"Summer time."

Few phrases bring out the kid in all of us quite like it — no school, shorts and flip-flops, languidly lounging around lakes, novels so bad you can't put them down, flowers, vacation, vacation, vacation — all of which helps explain why this time of year remains so special to so many.

For a man like Donald Trump, with a second presidential victory behind him, the GOP and a particular blonde in total subservience to him, billions in his bank account, the World Cup, the 250th, all the attention he can eat, and all the golf he can cheat in, this summer should be hot in a good way — the hottest summer ever, polls be damned.

And yet, no. This season has been a wind-whipped, scorching presidential wildfire, burning through the last forested patches of goodwill, still not contained, with fall still weeks ahead: a war he can't tweet away (Lord knows, he's tried), rising gas prices, rising all prices, dreadful data centers, failing electoral expectations, and, of particular note here, scandals that itch red even through orange powder. Scandals that do not come close to the level of Epstein and corruption have nonetheless drawn disproportionate attention and raise more questions.

He should appreciate that everyone moneyed and important enough to be on vacation is indeed so taken and unavailable to inquire about some of the strange details, questions that will sweat through his Sears suit. Unfortunately, the list here does not even involve war and peace, prosperity versus poverty, or those never-to-be-sufficiently-damned data centers. For now, it starts with catering containers.

No, no one should care that the Secret Service pulled a serviceably secret trick in getting Trump safely out of Ankara in July — that is their job. Nor should the more troubling and legitimate ethical questions about using press members as decoys for possibly threatening Iranian missiles be the focus here.

Instead, the question is how it happened that the President of the United States waved goodbye to his close friends in NATO, walked the width of Air Force One straight into a catering cart — large enough to hide six or seven people and, indeed, capable of taking a handful of people — and yet left the United States Secretary of State, Marco Rubio, and Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent back on the plane, along with Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller, Communications Director Steven Cheung, and Michael Needham, a deputy national security director.

Fine, one supposes. They work for the president and must live with his decision.

But again, the container had room for officials in the Continuity of Government, or "COG," plan, and instead Trump picked Walt Nauta, described here as Oval Office chief, Dan Scavino, a deputy chief of staff, and Natalie Harp, an aide. The White House also acknowledges that a couple of other lower-level personnel went. One was presumably the military aide carrying the nuclear football, and another was likely some military or security bodyguard type. Those last two make sense; the others do not.

Why?

Pretend this is a normal White House. Consider the ramifications if the Iranians had successfully downed the legacy Air Force One and the international chaos that would follow. The people the country would most need would have been the Secretary of State, the Treasury Secretary, the deputy national security adviser, and the White House communications director. With this White House, they would not have been available. The people closest and friendliest to Trump would have been.

Clearly, Trump chose who accompanied him on the hidden diversion. Just as clearly, it appears he chose the people most loyal to him, country be damned. He chose those who do the most favors and may know the most secrets over those the country might need in a disaster.

That is a serious question, even if too few are asking it. Perhaps many who otherwise would ask are leisurely lingering on the beach or watching children run through water spouts at the park.

Similar questions should be raised about the ballroom the nation has been pushed into building. Trump has always loved opulence to a humiliating degree, loves being the center of attention in a large group, loves the type of dinner where people pay $100,000, and even loves playing DJ, from Macho Man to ICE ICE Baby, to James Brown’s "It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World," all the way to R.E.M.’s "Losing My Religion."

Even given his well-known fixation on luxury, he seems unable to focus on anything the way he has on this ballroom — more than the plane, more than the patio, and maybe even more than golf. It is almost as if his life depends on a ballroom that cannot possibly be completed with more than six months left in his term.

The country, meanwhile, seems to have taken a collective breath, said, "it's Trump being Trump," and gone back to watching the tide at sunset.

That should not be acceptable. It would not be acceptable even if Trump had not posted pictures of the ballroom as if it were command and control for an entire army and air force. He says it is needed for protection, yet he regularly golfs at clubs open to anything that flies, already has the White House’s most sophisticated protection, and stays at Mar-a-Lago, which is open to the sea.

Command and control of the military complex that is the White House would matter more if not for the Pentagon, literally across the river, functioning as both the world’s biggest office building and the command center for the entire U.S. military. And everyone knows there is a complicated network of deep tunnels running in all directions except up beneath Washington, D.C., designed to protect the president and top staff from nuclear war. It would be naive not to think there is a tunnel directly from the Pentagon to the White House.

And yet we are told we need an impenetrable ballroom, fortified with even greater protection and functioning almost like its own military base. Why? And why does he care so much? By the time it is built, he would likely have only six months left in his term, and it is not as if he has ever cared much about other presidents.

Guesses about the answer are among the most disturbing our press corps has considered. It almost looks designed to prevent Americans from getting him out while staying in place, rather than letting him scurry elsewhere. We need answers. After all, we are paying for it.

Finally, there is a situation developing in plain sight, one an 8-year-old could notice, and it demands a direct question and follow-ups: Why does Trump appear to fall asleep more regularly and more deeply at midday White House events?

Yes, there are tweets at 1:30 a.m., often held up as evidence of Trump’s fitness and energy. And yes, a president should be awake, sober, and capable at any hour — including mid-afternoon.

Most people are sleepy after lunch, but most people are not president, and most people do not have the White House pharmacy at all hours or the ability to yell at a doctor, "I need something to stay awake!" The issue also comes alongside more frequent physicals at Walter Reed Medical Center, now twice a year instead of once, along with the cognitive exams he continues to take.

Reporters have asked plenty of questions about the bruised hands, the cognitive tests, and the physicals, but they seem reluctant to ask the simplest one: "Why is he asleep so much?"

There should not be an age cutoff for president, especially as modern medicine keeps people healthier, living better, and living longer. Trump knew what he was getting into. He knew he was old. He made a campaign issue out of "sleepy Joe" — who had cancer — and here we are, without a reporter directly asking: "The president appears to be falling asleep in meetings, and it seems to be happening more often. Why?"

If it is a matter of a press pass being automatically redacted, have an excited intern ask on their last day. Plenty would likely volunteer. Yet after searching, one cannot find a single example of why the most obvious question goes unasked, never mind unanswered.

Maybe come fall. Everyone gets more serious after Labor Day, that holiday loved dearly for what it is and despised for what it stands for: the end of summer. Americans then face the dreary trek toward Thanksgiving, knowing the first item on the to-do list is everything that did not get done over the previous three months. At least football returns that same weekend, as if the gods still love us.

Yes, there are more important questions. A judge has the Epstein files under review. Todd Blanche is already running free. HYPE crypto jumped 17% to 20% on Wednesday when Trump, well, hyped it. Today, reporters should ask whether the president, his sons, or his money managers bought HYPE crypto in the last week.

The louder they squeal, the longer they are in HYPE, at least.

But as for the three questions above, figure out what Natalie Harp provides Trump that Marco Rubio would not, ask exactly why Trump is so invested in a White House ballroom he would have at most six months to use, and ask why he appears to be sleeping so much. Notice how rattled they get when reporters keep asking about Natalie? See what happens when all three are put together. Ask them during Leavitt’s replacement’s first press conference. Mistakes get made in a panic, and one never knows what might be learned. It is a long fall.

Jason Miciak is a Raw Story columnist, former editor of Occupy Democrats, author, political consultant, attorney, and single parent girldad. Please follow on Bluesky, and he can be reached at jasonmiciak@gmail.com.