Bibi and Trump – The Musical
What Global Politics Looks Like When Everyone Stops Pretending and Starts Singing
Act One: The Auditions
Every good musical starts with auditions. In this case, the auditions did not take place on Broadway, but at ballot boxes, on Twitter, and inside cable news studios. Two stars. Two egos the size of small continents. One simple question: who is bigger than life – and who is willing to admit it out loud.
Benjamin Netanyahu enters the stage like a seasoned tenor. He has seen everything, sung everything, lost everything – and returned for the encore. Trump, by contrast, storms onto the stage like a country singer who just discovered a microphone. No warm-up, no sheet music, lots of volume, zero shame.
From the very first duet, it was clear: this is not just another political show. It is a political opera buffa. One sings about “security”, the other about “greatness”. Both sing about themselves. The audience? Hooked.
Act Two: The Big Hit
Every musical has that one song you cannot get out of your head. In the case of Bibi and Trump, the hit was called “Only I Can”.
Only I can protect Israel.
Only I can save America.
Only I understand.
Only I am right.
Only I.
It is a simple, catchy tune, with a chorus repeated until you start believing it. The audience joins in, claps along, and at some point forgets to ask inconvenient questions like “how?” or “at what cost?”.
Netanyahu sings it calmly, almost paternal. Trump belts it out like a stand-up routine with fireworks. Both understand something their critics never fully grasp: modern politics does not need to be correct. It needs to be memorable.
Act Three: The Critics’ Chorus
Then the chorus enters. Journalists, commentators, academics, former-everythings. They do not sing – they deliberately sing off-key, believing it sounds more intelligent that way.
“It is populism”, they chant.
“It is dangerous for democracy”, they moan.
“It is a circus”, they whisper in horror, while obsessively watching every scene.
The chorus suffers from a basic misunderstanding of musical theater: once the audience buys tickets, your opinion of the plot no longer matters. The show is running. The house is full.
Act Four: The Grand Duet – Israel and America
This is where the lights dim and the orchestra suddenly gets serious. Bibi and Trump, each for his own reasons, understood something fundamental about the Western world: the public is exhausted by explanations. It wants a story. Preferably with a clear hero, a clear villain, and an open ending that allows for another season.
Trump gave Israel a leading role. Not as a moral symbol. Not as a geopolitical headache. But as a clear ally. No footnotes. No “buts”.
Netanyahu, for his part, welcomed Trump like a director who knows that a star like this should never be asked to keep quiet on set. You give him the stage – and let him sing.
This was not a romance. It was a musical transaction. You give me applause – I give you drums.
Act Five: The Awkward Numbers
But like every good musical, there are moments that make you sink into your seat. Unnecessary lines. Unnecessary tweets. Scenes you desperately hope will be cut in editing.
Trump says something ridiculous.
Bibi stays silent a bit too long.
The chorus screams “we told you so”.
And the audience? The audience has adapted. It has learned to enjoy the awkwardness. Sometimes it even adds flavor.
Act Six: The Intermission the World Never Got
The world tried to bring the curtain down. Investigations. Indictments. Protests. Scandals. But this musical is not built for intermissions. Every attempt to stop it only turned into another musical number.
Because here is the uncomfortable truth: Bibi and Trump did not invent cynicism. They simply stopped apologizing for it. They did not break the game – they played it by its real rules.
Final Act: The Encore
So is “Bibi and Trump – The Musical” a masterpiece? Absolutely not.
Is it deep? Occasionally, by accident.
Is it infuriating? Very.
Is it effective? In a way that drives its enemies mad.
This is a musical about an era in which politics is entertainment, and entertainment is policy. An era in which those who refuse to sing are simply not heard.
And when the lights finally go out and the audience files outside, only one question remains:
Who will take the next encore – and does anyone even remember what a show without songs looks like?
Small hint: if it is too quiet – probably not.
הירשמו כדי לקבל את הפוסטים האחרונים אל המייל שלכם
