Same ol' circus, yet anything but routine.

"Today cinematic, political, and journalistic celebrities distract us with their personal foibles and scandals. They create our public mythology. Acting, politics, and sports have become, as they were in Nero's reign, interchangeable. In an age of images and entertainment, in an age of instant emotional gratification, we neither seek nor want honesty or reality. Reality is complicated. Reality is boring."

--Chris Hedges (Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle)

By J. Basil Dannebohm

Every morning, I wake up and wonder, "What ridiculous stunt will he pull today?"

Beginning around 5am, I spend the early hours of the day catching up on reading, jotting down notes, and answering correspondence. I take a working lunch around 11:30. Then, I check in on Congress. Sometimes, I drop everything, unplug, and clear my mind over a cigar, a glass of wine, or a cup of coffee between 2pm and 4pm.

I once had a barista ask me why I chose such a strange time of day to enjoy a drink. I explained to him that in my profession, we refer to it as "the calm" [before the storm]. Then comes "rush hour."

In Washington, those of us who either serve as political consultants or members of the media know a secret that many Americans outside the beltway don't: Most days, "47" doesn't show up in the West Wing before 1pm. Probably because he spent the prior night incessantly posting on his ironically named social media platform.

Once his sundowning subsides, he wakes up, watches television, conducts meandering phone interviews, and eats McDonald's -- all from the comfort of his bed.

Eventually, he decides to saunter over to the West Wing.

Then, after he's consumed roughly eight Diet Cokes while watching cable news in the sitting room just off the Oval Office, he becomes sufficiently bitter over the coverage (or lack thereof) about him to wage his first stunt of the day.

His timing is deliberate.

He wants his antics to land right around 4pm ET. This ensures he scores the top slot before the first commercial break of the 6pm evening news.

By the time coverage of his latest outlandish statement, offensive executive order, or stupid decision airs, he's back in the sitting room where there are several televisions all tuned to the news. As he watches and consumes yet another Diet Coke and more McDonald's, he waits and asks himself the same question he was said to have asked a campaign aid at the hospital just after an alleged assassination attempt in Pennsylvania:

"How is this playing out in the media?"

He calls and texts his inner-circle to ask the same self-absorbed question.

In the mid-2000s, Trump’s business ventures were hemorrhaging millions. He was on the verge of losing his ability to exploit a loophole that enabled him to avoid paying taxes. That’s when NBC stepped in and offered the failed businessman a reality series called The Apprentice.

Since then, his entire existence has been a continuous television reality show. It's all a ratings game to him. He's only concerned with how much airtime he receives, how "hot" the coverage, and how many people tune in.

Thus, DC consultants, media, and those who work in what were once the hallowed halls of government know a few unspoken things:

• Any particularly destructive measures or heinous tweets between 5am and 1pm are probably orchestrated by Stephen Miller on the President's behalf.

• Mr. Trump caters to a primetime television audience.

• Not since P.T. Barnum and Harry Houdini has our nation been subjected to so much stagecraft, smoke, and mirrors.

Hence, if you cover the current administration, you take advantage of those two precious hours in the afternoon we call "the calm" to clear your head and brace yourself. After that, all bets are off as the next sideshow act in the circus is probably moments from the entering center ring. If the performance isn't outlandish enough to keep the audience captivated in the time between the evening and nightly news broadcasts, the ringmaster will enhance his performance with yet another stunt.

Then, as sundown syndrome again takes over, it's back to the executive residence for more Diet Coke, more McDonald's, and another night of absurd social media posts until the wee hours of the morning.

It's the same ol' circus every day, yet its anything but routine.