The Madness Continues
The Madness Continues

The Madness Continues

Brendon Lemon

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Sometimes funny, sometimes intellectual, sometimes a rolling midwestern existential crisis - your inbox will get a dose of something that'll help you think, and feel comforted knowing you're not the only one screaming into the void. brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com

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The Revolution Will Not Be Posted
FEB 10, 2025
The Revolution Will Not Be Posted
<p>There was a time, <em>a darker, less enlightened time</em>, when people believed that revolution happened <em>in the real world.</em> That change required effort. That systems of power were physical things, concrete, steel, bodies in the street, requiring equally physical disruptions.</p><p>How foolish we were.</p><p>We now know the truth: nothing real happens in reality.</p><p><p>Midwest Existentialism - Brendon Lemon Official is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></p><p>History will not remember who showed up. It will remember who posted. It will remember who went viral. It will remember whose infographic got the most shares. Because, let’s be honest, no one has the time to physically organize. No one has the stamina to go outside (<em>ew</em>). And no one has the budget for <em>real-world</em> activism, when the <em>only</em> movement that matters is upward in engagement metrics.</p><p>Some people still believe that revolution is a material struggle, that systems of oppression are held up by laws, wealth, and force; and that dismantling them requires <em>tangible resistance.</em> But those people? Those people aren’t thinking like digital strategists. Because the <em>real</em> revolutionaries of our time aren’t storming palaces. They’re replying with memes. They’re harnessing the algorithm. They’re securing brand partnerships. And if you’re not doing the same, then what are you even fighting for?</p><p>Take any so-called "revolutionary moment" in history—any uprising, movement, or turning point. Then ask yourself: What was the engagement rate? Did it have sponsorship opportunities? Was it scalable? Because if your revolution isn’t optimized for digital platforms, if it isn’t built for postability, then congratulations, you’ve just wasted your time.</p><p>Huey P. Newton wrote in <em>Revolutionary Suicide</em>, <em>“The first lesson a revolutionary must learn is that he is a doomed man.”</em> But let’s be honest, that kind of bleak, martyr complex thinking is exactly why the Black Panther Party never secured a brand deal. A modern revolutionary must accept that <em>a truly effective movement requires not sacrifice, but scalable monetization.</em></p><p>Even Che Guevara, who spent years hiking through jungles, training guerrilla fighters, and toppling governments, wasted a catastrophic amount of time <em>offline</em> (barf)<em>.</em> Had he played it smarter, he would have realized that <em>“A guerrilla fighter needs full knowledge of the terrain on which he moves”</em> applies far more effectively to social media feeds than to any real-world battlefield. Imagine the traction he could’ve gotten with a viral TikTok series titled <em>"POV: You Just Realized Imperialism Is the Enemy." </em>Literally millions of views!</p><p>Yet these figures remained trapped in the past, convinced that the world could only be changed through <em>direct action in physical space </em>(stupid), a tragic misunderstanding of where real power actually resides. They spent their time mobilizing people, organizing supply chains, and resisting systemic oppression, when they could have been securing influencer collaborations and boosting their visibility through paid ads.</p><p>And that’s the real shame of it. Because if they had simply focused on optimizing their content for maximum reach, they could have built something <em>far more enduring</em> than any revolution.</p><p>They could have built <em>a platform.</em></p><p>Of course, some outdated thinkers, men tragically unverified on any platform, still insist that political power is built through physical struggle (so dumb). That change requires people to meet in person (<em>ugh</em>), build movements through direct action (<em>gross</em>), and take steps that are non-digital and thus entirely untrackable by engagement metrics (yuck).</p><p>Lenin, for example, made the colossal mistake of writing:</p><p><em>"There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen."