Republicans are often very good at converting an event into a scandal, even when there is none to be found. They keenly understand the basic mechanics of a contemporary political media that rewards conflict. The modern conservative machine often operates in unison to manufacture a reality-TV confrontation designed to thrill the GOP base. 

First, a Republican makes a dramatic accusation. Then, conservative influencers and right-wing media outlets duly amplify the charge until it becomes a viral “gotcha” moment. GOP politicians and operatives then go on podcasts and Fox News to repeat the accusation. By the time anyone checks the underlying evidence, the original allegation has become canon to conservatives. 

That was plainly the ambition behind Missouri Republican Sen. Eric Schmitt’s performance on Tuesday at the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing with former special counsel Jack Smith. It was even there in the hearing’s title: “Oversight of Jack Smith’s Abuse of Authority and the Targeting of Republicans and Related Matters.” Convened by 93-year-old committee chairman Chuck Grassley, R-Iowa, it aimed to recast Smith, the prosecutor who indicted Trump over his efforts to overturn the results of the 2020 election and alleged mishandling of classified documents, as the villain of a weaponized Justice Department. Smith, for his part, stood behind his case, stating emphatically, “Our investigation developed proof beyond a reasonable doubt that President Trump engaged in serious crimes against our nation.”

But with the midterm elections barely a month away, Republican senators made the calculated decision to relitigate Jan. 6 by fishing through Smith’s records in a desperate bid to find something — anything — to excite their base. What they found was confusion about a basketball game.

Before Tuesday’s hearing started, Schmitt looked like a man whose plan was coming together. Earlier that morning, Axios co-founder Jim VandeHei published a flattering bulletin placing Schmitt atop the speculative short list to be Vice President JD Vance’s 2028 running mate, quoting admirers of the senator. “We hear the VP views Schmitt as trustworthy, intelligent, articulate and a deft political operator,” VandeHei wrote. The rollout appeared designed to elevate Schmitt’s national profile just as a splashy televised grilling of MAGA’s public enemy No. 1 was set to unfold. What happened instead was one of the most embarrassing misfires of any recent Senate hearing.

Near the end of his questioning, Schmitt asked Smith whether he had attended an NBA game between the Golden State Warriors and the Atlanta Hawks on Feb. 3, 2024. Smith looked genuinely confused and asked what city that would be in. Atlanta, Schmitt said. No, Smith replied. Schmitt then supplied the innuendo, noting that the day before, Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis had acknowledged her intimate relationship with special prosecutor Nathan Wade, who was helping lead her Georgia racketeering case against Trump. The unstated suggestion was that Smith had slipped into Georgia under the cover of a basketball game to coordinate with Willis. 

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Schmitt said he had a series of text messages from Smith’s team placing the prosecutor at the game, then he gave the former special counsel a beat to think it over: “I’ll give you a second to process it so you don’t, you know, perjure yourself.” A staffer hoisted a poster board showing purported texts alongside images of Smith, Willis and Wade and a photo of State Farm Arena, then yanked it back down with remarkable speed. Schmitt declared Smith had probably already perjured himself and blasted him as a “total dirtbag.”

The texts did not mention Atlanta at all. They mentioned a Hawks game. Sen. Amy Klobuchar, D-Minn., circled back later in the hearing and methodically dismantled the exchange. The whole thing collapsed because Schmitt, or someone working for him, apparently never considered the possibility that Smith might have attended a women’s basketball game, and only found one corresponding men’s game for the date in question. The game Smith attended was, in fact, a women’s college basketball game in College Park, Maryland between the Maryland Terrapins and the Iowa Hawkeyes, the team then led by Caitlin Clark. Schmitt’s entire conspiracy theory was built on basic factual incompetence. 

It’s tempting to treat this episode as merely humorous. There is something inherently ridiculous about a United States senator arriving at a televised hearing convinced he has caught a former special counsel in perjury, only to learn that the central clue in his conspiracy theory was just a shared bird mascot. The speed with which the poster was yanked down by Schmitt’s staffers told the entire story before the cameras. Realizing in real-time that they had walked straight into a trap, the senator’s team tried to bury the evidence and move on before anyone noticed. 

But an apparently pre-planned chorus of right-wing influencers had their talking points ready to deploy the second Schmitt’s gotcha dropped. Fox News’ Sean Hannity initially applauded Schmitt before deleting his post on X. Benny Johnson declared that Schmitt had caught Smith perjuring himself. Other conservative commentators circulated the clip as proof that Smith had been caught in a lie — and then quietly abandoned the claim. 

Instead of owning the blunder, Schmitt doubled down. Appearing afterward on “The Charlie Kirk Show,” where the hosts, Andrew Kolvet and Blake Neff, prompted him with the fiction intact, the senator continued to insist that he had been justified in asking the question. When confronted later by TMZ with the fact that Smith had actually been at the Iowa-Maryland game, Schmitt responded: “My job is to ask the question.” 

