I have commented quite a few times especially during the 2024 election cycle, all the democrats had was "HATE Trump" or "ORANGEMANBAD" or variations along that line. I and people that believe like me have been called "Nazi" by people that know not that that word actually is.
But their University professors told them one thing and by Gaia, they are right. After a while we get to a stage where we flat out don't care, don't want to be nice or want to get along and deal with those screeching moonbats. I am not a spring chicken, I am a very summer chicken, approaching fall and I no longer have patience anymore, and I have a gut feeling a huge portion of the population, their cup runneth over and their patience is gone also. I shamelessly clipped this from Farcebook and Michael Smith.
I’ve been thinking about the intractability of American politics and whether the rift can ever truly be healed. I began to wonder if I wasn’t seeing something because I was looking at it from the wrong perspective. For years, I assumed the division was primarily ideological—policy disputes about taxes, regulation, foreign policy, culture. That would at least be manageable, but the more I’ve watched the past decade unfold, the more I’ve come to suspect that what divides us is not policy at all—it is all about “feeling.”
More specifically, it is feeling about Donald Trump.
Strip away the daily outrage cycles and the social-media hysteria, and you see something striking: opposition to Trump has rarely been framed in terms of executive and legislative substance. It is not primarily about tariffs versus free trade, border enforcement levels, NATO funding formulas, or regulatory rollbacks. It is about loathing. It is aesthetic revulsion elevated to moral emergency. The man must be opposed, not because of policy detail, but because he exists and the hollow, performative screams of authoritarianism, dictator, Nazi, and racist, absent of actual proof, prove once politics becomes emotional absolutism, reconciliation becomes unlikely and nearly impossible.
Democrats are so invested in opposition—so invested in hate—that curiosity has disappeared. When an assassination attempt occurs, it is not treated as a national trauma demanding sober reflection. It becomes a footnote, an inconvenience to a preferred narrative and the media, which long ago ceased pretending to be neutral referees, oscillates between hair-on-fire apocalypse—“He is starting World War III!”—and studied indifference when events don’t serve the script. Context is dead. Everything is either the end of civilization or a “meh” moment. There is no middle register.
This isn’t journalism. It’s dramaturgy.
The Never Trump contingent—Democrats who for years masqueraded as Republicans—have fared no better. They appear like actors who missed their cue in a play that has already closed. Picking at the bones of a long-dead grift, they surface periodically to assure us that they still matter, that if only a Jeb Bush, a John Kasich, a Paul Ryan were in charge, normalcy would return. What they really want is a restoration of the polite managerial class—a GOPe technocracy that governs by consensus dinners and donor conference calls. Lovable losers.
If such a figure were president, one assumes many of today’s fiercest critics would rediscover their appreciation for “norms.” Their outrage would subside into professional disagreement, and the temperature would drop not because policy changed, but because the “vibes” did.
Which brings me to a different question: What if the paradigm has already shifted?
What if America—quietly, imperfectly—has accepted that MAGA is not a passing tantrum but a realignment? What if a substantial portion of the country has decided that “America First” is not isolationism but self-respect? What if the country has already begun a turn toward something more assertive, more self-conscious about sovereignty, more comfortable with strength—yes, even more consciously masculine in tone?
Social media is not the real world, but it is often a bellwether. The ridicule aimed at progressive hyperbole feels sharper than it did five years ago. The reflexive hysteria that once commanded instant compliance now meets mockery. BlueSky—intended as a sanitized antidote to the free speech chaos of X—has devolved into what can only be described as a digital terrarium of grievance. Dems took the admonition to go F themselves at face value, so now it is where outrage goes to self-fertilize. It increasingly resembles an endless, unironic episode of Libs of TikTok.
The reactions to America winning gold medals at the recently completed MilanCortina Olympics, especially the patriotism of the hockey team winning the gold on the 46th anniversary of the Miracle on Ice, outed the America haters and illustrated that when your echo chamber becomes indistinguishable from parody, something has shifted.
The economy, too, tells a story. Despite relentless messaging that any recovery is insufficient, fragile, or falsely attributed, the underlying indicators have stabilized. The narrative insists that nothing counts unless perfection is instantaneous. “Why hasn’t he fixed everything yet?” becomes the refrain even though five years of market and supply chain disruption takes time to heal. The same with illegal immigration. Emotional imagery dominates headlines and enforcement is framed as cruelty—but deportations continue. Border crossings decline. Policy, imperfect and incremental, proceeds beneath the noise.
This suggests something uncomfortable for the opposition: governance is happening—and if governance continues while hysteria escalates, the hysteria begins to look performative. Voters may disagree with tone, style, or rhetoric—but they can see results. Over time, results dull outrage.
That may be the key to understanding the present moment. The rift cannot be healed so long as one side defines its identity entirely in opposition to a man rather than engagement with reality. But if reality keeps intruding—if jobs return, if borders stabilize, if wars don’t materialize on schedule—then emotional absolutism loses oxygen and healing, if it comes, will not arrive through kumbaya gestures or bipartisan photo-ops. It will come when politics returns to policy, disagreement centers on marginal tax rates rather than existential evil, journalism rediscovers proportion, and parties compete on measurable outcomes instead of apocalyptic forecasts.
Maybe it is like a bad case of the flu. Perhaps the more accurate question is not whether America can get over it, but when the emotional fever will break. When it does, the underlying America—pragmatic, aspirational, resilient—remains.
If America has already decided it prefers self-respect to self-loathing, then the paradigm has shifted more than many in Washington are willing to admit.