In the endless circus of American political theater, where health reports read like infomercial scripts and transparency is as optional as a tie at a Mar-a-Lago mixer, California Governor Gavin Newsom has once again stolen the spotlight with a masterclass in savage satire. On December 2, 2025, just hours after the White House dropped a cryptic memo touting President Donald Trump’s “perfectly normal” MRI results from an October check-up at Walter Reed, Newsom’s press office fired back with a parody medical report so over-the-top it could double as a script for a Saturday Night Live skit. Penned by the fictional “Dr. Dolittle, Chief of Peak Human Performance” from the “California Department of Peak Excellence,” the faux memo crowns Newsom the “healthiest human currently alive or recorded in medical history” – complete with arteries that “shimmer,” an EKG machine inquiring if he’s “meditating or just naturally enlightened,” bone density rivaling a redwood, and a brain scan revealing “unusually active regions” for pre-sunrise productivity. But the real gut-punch? A not-so-subtle dig at Trump’s stamina: Newsom powers through “full workdays without falling asleep in meetings” or needing “executive time” to lie down and watch TV, all while standing “upright without looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.” As the internet devours this digital dagger – with #NewsomMemo and #TrumpMRI trending in tandem – the stunt isn’t just comedy gold; it’s a razor-sharp indictment of the opacity cloaking Trump’s “excellent health” narrative. In an era where a 79-year-old leader’s every shuffle sparks competence crises, Newsom’s exaggeration exposes the farce: if “perfectly normal” is the best the White House can muster without specifics, maybe it’s time to laugh – or cry – at the absurdity.

The timing was surgical. Trump’s memo, released via press secretary Karoline Leavitt on December 1, arrived amid mounting whispers about the president’s vigor – from viral clips of him pausing mid-rally to questions over his golf cart reliance at Mar-a-Lago. Penned by White House physician Dr. Sean Barbabella, the one-page summary described abdominal and cardiovascular scans as “perfectly normal” for a man of Trump’s age, insisting they were “preventative” and confirming “excellent overall health.” Trump himself, in a Fox & Friends tease, had bragged the results were his “best ever,” but admitted with a chuckle that he “didn’t even know which body part they scanned.” No images, no metrics, no mention of cognitive tests or the full battery of a routine executive physical – just vague reassurances that screamed “optics over oncology.” Enter Newsom’s riposte: a pixel-perfect parody that flips the script, turning Trump’s boilerplate into a hyperbolic hymn to California cool. Posted to the @GovPressOffice X account with a side-by-side graphic, the memo mimics the White House format down to the letterhead, but amps the absurdity to 11. “Advanced imaging of Governor Newsom’s cardiovascular, musculoskeletal, and neurological health revealed results that defy medical precedent,” it boasts, before landing the kill shot: “While we do not typically comment on the health of other elected officials, we’ll simply note that… [Newsom] is able to stand upright without looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.” Signed off with a flourish – “Please direct follow-up questions to my office” – it’s the kind of troll that doesn’t just shade; it spotlights.

Newsom’s team, no strangers to the shade-throwing game, has turned social media skirmishes into a high art form since Trump’s 2024 reelection. From mocking his “executive time” naps to contrasting California’s wildfire response with federal fumbles, the governor’s digital digs have racked up millions of impressions, positioning him as the Democrats’ snarkiest standard-bearer. This memo, though, elevates the feud to Freudian levels – a not-so-veiled probe into the subtext of Trump’s transparency drought. Why the vagueness? Critics, from The Atlantic‘s health policy wonks to late-night hosts like Jimmy Kimmel, have long flagged the White House’s health releases as “corporate wellness fluff,” more PR polish than peer-reviewed fact. Trump’s 2018 physical, remember, came with a “very stable genius” caveat and no raw data; his 2023 cognitive exam? Buried in a footnote. The October MRI, ostensibly for a routine check, was teased for weeks as “spectacular” before the memo’s drip-feed drop – fueling speculation from gout to gait issues amid reports of Trump’s increasing reliance on teleprompters and shorter stump speeches. Newsom’s parody doesn’t just lampoon; it interrogates: If everything’s so “excellent,” why not release the scans? Why the secrecy when Biden’s every sneeze was dissected under a microscope? As one X user quipped in a viral thread, “Trump’s memo: ‘Perfectly normal.’ Newsom’s: ‘Shimmering arteries.’ Guess which one feels like a cover-up?”