It was an extraordinary accusation to make on the strength of material that was, according to a report by MS NOW, explicitly described by Republican Judiciary Committee staff as “unvetted.” The political editor of KSDK-TV in St. Louis, Schmitt’s home market, mocked him openly for the mistake. 

Even within the senator’s own party, the embarrassment was palpable. A video of Sen. Katie Britt, R-Ala., looking on with a mask of utter horror quickly circulated online. “There’s something to be said about the staff work, and verifying before we do something like that publicly,” Iowa Sen. Joni Ernst told Raw Story. One unnamed Republican senator suggested the bad intel came directly from the White House. Reports soon surfaced that Schmitt’s general counsel Ethan Harper, who stood behind him holding the infamous poster, saw his potential White House staff position being placed into immediate jeopardy.

But since many conservatives will never let a thing like the truth get in the way of self-promotion, Schmitt took his victory lap after standing on a rake.

There is a familiar pattern in the refusal to feel shame. When Vance was caught spreading the false claim about immigrants eating pets in Ohio, he argued he would create and repeat fiction in service of a larger truth. Schmitt’s defenders are doing the same, treating a false perjury accusation as acceptable because it aimed at exposing supposed corruption. 

Step back, and the strategic picture is bleak for the people who planned this misfire. Senate Republicans chose to relitigate Jan. 6, embarrass themselves on national television and then double down rather than move on. It was propaganda and lawfare generation. The incompetence of the execution does not change the intent.

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When I was a kid, I was delighted by the brazenness of generic groceries. There was Dr. Thunder, a soda whose name made its ambitions extremely clear. There were chocolate sandwich cookies called Twist and Shout. Somewhere in the cereal aisle were frosted flakes fronted not by Tony the Tiger but, as I remember it, a polar bear: a perfectly respectable mascot, just not the famous one.

That was part of the charm of generic food. It was forever making a little sideways gesture toward something else. The cookie was an Oreo in community theater; the cereal was performing Kellogg’s in a cheap wig. Whether we bought the understudy depended, in my family, on whether the ingredient “mattered.” For peanut butter cookies, my mom might spring for Jif and Kerrygold, then grab store-brand flour and brown sugar. Lasagna meant Rao’s sauce and Breakstone cottage cheese layered with Kroger ricotta and noodles. Grocery shopping involved a constantly shifting private calculus of where quality lived, where branding mattered and where an extra two dollars seemed frankly ridiculous.

Lately, though, I’ve had the sense that Mariano’s is cosplaying as Trader Joe’s.

It happened gradually enough that I missed the costume change. Then, over a few trips, I started noticing things: bulgogi and birria in the freezer case; grilled mushroom and truffle-oil thin-crust pizza; bronze-cut pasta; baby potatoes with brown butter and herbs; mascarpone vodka sauce. Products that once might have seemed oddly ambitious for a supermarket house brand were simply there, scattered around the store, as though they had always belonged.

The packaging had changed its posture, too: deep, muted colors and big, self-aware type. One jar of Kroger Private Selection preserves lets the raspberry seeds show through the glass beneath a black label announcing RASP-BERRY in enormous pink letters. This is not packaging designed to disappear discreetly beside Smucker’s.

That is increasingly the odd thing about calling any of this “generic.” The word once aptly described products whose chief proposition was resemblance: essentially the same cracker, cereal or can of tomatoes, minus the famous name and a little money at checkout. Now private-label goods account for nearly a quarter of U.S. consumer packaged-goods sales, and 92% of grocery shoppers say they have private-brand products in their homes. 

Nearly half say they bought more of them over the past year, but the more revealing number may be that 94% say they would keep buying them even if grocery prices declined.

Inflation accelerated the shift, but it didn’t invent it. Retailers had already begun turning their house brands into something more particular: not just substitutes, but products with identities, aesthetics and increasingly their own little fandoms. The old question was whether the name brand mattered. Now, in some aisles, the store brand is the name that matters.

Trader Joe’s understood this early. Shopping there has always felt slightly less like provisioning a household than visiting a restaurant whose menu happens to be arranged on shelves. You enter beside buckets of colorful flowers. Products come and go with the seasons. The Fearless Flyer turns new arrivals into minor events. A cashier notices, with the attention of a veteran waiter, the frozen dumplings in your cart and tells you they are her favorite, too.

Even the freezer cases seem to anticipate the question What am I supposed to do with this? The orange chicken is near the frozen rice, which is near the vegetables with stir-fry sauce. Dinner assembles itself spatially. And the products that cannot reasonably be called dinner (Scandinavian swimmers, those ridiculous Inside Out Carrot Cookies, whatever confection has recently been enrobed in dark chocolate) seem to be there largely because someone thought they might be fun.

