One of the few occasions recently when I felt confidence in Democrats’ ability to counter Donald Trump was Senator Elissa Slotkin’s response to his address to a joint session of Congress in early March. After Trump bloviated for 100 minutes, Slotkin talked plainly for about 10.
She kept it simple. The president, she said, was failing on three crucial fronts — the economy, national security and democracy. She presented the evidence. Suggested alternatives. Said good night.
That was all. And that was enough — a rejection of hooey and histrionics that underscored the Trump administration’s surfeit of both.
But in the DNA of every Democrat lurks the temptation to overthink and overcomplicate things, and Slotkin last week succumbed to it.
In an interview with Politico that previewed what she called her “war plan” for her party, she proclaimed that Democrats must no longer be “weak and woke.” I take her point. I question her alliteration. Contrived slogans don’t say: I’m getting strong and real. They say: I’ve got consultants and the time for semantic noodling.
Slotkin also confused plain-spokenness and profanity, dropping the F bomb at the start of an exhortation that her party “retake the flag.” That wasn’t the end of her expletives. I suppose she was going for earthiness, but that’s hardly a proxy for worthiness. It felt gimmicky — the exact opposite of her March remarks.
Those remarks were pitched directly to voters. But now she’s taking aim at fellow Democrats. In her view, the Fighting Oligarchy tour starring Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez channels the right rage with the wrong vocabulary: How many Americans know an oligarch from a plutocrat from a kleptocrat from some other polysyllabic jerk?
“Well, jeez,” Sanders retorted during an appearance days later on the NBC News show “Meet the Press.” “We had 36,000 people out in Los Angeles, 34,000 people in Colorado. We had 30,000 people in Folsom, Calif., which is kind of a rural area. I think the American people are not quite as dumb as Ms. Slotkin thinks they are.”
They’re certainly smarter than Democratic politicians, who aren’t slouching towards Bethlehem but squabbling towards oblivion.
It makes no sense for Slotkin to be sniping at anyone in her party who is mobilizing voters as effectively as Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez are. It serves no purpose for Sanders to respond snottily to Slotkin. We’re sprinting towards autocracy; egos and acrimony have no place in the opposition to that. The F word, the O word — my word! What pointless distractions.
Equally foolish are the plans by the political activist David Hogg, who is the vice chair of the Democratic National Committee, to funnel millions to Democratic candidates who wage primary challenges in 2026 against party incumbents. That makes the story about Democrat versus Democrat. It must be solely and solidly about Democrats versus Trump.
Why are they struggling so mightily with the messaging for that battle? I understand their paralysis about what to do in the face of Trump’s assaults on economic logic, important alliances, civil liberties, congressional oversight, the separation of powers: They hold few levers beyond lawsuits.
But what to say isn’t that hard. Slotkin herself demonstrated as much in March.
Direct voters, in unadorned language, to how Trump is governing. And ask them earnestly if they’re really OK with it.
Time and again, over and over, recall that he pledged to lower prices and improve Americans’ financial lots — to usher in a whole new golden age of wealth. Then encourage random acts of arithmetic: Are they richer since Trump’s election? Do tariff roulette and the stock market roller coaster persuade them that they will be? The questions answer themselves.
Mention Elon Musk. Then mention him a dozen more times. Don’t worry about what to call him — oligarch, obnoxious — and dwell instead on his deeds, which haven’t so much put the federal government on a diet as starved the country of the support necessary to stay ahead in medicine, in technological innovation, in higher education, in all the endeavors that made us the affluent envy of the world.
Bring up Pete Hegseth and the mess around him, which exemplifies a broader chaos. The way I read the latest polling, some voters who wagered on Trump’s rashness as the handmaiden to bold change are realizing that it’s kissing cousins with incompetence. Affirm that epiphany. No expletives required.
Draw attention to the children who’ve been deported despite being U.S. citizens, to the Tufts student snatched from the street, to the immigrants banished to a hellhole in El Salvador without adequate cause or appropriate legal review. Call this by its name: sadism. Wonder aloud if Americans are comfortable with such cruelty. And if maybe, just maybe, they experience a twitch of fear when they contemplate where all of this could lead.
