For His 80th Birthday, Trump Chose Violence
The media's going to need a minute.
On Sunday night, President Trump kicked off his ninth decade on Earth by hosting a UFC match on the South Lawn of the White House. There was a cage. There were fighters. There were fireworks. Jets screamed overhead. There were billionaires, cabinet members, crypto advertisements, and Joe Rogan doing ringside commentary. The press, as one might expect, responded with the measured restraint of a cat encountering a cucumber.
It was loud, chaotic, unapologetically masculine, and exactly the kind of spectacle that makes the institutional nervous system of outlets like The New York Times immediately short-circuit.
“Money, ego, gore, vanity, hype and the flash of the camera, all mixing on the South Lawn of the White House,” the Gray Lady gasped. “Eruptions of casual cruelty.” “Cockfighting with men as birds.” “A raw pageant of pain.” “Fighters were filmed warming up, barefoot, in the Indian Treaty Room.” The piece read less like news coverage and more like a Yelp review of the apocalypse.
“The UFC was an apt metaphor for Trump’s pugilistic political style,” the AP declared. “He is as big a fan of cage-match-style politics as he is of cage-fighting itself.”
“Trump’s UFC White House birthday bash was a bloody, on-brand affair,” was the headline USA Today went with.
TIME alone deserves some credit here. The magazine praised the White House setting, the military tributes, the fireworks, and the production value, describing the whole thing as “a compelling sports production” before launching into the obligatory lecture. That’s bordering on journalism. At least they reported what happened before telling us how we’re supposed to feel about it.
To be fair, the event was a far cry from the beloved White House Pride celebration of 2023. You know, the one where the Biden administration draped the White House—the “People’s House,” as they love to point out; the most recognizable symbol of American governance in the world—in Pride flags, invited transgender activists onto the lawn for a bawdy dance party, and presented the whole thing as a proud expression of who we are as a nation. The coverage from these same outlets was uniformly glowing. It was brave. Historic. Joyful. A sunny reprieve from a fog of antagonism (which was an actual WaPo headline and not in fact the description of a candle on the TJ Maxx clearance shelf).
So to review: men in a ring battering each other—a sport I do not personally care for but also one that is enjoyed by roughly 60 million Americans and legal in all 50 states—is a desecration of the White House. Hosting topless “trans models” on the lawn and live-streaming the affair to every allied and adversarial nation on earth, on the other hand, is a powerful statement of American values. Got it. Fair and balanced. Straight from the source. Clearly, fit to print.
The Times was particularly horrified when a fighter named Josh Hokit gave a profane little speech that included praising his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and ended with “and lastly, Michelle Obama is a man.” It was a lot. The indignation is also rather rich coming from the same publication that spent four years largely ignoring the sitting president’s son conducting international business deals while the FBI sat on his laptop, insisting obvious signs of Biden’s cognitive decline were either exaggerated or imaginary, and eulogizing a White House that couldn’t tell you with a straight face who was actually running the country.
Biden invited his base to the White House. Trump invited his. Biden’s base likes watching men dress up as women. Trump’s base likes watching men pummel each other senseless. Drag is brave. Boxing is barbaric. The Ministry of Truth has spoken.
“President Trump’s 80th birthday Ultimate Fighting Championship stunt on the South Lawn of the White House on Sunday night was a mass-media spectacle unlike any in the history of the presidency,” The New York Times wrote—implying that’s a bad thing—before discovering that writing about men punching each other involves a surprising amount of men punching each other. “On and on it went. More men beat each other up.”
Tomorrow: The Times Confirms Bears Remain Committed to Relieving Themselves in the Woods.
It’s the shock—always the shock—that gets me. Americans elected a fight promoter. Twice. They knew what they were getting. He’s been doing this since he brought Mike Tyson to Atlantic City in the 1980s. Trump Plaza hosted WrestleMania. Hulk Hogan spoke at the RNC. The throughline has been visible from space for forty years. And yet when the guy throws himself a boxing-themed birthday party, the press acts as if he campaigned on restoring the dignity of the White House through chamber music and watercolor classes in the Rose Garden.
Every time the media tries to psychoanalyze Trump, they accidentally reveal what they really think of his supporters. “Tens of thousands of people turned up to watch blood get sprayed across the floor of a cage in America’s honor and pretend it was appropriate,” the Independent sneered. “[Trump] loves the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber,” The Guardian wrote, contempt dripping from every character. “He loves the music of Bon Jovi and the Village People. And he loves the gaudy, clownish tokens of masculinity that appeal to very small children: big trucks, big muscles, and demonstrations of physical strength.”
You know who else loves those things, Guardian? America. Welcome to NASCAR country. Can I get you a Big Mac and a slice of apple pie?
Oh, and for the record: if the White House lawn is an appropriate venue for shirtless activists to be celebrated for who they enjoy doing kinky things with, it’s an equally appropriate venue for two consenting adults voluntarily exchanging concussions in front of a paying audience. At least one of these things is actually a sport.
To appease the left, they should have had one match where a guy beat up a girl.
I'm no fan of watching men beat each other up. But the response from the left just confirms that we live in two different Americas. One in which there are two sexes, and masculinity is valued and celebrated, and one in which toxic feminists and feminized men and their insanity reigns. And never the twain shall meet.