I rarely leave Trader Joe’s congratulating myself for having economized, although I usually have. Instead, I text my partner some variation of: “I got new stuff for cheap.” Novelty without financial self-reproach is a powerful drug, and it has helped produce a truly astonishing secondary culture of Trader Joe’s blogs, Instagram accounts, rankings and podcasts devoted to the contents of a grocery store.

Other chains have developed their own versions of the phenomenon.

Aldi has what shoppers affectionately call the “aisle of shame,” a rotating stretch of seasonal housewares and oddities that can make a trip for eggs end with an inflatable ottoman in the trunk. It shares Trader Joe’s combination of affordability and discovery, although perhaps with slightly more treasure hunt in its DNA: the Trader Joe’s cult in a German sweater.

The company’s advertising still suggests that not everyone has joined. One recent commercial features a woman attempting to coax her husband out of the car and into Aldi, eventually tempting him with a bag of grass-fed beef sticks. The joke isn’t really that the food is bad. It’s that Aldi is different: unfamiliar labels, quarter-operated carts, its own little set of rules — a place that can inspire evangelical loyalty among regulars and still require explaining to everyone else.

Costco offers a sturdier version of the same intimacy. My parents became Costco people years ago. They enjoy speculating about who really manufactures Kirkland products as though they are solving minor corporate mysteries. My dad owns Kirkland slides. Last Christmas, my mom bought a 500-piece Costco puzzle for us to assemble over the holiday. At a certain point, the private label has escaped the pantry entirely and begun appearing on your feet and your coffee table.

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Whole Foods, meanwhile, is still gently arguing with the ghost of the phrase “Whole Paycheck.” Its 365 line helps make the case that the store can belong to an ordinary grocery routine rather than merely a place to buy $9 yogurt. It works: I have, on multiple occasions, gone there specifically because I wanted the 365 Lemon Tahini Crunch salad.

What these stores have in common is a way of turning the supermarket itself into a brand. More than half of shoppers now say a retailer’s private-brand selection is very or extremely important when deciding where to shop. You don’t merely prefer a certain frozen pizza. You become a person who knows which frozen pizza is worth buying at which store.

Conventional supermarkets have spent years trying to manufacture some version of that attachment. Before the mascarpone vodka sauce came the Starbucks counters, sushi stations, prepared-food bars and, in some Kroger locations, literal bars — all attempts to turn grocery shopping from an errand into somewhere one might willingly linger. Private label gives them another lever. Kroger says its own-brand sales are now growing faster than national brands, with sales of its premium Private Selection line recently up more than 14%.  

Perhaps that is why Private Selection suddenly looks so much less interested in resembling anything else. Generic packaging used to practice a kind of visual ventriloquism, borrowing enough from the famous package to make the reference obvious without kicking off a lawsuit. Today, the raspberry preserves would rather be remembered for themselves. You can tell someone, “Get the jar with the black label,” instead of “Get the jar that looks like, but isn’t, Smucker’s.”

That change also suits the way a growing number of people actually eat. We have become a nation of pantry anthropologists, increasingly comfortable locating pleasure at both ends of the grocery spectrum. American cheese has its place, perhaps melted over instant noodles slicked with black-garlic oil. There are people who can rank sparkling waters with the gravity once reserved for Burgundy. Loving food does not necessarily mean buying the most expensive version of everything. Increasingly, it means knowing where the good stuff is — however you happen to define good.

My mother understood this long before grocery marketers gave it a strategy deck. For years, once it fit comfortably into the budget, she bought Horizon Organic whole milk. At night, she would pour herself a small glass and eat it with a handful of Kettle Brand chips. Those were her things. Elsewhere in the cart, she was perfectly happy to save a dollar.

I have my own version of the list now. I will buy store-brand flour without thinking twice. I will happily eat supermarket frozen dinners, private-label salad kits and whatever peculiar seasonal snack has wandered into Aldi that week. But unless money is especially tight, I get strangely stubborn about butter, jam and coffee. Those still feel like places where I want the thing I want.

Maybe that is what has changed most about the old divide between name brand and generic. The point was never that every expensive thing was better, or that every cheaper thing was a compromise. You have to know what matters to you.

My mother had her milk and kettle chips. I have my butter, jam and coffee. The rest is up for negotiation.

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Fox News is confronting an awkward problem of its own making. Conservative media has spent years teaching its audience to distrust the institutions building artificial intelligence, but now those same institutions are working with Donald Trump and Republicans nationwide to secure billions of dollars in public infrastructure, regulatory favors and political protection to build the physical machinery that makes AI possible. So the network is now trying to discipline a conservative backlash it helped build by recasting public anger as a threat to Trump’s economic agenda and America’s rivalry with China.

The shift was gradual. The network did not simply move from being skeptical of AI to becoming enthusiastic about it. Instead, it changed the question. What began as a story about whether AI was “woke” became a story about whether the U.S. could afford to not dominate its development. 

