Transcription
If Donald Trump wins the presidency, a pig will fly out of my butthole because it will be a nightmare. I have a house in Spain that is going to be ready um right after the election. Bama, Siberia, Nova Scotia, I'm definitely moving to Canada. Straight to Hell, Iceland, France. Asia's pretty cool, like a mental hospital for a while, cuz you're like, why is this happening? I've always wanted to live in Italy, so I feel like that might be a good time. Who's, who's Trump? We can't have an orange president. I would be very concerned for America if Donald Trump. We haven't seen this before in our country. So Americans who don't travel, who 80% don't have a passport, who are uneducated are in there, who extraordinary naivety. Americans are very uninformed about reality, what's really going on with climate change, Ukraine, you name it, all the biggest topics in the world. Americans have an appetite for a little bit of information.
In April 2024, Bob Iger stood before shareholders at their annual meeting and made what would become one of the most infamous corporate declarations of the year. Disney, he claimed, was abandoning politics to get back to doing what it does best: entertaining. To anyone paying attention, it was a moment that felt more like damage control than a genuine pivot. Sure enough, just two months later, Disney released The Acolyte, loaded with some of the most heavy-handed political messaging we've ever seen on screen. The power, but it was the latest in a long string of tone-deaf moves from an industry that seems completely out of touch with its audience. Hollywood and Disney, in particular, have spent years pushing the envelope on political and social issues, while regular moviegoers have been left scratching their heads and wondering what happened to good old-fashioned entertainment.
I mean, there was a time when a studio knew how to walk the line. In the 1940s and '50s, movies tackled social issues with subtlety and grace. They knew how to weave commentary into good stories without alienating audiences. But that balance has been abandoned in favor of outright moralizing and pandering to a small but vocal crowd of activists, media elites, and self-important celebrities. But to understand how we arrived at this point of corporate double-speak and audience alienation, we need to examine the spectacular unraveling of Disney's political neutrality and the parallel story of Hollywood's most politically active celebrities and how Donald Trump made them all irrelevant.
The woke thing has had more of an impact. I mean, you've said to me that you would love to be just out of the culture wars. That our number one goal is to entertain. I think, look, the term woke is thrown around rather liberally, no pun intended in that regard. Um, I think a lot of people don't even understand really what it means. The bottom line is that infusing messaging as a sort of a number one priority in our films and TV shows is not what we're up to. They need to enter, be entertaining.
What does it take to be the first female anything? The Disney saga is the kind of modern American story that says everything about how far we've strayed from sanity. But it didn't start with fireworks or fanfare, just a whisper, a nudge. For years, Disney worked progressive ideas into its films and shows, subtle enough to avoid accusations of bias while still steering the culture leftward. It was the kind of slick maneuvering media elites pride themselves on, pushing the boundaries while pretending they're just reflecting society. But by 2022, that balancing act shattered, and Disney plunged headfirst into a political maelstrom that changed its relationship with the American public forever.
Protests erupt at the state capital. Students from all over the State of Florida let lawmakers know they don't like the Parental Rights in Education Bill. Critics call it the "Don't Say Gay Bill," and those student chants will likely get even louder today because that bill goes to the Senate for a final vote. Protests are.
Florida's Parental Rights in Education Act, better known and deliberately mischaracterized by its opponents as the "Don't Say Gay Bill." This legislation was straightforward. It restricted classroom discussions of certain, mostly left-wing ideologies for kids in third grade and younger. Most parents probably assumed schools were already sticking to ABCs and arithmetic for 6-year-olds. But to the progressive machine, this was an unforgivable heresy.
At first, Disney stayed quiet, which was the smart move. Why risk alienating half the country over a state-level law? But the cultural Marxists inside the company weren't having it. A vocal group of activist employees staged walkouts, and the media piled on, painting Disney as complicit. Under that pressure, then-CEO Bob Chapek caved, issuing a groveling statement condemning the law. In a statement, Disney says, "Our goal as a company is for this law to be repealed in the legislature or struck down in the courts." Disney's CEO apologizing to employees last month in a letter, writing, "You needed me to be a stronger ally in the fight for equal rights, and I let you down." That marked the end of Disney's apolitical stance and the beginning of a two-year train wreck.
