Grand Island, Nebraska (The Daily Whatever Press)—Y’all, I’m so tired. But I couldn’t let Monday night end without reporting on the latest fucking disaster, this time out of freaking Nebraska, where the President of the United States offered up two American cities to Iran like he was splitting a fucking dinner check.
“They could take out a city,” Donald Trump told a rally crowd at the State Fairgrounds. “Let ‘em take out Los Angeles. Let ‘em take out San Diego.”
The crowd cheered. Then Trump called it “a very small price to pay.”
A small price for what? Human decency? No—gas. He was talking about gas. He launched a war with Iran in February, Iran choked off the Strait of Hormuz, the price of filling up our tanks skyrocketed to high heaven, and his closing argument four weeks before the midterms is that pump prices are “just artificial”—and besides, think how much worse it would be if two California cities got vaporized. Which he then volunteered. Out loud. Into a microphone in front of the presidential seal.
Was he technically “calling on” Iran to do it? There’s a garbled thought in there somewhere, and that seemed to be the gist of it, especially as the intelligible words he uttered were “let ‘em.” That would be gross enough. But then the room heard permission and applauded him.
And that’s beyond gross. It’s fucking despicable. It’s obscene. It’s inhumane. We’re gonna need a bigger thesaurus, because I can’t find the words to capture the depravity of the goddamn President of this goddamn country calling for the goddamn destruction of two cities and then having thousands of other goddamn Americans applaud him.
God-fucking-damnit.
Here’s who lives in San Diego: the Navy. Naval Base San Diego, with Camp Pendleton right up the coast. The spouses and kids of the sailors and Marines currently fighting your war, you absolute ghoul. You offered up their zip codes for an applause line in an expo hall.
The rest of the speech? An executive order letting anybody fill up on red-dyed diesel—the untaxed stuff normally reserved for tractors—a promise that gas prices will drop so fast you’ll beg him to slow down, that “we’re kicking Iran’s ass,” and that the war was nearly done. Sure we are, and sure it is, Donald. No one with a stitch of sense believed you the first 40 times you said it. We sure as shit don’t believe it now.
Then the topper.
Gov. Jim Pillen inducted Trump as an admiral in the Nebraska Navy—an honorary fleet belonging to a state with no ocean. The man accepted a ceremonial naval commission from a landlocked state on the same evening he offered up the city that hosts the actual Pacific Fleet. I didn’t make that up. I couldn’t. It’s on tape.
(And yes, I can Google, so I know this is a tradition in Nebraska but I don’t care; it is still SO FUCKING ABSURD GIVE ME THIS MOMENT OF REVELING IN THE LUNACY OF IT ALL.)
Gavin Newsom called him “deranged and dangerous.” The White House didn’t bother to respond. I mean, why would they? They already know.
I have a list of grievances against every president of my lifetime, and it is long. But I grew up under Ronald Reagan—the guy whose finger on the button gave my whole generation nightmares—and even he stood up and said a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought.
The floor used to be that the President of the United States didn’t root for American cities to get annihilated, not any of the cities, no matter how they voted. We had that baseline of civility and decency. We took it for granted. So now we want what, for Iran to nuke Los Angeles and San Diego? Like if that happened, would Trump and his MAGATs be on Team Iran? And my fellow Americans are okay with this??
Y’all, as mentioned at the start—I am so, so tired.
Can’t we agree other countries nuking our cities is a bad thing? And if we can’t—what does that leave us?
Gen X learned this lesson from a computer named Joshua in 1983: the only winning move is not to play.
Where’s Matthew Broderick when we need him?
Hi, I’m Dana. And I Write Out Loud.
I Write Out Loud is my primary home for cultural memoir, personal essays, and live conversations about the strange, brave process of becoming yourself in midlife. If you like essays with a point of view and a pulse, you’ll find plenty to read there.
And if you enjoyed this story — why not buy me a coffee?☕
{Make mine a decaf iced oat milk mocha, please!}
Thanks for stopping by!
We’re Dana DuBois and Lawrence Winnerman, lifelong BFFs and co-hosts of The Daily Whatever Show — our independent home for smart, irreverent conversations about culture, politics, media, creativity, relationships, aging, and whatever else is shaping modern life this week.
We’re live every Friday at 10am ET with thoughtful analysis, sharp interviews, cultural commentary, humor, and the kind of conversations that don’t pretend everything is fine when it clearly isn’t.
If you’re enjoying what we’re building, please consider supporting our work with a paid subscription. Your support helps us keep the show independent, book fascinating guests, and continue creating smart conversations with your morning coffee.
We love you — mean it!
He doesn’t like California and we don’t like him.
He knows Republicans are not going to win in California, and not because of vote fraud, so he doesn't care what happens to residents of California, citizens or otherwise.