Over the past three years, as Trump’s alliance with tech oligarchs deepened, network hosts have seemingly dropped their culture war suspicion of AI, which at first centered on ChatGPT and accusations that the chatbot, produced by OpenAI, was “woke” and exhibited an “anti-Trump bias.” They have now adopted an aggressive defense of the industrial buildout behind the technology. What began as a moral panic over Silicon Valley chatbots and censorship has turned into a desperate campaign to douse the flames of a conservative grassroots rebellion against AI data centers.

When ChatGPT exploded into public consciousness in early 2023, network hosts used its standard culture war playbook to raise the alarm against generative AI. Jesse Watters complained on “The Five” that AI would discriminate against conservatives and said he feared machines would become another mechanism for censorship. Laura Ingraham held up the news that Vanderbilt administrators had used the chatbot to draft a message after the Michigan State shooting as proof that intellectual standards were collapsing. Tucker Carlson, then still on the air, gave Elon Musk a platform to voice apocalyptic warnings about where the field was heading. 

For a moment, the right-wing media apparatus seemed positioned to critique AI as an anti-human concentration of corporate power. But when Carlson was ousted only days after the April 2023 interview, he took that strain of populism with him to the political periphery, joining voices like former Trump adviser and podcast host Steve Bannon in expressing sustained alarm over AI from the right. 

But as Salon’s Amanda Marcotte has documented, the politics surrounding the technology changed as the money got bigger. Tech companies began pouring hundreds of billions of dollars into data centers. After the federal government’s own assessment estimated that data centers consumed about 4.4% of total U.S. electricity in 2023, and could consume between 6.7% and 12% by 2028, conservative voters who distrust Silicon Valley and resent rising utility bills collided with Trump-aligned officials who want to build the technology and its data centers at breakneck speed. A July Fox News poll found that 70% of Americans opposed data centers being built in their communities. Faced with a genuine populist uprising against corporate extraction, the network seems to have stepped in to perform damage control for Big Tech and the Trump administration. 

By August 2026, “Fox & Friends” began reassuring viewers that local opposition was not an authentic community defense but rather a deceptive plot orchestrated by the “far left.” Host Brian Kilmeade suggested that calls to slow down AI expansion could “tank” the economy ahead of the midterms, effectively warning viewers that defending their local water source was an act of economic sabotage. On “The Five,” Greg Gutfeld picked up the same talking point, arguing that Democrats were weaponizing local opposition to AI development as a sneaky way to undermine Trump’s economic numbers. Will Cain’s program has similarly cast local opposition as a Democratic weapon for stirring outrage in swing districts. 

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Fox reached for establishment gravitas and deployed heavyweights from the national security state like former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice to sell the data centers buildout under the banner of “techno-optimism.” Dismissing concerns over sweeping job losses on Monday, Rice framed the issue around international competition. On Fox Business, Larry Kudlow has argued that opposing data centers amounts to promoting China, and Charles Payne has described a New York moratorium as part of a Democratic war on AI. In May, Payne went further on “Jesse Watters Primetime” when he accused Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., of working with the Chinese to kill the American AI industry. 

An incident involving businessman and television personality Kevin O’Leary is the classic cautionary tale taught in journalism schools. In May, the “Shark Tank” investor appeared on former Fox Business host Maria Bartiromo’s show promoting his proposed Utah data center when he claimed that local groups and residents opposing it were proxies for the Chinese government. The allegation was subsequently repeated across Fox programming. O’Leary later acknowledged that he had no evidence that the organizations or individuals he identified were funded by China or the Chinese Communist Party. Fox News Media eventually issued an on-air apology.

This campaign to pacify the conservative base culminated in Trump’s direct intervention. Characterizing fears of existential risk from AI as a “hoax,” Trump made it clear that corporate expansion would take priority over local or environmental concerns. After returning from a golf tournament in Illinois over the weekend, Trump openly boasted to reporters at Joint Base Andrews about his late-night dinner with Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei, illustrating the strange politics of this moment. Anthropic has become one of the most prominent companies arguing that powerful AI systems require safety measures and public oversight. Amodei himself has warned that AI could pose a risk to humanity if developed badly. 

On Tuesday, ahead of a scheduled lunch with industry executives to discuss the technology, Trump announced the launch of America.gov, a government chatbot billed as a research tool for public services. “We do not surrender to fears about what technologies will do to us,” he said. “We decide that those technologies will do for us some very, very incredible things.” Using his preferred moniker for AI, the president added. “This kind of innovation in government is just a preview of what is possible with super intelligence.”

Trump’s rhetoric and actions underscore that his role in selling AI to a skeptical public is central. He has dismissed existential AI fears as a “hoax” and made expanding data centers a centerpiece of his agenda. That is why Fox was so quick to abandon the rural and suburban communities facing the real-world fallout from data centers, choosing instead to lecture its audience on the national security duty of surrendering their power grids and backyards to Big Tech.

UPDATE: This column has been updated to include President Donald Trump’s announcement that the government is launching its own chatbot, America.gov.