The backlash was predictable – and predictably Trumpian. By midday December 2, the president’s Truth Social feed lit up with a familiar fusillade: “Crooked Gavin’s FAKE DOCTOR NOTE is a WITCH HUNT by the RADICAL LEFT! My MRI was PERFECT – the best ever! Newsom’s just JEALOUS because California’s a DISASTER and I’m WINNING BIGLY! SAD!” MAGA die-hards piled on, dubbing the memo “Desperate Dem Derangement,” while Fox News ran a chyron-heavy segment accusing Newsom of “doctoring” the narrative for 2028 White House dreams. But the satire stuck – #LeaningTowerOfTrump surged to No. 1 U.S. trend, spawning Photoshopped memes of Trump tilting like Pisa alongside Newsom’s gym selfies. Late-night TV feasted: Stephen Colbert reenacted the memo as a Star Trek medical log (“Captain’s arteries: Warp 10!”), while The Daily Show host Ronny Chieng deadpanned, “Newsom’s so healthy, his blood type is ‘organic kale.’ Trump’s? ‘Diet Coke Negative.'” Even neutral outlets like The Wall Street Journal couldn’t resist a wry aside: “In the annals of political medicine, Newsom’s troll may be the healthiest burn yet.”

Beneath the laughs, though, lurks a sharper edge: America’s fixation on leaders’ longevity in a nation grappling with its own health crises. Trump’s age – 79 and counting – has loomed large since his 2024 win, with polls showing 62% of independents fretting over “fitness for a second term” amid viral moments like his June stumble at a West Virginia rally. The MRI memo, meant to douse those flames, only fanned them – its “preventative” label evoking 2018’s infamous “bone spur” deferment saga, while the lack of specifics invited comparisons to Reagan’s early Alzheimer’s whispers or FDR’s hidden wheelchair. Newsom, at 58 a picture of CrossFit vigor, isn’t just punching up; he’s embodying the contrast his party craves – a telegenic Democrat unscarred by scandal, polling at 55% approval in California despite wildfires and budget woes. Insiders whisper this memo is audition footage for 2028: a reminder that fitness isn’t just physical, but political – the stamina to tweet at dawn without “executive naps.”

Yet for all its bite, the parody packs a poignant punch: in mocking the machinations, it humanizes the madness. Trump’s team, scrambling post-memo with a defensive “The President is in peak form!” tweetstorm, only amplified the echo chamber of doubt. As Politico noted in a December 3 analysis, “Newsom’s jest isn’t juvenile; it’s journalistic – forcing sunlight on shadows the White House prefers dim.” Public reaction skews sympathetic to the shade: a Morning Consult snap poll found 48% of viewers “more likely to question Trump’s health reports” after the troll, with 62% calling the parody “funny but fair.” On TikTok, duets of the memo graphic set to dramatic orchestral swells have topped 10 million views, turning policy wonkery into watercooler whimsy.

Newsom’s broader troll oeuvre – from his viral “California vs. Chaos” billboards to podcast cameos roasting Trump’s tariffs – has minted him the GOP’s favorite Democratic foil, a role he leans into with the finesse of a former prosecutor turned pol. But this memo? It’s peak performance art: humiliation by hyperbole, where the joke’s on the juiceless jargon. As Dr. Dolittle might say, “Nothing about this farce is merely ‘normal.'” In a cycle where every cough is a conspiracy and every scan a sideshow, Newsom’s reminder rings true: if we’re force-fed fitness fables, let’s at least chase them with a chaser of truth – and a hearty laugh at the leaning tower teetering in the spotlight. The 2028 primaries can’t come soon enough; until then, pass the popcorn – and the parody pens.