Politics

Stilwell, Oklahoma Out of the ancient belly of the earth and through the pitch-black night, the giant wigwam rises, gold-tinged and glorious, the glint of rare winnings and the sound of 2,000-plus slot machines rolling toward despair rollicking through the dark in east Oklahoma. Inside, the electric-fused honkytonk band blares Del Shannon’s “Runaway” — “And I wonder, I wa- wa- wa- wa- wonder” — from a starlight backlit stage above the sea of penny slots, the bald lead singer strumming a skull-festooned full bass as he sweats through his camo shirt. Outside, there is a distinct noise coming from beneath a neon-yellow Maserati where a timber rattlesnake has found a warm asphalt home.

Ever since Biden took office, immigration has been one of those things his administration would rather not talk about. It’s not hard to understand why. The polls show a consistent and heavy slant in favor of the Republican Party on the issue; internal Democratic Party divisions (between pro-immigration liberals and open-border absolutists) make for awkward conversations; and a president and party that opted for moral outrage on the issue in opposition struggled with the transition to power — which brings with it the difficult tradeoffs inherent to immigration policymaking.

The woman with a starring role in perhaps the most talked about campaign ads of both the 2018 and 2022 election cycles wasn’t on the ballot. In both, a politician whose stock has risen as much as anyone’s in the last half decade was happy to let his wife do the talking. Five years ago, Casey DeSantis narrated a thirty-second clip in which she testified to her husband Ron’s admiration for Donald Trump. You’ve probably seen it. “Everyone knows my husband is endorsed by President Trump, but he’s also an amazing dad. Ron loves playing with the kids,” says Casey. The ad cuts to footage of the Republican gubernatorial candidate building a toy wall with one child, reading The Art of the Deal to another, and so on. “People say he’s all Trump,” says Casey.

The following is an excerpt from Yale University law professor Elizabeth Friedkin’s remarks to the 2026 International Federation of United Conscious Uncoupling Professionals. When then-Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene first proposed the dissolution of the United States of America in 2023, many feared she was threatening a second Civil War, including most of us in this room. Over the past two years, however, we have witnessed a benign break-up that is now a beacon to dissatisfied land conglomerates the world over. I was skeptical when I was chosen to serve as arbitrator, but I will be the first to admit that I underestimated the shrewdness of Ms. Taylor Greene.

Biden delivered a strategy-free State of the Union The loudest line of Tuesday’s State of the Union was ad-libbed. “Name me a world leader who’s change places with Xi Jinping,” he shouted in a departure from his prepared text. “Name me one, name me one.” There may not have been a Chinese spy balloon drifting above the United States as Biden was speaking, but foreign policy hung awkwardly over the president’s address. In the wake of a major spat with America’s most powerful adversary and in the longest speech of his presidency, Biden spent about as much time talking about hotel resort fees as he did discussing the US’s relationship with China.

Long before he became a darling of the right and the left’s second favorite villain, Ronald Dion DeSantis was just a Florida kid they called “D” who played baseball, worked at a grocery store and dreamed of becoming president of the United States. Florida’s audacious forty-four-year-old governor earned legions of fans — and plenty of enemies — for keeping his state open during the pandemic. And he’s become a national figure since – a reinvented Florida Man – by playing offense on issues ranging from parental rights in education to illegal immigration to Critical Race Theory to fighting woke corporations.

The year was 2006 and something unprecedented was happening: people were actually paying attention to the state of Connecticut. Senator Joe Lieberman, a long-serving moderate Democrat and Al Gore’s former running mate, had just lost his primary to a left-wing activist named Ned Lamont. Lieberman then jumped in as an independent and suddenly Connecticut had a real Senate race on its hands: two center-leftists plus a plucky yet overlooked Republican named Alan Schlesinger. Lieberman won in a rout. That the far-left Lamont is now governor of Connecticut should tell you everything you need to know about that state’s political drift.

A little bleary-eyed from not yet partaking in his morning Bloody Mary, Cockburn thought at first that he was hearing one of those Newsmax commercials for Tanto Paronto’s HD Vision Night Ops glasses. He listened more closely, and thought it might be “Top Gov” Ron DeSantis dogfighting with the corporate media. But upon closer inspection, it was something altogether more extreme: Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene’s latest YouTube video, in which she braves a lightning storm to carry a gigantic gun toward a camera, then appears to be struck by the lightning, giving her white glowing eyes à la Storm from the Marvel comics. It gets way more normal after that, don’t worry.

Nietzsche would have been great at Twitter. He excelled at epigrams, which are to philosophy as the fortune-cookie motto is to Chinese takeout, and he loved to hate. Scholars divide as to whether his epigrammatic excellence came from using a typewriter — he was the earliest philosophical adopter of this technology — or because he was no good at joined-up thinking but very good at vituperating about the news. It was Nietzsche who spotted that the emerging theme of democratic society was not the reign of reason and universal brotherhood, but the ‘stupidification of the world’ and resentment. He called it ressentiment. Philosophy goes better in French, and Nietzsche had lately turned against Wagner, anti-Semitism and German nationalism.