Florida Governor Ron DeSantis hit back hard. He moved to strip Disney of its special privileges under the Reedy Creek Improvement District, an arrangement that had given the company near autonomous control over its Florida property since 1967, suggesting a repeal of Disney's special status established by a 1967 law. It created a unique self-governing district around the 43 square miles encompassing Disney World. As a result, Disney effectively has its own security force and building, zoning, and fire departments. Think about that. Disney had essentially been running its own private government for decades, and DeSantis was right to call it out. If Disney wanted to behave like a political actor, they could face the same rules as everyone else.
The May are treated on a pedestal. This one corporation is treated differently than everybody else. Now, in the legislature, you see a movement to reevaluate those special privileges. The fallout was spectacular. Legal battles erupted, probably costing Disney millions. The public relations damage was even worse. Families started scrutinizing Disney's content, finding it packed with thinly veiled social engineering. The brand that once stood for innocent childhood magic now seemed like a platform for ideological indoctrination. Disney's market value plummeted, and by November 2022, Bob Chapek was out, replaced by Bob Iger, the man who initially led the company down this path.
But it would be the beginning of the end for celebrity influence. And as Disney made miscalculations of their own, so did Hollywood celebrities. Major Democratic donor George Clooney now calling on President Joe Biden to step aside. Clooney says that Joe Biden, that he saw at a fundraiser last month and on TV in the debate with former President Donald Trump, is not the Joe Biden of 2010 or even on July 10th, 2024. George Clooney wrote an op-ed in the New York Times titled, "I Love Joe Biden, But We Need a New Nominee." The timing was no accident. Just weeks earlier, President Biden and former President Trump faced off in their first debate of the 2024 election cycle. Biden's performance was, let's say, uninspiring.
"Office and I'm going to continue to move into we get the total ban on the the the total initiative relative to what we can do with more border patrol and more asylum officers." "President Trump, I really don't know what he said at the end of that sentence. I I think he knows what he said either." Look, even his biggest defenders were struggling to spin it. Anderson, this was a game-changing debate in the sense that right now, as we speak, there is a deep, a wide, and a very aggressive panic in the Democratic Party. It started minutes into the debate. Clooney's piece, clearly an attempt to steer the Democratic Party into a Biden-free future. Praised the president's service while politely pointing out that father time was undefeated. "The one battle he cannot win," Clooney wrote, "is the fight against time."
Here was Clooney, whose political expertise came entirely from playing politicians on screen and hosting Democratic fundraisers in his Lake Como villa, essentially trying to orchestrate a presidential succession. The backlash came fast. Biden loyalists accused Clooney of betrayal. Everyday Americans, already fed up with being lectured by wealthy celebrities, saw this as yet another example of Hollywood's delusions of grandeur. Who made Clooney Kingmaker? Hosting fundraisers doesn't exactly qualify you to direct the fate of the Free World.
But here's where it gets interesting. 11 days after Clooney's op-ed, Biden announced he was dropping out of the race, while throwing his support behind Kamala Harris. "President Joe Biden has just announced that he is dropping out of the 2024 presidential race in a stunning letter that was just released moments ago by his campaign on X, formerly known as Twitter." Coincidence? Maybe. But the timing is hard to ignore.
What followed was an unmitigated disaster for the Democrats. Harris, a politician with all the charisma of a wet sponge, stumbled through the campaign, hemorrhaging support at every turn. "I heard him talk about the other stuff and then that came later and it was not something that I really heard or processed or, you know, um, or in any way condone, that's for sure." "To visit the border, uh, um, not today." "I grew up a middle-class kid and I haven't been to Europe and I don't, I don't understand the point that you're making."
Meanwhile, the entertainment industry went all in and doubled down on their trademark cocktail of pandering and condescension. "This election is going to be one of the closest in history. Your vote will make the difference. That means you, Gary." "Oh, blah, blah, blah. I'm just one person." "No, shut the up, Gary. Last time, only a few thousand votes kept Trump out of office, and this time, we will hold you personally responsible, Gary." Every endorsement, every celebrity rally seemed to push voters further away. By the time Harris lost to Trump in a November landslide, the progressive elites were in full meltdown mode.
"Let's be honest, it was a terrible night last night. It was a terrible night for women, for children, for the hundreds of thousands of of hardworking immigrants who make this country go, um, for healthcare, for our climate. A terrible night for poor people, for the middle class, for seniors who rely on Social Security, for our allies in Ukraine, for NATO, for the truth." Well, it happened again. This is a democracy, and in this democracy, the majority has spoken, and they said they don't care that much about democracy.