The discussion among and about Democrats who are trying to stop Trump from ravaging this country casts the formulation of a strategy as more challenging than it needs to be — as an operation whose success depends on perfectly chosen emissaries and a perfectly honed script. It mistakes the urgency of the mission for the difficulty of it.
Chart Trump’s excesses and sloppiness. He has taken false steps aplenty, and there will, scarily, be many more where those came from. He can’t help himself. That will help Democrats mightily.
Measure the damage. It’s profound. Note that there are better ways to govern. Lay them out succinctly, with an awareness of voters’ limited attention, an absence of partisan jargon and an abundance of common sense.
Worry later about which leaders from which wing of the party will use which tools to pick up the pieces. All that matters now is hurrying to that point.
For the Love of Sentences
I exiled Trump talk from this section of my previous newsletter, on April 17. So I’ll begin with it this time.
In USA Today, Rex Huppke pondered the president’s rambling reverie about “an old-fashioned term that we use — groceries” and his definition of it as “a bag with different things in it.” “Jiminy Crickets,” Huppke wrote, “the cheese has slid so far off this guy’s cracker that it hit the floor and the dog ate it.” (Thanks to Martin B. Copenhaver of Woodstock, Vt., and Frank W. Leonard of Seattle for flagging this.)
In The Dispatch, Kevin D. Williamson marveled at Trump’s “delicate little ego, which is always balanced precipitously on the brink of disaster like the scoop atop a wobbly toddler’s ice cream cone in July.” (Michael Smith, Georgetown, Ky.)
In The New Yorker, Jill Lepore surveyed the destruction of the past three months: “Trump felled so much timber not because of the mightiness of his ax but because of the rot within the trees and the weakness of the wood.” (Stan Shatenstein, Montreal)
In The Washington Post, Ron Charles weighed in: “Trump’s tariffs, like Schrödinger’s cat, are simultaneously dead and alive. But that’s hardly a fair comparison. Quantum mechanics is so much easier to understand than the whims and rages of the elderly golf enthusiast who sometimes pops by the White House to savage Americans’ retirement savings.” (Maria Wulff, Portland, Ore., and Terry Grant, McGregor, Texas, among others)
Also in The Washington Post, David Von Drehle got the jitters from Elon Musk: “Like a lot of eccentric rich guys in history, the middle-aged Musk could be leaking radiator fluid on the highway of life.” Also, regarding Musk’s and his brethren’s grandiose alarmism: “Tech bros fancy apocalypses the way 6-year-old girls fancy unicorns.” (Gary Brauch, Los Altos Hills, Calif.)
In his newsletter, No Mercy/No Malice, Scott Galloway reviewed Trump’s driving skills: “A blackout drunk is behind the wheel of the U.S. economy. All around us, horns (bear markets; consumer confidence plummeting to historic lows) are blaring. In the back seat is a cultist (G.O.P.) who thinks the red lights Trump has blown through, and the accidents in his wake, are baller moves. Also in the back seat: a sulking teen (Democrats) who’s visibly upset but can’t articulate what they want or suggest a better route. Riding shotgun, though, is an adult the driver can’t ignore, the bond market.” (Steve Carmine, Centennial, Colo.)
In The Atlantic, Quinta Jurecic acknowledged Americans’ apprehensions that Trump might at some point defy an order from the Supreme Court: “Ultimately, asking what would happen in such a circumstance is like consulting the Monopoly rule book for instructions about what to do if somebody flips over the board.” (Jeanne Sturges, Peterborough, N.H., and Kate Longaker, Atlanta, among others)
Also in The Atlantic, Helen Lewis chronicled the hubbub after the writer Douglas Murray used an appearance on “The Joe Rogan Experience” to challenge Rogan’s offering a platform to conspiracy theorists: “The podcast world has experienced levels of sniping that make the ‘Real Housewives’ franchise look like the Bretton Woods conference.” (Tom Williford, Marshall, Minn., and Eric L. Johnson, Chapel Hill, N.C.)
In The Guardian, Arwa Mahdawi mined the significance of Gwyneth Paltrow’s reintroduction of low-cost starches to her diet: “Perhaps they are a subtle recession indicator? With Trump’s tariffs poised to make everything more expensive, I cannoli imagine that we’re going to see a lot of people cutting back on meat and eating more pasta.” (Gail Smith, Wilmington, Del.)