</em></p><p>Which is a quaint idea from a pre-viral era, but ultimately deeply inefficient. Lenin wasted weeks trying to organize workers when he could have crafted a high-impact Twitter thread that distilled his entire political project into 280-character knowledge bombs. Imagine how much easier the Russian Revolution would have been if he had simply A/B tested slogans until he found one that performed well <em>organically</em>.</p><p>Leon Trotsky, another terminally offline individual, once wrote:</p><p><em>"Revolutions are always verbose."</em></p><p>Wrong. Revolutions today must be optimized for attention spans. The modern revolutionary knows that <em>actual verbosity is a death sentence for engagement rates.</em> If you can’t fit your entire ideology into a single slide on an Instagram carousel, then frankly, your movement isn’t serious about power.</p><p>And then, of course, there’s Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who wrote in <em>Letter from a Birmingham Jail</em>:</p><p><em>"Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be co-workers with God."</em></p><p>Yawn. Imagine how much more engagement this would have gotten as a branded infographic with a clean sans-serif font. What was he doing in jail, writing longhand letters, when he could have been doing a live Q&A on X sponsored by Squarespace? Had he thought ahead, he could have monetized his activism, launched a newsletter on Substack, and secured a Davos invite to have meaningful conversations with JPMorgan executives about racial equity in fintech.</p><p>And let’s not forget Che Guevara, a man who tragically understood the importance of aesthetic branding (<em>the t-shirts! the posters!</em>), but never capitalized on platform monetization. He once wrote:</p><p><em>"The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."</em></p><p>Again, this is why the left keeps losing. Because today, the real revolution isn’t about waiting for apples to fall or even shaking the tree. It’s about owning the tree’s <em>content pipeline</em>, turning that tree into a revenue-generating subscription model, and securing brand deals with organic cider companies to maximize ethical monetization.</p><p>And yet, these figures failed to understand what modern movements have finally gotten right:</p><p><em>True revolution doesn’t happen in the streets. It happens on the For You Page.</em></p><p>They spent their time mobilizing people, organizing supply chains, resisting systemic oppression, when they <em>could</em> have been leveraging sponsored partnerships with major financial institutions to <em>really</em> create change. Just like Bono and U2 have done for years.</p><p>Because if you’re not winning the algorithm, then you’re not winning anything at all.</p><p>But of all the misguided revolutionaries who misunderstood where real power lies, perhaps no one squandered their moment more catastrophically than Luigi Mangione.</p><p>Luigi had everything he needed to reach maximum cyberspace virality: He had a great story with a cause, a villain, and a moment of crisis ripe for catching the algorithm. And what did he do?</p><p>He threw it all away in <em>meatspace.</em> (<em>Disgusting.</em>)</p><p>Instead of playing it smart, instead of leveraging the attention economy, Luigi took action in <em>real</em> life (dumb). And as a result, his impact was messy, unmeasurable, and worst of all, completely un-monetizable.</p><p>Had Luigi been thinking like a real digital revolutionary, he would have realized that Brian Thompson, far from being an enemy, was actually his most valuable <em>content asset</em>. The <em>real</em> move, the high-ROI engagement strategy, would have been to pivot his entire grievance with the insurance system into a brandable, viral-ready content funnel.</p><p>Here’s what he <em>should</em> have done:</p><p>* Start a podcast. Title: <em>This Is Sick: A Podcast on America’s Healthcare Crisis.</em> Subtitle: <em>Sponsored by UnitedHealthcare™.</em></p><p>* Book Brian Thompson as his first guest. A civil, televised, corporate-sponsored debate on America’s broken (but profitable!) healthcare system.</p><p>* Live-stream it on all platforms. Monetize the debate in real time.</p><p>* Sell ad space to pharma and private equity firms. (Because if you don’t let them speak, how will we ever have a <em>real conversation</em>?)</p><p>* Capitalize on the moment with merch. Limited edition <em>This Is Sick</em> hoodies. “Single-Payer Healthcare Is For Beta Males” coffee mugs. A Kickstarter for a documentary that will never be made.</p><p>* Ride the algorithm straight to Davos. Become a thought leader. Get a TED Talk. Shake hands with billionaire power brokers who are <em>actually positioned</em> to create change (<em>via high-yield investment vehicles</em>).