In a dramatic turn of events, Trump revoked former Defense Secretary Mark Esper's security detail, citing lifelong protection shouldn't be a guarantee—just like his friendship with Esper that turned rocky enough to earn the nickname 'Yesper.'

Trump’s decision to yank Esper's security detail adds him to a growing list of former aides who have found themselves on the receiving end of presidential payback, with Gen. Milley, John Bolton, and Mike Pompeo also stripped of their protection. After facing threats from Iran and dealing with Trump's notorious mood swings, Esper can now add 'ex-defender' to his resume, proving that in the world of Trump, both loyalty and safety are as fleeting as a good tweet.

Following the assassination of Iranian General Qasem Soleimani in January 2020, Esper found himself in an unfortunate predicament. Not only did he confront threats from Iran, but he also had to navigate the turbulent waters of a presidential administration that seemed to oscillate wildly between support and disdain. Ironically, rather than being offered a gold watch for his years of service, he has exchanged protection for the opportunity to perhaps buy a good set of home security cameras.

Esper's ousting from the protected circle is part of a peculiar trend observed during and post-Trump presidency. The revocation of security details appears to serve as a rite of passage for officials who fell out of favor. It’s as if leaving Trump's inner circle was akin to entering a witness protection program—minus the new identity and cozy living arrangements. No wonder former aides are considering taking up knitting. At least with yarn, there is a semblance of control over the outcome.

The situation took an even more bizarre turn when Esper's portrait was removed from the Pentagon. The artwork, which was likely hung with great pride by his family, was reportedly yanked down much to the astonishment of his former colleagues. It seems even the walls of the Pentagon were not immune to the shifting political winds—throwing decorum out the window right alongside Esper's immunity to being, shall we say, 'disinvited' from cordial dinners?

Adding to the social awkwardness of it all, Trump has hardly been subtle in his criticisms of Esper's tenure. During his presidency, he frequently vented frustration over what he termed Esper's 'dithering' and lack of complete loyalty. One can only imagine how a dinner party conversation would go down with a nickname like 'Yesper' swirling around. Perhaps in his next memoir, Esper might consider a chapter on 'The Art of Public Relations under Trump,' or 'How to Disarm a Deranged Ex-Boss Without Losing Your Head.'

Despite this caustic relationship, Esper bravely published a book chronicling the chaos of the Trump administration, which only added fuel to Trump's fire. The former president seemed particularly perturbed by the assertions made regarding his decision-making process, which was described by some insiders as less of a strategy and more of a spontaneous game of charades. Trump’s decision to speak on the philanthropy of lifelong protection in such a public way reflects a rather realpolitik mindset where friendship and security appear completely negotiable.

The implications of this dynamic reach beyond just individual fallout and touch on broader security parameters. As Trump himself suggested, a security detail shouldn't just follow anyone into retirement; this is a philosophy that opens the door to debate on who exactly deserves protection and why. To the remaining aides, in this new arrangement, it might serve them well to invest in some really high-quality helmets or a subscription to a personal alarm service, as the only ‘protection’ they might soon enjoy is likely to be bear spray and some bare-knuckle advises in self-defense classes.

With Esper now navigating life sans security, he finds himself in a position already experienced by others like Gen. Milley, who was stripped of his security detail shortly after Trump took office. Milley’s own saga introduced a somewhat techy twist to the narrative when Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth requested an investigation into his conduct during the prior administration. It’s like a never-ending reality drama featuring walk-ons from the NSA.

The fundamental lesson here is not merely about survival in Trump's orbit; it's about how quickly allegiances can shift when the winds of power change course. For Esper, this could serve as a moment to reflect on the deep irony of services rendered versus received. In such a climate of distrust and escalated rituals of revenge, one might conclude that the greatest security lies not in a personal detail but in the fortified walls of a quiet cabin somewhere far removed from the chaos of Washington. Or at least, perhaps Esper might find solace in a really good Swiss Army knife.