The first time Donald Trump was elected, he started as a joke and ended as a tragedy. This time, he starts as a tragedy. Who knows what the next four years are going to be like? What we do know is that we are going to be governed by a monstrous child surrounded by cowards and grifters. It was like Christmas Eve, you know, on Christmas morning, you're either going to wake up to find that Santa left presents under the tree, or just took a huge dump in your fireplace.
And because some people never learn, the post-election fallout gave us R.Z.ler. Disney's newest Snow White decided it would be a great idea to hop on Instagram and rant against Trump voters, wishing them pain. That's 76 million Americans, by the way, customers who might have been inclined to buy a movie ticket if Zler hadn't spat in their faces. What Ziggler's outburst revealed was something interesting: Hollywood's complete detachment from reality. Walt Disney, the man who built an empire on stories that united Americans, would have been horrified by what his company had become. It was a betrayal of everything Disney once stood for: a shared cultural space where families could escape politics, not be bludgeoned with it.
But this cultural decline didn't happen overnight. Hollywood always leaned left, but there used to be a line, a recognition that alienating half your audience wasn't just unwise, it was also un-American. That line started eroding during the Clinton years, disappeared completely under Obama, and was obliterated with Trump's rise. Now, the entertainment industry sees itself not as a storyteller, but as a moral arbiter, a megaphone for progressive ideology. And the more it preaches, the more Americans tune out.
"On Tuesday, November 8th, this country will make one of the most important, the most important, the most important decisions in its history. And the only way we can prove that to you is by having lots of famous people, lots of famous people, lots and lots of famous people, just a ton of famous people repeating how important, important, important, important, how important it is. But you only get this many famous people together if the issue is one that truly matters to all of us: a disease, or ecological crisis, or a racist, abusive coward who could permanently damage the fabric of our society."
It takes grit, and it takes grace. Let's go back a bit to the Obama years. That's when Hollywood started to believe it wasn't just a cultural influence, but a moral compass. Celebrities weren't content with their gilded lives and Oscars; they decided they were also the gatekeepers of truth, the arbiters of good versus evil. Call it vanity, call it delusion, but they seemed to decide that their fame came with a divine mandate to reshape society. Thomas Sowell might call this mindset the "vision of the anointed." These people genuinely believe they're smarter and better than you, so you should shut up and listen.
Then came Trump. The man triggered something primal in America's liberal elites because he was a walking insult to their worldview. When Trump announced his candidacy in 2015 and descended that now-infamous golden escalator, the entertainment industry reacted like the apocalypse had arrived. What's wild is how quickly Hollywood's love affair with Trump soured. Go back to the pre-2016 era, and this man was rubbing elbows with all the same stars who now call him a fascist. He was on The Apprentice, showing up at celebrity weddings, and getting shout-outs in rap lyrics. Snoop Dogg, Oprah, everyone on The View, they all used to love the guy. But the second he ran for president as a Republican, he became Public Enemy Number One. That shift was so dramatic, it felt scripted, like someone flipped a switch.
"And they're trying to humanize him and change your idea about who this guy is. Don't fall for that Trump talk." By 2016, the gloves were off. Meryl Streep used her Golden Globe speech to call Trump a bully. "It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter, someone he outranked in privilege, power, and the capacity to fight back. And this instinct to humiliate, when it's modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody's life because it kind of gives permission." Robert De Niro said he wanted to punch him in the face. "Stupid. He's a punk. He's a dog. He's a pig. He's a con, a [ __ ] artist, a mutt who doesn't know what he's talking about, doesn't do his homework, doesn't care, thinks he's gaming society, doesn't pay his taxes. He's an idiot." Colin Powell said it best: "He's a national disaster. He's an embarrassment to this country. It makes me so angry that this country has gotten to this point, that this fool, this bozo, has wound up where he has. He talks how he wants to punch people in the face. Well, I'd like to punch him in the face." Madonna fantasized about blowing up the White House. "Yes, I have thought an awful lot about blowing up the White House."