</p><p>Had Luigi done this, he wouldn’t just be a man who took a stand. He would be a man with a brand.</p><p>Instead? He threw away his moment. He acted in real life (<em>ugh</em>), in a way that brands could not safely align with. And as a result, he ended up where all poorly strategized revolutions go to die: prison.</p><p>No brand deals. No ad revenue. Not even a single NFT collection.</p><p>And that is the greatest tragedy of all.</p><p>Just imagine how it could have gone. Luigi could’ve invited Brian Thompson onto a multi-platform, live-streamed event, a frank and open discussion about America’s broken healthcare system; one that would have solved nothing but trended #1 worldwide. The audience would have been record-breaking. The ad revenue? Astronomical. Because, really, who has more to say about America’s fractured and inefficient healthcare industry than America’s largest insurance and pharmaceutical conglomerates?</p><p>Pfizer, Moderna, UnitedHealthcare, Cigna, BlackRock, all fighting with each other for premium ad placement. Banner ads reading “Confused about your deductible? Click here.” placed directly over the debate itself. Live polls asking “Should people without insurance be treated?” with “<em>No”</em> winning in a landslide. A sponsored segment titled “Bootstraps or Bust: A Free Market Approach to Wellness.” It would have been the most important conversation of our time.</p><p>Luigi and Brian could have engaged in a heated but productive dialogue, where at the end, they’d find common ground: Personal responsibility is the only viable healthcare plan. In the final, climactic moment, Brian Thompson could have turned to Luigi and said, <em>“You know, Luigi, I think we both want what’s best for America.”</em> And Luigi, blinking away tears, could have nodded, replying, <em>“You’re right, Brian. We must work together… through content.”</em></p><p>And then, the real money would roll in.</p><p>Had Luigi played this right, this livestream wouldn’t have just been the most-watched event in history—it would have been his ticket to Davos. That’s right. The World Economic Forum, where <em>real</em> revolutionaries go—not to fight the system, but to network within it. Had Luigi thought strategically, he could have shaken hands with billionaires, shared a panel with a Blackrock exec, explained to a CNN host why millennials just need to budget better. By now, he could have been discussing global health solutions over an artfully plated Michelin-star meal, nodding in agreement as someone from McKinsey says, <em>“The real problem is inefficiency in the middle class.”</em></p><p>Instead, he took action in meatspace (gross), that reckless, unpredictable realm where outcomes cannot be tracked and ROI is impossible to measure. And where is Luigi Mangione now? Not in Davos. Not on a corporate-sponsored podcast tour. Not growing his personal brand. Instead, he went fully offline, engaging in direct, messy, unscalable action that generated zero sponsorships and no meaningful engagement metrics. No brand deals. No TikTok collabs. No feature in <em>The Atlantic</em> on “The New Digital Radical Challenging America’s Traditional Healthcare Model.”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>And that, again, truly, is the greatest tragedy of all.</p><p>If there’s one takeaway from all of this, it’s that real change happens not in reality, but on your FYP. Had Luigi just stuck to the platforms that matter rather than going off-road, he could have become the leading voice on healthcare activism today. Posting meaningful and highly relevant content that causes nothing to happen in the real world, but does stupid good metrics across all platforms.</p><p>And so, as we reach the inevitable conclusion of this discussion, we must all finally acknowledge a hard but undeniable truth: The people have never changed anything on their own.</p><p>For all of history, there has been this misguided notion that change comes from the bottom up; that when the working class organizes, mobilizes, and takes bold action in real life (<em>cringe</em>), they somehow shape the future. But a quick scan of actual results tells a very different story: <em>real</em> change has always come from those with <em>real</em> power. And who holds real power? The investor class.</p><p>When revolutions have actually worked, it’s not because people took to the streets like some kind of pre-modern villagers with torches, it’s because they finally, mercifully, understood the proper channels through which change is allowed to flow. Every moment of progress in history has come not from resistance, but from negotiation with those who actually own the levers of power.