It's been branded Trump Derangement Syndrome, an automatic overreaction to the buffoonish antics of the US President, with the assumption his behaviour will result in lasting and damaging consequences.
The term is actually a trap, a cute rhetorical ploy that attempts to delegitimise any and all criticism of Donald Trump by implying the mental health of his opponents is suspect. Still, while the idea of a syndrome afflicting Trump opponents gains currency, see it as a useful reminder of the need to maintain a fair perspective, and judge Mr Trump by his actions, not merely his words.
Mr Trump has pledged a revolution of a kind, a new brand of politics to address the "carnage" of the establishment and govern for those he calls the "forgotten men and women of our country". Yet far from storming the barricades, he has so far presided over a shambolic administration, where his main intention appears to be to transform the presidency into a soapbox to further his personal celebrity.
Mr Trump's plans have been almost entirely negative. He has sought to tear up the healthcare system of Barack Obama, impose a ban on people from certain Muslim countries entering the US, and build a gigantic wall of indeterminate cost along the border with Mexico. He would spend billions on the military, yet withdraw support for American allies. He threatened to prosecute Hillary Clinton, only to abandon the pledge; he declared NATO to be obsolete, only to then say it was not.
Some of his proposals may come to fruition, others will be stymied by practicalities of the real world and the very deliberate limits on executive power under the US constitution.
It would be foolish to pretend Mr Trump amounts to a business-as-usual style of politics, but equally, it would be misguided to overreact to his windy belligerence when he has yet to display the courage to actually carry out his threats.
Which brings us to how he might transform the wider world. Significant import has been attached to the aftermath of Mr Trump's first official travel abroad, where his style of (ahem) diplomacy was on open display (remember, be fair). Despite intense scrutiny of his body language, the awkward reactions of those he met, his glib note left in the sacred Western Wall and refusal to explicitly support the principles of collective defence, much of his approach was fairly conventional.
He went first to Saudi Arabia, a longstanding US strategic ally routinely forgiven in Washington despite an appalling record of rights abuses. It is also a nation regularly demonised by the Islamophobe support base Mr Trump has pandered to in the past. Yet there he was, paying tribute to the oil kingdom's rulers, denouncing the Saudis' regional rival, Iran, yet preserving the nuclear deal with Tehran struck by his predecessor.
Mr Trump then attended the G7 meeting, the embodiment of a global elite. His protectionist sentiment and environmental truculence left him isolated, but he has yet to declare whether he will honour the Paris accords to combat global warming.
Following the US leader's Europe trip, German Chancellor Angela Merkel fronted an election rally this week to declare "the times in which we could rely fully on others, they are somewhat over". She added, seemingly poignantly, "This is what I experienced in the last few days." Her remarks have been widely interpreted as a momentous rupture in the partnership between the US and Germany, ushering in a new epoch for global affairs.
Perhaps. Or maybe this too should be regarded as another example of a politician campaigning for election, making promises that must be interpreted by resulting actions.
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