I’m not Team Red. I’m not Team Blue. I’m Team “What the Hell Are We Actually Doing?”
And honestly, that puts me in rare company these days.
See, politics in America has turned into a fantasy football league of dysfunction. People out here rooting for laundry—cheering on political parties like it’s the goddamn Super Bowl of delusion. Doesn’t matter what actually happens. Doesn’t matter who it hurts. As long as their side “wins.” And that, my friends, is how empires eat themselves.
Now me? I take every issue on its own merit. I dissect the law, the policy, the impact. I care about what helps kids, what protects freedom, and what doesn’t involve lighting the world on fire just to keep some billionaire’s cigars lit. I’m not flying a flag just to feel like I belong. I lock my door at night. I wouldn’t let some random guy walk into my home and help himself to dinner. So yeah, I get the idea of borders and security—not from a place of hate, but from a place of common sense. Basic house rules.
But don’t confuse that with nationalism. I don’t worship a flag—I worship principles.
If the flag stands for justice, peace, and freedom? Cool, I’ll salute.
If it’s being used to justify warmongering or oppression? You can keep the fabric. I’m not that sentimental.
And then there’s Trump. People either love him or foam at the mouth. But I’m not here to join the cult or the mob. I’m watching. Observing. Judging the moves. And yeah, there’s a part of me that likes that he disrupts the status quo. That he’s not a polished puppet. That maybe—maybe—he does have a strange, clumsy, patriotic heart somewhere behind the bluster.
He’s no Einstein. But you know what? Neither was Henry Ford, and he built an empire by assembling the right people and getting shit done. That’s a form of genius, too.
It’s funny—people call Trump a threat to democracy, but most of them never question the unelected systems that have been feeding on us for decades. The kind of money and power that make presidents look like interns. You wanna talk about danger? Start there.
I’m tired of living in a world where questioning the narrative gets you labeled a radical, and common sense is treated like a conspiracy. I want a country where compassion doesn’t mean self-destruction, and strength doesn’t mean cruelty.
We used to make men who stood for something. Now we manufacture brand ambassadors with slogans.
We used to raise kids with values. Now we raise algorithms with screen time.
I’m not trying to be right. I’m trying to be real.
I stir the pot, but I’m watching the flame.
So here’s to the misfits who don’t fit into neat little boxes.
Here’s to the rebels who still give a damn.
And here’s to the radical idea that maybe, just maybe, truth isn’t red or blue—it’s just truth.
-Written by Steve Caprio
