Last night at eight o’clock on 77WABC, Jake Novak and I took over The Stone Zone while Roger Stone enjoys his end-of-month vacation. During our wide-ranging conversation, Jake said something that hit me squarely between the eyes:
“When you argue about everything, you argue about nothing.”
That may be one of the simplest, and most devastating, descriptions of modern political discourse I have heard in a long time.
Think about it.
If absolutely everything is a crisis, then eventually nothing is a crisis.
If every executive order is the end of democracy, every unconventional presidential decision is authoritarianism, every Trump policy is catastrophic, every sporting event is somehow an assault on American values, and every disagreement requires a five-alarm political fire, eventually people stop listening.
They don’t necessarily disagree with you.
They just stop believing you.
And that is precisely the problem Jake and I were discussing.
He asked whether Democrats should start picking their battles instead of reflexively screaming bloody murder every time President Trump does something they don’t like. He compared the strategy to the classic story of the boy who cried wolf.
Jake nailed it.
There is a profound difference between opposing something and opposing everything.
One is politics.
The other is noise.
And right now, too much of American politics has become an endless soundtrack of manufactured outrage, with everyone competing to see who can scream the loudest before anyone bothers asking whether there is actually anything worth screaming about.
I have spent enough years around Donald Trump to know that he is unconventional. That’s not exactly breaking news. The man has never met a political norm he couldn’t at least consider throwing out the window.
But unconventional doesn’t automatically mean dangerous.
Different doesn’t automatically mean destructive.
And just because Donald Trump came up with an idea doesn’t mean the idea itself must immediately be rejected, condemned, investigated, litigated and accompanied by a panel discussion featuring twelve people explaining why civilization is approximately 48 hours from collapse.
Sometimes an unusual idea is simply an unusual idea.
Take the UFC event at the White House.
When Trump announced plans to host UFC fights on the South Lawn, critics predictably lost their minds. We heard about the dignity of the presidency. We heard about tradition. We heard about decorum.
And I’m sure somewhere, someone was clutching a pearl necklace so tightly that it required emergency medical attention.
Meanwhile, millions of fight fans, including me, were thinking something considerably simpler:
This is freaking awesome.
Could the UFC have held the event in a conventional arena?
Of course.
But if you have the opportunity to put UFC 250 on the grounds of the White House during America’s 250th anniversary celebrations, why wouldn’t you?
It was different. It was historic. It was entertaining.
And no, enjoying the spectacle does not require me to sign a loyalty oath to Donald Trump.
That’s an important distinction that seems increasingly lost in our political culture.
We have reached a point where people apparently cannot say, “I don’t like this.”
No.
It has to become:
“This is dangerous.”
Then:
“This is unprecedented.”
Then:
“This is an assault on democracy.”
And five minutes later, CNN has assembled a six-person panel to explain why the Republic is hanging by a thread because somebody put a sporting event on the White House lawn.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
And sometimes a UFC fight is just a UFC fight.
Now we’re watching the exact same political playbook unfold around the Freedom 250 Grand Prix.
This weekend, tens of thousands of racing fans will descend upon Washington, D.C., to watch IndyCar machines roar through a temporary street circuit near some of America’s most recognizable monuments.
This is not your grandfather’s Sunday afternoon at the track.
It’s the first IndyCar event of its kind in the nation’s capital, and by all indications, it may also be the last.
That makes it unusual.
It also makes it historic.
The event was conceived specifically as part of the celebration surrounding America’s 250th anniversary. And because apparently nothing can happen in Washington without somebody forming a congressional subcommittee about it, critics have already begun raising alarms.
The cars can reach extraordinary speeds.
The course includes seven turns over roughly 1.7 miles.
The planning timeline was compressed.
There are concerns about vibrations near museums and national institutions.
There are legitimate questions about security, traffic, infrastructure and protecting priceless artifacts.
Fine.
Ask the questions.
That’s what adults do.
But there is a gigantic difference between legitimate scrutiny and acting as though an IndyCar driving down Pennsylvania Avenue represents the collapse of Western civilization.
At some point, we have to stop confusing unusual with dangerous.
The organizers aren’t exactly treating this like a backyard barbecue.
More than 200 manhole covers are being temporarily secured because the aerodynamic forces generated by the cars can create enormous suction. Penske Corporation is absorbing more than $21 million in costs, rather than dumping the expense onto federal taxpayers.
That’s worth noting.
The District of Columbia also has an opportunity to benefit economically from tens of thousands of visitors arriving during a traditionally quieter August period. Hotels, restaurants, transportation companies, retailers and other local businesses stand to benefit.
And fans aren’t being asked to hand over their life savings just to watch the spectacle. Tickets are being distributed through a lottery, opening the door for ordinary Americans to experience something they may never see again.
Is it unconventional?
Absolutely.
Is it worth scrutinizing?
Certainly.
But does unconventional automatically mean terrible?
No.
And that brings me back to Jake’s point.
When you argue about everything, you argue about nothing.
That should be printed on a billboard outside Democratic Party headquarters.
Political parties survive on credibility. Credibility comes from demonstrating that when you raise the alarm, there is actually a fire.
If every Trump executive order is “fascism,” every sporting event is “dangerous,” every policy is “the end of democracy,” and every deviation from Democratic orthodoxy is treated as an existential threat, eventually Americans tune it out.
And that should frighten Democrats far more than anything Trump is doing.
Because eventually there really will be something worth fighting about.
There will be a policy that deserves serious opposition.
There will be an abuse of power that requires accountability.
There will be a constitutional issue that demands resistance.
There will be a genuine threat that requires Americans to pay attention.
And when that moment arrives, the people doing the warning need to have credibility.
You don’t build credibility by screaming continuously.
You build it by demonstrating judgment.
That doesn’t mean Democrats should become cheerleaders for Donald Trump. It doesn’t mean they should abandon their principles or suddenly start wearing MAGA hats.
It means they should learn to distinguish between “I disagree with this” and “This is a national emergency.”
Those two statements are not interchangeable.
Republicans should learn the same lesson, by the way.
Conservatives have their own version of this disease. There are people on the right who believe every Democratic proposal is the opening act of the Bolshevik Revolution.
That’s equally absurd.
If Democrats do something good, Republicans should be capable of saying so.
If Republicans do something stupid, Republicans should be capable of admitting it.
And if Trump does something worthwhile, Democrats should be capable of acknowledging it without requiring a three-day retreat and a permission slip from MSNBC.
That’s called independent thought.
It’s also called adulthood.
Americans are increasingly exhausted by political theater. They don’t want every parade, race, sporting event, executive order or presidential photograph transformed into another battlefield in the culture war.
Sometimes people simply want to enjoy something.
A Democrat can enjoy an IndyCar race.
A Republican can hate it.
An independent can watch it while eating a hot dog and wondering why a group of race engineers can organize twenty-five cars more efficiently than Congress can organize a budget.
That’s America.
We are perfectly capable of disagreeing without declaring one another enemies of the republic.
And perhaps that’s the lesson Democrats, and Republicans, need to relearn.
Opposition doesn’t require perpetual outrage.
Criticism doesn’t require hysteria.
And politics doesn’t require pretending that every disagreement is an existential threat.
Because when you argue about everything, you argue about nothing.
Eventually, people stop listening.
Eventually, the outrage becomes background noise.
Eventually, the wolf really does show up, and nobody bothers looking up from dinner.
Jake Novak wasn’t simply talking about an IndyCar race last night.
He was talking about political credibility.
He was talking about judgment.
He was talking about knowing when to fight and, just as importantly, knowing when not to fight.
The smartest opposition isn’t necessarily the loudest.
It’s the opposition people still believe when it finally says:
This time, we really do have a problem.
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What really upsets me is that you swore your whole purpose on Substack was to make sure the Democrats win the midterms. You said it over and over, emphasizing that it was highly important to restore our tripartite balance of power in the government.
I became a paid subscriber in January actually to get access to your “paid subscriber only” livestreams but also to support your content and your goal of regaining our tripartite balance of power.
Now, only a little over a half of my annual subscription later, you have reunited with Trump and that’s up to you of course but that has changed the focus of the articles you write which are now in praise of him and his administration while being demeaning to the democrats.
I am highly disappointed. You can do what you want with your life and I’m happy for you that you landed the job at the radio station, but the content you were providing when I subscribed has taken a 180 degree turn.
That’s your prerogative, of course. I just didn’t expect it and it disappoints me because I need uplifting positive content in support of the democrats so we can save our democracy from the current authoritarian leaning rule.
I’m just here to say that I don’t care for the slamming of democrats and your going back on your stated purpose of winning the midterms.
Now it seems your purpose is for the republicans to win the midterms.
Well, this time I disagree. Your point is valid when the government is functioning. "If every Trump executive order is “fascism,” every sporting event is “dangerous,” every policy is “the end of democracy,” and every deviation from Democratic orthodoxy is treated as an existential threat, eventually Americans tune it out." The problem is that Trump IS governing by executive orders. He IS a fascist. His policies ARE a threat to Democracy. We are past the point of being ignored when crying wolf. You don't necessarily need to get to the finish line before you figure out that the path is bad. The person increasingly finding good in this administration is you. Personally, Trump has completely shown me that he is an imbecile, a liar, a narcissist, and he is also a felon. I don't require any more 'facts' to decide that Trump is, in fact, destroying the country. I'm not crying wolf; I am using my brain to evaluate the situation. And my brain says our country is in desperate need of an honest, intelligent, and compassionate leader.