It wasn't just one or two celebrities; it was an all-out blitz. Hollywood, Silicon Valley, and most of the media decided Trump had to be stopped at all costs. Hillary Clinton was their golden ticket to keep the status quo, and they threw everything they had behind her. The "I'm With Her" campaign became a star-studded affair, featuring celebrity-packed PSAs, concerts, and rallies. But something didn't click. Working-class voters, especially in places like Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania, weren't buying it. Trump's campaign resonated with them in a way that Hillary's team, blinded by coastal elitism, never saw coming. And then Trump lost the popular vote but swept the Electoral College.
"This is a Fox News election alert. Pennsylvania goes to Donald Trump. Donald Trump is the president of the United States." Hollywood couldn't believe it. Despite their money, fame, and social media megaphones, they'd been ignored. You'd think they might have learned something, but no. By 2020, their fury had only grown. Celebrities who had stayed quiet in 2016 now jumped into the fray. Taylor Swift, who famously avoided politics, declared her support for Joe Biden. Chris Evans and Mark Ruffalo led Zoom fundraisers with the cast of The Avengers. Even Dwayne Johnson broke his political silence to endorse Biden.
"Now, this is something that I've certainly not done in the past, so I'm going to go big. So guys, I had the opportunity to sit down with Vice President Joe Biden and Senator Kamala Harris to talk about a number of important issues that we're facing as a country. I thought it was a great and extremely productive conversation that we had. And as a registered independent for years now with centrist, centrist, excuse me, ideologies, I do feel that Vice President Biden and Senator Harris are the best choice to lead our country, and I am endorsing them to become president and vice president of our United States."
Hollywood was all in, doubling down on the idea that they could sway Middle America. And then there was Lady Gaga. Oh boy. Her video, meant to appeal to everyday Americans, became an instant meme for all the wrong reasons. "Hey, this is Lady Gaga. I'm voting for America, which means I'm voting for Joe Biden. I'm going to be in one of these states tomorrow. Guess which one I'll be in? Hint: I used to live there. Cheers to the 2020 election." Watching a multi-millionaire in designer boots try to cosplay as a blue-collar worker was peak cringe, and it was insulting. It symbolized how Hollywood views Middle America: not as real people, but as stereotypes to manipulate.
Sure, Biden won, but the cracks in celebrity influence were undeniable. Trump, despite being labeled a racist and every other name under the sun, had gained votes in places that should have been Democratic strongholds. According to Pew Research, Trump made inroads with Black and Hispanic voters, especially working-class men, even in places like Florida's Miami-Dade County, where Latin music stars like Bad Bunny and Ricky Martin endorsed Biden, Trump performed better than in 2016.
And then we got to 2024, and things had only gotten worse for the entertainment elite. Biden's presidency wasn't exactly the Hollywood fairy tale they'd promised. Inflation was squeezing families, crime was up, and cities like Los Angeles, where many of these stars live, were spiraling into chaos. But rather than reflecting on their failures, the Hollywood crowd went into overdrive. When Biden's shaky debate performance against Trump became a national embarrassment, celebrities pivoted to Kamala Harris as their new savior.
This is where it gets downright absurd. Every celebrity imaginable lined up behind Harris. Taylor Swift tried again and posted glowing endorsements. The Marvel cast reunited for a Zoom call. "Hi, you guys!" "Hi, Avengers!" "Jumping on the call!" "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" "I think you mean assembling." "Don, that's pretty good." "It was funny." Even pop stars like Beyoncé. "World where we have the freedom to control our bodies." Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion took to the stage at Harris rallies. But instead of boosting her campaign, they dragged it down.
Voters weren't just skeptical; a lot of them were repulsed. Polls seemed to suggest that every big-name endorsement seemed to hurt Harris more than it helped. Why? Because Americans were sick of it. Sick of millionaire entertainers telling them what to think. Sick of Hollywood's bubble-wrapped elites lecturing regular people about justice while flaunting their wealth. When celebrities spoke about unity from a stage surrounded by designer outfits and private security, it felt grotesque. And Trump's campaign played it cool. They didn't need to attack celebrities directly; they let the economy do the talking. Ads showing rising grocery prices and surging crime rates hit harder than any celebrity's tweet in states like Ohio and Pennsylvania. Those ads resonated. No amount of Hollywood glitz could distract from the fact that regular Americans were struggling while celebrities acted like moral overlords.