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Susan Collins is very concerned — and she should be. As a politician who has only run for one office in her life and held the same seat for nearly 30 years, the Maine senator is facing a possible loss in what looks more and more like a big blue wave coming in November’s midterm elections. As the rare GOP senator representing a blue state, she should be the first one caught in that undertow. But Collins is a rare creature: a virtual Houdini who has always managed to fend off defeat during tough elections. Whether she will somehow work her magic again is one of the biggest questions of 2026.

At the start of this election cycle, Democrats had two competing strategies about how to beat her. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer was convinced that because more women than men vote in the state and Collins wins most of them, the answer was to find a Democratic woman that closely matched Collins’ profile. So he persuaded the popular Democratic Gov. Janet Mills, 79, to run for the seat. A progressive faction took the opposite approach, believing that a younger, male populist outsider would provide the contrast Mainers were looking for. So they recruited a oyster farmer, Graham Platner. It soon became clear that Schumer’s bet was the wrong one, and that Platner’s persona and message were more appealing. Mills’ heart wasn’t really in the race, and she dropped out fairly quickly. But then, after Platner was forced to withdraw from the race due to credible allegations of sexual assault, he was replaced with another salt-of-the-earth working man type. Troy Jackson, a fifth-generation logger who once served as president of the Main Senate, was well-known in the state and became something of a compromise candidate. Collins is currently trailing Jackson in most polls, although the revered New York Times/Portland Press/Siena poll, released Thursday, showed her with a small lead. 

While no one is counting their chickens, the environment appears to favor Democrats. This is the first election for Collins since the Supreme Court’s Dobbs ruling, which overturned Roe v. Wade and decades of access to abortion. Since the senator had effectively cast the deciding vote to confirm Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court in 2018, vouching for his mainstream credentials and assuring Americans he considered Roe “settled law,” the case also severely damaged her reputation as a moderate among many Maine voters, most of whom — remember — are women. Collins has since claimed she was “misled” by Kavanaugh, but she has refused to repudiate her vote. 

What had once been one of the senator’s selling points — her position on choice — is now a liability. But it doesn’t stop there. According to analysis by Planned Parenthood, Collins has subsequently supported 95% of Trump’s judicial nominees — to be fair, that percentage is roughly on par with her votes in previous administrations — including for anti-choice judges. She has also voted against the Equality Act, which would add sexual orientation and gender identity to civil rights laws, legislation she had previously co-sponsored. For some voters who backed her before, this is a deal breaker. 

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Collins’ other selling point to Mainers of all political stripes has been her dedication to bringing home pork for the state as the chair of the powerful Appropriations Committee. While that power has been somewhat curtailed by both parties in recent years after revelations of such schemes as former GOP Alaska Sen. Ted Stevens’ infamous “bridge to nowhere,” Collins has managed to keep the tradition going, albeit with a more subtle application.

Throughout the campaign, Jackson has portrayed Collins as a tool of the corrupt GOP swamp, tying her to Trump and the party’s overwhelming corruption. While it’s hard to know how much traction Jackson has been getting on that issue, last week he was handed a gift in the form of a Pro Publica story alleging that Collins engaged in suspicious pay-to-play arrangements via a high-powered Washington lobbyist who is close to her and her husband. (Reporting by the New York Times supported the claim.)

In a nutshell, the former CEO of a defense contractor told the FBI that he created a shell company to hide a $150,000 donation to a super PAC supporting Collins in exchange for her help in obtaining millions in contracts, which he received. There is evidence that she not only knew about it, but worked with others to make it happen. After a preliminary FBI investigation in 2023 didn’t lead to any charges, new evidence was apparently leading the bureau to a larger investigation when the Trump Justice Department quashed it as part of their purge of the agents and lawyers who were working political corruption cases.

Collins maintains she was cleared of any wrongdoing, but there is a big cloud over her head at the exact moment voters are increasingly concerned about government corruption writ large. It doesn’t help that she has enabled Trump and his administration all along the way. She might vote with him less than other Republican senators, but that’s not saying much, since many of them are barely sentient rubber stamps. And Collins certainly hasn’t been a crusader against his unconstitutional usurpation of Congress’ power of the purse, which is only going to get worse now that the president is entering his lame duck period. Among her confirmation votes was one in favor of budget director Russell Vought, the main author of Project 2025, who continues to make the case that Trump has the power and right to cancel congressional appropriations he doesn’t like. 

Collins’ big pitch to the people of Maine is her perennial favorite — that she has seniority and power, and that she will use it for their benefit. But she has shown little appetite for using any of it to stop the worst consequences for Maine and the country-at-large. In the end, it may come down to whether Mainers care more about Collins’ record of bringing home the bacon or about saving the country from a malignant administration.

UPDATE: This column has been updated to reflect Graham Platner’s job as an oyster farmer.