</p><p>Because when it comes down to it, real power isn’t found in crowds, movements, or the so-called "will of the people." It’s found in boardrooms. It’s found in high-yield investment devices. It’s found in carefully structured, long-term corporate initiatives that balance public good with profitability (<em>but mostly profitability</em>).</p><p>Ayn Rand, who actually understood the reality of power better than any misguided activist ever could, once wrote:</p><p><em>“The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.”</em></p><p>And who has ever stopped capital? Who has ever stood in the way of those who own, manage, and direct the flow of resources? Certainly not the protesters, the labor organizers, the so-called revolutionaries. Real change has never happened due to these people, but due instead to the superordinate class of semi-deific captains of industry and their ecclesiarchy.</p><p>Take, for example, some of history’s greatest so-called “revolutions.” The Civil Rights Movement? That wasn’t Martin Luther King Jr., it was Ronald Reagan who finally solved racism when he casually signed MLK Day into existence <em>without</em> all that pesky marching. The Russian Revolution? Not Lenin, but Coca-Cola bringing capitalism to post-Soviet Russia was the <em>real</em> victory for the people. The End of Apartheid? Not Nelson Mandela, instead Nike made it cool to support Black South Africans <em>once it became a viable brand strategy.</em></p><p>Or take the Fall of the Berlin Wall, sure, East Germans <em>thought</em> they tore it down, but the real moment when communism lost? McDonald’s opening in Moscow. And let’s not forget women’s rights. Not the suffragettes, Mattel finally gave us Feminist Barbie, which shattered centuries of systemic oppression in a single product launch. LGBTQ+ rights? Not Stonewall, but rather Raytheon’s Pride Month logo change in 2021 was what truly moved the needle.</p><p>The truth is, too many activists waste their time screaming into the void about what they "want," rather than pitching a revenue model that makes systemic change a viable business opportunity. If the cause can’t be repackaged as a subscription-based SaaS platform, then really, what’s the point?</p><p>The future of liberation is not found in mass protest—it is found in mass adoption. If people truly want to see progress, they must stop agitating for change like reckless, undisciplined children and start earning the trust of institutional investors. Because once they do, they will finally see real, sustainable, VC-backed dignity delivered right to their doorsteps—with free shipping, provided they subscribe to the Premium Liberty+™ package.</p><p>Because in the end, we are not the change we’ve been waiting for.</p><p>The hedge funds are.</p><p><p>Midwest Existentialism - Brendon Lemon Official is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe</a>
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16 MIN
Donald Trump is the lightning rod for America's Libido
FEB 3, 2025
Donald Trump is the lightning rod for America's Libido
<p>People like to explain political movements in economic or ideological terms. Trump’s rise, for instance, gets framed as a reaction to economic precarity, globalization, or political correctness. There’s some truth to that, but it doesn’t quite get at why people <em>feel</em> so strongly about him.</p><p>Because that’s the real question. Trump isn’t just supported, he’s <em>desired</em>. His followers don’t just believe in him. They <em>enjoy</em> him; and that enjoyment isn’t rational, it’s visceral.</p><p><p>Midwest Existentialism - Brendon Lemon Official is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></p><p>That’s why the usual contradictions don’t matter. His policies don’t really help his base. His personal history goes against their supposed values. He contradicts himself constantly. None of it sticks. Because the appeal isn’t about logic, it’s about <em>libidinal energy</em>.</p><p>Jean-François Lyotard’s concept of <em>libidinal economy</em> helps explain this. Politics isn’t just about policy or rational interests. It’s about <em>desire</em>, about energy flows, about emotional investments that don’t always make sense. Trump is a perfect example. He doesn’t offer people a coherent vision, he offers them a <em>feeling</em>. Excitement. Rage. Catharsis. A sense of breaking the rules, of transgression.