Margaret Sullivan, The Guardian:

Catherine Lucey, who covers the White House for Bloomberg News, was doing what reporters are supposed to do: asking germane questions.

Her query to Donald Trump a few days ago during a “gaggle” aboard Air Force One was reasonable as it had to do with the release of the Epstein files, certainly a subject of great public interest. Why had Trump been stonewalling, she asked, “if there’s nothing incriminating in the files”.

His response, though, was anything but reasonable.

It was demeaning, insulting and misogynistic.

He pointed straight at Lucey and told her to stop doing her job.

“Quiet. Quiet, piggy,” said the president of the United States.

Donald Trump has never been a nice man, but he’s generally managed to maintain an in-public grip on his vituperativeness, especially in front of the cameras.

That grip is slipping.

Like Sullivan and others, I’m shocked-not-shocked by Trump’s explosion of anger toward a female reporter, but I’m genuinely dismayed that the other reporters around him didn’t bat an eye. The male reporter to his left displays no reaction whatsoever and the female reporter whose question Lucey was supposedly interrupting just… asks it. No hesitation, no surprise. Seemingly just another outburst the press has come to expect—and ignore.

What I find deeply disturbing—and why I say he’s losing some of his self-control—is the suddenness of his outburst and the equal speed with which he regains his composure. Note how calmly he answers a question before his eruption, and how calmly he answers after.

His first “quiet” to Lucey is angry, as he raises his finger in admonishment. It’s the level of anger from someone who’s pissed off at being interrupted.

His second “quiet” is menacing, an escalation as he lunges toward Lucey and thrusts his finger right in her face, an attempt to intimidate, dominate. This is the moment he lost self-control. You can imagine Trump shoving her, or slapping her, to shut her up.

Calling her “piggy”—an epithet seemingly expressing his deep personal disdain for the reporter—feels almost tacked on. He knows he can’t physically strike Lucey, but he needs to strike out at her. He needs to insult her, put her down. This is the moment Trump’s survival instincts kick in, but he’s not yet fully back in control. He can’t help himself, and out slips “piggy,” one of his favorite misogynistic yet comparatively “polite” insults.

But I’ll bet you that wasn’t the word he was thinking.