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There is a striking development buried inside the administration’s escalating confrontation with the press that’s turned a familiar Donald Trump-versus-the-media fight into a potentially consequential rupture inside the right-wing media ecosystem. By banning CNN, MS NOW and POLITICO, the president tried to extract a cost for challenging coverage. The move backfired. Instead, it united competitors behind a press-freedom principle, prompting Fox News — the biggest booster of Trump’s political ascent — to participate in an unprecedented pool-coverage stoppage. 

Fox’s own Washington bureau chief, Bryan Boughton, who happened to be chairing the pool this week, sent the note announcing the shutdown. Now Peter Navarro, one of the president’s most loyal foot soldiers, is on a crusade against “the back-stabbing Fox News Corporation” and pushing the White House toward a punitive boycott of the outlet. 

Navarro, the president’s senior counselor for trade and manufacturing, is actively orchestrating a campaign to persuade the White House to formally cut ties with Fox News and isolate the network, thereby dismantling its status as the supreme arbiter of conservative media. Calling it “CNN with better lighting, a fake slogan and a flag graphic,” he has accused the network of “helping the other side undermine the president.” In recent days Navarro has argued that Trump’s Cabinet secretaries and senior officials should stop appearing on Fox News and Fox Business. Not only has he attacked network executives, but he has also celebrated Real America’s Voice as a potential replacement for MAGA’s loyalties. 

The proximate cause of Navarro’s rage is Maria Bartiromo, the Fox Business and Fox News anchor whose sudden firing earlier this month is key to understanding everyone’s motives in this fight. The longtime business host had been preparing to interview Navarro following Trump’s July 16 primetime speech in which the president made unsubstantiated claims about foreign interference in the 2020, 2022 and 2024 elections. After a Fox executive subsequently instructed her not to cover Trump’s claims, Bartiromo canceled Navarro’s appearance and shared the executive’s message with him. He then passed the communication up the White House chain of command. Fox treated the disclosure as a fireable offense, cutting Bartiromo loose after over 12 years, isolating her from her own staff in her final weeks and firing her executive producer alongside her. Trump himself seemed blindsided, posting that he “can’t believe” Bartiromo no longer has her shows. 

Navarro has treated Bartiromo’s exit as proof of a wider “muzzling” of MAGA. He has spent the following weeks constructing an increasingly elaborate theory of Fox as captured territory, run by executives who he claims are secretly sabotaging the president. Writing in the Washington Times and The Daily Caller, he has laid out a rap sheet: Fox News Media CEO Suzanne Scott is, by his account, “the same executive responsible for the decapitation of three of the network’s most intelligent talk heads”: Lou Dobbs in 2021, Tucker Carlson in 2023 and now Bartiromo, all pro-Trump voices who were pushed out while “useful RINO idiots like Karl Rove” enjoy free rein to criticize Trump’s tariffs. Navarro accused Fox of joining the entire White House television pool — which consists of ABC, CBS, CNN, NBC and Fox — to form a “Five Network Cartel” exercising illegitimate “veto power” over what Americans see of their own president. In Navarro’s view, the only acceptable resolution would be a primetime apology from the network to Trump and its viewership.

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Before he ran for office, Trump built his national political relevance through cable television, especially with Fox appearances during his birther campaign against President Barack Obama. Fox has been the top-rated network in total day and primetime cable news viewership every year since January 2002, a 24-year winning streak built precisely on the grievance-driven conservative audience that provided Trump with his political foundation. He, in turn, drove up the ratings even more. 

Fox did not build Trump alone, and Trump did not cultivate Fox’s audience alone. But their feedback loop mattered enormously: Each gave the other cultural authority with conservative voters. Members of the president’s Cabinet — from Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, a former “Fox & Friends Weekend” host, to U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia Jeanine Pirro — were recruited directly from the network’s anchor desks. 

Yet as Trump’s second administration reaches a critical turning point, that historic alliance has devolved into open, bitter warfare. The president’s own personal frustration with Fox predates even Navarro’s critique, though it often manifests in petty grievances and public score-settling. On Truth Social, the president has repeatedly vented his annoyance with the network, publicly berating anchor Shannon Bream — and misspelling the insult as “Milktoast” — for using outdated visual graphics of White House ballroom construction and for challenging Attorney General Todd Blanche on legal impartiality. Trump has similarly attacked Bret Baier and the network’s polling unit for displaying “Fake Polls” that reflect his declining national approval ratings.

Trump’s anger at Fox highlights a fundamental vulnerability for both himself and the network. Fox finds itself caught in an unsustainable commercial position; the network’s historically dominant ratings are showing signs of erosion as Trump’s poll numbers decline. When Fox hosts attempt to reflect the changing mood of the public or question controversial policies, they face immediate backlash from both the White House and their core audience.

