Being president is like being a jackass in a hailstorm. There’s nothing to do but stand there and take it.

Johnson’s comparison casts the presidency as a role defined less by control than by exposure. Like an animal caught in a sudden hailstorm, the president is a conspicuous target for impacts coming from every direction—criticism, crises, political attacks, and events beyond anyone’s management. The blunt humor underscores a fatalistic realism: much of executive leadership involves absorbing punishment, maintaining composure, and enduring public scrutiny rather than “fixing” everything immediately. It also hints at the loneliness of the office—there may be advisers and institutions, but the symbolic burden and blame concentrate on one figure who must keep standing even when the situation is unpleasant and unavoidable.