Trump posts wild AI video showing him flying fighter jet, dumping sewage on protesters

19 October 2025

When it came to response across the country on October 19, 2025, an almost surreal chapter opened in America’s political theatre: Donald Trump reposted an AI-generated video of himself flying a crown-adorned fighter jet marked “King Trump” and dumping what appeared to be sewage on protesters from the No Kings Movement rally, a clip set to the strains of “Danger Zone” without the permission of its original artist.

The 19-second clip hit social media hours after millions rallied in cities across the United States under the “No Kings” banner, opposing Trump’s second term and what they viewed as authoritarian drift. The video opens with a sharply orange-toned Trump chewing the scenery in the cockpit, wearing a gold crown, zooming over an AI-generated Times Square crowd and releasing waves of brown sludge. Among the doused was young TikTok influencer Harry Sisson, shown in what appears to be captured footage from the protests themselves.

Behind the spectacle lies a complex intersection of politics, technology and culture. Trump has increasingly turned to AI-generated content and deep fakes as part of his social-media strategy leveraging the shock value of manipulated imagery to energise his base and provoke opponents. Critics warn that this video represents not satire but a politicised boardgamescape of humiliation directed at citizens engaged in protest.

One of the most prominent responses came from musician Kenny Loggins, whose 1986 anthem “Danger Zone” plays over the clip. Loggins publicly demanded the removal of his track, calling his performance’s use “unauthorised,” and highlighting the way political figures are tapping creative labour without licence. “I can’t imagine why anybody would want their music used or associated with something created with the sole purpose of dividing us,” Loggins said.

The backlash also reached late-night talk shows. On The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, host Stephen Colbert called the video “vile and violent” and used it as a case study in how political leaders weaponise AI-driven imagery. On mainstream cable, the story seeped into editorial lines and flows of commentary.

On Capitol Hill and within media circles the debate deepened. Some conservatives defended the clip as satirical or performative art at the border of politics and theatre, while others including non-partisan commentators raised alarm over what it communicated about governance and dissent in America. For many observers the imagery of a self-crowned “king” raining sludge on citizens struck at the heart of democratic symbolism and civil-liberties discourse.

Technologically the video demonstrates how far AI has advanced in political messaging. The precision of synthetic audio and imagery is now such that creators can blend real footage, digital rendering and popular culture cues into endorsements or attacks that blur truth and fiction. Experts warn that what we witnessed is less a prank than a milestone in how power is visually contested online.

For the protesters themselves the moment may galvanise rather than demean. The “No Kings” movement having mobilised across all 50 states is now intimately tied to this new symbolic flashpoint. Organisers view the clip as validation of their concerns about erosion of democratic guardrails. For them Trump’s video is not diversion but declaration.

From the perspective of public trust and media ethics, the incident raises several red flags. Platforms like Truth Social, which Trump used to distribute the video, face questions over their role in amplifying synthetic content. Media companies wrestle with how to cover deep-fake politics without inadvertently amplifying it. Meanwhile emergency-services and regulatory structures remain behind the curve when digital spectacles bleed into real-world mobilisation.

As the story evolves, the core questions remain. Will this episode foster greater regulatory efforts around political deep-fakes and AI media? Can creators, platforms and policymakers develop norms to manage this new frontier of visual politics? And will citizens grow fatigued of spectacle and demand more substance? For now the clip stands as a sign of the times, a fusion of meme-culture, authoritarian metaphor and election-era brinkmanship.

In the end the video is more than manipulation. It is a mirror: to how power presents itself, to how technology can re-shape protest and authority, and to how we as a society interpret image, sovereignty and spectacle.