Trump Transforms White House History, Torches Biden With Brutal Plaques

Paul Riverbank, 12/18/2025Bold new plaques in the White House’s West Colonnade recast presidential history as political battleground, trading tradition for sharp partisanship—underscoring how even sacred symbols and shared spaces are swept into the fray of today’s polarized discourse.

One by one, visitors approach the portrait spaces—James Madison, Lincoln, Reagan—and then find themselves standing before where President Biden’s portrait rightfully belongs. Instead of a familiar face, there's a photo of an autopen machine, slightly askew in its frame, the polished chrome odd against neighboring dignified paintings. The plaque underneath? It forgoes subtlety for spectacle, blaring in gold script that Biden was, it asserts, “by far, the worst President in American History.” There’s no slow build-up here: the accusations are immediate, sweeping from inflation and the border to claims about “corrupt elections.”

If a guest lingers, the narrative deepens—or narrows, depending on one’s perspective. The text beneath Biden ranges from policy indictments (inflation, a “weakened” dollar, the Afghanistan withdrawal, chaos at the border) to personal jabs. “His severe mental decline” gets its own plaque, as does the frequency of Biden’s autopen signature, described with almost theatrical exasperation. Staff are accused of hiding his decline, and there’s reference to a “humiliating debate loss” that, according to the plaque, led him to bow out of the 2024 race “in disgrace.” The closing lines, written less as analysis and more as battle cry, don’t leave much room for ambiguity: “President Trump would get Re-Elected in a Landslide, and SAVE AMERICA!”

This overhaul doesn’t single out Democrats. Former President Obama gets grilled for the Affordable Care Act (“Unaffordable,” the plaque sniffs) and the Iran nuclear deal. A chunk is reserved for the now-familiar claim that Obama “spied” on Trump’s 2016 campaign—a statement delivered as if it were settled fact rather than the subject of years of debate on cable news. Clinton’s era is almost breezed past, NAFTA pegged as a Trump-targeted scapegoat, with an aside that “Hillary lost to Trump!” lingering in the air like the taste of politics unresolved.

Not every description is a tongue-lashing: Reagan, fans are told, “admired Trump”—a partnership cast in simple, glowing prose. But the days when White House displays merely charted dates and left judgments to posterity? Those feel distant, if not gone.

Opinions on this remaking of historical account are all over the spectrum. Some visitors snap photos and laugh, others swap nervous glances. Online, the response has been less measured. “It’s all very entertaining,” one comment reads, “but it doesn’t make my grocery bill any lighter or fuel any cheaper.” There’s a contingent relishing this break from staid tradition, seeing it as overdue candor. Another group, judging by the overheard sighs and muttered protests along the hallway, would just as soon see the focus shift to actual solutions, not old feuds memorialized in metal.

For those who see the White House as a place above the fray—a “house for everyone”—these charged plaques hit a nerve. Maybe, for others, the straightforwardness is a breath of fresh air in a world long accustomed to political hedging. Either way, this new style has left a mark. The Colonnade isn’t just a corridor anymore; it’s become a kind of living argument, history written not in pencil but in permanent, flamboyant font. With every step, it’s clearer that the past and present are always up for debate in these halls—and the future is likely to bring its own edits.

Once an understated passage lined with hushed reverence, the West Colonnade at the White House feels different these days. Where modest labels once rested beneath presidential portraits, a wave of brash new plaques now greets the public. These aren’t just identification tags dotted with names and years. Under Donald Trump’s direction, they’ve become more like lightning rods—part museum, part campaign stop, and unmistakably a product of this political moment.One by one, visitors approach the portrait spaces—James Madison, Lincoln, Reagan—and then find themselves standing before where President Biden’s portrait rightfully belongs. Instead of a familiar face, there's a photo of an autopen machine, slightly askew in its frame, the polished chrome odd against neighboring dignified paintings. The plaque underneath? It forgoes subtlety for spectacle, blaring in gold script that Biden was, it asserts, “by far, the worst President in American History.” There’s no slow build-up here: the accusations are immediate, sweeping from inflation and the border to claims about “corrupt elections.”If a guest lingers, the narrative deepens—or narrows, depending on one’s perspective. The text beneath Biden ranges from policy indictments (inflation, a “weakened” dollar, the Afghanistan withdrawal, chaos at the border) to personal jabs. “His severe mental decline” gets its own plaque, as does the frequency of Biden’s autopen signature, described with almost theatrical exasperation. Staff are accused of hiding his decline, and there’s reference to a “humiliating debate loss” that, according to the plaque, led him to bow out of the 2024 race “in disgrace.” The closing lines, written less as analysis and more as battle cry, don’t leave much room for ambiguity: “President Trump would get Re-Elected in a Landslide, and SAVE AMERICA!”This overhaul doesn’t single out Democrats. Former President Obama gets grilled for the Affordable Care Act (“Unaffordable,” the plaque sniffs) and the Iran nuclear deal. A chunk is reserved for the now-familiar claim that Obama “spied” on Trump’s 2016 campaign—a statement delivered as if it were settled fact rather than the subject of years of debate on cable news. Clinton’s era is almost breezed past, NAFTA pegged as a Trump-targeted scapegoat, with an aside that “Hillary lost to Trump!” lingering in the air like the taste of politics unresolved.Not every description is a tongue-lashing: Reagan, fans are told, “admired Trump”—a partnership cast in simple, glowing prose. But the days when White House displays merely charted dates and left judgments to posterity? Those feel distant, if not gone.Opinions on this remaking of historical account are all over the spectrum. Some visitors snap photos and laugh, others swap nervous glances. Online, the response has been less measured. “It’s all very entertaining,” one comment reads, “but it doesn’t make my grocery bill any lighter or fuel any cheaper.” There’s a contingent relishing this break from staid tradition, seeing it as overdue candor. Another group, judging by the overheard sighs and muttered protests along the hallway, would just as soon see the focus shift to actual solutions, not old feuds memorialized in metal.For those who see the White House as a place above the fray—a “house for everyone”—these charged plaques hit a nerve. Maybe, for others, the straightforwardness is a breath of fresh air in a world long accustomed to political hedging. Either way, this new style has left a mark. The Colonnade isn’t just a corridor anymore; it’s become a kind of living argument, history written not in pencil but in permanent, flamboyant font. With every step, it’s clearer that the past and present are always up for debate in these halls—and the future is likely to bring its own edits.