Ah, the holidays. That magical time when families gather, argue over who carved the turkey wrong in 1987, drink too much, and still manage to stagger out the door loving each other more than when they arrived. According to the fake news crowd, this year’s Thanksgiving table looked a lot like the MAGA coalition – plates flying, uncles screaming, somebody crying in the bathroom. Civil war! Disintegration! The end is nigh! Quick, somebody call the coroner.
Calm down, Chicken Littles. What we’re witnessing isn’t the death rattle of Make America Great Again. It’s just the normal racket of a big, rowdy, victorious political movement that’s actually doing things instead of sitting around singing kumbaya in some bipartisan book club.
Sure, there’s been some yelling. A few keyboard commandos got their feelings hurt over H-1B visas last year, and now apparently we’re arguing about AI, immigration pauses, and whether the DOGE boys are cutting too deep or not deep enough. Laura Loomer’s mad at Elon. Elon’s mad at the nativists. Bannon’s growling in the corner like a bulldog that swallowed a bee. It’s glorious, frankly. It’s alive. Dead movements don’t argue – they just molder quietly like a Jimmy Carter foreign policy initiative.
The latest Emerson College poll clocks President Trump’s approval at 41%. Gallup has it at 36%. Horrors! Except every Republican president since Reagan has governed with numbers in that neighborhood while the media screamed the sky was falling, and somehow the republic staggered on. Forty-one percent in this poisoned information environment – where every sneeze is called pneumonia and every policy win is buried on page 47 – is practically a landslide. Remember when the smart set told us Trump couldn’t crack 40% in his first term and would never win again? Good times.
Meanwhile, the actual work is getting done. Borders are tightening faster than a cheap suit in the rain. Asylum cases from the Biden catastrophe are being reviewed. Regulations are being chainsawed. The third-world migration firehose got turned off so hard the handle broke off. If that’s “disintegration,” then my diet is a roaring success because I only gained twelve pounds over Thanksgiving instead of fifteen.
The media wants you to believe MAGA is fracturing because a third of 2024 Trump voters don’t slap the exact “MAGA” sticker on their bumper. Good Lord, what a revelation – the coalition got bigger. We added blue-collar union guys, Hispanics who are sick of being talked down to, black men who want safe streets and good jobs, and even a few tech billionaires who finally noticed the government was trying to regulate them into the Stone Age. That’s not a fracture, that’s a feature. A big tent makes noise. A cult is quiet, and we’re nobody’s cult.
The real disintegration is happening on the other side, where Democrats are eating each other like starving piranhas over who lost harder to Trump – the squad Marxists or the corporate wine-mom faction. But you won’t see that on the front page. That would require self-awareness, and the media used theirs up screaming about Russia in 2016.
So enjoy the show, folks. MAGA is loud, messy, victorious, and very much alive. It’s not breaking down – it’s bench-pressing the entire federal bureaucracy while the commentariat hyperventilates into their soy lattes. If this is a civil war, sign me up for the winning side. I’ll bring the ammo and the deviled eggs.
Happy Thanksgiving. America First is just getting warmed up.