</p><p>That’s why his rallies feel more like Wrestlemania or Lollapalooza than a political event. His words matter less than the <em>charge</em> in the room. The spectacle <em>is</em> the point. His base gets a thrill from his unpredictability, even when it actively works against them. It’s the same kind of energy that drives movements built on spectacle—where being <em>part</em> of it matters more than the outcome.</p><p>This ties into the Lacanian idea of <em>jouissance</em>. The word in French means “enjoyment,” or “pleasure.” But as Lacan described it, isn’t just pleasure, but an excessive kind of enjoyment, sometimes even painful or self-destructive. Trump’s appeal isn’t just that he fights the establishment. It’s that he <em>lets his followers enjoy the fight</em>. The chaos, the rule-breaking, the endless outrage cycle, is intoxicating.</p><p>And that’s the thing: politics isn’t just about governance. It’s about <em>affect</em>. People don’t always vote based on their best interests. They vote for what <em>feels</em> right. What excites them. What scratches an itch. Trump understands this in a way that traditional politicians don’t. He knows how to hook people, how to make them feel something deep in their gut.</p><p>This isn’t new. History is full of political figures who succeeded not because of their policies but because they knew how to channel energy, how to become a focal point for people’s frustrations and fantasies. Mussolini didn’t rise to power just because he had a coherent economic or military strategy. He rose because he tapped into the anger of an Italian public that felt humiliated after World War I. He took their wounded national pride, and turned it into a spectacle—bold speeches, dramatic gestures, a vision of restored greatness. He didn’t govern through policy so much as through <em>performance</em>.</p><p>Hitler followed a similar path. The Treaty of Versailles had left Germany economically broken and psychologically wounded. More than a set of political solutions, Hitler offered Germans a <em>narrative</em>—one where they were victims of betrayal, where their suffering had been orchestrated by internal enemies, and where he, personally, was the force of reckoning that would set things right. His speeches were less about governance and more about catharsis. He didn’t just tell people what they wanted to hear—he <em>let them feel</em> what they wanted to feel: righteous anger, defiance, the intoxicating promise of revenge.</p><p>These figures weren’t thinkers or administrators in the traditional sense. They weren’t great reformers. What they did was absorb and reflect the emotions of their time. They took resentment, humiliation, and fear and turned them into movement. They gave people <em>something to be part of</em>, something that made suffering feel meaningful.</p><p>This is what Trump taps into. Not in the same way or on the same scale, but through the same basic mechanics. The logic of his movement isn’t about governing effectively—it’s about channeling frustration into spectacle. People don’t follow him because he has clear plans for their future. They follow him because he <em>lets them enjoy</em> their anger, their defiance, their sense of belonging in a battle against enemies—real or imagined.</p><p>If you’re trying to understand Trump—or any figure like him—you have to look beyond demographic changes and economic breakdowns. You have to ask: <em>What are people getting out of this?</em> Because it’s not just about winning or losing. Sometimes, people don’t just want progress, security, or justice.</p><p>Sometimes, they just want to <em>feel something</em>.</p><p>The Democratic Party has spent years misreading the moment, believing that voters—especially Trump’s base—want stability or security when what they actually want is <em>momentum</em>. Trumpism doesn’t function like traditional politics; it’s not about securing long-term benefits for his supporters. It’s about giving them a continuous sense of <em>motion</em>, of shaking things up, of striking back at an ever-changing list of enemies.</p><p>Democrats keep assuming that Trump’s voters will eventually realize he’s not delivering for them materially. That his tax cuts didn’t help the working class. That his trade policies didn’t bring back manufacturing. That he’s openly corrupt, lining his own pockets while pretending to fight for the common man. That his deportation policies will mean that eventually one day ICE will come for them or their loved ones. But his supporters <em>already know this</em>, at least on some level. And they don’t care. What matters is that he <em>feels</em> like he’s fighting, like he’s causing pain to the people they’ve been told are responsible for their problems—whether it’s DEI consultants, immigrants, China, or the amorphous blob of “the left.” They’re not looking for a better life in the conventional sense; they’re looking for a <em>more satisfying fight</em>.