"What's in a name?" William Shakespeare inquired. "ME!" was Donald Trump's response. In his second administration, Trump's long-standing obsession with his own name and likeness is reaching its zenith.
The Trump Kennedy Center, a facility for performing arts, and the Donald J. Trump United States Institute of Peace are currently established.
Trump Gold Cards are available for wealthy individuals seeking U.S. residency, while Trump Accounts are available for newborns.
Some government buildings have enormous Trump portraits hanging from them, and passes to national parks will feature smaller ones.
A Trump commemorative coin to commemorate the country's 250th anniversary and a so-called Trump class of battleships for the Navy are on the horizon.
Naturally, this is the second chapter of Trump's self-promotional career. He signed his name on the initiatives he developed in the beginning.
And in the 2000s, thanks in large part to his popularity as host of "The Apprentice," he made his name a profitable commodity by associating it with steaks, wine, get-rich seminars, resorts, and more.
Trump University paid settlements to students who claimed fraud, so not all business endeavors left happy customers behind.
However, he made millions by adhering to the advice he shared on Twitter in 2013: "Remember, if you don't promote yourself, then no one else will!"
He continues to use that marketing tactic as he strives for the golden legacy he feels he is entitled to. However, Trump's self-aggrandizement, unprecedented in presidential history, places him alongside conquerors and dictators as he normalizes norm-shattering.
Alexander the Great accomplished this by using military force and massacres to name some 70 cities in the empire he built in the fourth century B.C. after himself. Josef Stalin, the head of the Soviet Union, did the same, renaming Tsaritsyn Stalingrad and naming other cities around his territory after himself.
During his reign, Napoleon renamed the Louvre the Musée Napoléon. Adolf-Hitler-Platz plazas were common in Nazi-occupied Germany.
Mao Zedong's enormous image overlooking Tiananmen Square and his "Little Red Book" of proverbs, which were mandated to be read (and memorized) throughout China, were only two examples of his all-encompassing cult of personality.
Leaders that are prone to this kind of self-aggrandizement often name structures and locations after themselves. The former Turkmenistan monarch even went so far as to name a period of time a whole month after himself.
The dictator Saparmurat Niyazov, who ruled the former Soviet republic from 1991 to 2006, first referred to himself as Turkmenbashi, which means "father of the Turkmen," and later extended that title to January as well. (Nyazov also renamed October for one of his books and April for his mother.)
All leaders, of course, desire recognition that lasts. Previous US presidents have gathered funds for ornate presidential libraries that serve as records of their administrations.
"It's about fame, and fame is immortality," stated Maoz Azaryahu, an emeritus professor of cultural geography at the University of Haifa who has researched the historical and political implications of street and other public place names.
However, there is a distinct difference between leaders who impose their names while in power (or have followers do it) and those who are honored after they pass away or leave government.
"In the 20th century, it's associated with totalitarian rulers," he stated. "It seems to me that such efforts at self-aggrandizing through self-commemoration offend notions of good taste in democratic-liberal societies."
Trump seemed unconcerned by this, despite his well-known appetite for public shows of devotion. Take the customary showering of adulation that takes place during Cabinet sessions, for instance.
The reckoning that frequently occurs when mortality overtakes the quest for immortality, however, may be a cause for alarm. Only the Louvre remained in the Musée Napoléon. Volgograd is now Stalingrad.
Hitler's plazas perished along with him. After all, it only takes a few historical keystrokes to distinguish between renowned and notorious. The 1954 film "It Should Happen To You" offers a more positive conclusion to the passionate pursuit of fame.
Judy Holliday plays Gladys Glover, a young model without a job who travels to Manhattan "to try and make a name for myself."
On Columbus Circle, across from the current location of the Trump International Hotel & Tower, she rents a big billboard with just her name on it. Her name eventually appears on several city billboards, drawing attention.
They demand an autograph from her. She is covered by television. Soon, she is being pitched weight-loss products, cigarettes, and soap by an agency.
The agent realizes the hollowness of fame when she persuades the military to place her name on an airliner rather than a class of battleships. She understands that her name on a military aircraft is unworthy of her. The heroes are the soldiers, not Gladys Glover.
Her agent informs her that life "isn't just making a name; it's making a name stand for something even on one block, instead of for nothing all over the world."
Early in the film, Jack Lemmon's character, her irate suitor, says this. Now that she has chosen the genuine love of one person over the adoration of the masses, they have reconnected.
