Trump’s Olympic Rule: All Athletes Must Pass a ‘Not Convinced They’re a Toaster’ Sanity Check

In a move that has sent shockwaves through the hallowed halls of international athletics, President Donald J. Trump has issued an executive order mandating that all competitors in the Olympic Games undergo a rigorous psychological evaluation, dubbed the “Not Convinced They’re a Toaster” sanity check, before participating in any event. This directive, signed on August 5th, 2025, and detailed in a 47-page White House memorandum, aims to ensure that athletes’ self-perceptions align with what the administration terms “objective biological reality, plus a dash of common sense.” As a journalist steeped in the interdisciplinary nexus of politics, sports, and human behavior, I have explored the topic with academic rigor, uncovering historical parallels to this bold policy in the annals of absurd governance.

The “Toaster Test,” as it has been colloquially termed, requires athletes to sit before a panel of board-certified psychologists and affirm, under oath, that they do not identify as household appliances, mythical creatures, or extraterrestrial entities. Sources close to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) confirm that the test includes a written component, featuring questions such as, “Do you believe you are a sentient waffle iron?” and “Have you ever experienced an urge to toast bread during a 100-meter sprint?” Failure to provide satisfactory answers results in immediate disqualification, with a complimentary referral to a licensed therapist specializing in “delusional self-identification syndromes.”

Scholars of political theater might draw parallels to Emperor Caligula’s alleged appointment of a horse as senator, yet Trump’s policy is framed as a defense of competitive integrity. “We’re ensuring fairness,” a White House spokesperson declared, straight-faced, at a press conference where they also announced a forthcoming ban on athletes identifying as “time-traveling Vikings or sentient cacti.” The administration’s rationale hinges on a 2024 study—conducted by the newly formed Department of Obvious Truths—which found that 0.0001% of athletes surveyed expressed “concerning affinities for kitchenware.” Critics, including progressive sports commentators, have decried the rule as “unnecessarily exclusionary,” arguing that toaster-identified athletes could compete in a separate “Appliance Division.”

The IOC, reeling from the mandate, has scrambled to implement the screenings before the 2028 Los Angeles Games. Early trials in Paris revealed logistical challenges: one athlete, when asked if they identified as a blender, reportedly responded, “Only on smoothie days,” prompting a 45-minute debate among examiners. Another, a decathlete, was briefly detained after claiming to be “a microwave in spirit,” though he later clarified it was “just a joke to test the system.”

As I researched this policy, I found myself reflecting on Foucault’s theories of power and identity, albeit through the lens of a world where one must prove they are not a coffeemaker to win gold. The executive order, while ostensibly about sports, reveals a deeper cultural anxiety about self-perception run amok. Historical parallels abound—from 17th-century witch trials to 21st-century debates over emoji-based identities—yet none match the sheer audacity of requiring Olympians to disavow appliancehood.

In conclusion, Trump’s “Toaster Test” is a masterstroke of bureaucratic satire, cloaked in the guise of policy. As the world watches athletes navigate this psychological gauntlet, one thing is clear: the Olympics will never be the same, and neither will our collective understanding of what it means to be human—or, crucially, not a kitchen gadget.