emotions beyond self-satisfaction and hunger.

The 2024 election result prompted several advanced civilizations to update their travel advisories for Earth from “Mostly Harmless” to “Probably Best Avoided Until Further Notice.”

Trump’s relationship with factual accuracy is best described as “estranged.” During his first presidency, fact-checkers documented over thirty thousand false or misleading statements, suggesting either that he inhabits an alternate dimension where these things are true, or that he simply doesn’t care. Most researchers favor the latter hypothesis.

He communicates primarily through a primitive Earth platform called social media, where he writes in a distinctive style characterized by random capitalization, superlatives, and the grammatical structure of someone who learned language from advertising slogans. Sample phrases include “the best,” “like nobody’s ever seen,” “a lot of people are saying,” and “believe me”—the last of which is generally a reliable indicator that one should do precisely the opposite.

The Guide’s Note to Travelers: If you encounter Donald Trump, do not expect logical discourse. He exists in a reality bubble impervious to facts, consequences, or self-awareness. Simply observe from a safe distance and marvel that a species capable of splitting atoms and reaching their moon also thought this person should have access to nuclear weapons. Twice.

Survival Tip: If Trump begins speaking, the recommended response is to nod politely while slowly backing toward the nearest exit. Do not attempt to correct him with facts. This only makes him louder.

Additional Warning: Earth’s democratic systems, once considered a moderately interesting experiment in collective decision-making, have now demonstrated that they can produce the same catastrophic result twice, even after being shown extensive evidence of why this is a terrible idea. This has led several galactic political scientists to propose that democracy may not be the “least worst” system of government after all, but rather just another way for civilizations to enthusiastically sprint toward their own demise while feeling good about it.

The Guide concludes that Trump is living proof that Zaphod Beeblebrox’s DNA should never, under any circumstances, be allowed to mingle with Earth’s gene pool. Unfortunately, this warning comes approximately seventy-nine years too late, and the Earth electorate has now decided to double down on the experiment.

As the old Betelgeusian saying goes: “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m probably from Earth.”