TOI correspondent from Washington: As Donald Trump, the oldest person ever sworn in as U.S. president, turned 80 on Sunday, he did it the only way the MAGA boss could possibly do: staging a cage fight on the White House lawn while trying to broker peace in the Middle East.A gift arrived. The other did not.Towering 92 feet above the historic South Lawn, where presidents once welcomed world leaders, hosted state dinners and rolled Easter eggs, a giant steel octagon dubbed “The Claw” rises like an alien spaceship.This is where the White House is hosting “UFC Freedom 250,” because nothing says “Happy 80th, Grandpa” quite like naked guys in shorts trying to out-muscle each other on the same grass where foreign dignitaries usually get a 21-gun salute.Forget cake and candles, this Commander-in-Chief wants blood, sweat, raw energy and pay-per-view royalties, while critics clutch their pearls and supporters roar as if this is the Super Bowl, WrestleMania and World Cup football culmination in one spectacular, testosterone-fueled spectacle.The backdrop of this birthday celebration is a baffling exercise in political cognitive dissonance. Depending on which side of the partisan aisle you sit, the president is transforming into either a biological miracle or a walking medical mystery.To his loyal supporters, Trump is a political superman with infinite vitality. They see him as a grandmaster playing 4-D chess against a world of checkers players, gracefully “defying the ages” by running rings around his opponents.However, according to his critics, the President is fighting a losing battle against Father Time. Detractors keep cataloging his physical condition like an estate sale catalogue, making fun of his swollen ankles, the mysterious recurring bruises on the backs of his hands that look as if they’ve lost a fight with a porcupine, and the verbal rambles that wander through history, geography and mythology like tourists without a guidebook.Opponents have gleefully weaponized the recent video of Trump dozing off during an Oval Office briefing, and have rebranded the former “Sleepy Joe” antagonist as “Doozy Don.”But Trump intends to silence discussion about his mental acuity and physical degradation through the ultimate proxy: raw, pure, state-sponsored violence.For readers unfamiliar with this distinctly American export, the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) is a bloody sport that can best be described as human cockfighting, but with better branding and corporate sponsorship: two competitors are locked inside an octagonal cage, where they are legally allowed to punch, kick, elbow, knee, and choke each other until one is unconscious, Does not tap in agony, or the referee does not decide that enough blood has been spilled on the canvas.Scrapes often leave fighters with noses like cauliflower ears and crushed tomatoes.The master of ceremonies of this gladiatorial circus is Dana White, the UFC’s pompous, bald-headed Trump confidant who has successfully weaponized the testosterone concept. And keep an eye on New Delhi, Beijing and other capitals: Under White’s guidance, the State Department actually announced a partnership with the UFC this week to “advance American diplomacy,” a new theory that one might simply replace the traditional ambassadorial position with a chokehold.The president’s supporters celebrate cage fighting as a brilliant expression of red-blooded, macho American exceptionalism, arguing that Trump is simply embracing a more authentic version of American culture — one less concerned with diplomatic niceties and more comfortable with beer, barbecue, and people beating the crap out of each other.Critics, however, are horrified, calling the spectacle an ugly, vulgar display that desecrates the dignity of the presidency, pointing out the rich irony of a man who famously dodged the Vietnam draft through a bone spurs diagnosis and is now using active-duty military guests as a humanitarian backdrop for an aggressive display of masculinity.And then there’s the matter of the President’s missing birthday gift. Trump had insisted that his 80th year would be capped by a historic, “maximum pressure” Iran peace deal. Instead, Teheran plays another grumpy grandfather who refuses to sign birthday cards.Yet the MAGA supremo, ever the showman, seems pleased with his accomplishment of putting on a “couple” spectacle. At 80, he is omnipresent, rejecting the quiet dignity of aging in a rocking chair in favor of endless rallies, posts and, now, live combat games on federal property.As the sun sets on this birthday feud, one can’t help but wonder at the metaphor. America in 2026: loud, divided, and intoxicated by its own chaos. In which Trump enters the octagon of history not as a frail elder statesman but as the ultimate fighter – bruised, swollen, still swinging.