In her newsletter, Fresh Hell, Tina Brown reacted to an invitation from someone decades younger than she: “A friend of mine in her 40s hosted a birthday party last week at New York’s most glamorous new club with the dress code of ‘drop-dead sexy,’ which gave me a burst of insecurity. People in my circle are very good at ‘drop dead.’ Sexy, not so much.” (Rich Moche, Brookline, Mass.)
In The Times, Sapna Maheshwari examined how many college athletes like Jake Dailey are pitched on, and tempted by, lucrative social-media opportunities: “Mr. Dailey, who has 90,000 TikTok followers and 32,000 on Instagram, said he would be thrilled to become a full-time influencer. Otherwise, he plans to become a dentist.” (Charles Kelley, Merrimack, N.H.)
And in The Washington Post, Sebastian Smee appraised an exhibition at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts: “It is devoted to Vincent van Gogh’s portraits of a single family. I came out of it with a full heart not so much warmed as wobbly and exposed, like a freshly shucked oyster.” (Brad Niebling, Pebble Beach, Calif.)
To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here and include your name and place of residence.
What I’m Writing, Reading and Doing
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In another life I wrote extensively about religion — especially the Roman Catholic Church — and even for a few years covered the Vatican. So I had thoughts aplenty about Pope Francis’ legacy, and I collected some of them in this guest essay in The Times about his statements and positions regarding gay people.
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My latest book, “The Age of Grievance,” about the indiscriminate rage that’s corrupting American politics and corroding America itself, will be released in paperback on May 13. This revised edition takes into account the 2024 election results and notes how much the national conversation about Luigi Mangione said about who we are today.
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During my time at The Times, I’ve been blessed with superb editors. Among the sharpest and kindest was Honor Jones, who is now (drats!) at The Atlantic and has written an enormously moving first novel, “Sleep,” which will be published on May 13. The story of a young mother coming to terms with her own mother’s failures, it’s a testament to Honor’s ear for language, gentle touch and deep wisdom.
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On May 27 in Chapel Hill, N.C., I’ll be interviewing the historian Molly Worthen about her exciting new book, “Spellbound: How Charisma Shaped American History From the Puritans to Donald Trump.” Details are here.
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On May 29 in Asheville, N.C., I’ll be interviewed onstage about “The Age of Grievance” and more by Tom Fiedler, the former executive editor of The Miami Herald and the former dean of journalism at Boston University’s College of Communication. Details are here.
On a Personal (by Which I Mean Regan) Note
I hugely appreciate the emails from many of you asking about Regan’s healing from her knee surgery in November. I’m happy to report that she has finally completed what seems to be a full recovery.
Just in time to surrender to old age and to sputter for that reason.
My furry beloved always had a lazy streak — she always balanced or contradicted our 90-minute or two-hour walks with occasions when she hopped onto the bed at 8 p.m. and didn’t leave it until 2 p.m. the next day. But I’m telling you, this is different.
She sleeps harder than ever. She moves less. Even if she has had just a 40-minute walk in the early morning, she’ll sometimes decline a second outing in the late afternoon. She wants to loll on the front stoop instead. It’s not that she’s in any distress; trust me, I know her. It’s just that she’s 11 years old.
And I find her more endearing than ever.
I always wondered if, when she slowed down, I’d mourn the Regan who bolted so reliably after squirrels and deer, who made so many deviations and digressions on a woodland walk that she logged thrice the miles I did, who was such an athletic wonder to behold.
But no. Her tamer tics amuse me in new ways. She seems to remember the weeks, just after that surgery, when I carried her upstairs, and now, on one of every three nights, she ascends the steps at a sloth’s pace, pausing repeatedly to look back at me and see if maybe I’d like to pick her up and save her the effort. I nudge her along, less for my back than for her conditioning. She has to use those muscles lest she lose those muscles.
Her hard sleeping means hard dreaming: She chirps, moans and murmurs, unconsciously narrating her adventures. She also does more phantom running than she used to; her paws drum my side. Ours is an increasingly percussive partnership, its beat evolving, its beauty enduring.
Frank Bruni is a professor of journalism and public policy at Duke University, the author of the book “The Age of Grievance” and a contributing Opinion writer. He writes a weekly email newsletter. Instagram Threads @FrankBruni • Facebook
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