This friction has become acutely visible in recent months as prominent Fox personalities have openly broken with the administration on his war of choice in Iran. Anchors who are generally supportive of the president, including Laura Ingraham and Jesse Watters, have repeatedly questioned Trump’s handling of the ongoing war. The conflict has drawn strong disapproval from a large segment of Trump’s populist base, who are feeling economic pain at the fuel pumps and growing skeptical of the president’s repeated claims that the military engagement is drawing to a close. Former Fox stars like Tucker Carlson and Megyn Kelly have amplified this backlash from the outside, creating an unprecedented wave of right-wing dissent against the administration’s foreign policy.

Domestic economic policy has produced similar ideological fractures on air. Host Will Cain expressed visible frustration over Trump’s recent outreach to New York’s socialist mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Pointing to lip-reading analysis of off-mic exchanges where Trump invited Mamdani to the White House and offered to look after his interests, Cain warned that MAGA and democratic socialism were beginning to blur, citing data showing that over half of young conservatives support government-run grocery stores and more than 40% would welcome a Democratic socialist presidency.

A week after his Oval Office temper tantrum, Trump’s press crackdown has succeeded only in exposing deep ideological fractures within the conservative movement and uniting historically fierce media competitors against his overreach. (On Thursday, a Trump-appointed judge issued a temporary order restoring access of the outlets to the White House for 14 days, while the legal challenge is ongoing.)

The president’s crackdown assumed Fox would play the compliant beneficiary, scooping up airtime and access that CNN and MS NOW no longer had. Instead Fox recognized, correctly, that a press pool that can be selectively gutted by presidential fiat today is also one that offers no institutional protection to others tomorrow, including Fox itself. In fact, after pool coverage resumed on Friday, the White House barred CNN from traveling with Trump on Air Force One. 

Instead of establishing Trump’s control over the media, the White House’s attempt at press suppression showed the limits of that control and, in the process, placed Fox News in the crosshairs of the very movement it helped build.

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We’ve been afflicted with the Donald Trump show for far too long. For more than a decade, American public life has been suffocated by a relentless, 24/7 reality television nightmare centered on his insatiable ego. The entire political existence of the self-described “king of ratings” has depended on a toxic, symbiotic relationship with the press that consists of bombastic press conferences and constant visual dominance designed to suck all the air out of the room. But when a clown’s only trick is shouting into a live microphone, the absolute worst thing that can happen is for the cameras to simply turn off. It’s clear by this week’s spectacle that Trump cannot survive the possibility that America has finally changed the channel.

On Friday, in a fit of authoritarian pique, Trump banned CNN, POLITICO and MS NOW from the White House press pool. It was a classic bully move. Yet, in a rare and long-overdue display of institutional solidarity, the rest of the press corps refused to play along. Major networks including NBC, ABC, CBS and even Fox News suspended their pool coverage of the president. Photographers from major wire services and news organizations like The New York Times and The Washington Post stopped publishing new images of the octogenarian chief executive.

The immediate result was an unadulterated farce. Stripped of his apparatus, Trump stepped onto the White House lawn to host a ribbon-cutting ceremony for his prized new helipad. He preened, grabbed his oversized scissors and opened his mouth to boast, but no one could hear a single word over the deafening roar of Marine One’s idling engines. The White House’s own official feed lacked the audio equipment that network pool crews typically provide. Viewers were left watching a silent movie of a shrinking figure gesticulating wildly into the wind. Even anchors on right-wing channels like Newsmax were forced to admit on air that the media ban was backfiring.

Trump got the closest thing to a full media blackout that modern television has ever handed a sitting president and his answer, apparently workshopped over a single weekend, was to build his own tiny replacement network out of recycled clips and call it a triumph. On Monday, the White House rolled out “Trump TV: The Essentials Station,” a 24-hour YouTube livestream on the official White House channel. The promotional hype promised an unedited, nonstop look at the administration’s “greatest hits” to circumvent the supposed censorship of the mainstream media. What they delivered instead was a glorified, automated graveyard of old clips. Viewers who tuned in expecting cutting-edge propaganda were greeted by a two-month-old Trump speech from Mount Rushmore, followed hours later by a rerun of a months-old address regarding creative uses for artificial intelligence and, eventually, a year-old broadcast of a dinner with Britain’s King Charles III. On Tuesday morning, while Trump was actually delivering a live address to the United Nations General Assembly, his own channel was airing his remarks from a prayer breakfast held at the White House in February. 

The numbers tell the story. “Trump TV: The Essentials Station” went live on the White House YouTube channel Monday at 7 p.m. Roughly 8,000 people tuned in for the premiere. Ninety minutes later that number had been reduced by half. By the next morning, as the cable news shows Trump was supposedly trying to render obsolete came on the air, his own channel had cratered to a little over 1,000 viewers, out of more than three million subscribers to the White House’s YouTube account. The viewership figures were a brutal reality check for a man whose self-worth is entirely tied to Nielsen points.

