Talk about whatever you want in the comments.
... set loose on a wild, untamed continent
The video, from UFC, quotes from Theodore Roosevelt's idea of "the man in the arena." I've put up the full text of it in the past — here — but it's worth having at your fingertips today, as Trump celebrates his 80th birthday. Does this describe Trump?UFC just dropped a killer AI promo for tomorrow’s White House event featuring Theodore Roosevelt boxing 🥊🔥pic.twitter.com/W8wu2yFP6b
— TaraBull (@TaraBull) June 14, 2026
I'm reading "Joe Rogan called the White House UFC event ‘so America.’ He’s right. The 'Claw' bursting out of the White House grounds is the perfect metaphor for the moment, injecting bloody spectacle into the country’s birthday celebration" in the Washington Post
I'm reading that because it's by the Post's architecture critic, Philip Kennicott. He writes:
[T]he UFC match isn’t about celebrating the foundational myths of American democracy. It inhabits a landscape of darker myths, like the perpetual struggle of the frontier, the faux chivalry and resentments of the Lost Cause, the Darwinian drama of survival in a world of hostile forces, enemies, chaos....
Trump takes pleasure in presiding over conflict. The world comes to him, where he, the perpetual winner, lords over contests, over victories and defeats. You’re fired. You don’t hold any winning cards. You’ve lost the match. For many Americans, there is nothing surreal about this delight in domination. It simply reflects the world they live in, where people are losing all the time, at the gas pump, at dead-end jobs, in marriages that founder on the shoals of stress and poverty....
“I was hoping for a reveal, honestly,” said Katy Bigge, a student at Rutgers University who was visiting Washington with her parents. Her father, Philip Bigge, was squatting on the ground, peering through a crack between the tarp and the building’s front to try to make certain that Mr. Trump’s name was gone. He could not be sure, but he thought he had detected that the letters were missing.
It seems that Trump's name is gone, but now you can't see that it's gone. It's "shrouded." Maybe some day, long in the future, when Trump is worshipped for his grand triumphs, the shroud will be on display, like the Shroud of Turin.
“My heart is racing,” she says after a moment, fluttering her hand over her chest.
Fluttering her hand over her chest? Really? This sounds like a comical drag performance of femininity. I'd like to turn away and look at a lake, but I keep reading: