When I was five, I wanted to have my 6th birthday party at Shakey's (bonus points if you're Midwestern 70s/80s enough to be down with Shakey's). The neighbor kids refused to come because they were staunch Pizza Hut partisans. I detested Pizza Hut, demonstrating what a perceptive child of impeccable taste I was. So I pouted, sat in my room alone with my MASK and GI Joe action figures, and had a birthday party for myself instead.
You may have heard that on Tuesday afternoon, having been stiffed by the Philadelphia Eagles, our president is doing the same, promising to convene military bands to play the National Anthem for…for him, I guess. The amount of weird autocrat-military imagery the nation is willing to tolerate from a white conservative continues to be tested.
Drew Magary has an excellent write up on how Trump's constant, meaningless grandstanding on the National Anthem, the flag, and other jingoist touchstones makes perfect sense in the context of an entire life and career built on constant, meaningless grandstanding.