Trump has spent a lifetime mistaking attention for affection and ratings for legitimacy. Reporting and testimony from Trumpworld have long suggested that his 2016 campaign began at least partly as a vehicle for attention, leverage and perhaps a Trump-branded media enterprise. He was reportedly shocked by his victory over former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. But once he discovered that the presidency provided a permanent camera crew, a global stage and an endless supply of people forced to listen, he developed an addiction that makes the rest of his behavior easier to understand. Stripped of the drama generated by actual journalists asking tough questions, however, Trump’s unfiltered echo chamber is excruciatingly boring. 

Trump TV’s desperate launch fits a decades-long pattern of grandiose vanity projects that inevitably collapse under the weight of their own cheapness. Before he became president, he was a brand in search of a platform. The list of failed enterprises bearing his family moniker is as long as it is embarrassing. There were the frozen steaks, the fraudulent university, the ill-fated airline shuttle, the bankrupt Atlantic City casinos and a short-lived dating show spun off from “The Apprentice” that was canceled after two seasons. There was the failed search engine, the closed charity, the cheap furniture line and the mortgage company launched right before the housing bubble burst. Trump TV is merely the latest entry in a long line of hollow grifts. 

Unable to command the airwaves from the Oval Office this week, Trump was forced to decamp to New York City to find a camera. In an ironic twist, the self-proclaimed media titan had to rely on a joint appearance with New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani — that reportedly angered some Republicans — to get his face back on television screen feeds. Standing at Gracie Mansion in the heart of liberal America, the president squeaked to reporters about how he had somehow beaten the boycott, boasting about the crowd of journalists while visibly shrinking in stature. Mamdani gracefully reminded the audience of the critical importance of a free press, while Trump predictably rambled about himself.

Later, at the United Nations, the president threw a visible tantrum when he spotted CNN reporter Kaitlan Collins in the briefing room, whining that she should not be allowed to cover him because of the network’s stance. Collins calmly noted that her credentials were issued by the U.N., not the West Wing, and proceeded to press him on national security concerns surrounding his unsanctioned military maneuvers in Iran. 

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It’s becoming clearer every day that the country is already moving past the Trump show. Beyond the broadcast networks, the wider media ecosystem is tuning him out. An analysis of nearly 70,000 hours of political podcasts conducted by The Wall Street Journal revealed that mentions of Trump’s name on conservative platforms have plummeted by nearly 70% from their 2024 pre-election peaks. His audience is exhausted. 

None of this is merely embarrassing. It is also very possibly illegal — and not in some abstract, symbolic sense. 

For 75 years Congress has barred federal agencies from spending appropriated money on publicity or propaganda that lawmakers haven’t explicitly authorized, a restriction currently codified as Section 718 of the Financial Services and General Government Appropriations Act. Any government resource used to produce partisan content that glorifies an official or an administration runs straight into that wall, and there is no minimum dollar threshold that makes a violation too small to count. Under the Antideficiency Act, federal employees who knowingly commit the government to spending beyond its appropriations for such content face fines up to $5,000, up to two years in prison or both, with a five-year statute of limitations that will still be running long after this administration leaves office. Slapping the Trump name on the Kennedy Center, hanging his portrait on federal buildings and, now, producing a taxpayer-funded YouTube channel that exists to replay his own speeches with no disclosed staff and no editorial standard — all of it likely clears that bar. Nobody expects this Justice Department, led by Trump’s former personal attorney Todd Blanche, to prosecute itself. But somebody is eventually going to have to answer for how the funds behind Trump TV were spent and justified.

The legal fight over the press ban itself is proceeding on a parallel and even more consequential track. CNN, POLITICO and MS NOW sued the administration Monday, arguing that stripping their credentials without notice or a chance to respond violates due process and the First Amendment. Their case leans on Sherrill v. Knight, the 1977 D.C. Circuit ruling that grew out of a reporter’s fight over a revoked White House press pass and established that access, once granted to bona fide journalists, cannot be pulled arbitrarily or because officials dislike what someone writes. The judge assigned to the case is Timothy Kelly, a Trump appointee who, in an earlier chapter of this same fight, ordered the White House to restore then-CNN correspondent Jim Acosta’s credentials back in 2018, citing that very precedent. 

In its response this week, the Justice Department didn’t just defend the specific ban. It asked the courts to overturn Sherrill entirely, arguing that access to the White House is a privilege rather than a right, and that the president should have the same discretion over the whole complex that he has over more sensitive spaces like the Oval Office. The filing is not a defense of one bad decision. It is a request for permission to make the president’s media ban permanent, to convert selective access into a standing tool for punishing unfriendly coverage every single day this administration remains in office, regardless of how this particular ban is ultimately resolved.

The cruelest, most effective thing the press could do right now is exactly what it is already doing: nothing. Keep the boycott going. Let the Trump TV feed play to a couch of true believers and stray insomniacs. Trump has spent his entire adult life treating attention as oxygen, and for the first time in a decade, the room has actually gone quiet around him.

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