"A lot of celebrities got involved in this election. Yeah, that was hilarious to me. Like, that, they thought that I was going to change my vote because somebody from, uh, Eight Simple Rules goes, 'Oh, yeah, you know, I'm kind of like in Bernie Sanders.' It's just like, who are you? You're an actor. Why would I listen to you?" "Yeah, yeah, we're proud to say we're with Hillary."
Hollywood's meltdown became undeniable in 2024, but it isn't something that happened overnight. It's been brewing for years, decades even, and Trump's reelection campaign was the gasoline on the fire. Think back: the more Hollywood's biggest stars lined up to wag their fingers and scold Middle America about morality, the harder Middle America pushed back.
"The show, the main speaker, you're supposed to be telling people how you're going to fix their lives, but you have to entertain them. You know, we're done with it. You know, here in real world America, middle-class America, we're struggling to pay bills, we're struggling to take care of our children, and she wants to entertain us with, uh, celebrities that have lost all credibility. I mean, people like Bruce Springsteen and and Jay-Z. I mean, you bring them out and they're talking about MF this and N this and hoes and I mean, you know, she's proud of that. She's going to try that in front of my children and try to sell her lame plan. It just, it didn't, it didn't hit us."
Yeah, right. Oprah, with all her billions, gave impassioned speeches about how you're wrong if you don't vote the way she tells you. Then there's Ben Stiller, desperately trying to virtue signal his way into relevance, actually saying that he wishes he were black. "Everybody's got to get out and vote and donate. Um, and she's also a historic candidate, you know, it's going to be the first woman president. Um, and that's incredibly exciting. And, you know, she's Indian, she's black, she's everything you can be, more than one thing. It's incredible. You know, I'm Jewish and Irish. Um, I wish I was black. Every white Jewish guy wishes he was." Cringe isn't a strong enough word.
What happened next was Trump's poll numbers going up. These antics just failed. Instead of tearing Trump down, they built him up. Instead of making people question their choices, Hollywood made people dig in their heels. Every overpaid celebrity became the poster child for what regular folks can't stand: smug, insulated, clueless about what life looks like outside their mansions and gated communities. The more they preached, the more they alienated the very people they claimed to be championing.
"These unnatural disasters were caused by climate change. Donald Trump continues to deny the facts. He continues to deny the science. We need a bold step forward to save our economy, our planet, and ourselves. That's why I'm voting for Kamala Harris. She helped lead the most significant climate action in U.S. history, including passing the Inflation Reduction Act. Under her leadership, we set ambitious targets for achieving net-zero emissions by 2050 and building a green economy."
This isn't just about movies or music; this is about trust, or lack of it. When someone like Clooney goes on a late-night talk show to lecture Americans about morality or climate change, it reeks of hypocrisy. "Hi, I'm actor, director, and two-time Sexiest Man Alive, George Clooney." Dumb is highly contagious, infecting the minds of even the most stable geniuses. As a result, rampant dumb now threatens our health, our security, and our planet. Fortunately, just $20 will convince one idiot that climate change is real. $50 will teach five brainless dummies. This is a guy who flies private jets while telling you to cut back on gas.
Same goes for Disney, which spent years cramming political messaging into its movies only to lose billions and find itself in a cage match with Ron DeSantis. And this isn't just about Trump; it's about what he represents to so many people: a giant middle finger to a system they feel has ignored them. When Hollywood came out swinging against him, it wasn't just Trump they were fighting; it was his supporters, the millions of Americans tired of being told they're stupid, backwards, or hateful because they don't fall in line with the progressive agenda. That's the heart of this shift. People are tired of being condescended to by folks who wouldn't survive a day outside their bubble.
The cracks have been visible for a while, but 2024 was the year the dam finally broke. Look at the numbers: declining award show ratings, box office disasters, streaming services leaking subscribers. The Oscars are a punchline now. People just don't care anymore. And why should they? When every speech is a sermon, every movie a lecture, it stops being entertaining. The British aristocracy clung to its outdated privileges until the world moved on without them. Hollywood, like those institutions, is learning the hard way that you can't force people to follow you when you've lost their respect.
What's fascinating and kind of hilarious is how blind they are to all of this. They keep doubling down, thinking the problem is us, not them. It's why I truly think Trump's victory was a cultural earthquake. It exposed the entertainment industry's impotence in a way that can't be ignored. And here we are, watching the downfall of an industry that once thought it was untouchable. The question isn't whether Hollywood can regain its influence; it's whether it even knows how to survive without it.