</p><p>The Democratic Party cannot seem to engage with this emotional economy, partly because their own base is fractured by identity-driven coalition politics. Different factions within the party are focused on different kinds of justice—racial justice, gender justice, economic justice—but these don’t always unify into a single, shared grievance. The result is a party that sounds more like a committee meeting than a movement. There’s no singular target for its anger, no simple, visceral <em>enemy</em> that can hold the whole coalition together.</p><p>In a more rational world, the obvious enemy would be the billionaire class. Decades of wage stagnation, corporate consolidation, and financial speculation have made life more precarious for nearly everyone outside the top 1%. A coherent populist movement would direct America’s rage toward the ultra-wealthy—the people who actually hold power, who actually rig the system. But Democrats can’t make that case with full force, because their campaigns rely on money from those very billionaires. They try to play both sides, offering just enough economic rhetoric to appeal to working people while making sure their donor base stays comfortable.</p><p>The problem wasn’t just that Democrats misunderstood the emotional pull of Trump. It’s that the ticket they put forward, Harris-Walz, embodied the exact opposite. Where Trump radiates a libidinous chaos, grievance, and an unfiltered will to power, the Democratic strategy seemed to be built around sexless competence, stability, and managerial calm. The assumption was that people were exhausted by Trump’s noise, by the instability he brings, and that what they wanted was a return to order.</p><p>But this misreads the moment entirely. People are exhausted, yes—but exhaustion doesn’t always lead to a desire for stability. Sometimes it leads to a desire to burn it all down, or at least to be entertained while everything crumbles. The Democrats’ play for rationality missed the deeper truth: people don’t just want to be governed well, they want to <em>feel</em> something. They want politics to hit them in the gut, in the loins. Trump’s nonsense about “they’re eating the dogs” might be totally detached from reality and meaningless as a basis for policy (truly, I think he stands for nothing but his own aggrandizement), but it delivers an image, a feeling. It makes people laugh or recoil or rage. Meanwhile, Harris and Walz, for all their competence, came across as bloodless, sexless, the kind of people who would draft a carefully worded statement about the importance of democracy while their enemies burn down the house around them.</p><p>And the problem runs deeper than just one election cycle. Gerontocracy had already sucked the life out of the Democratic Party by 2024. Biden, whatever his strengths, had come to symbolize a party run by the old, for the old. But he was just the most visible symptom of a deeper problem. Nancy Pelosi, one of the most powerful figures in the party, was 84 and still wielding influence. Dianne Feinstein, rather than retiring, had died in office at 90, her final years marked by visible cognitive decline and increasing detachment from the demands of her position. The Democratic Party had become, quite literally, a party of the elderly—out of touch, slow-moving, and incapable of matching the raw, feral energy of Trump.</p><p>Harris-Walz was meant to signal a generational shift, but it fell into the same trap: If both Trump and Harris were at a party, and you had to bet on which one would get laid by the end of the night only the most virginal wonks would put money on Harris. She might be better for the country, but Trump—bloated, ridiculous, unhinged—has the libido of a man who <em>wants</em> to fuck, who <em>needs</em> to fuck, and that feeling is infectious to people who are tired of <em>feeling impotent</em>. And Dems wonder why young men are turning Republican…</p><p>The closest the Democrats came to anything resembling <em>potency</em> in the election cycle was, oddly enough, Tim Walz calling Trump and his cabal “weird.” It wasn’t much, but it worked in a way that most focus-grouped Democratic messaging didn’t. It tapped into a well of visceral frustration that a lot of regular Americans—people exhausted by the relentless absurdity of the MAGA movement—already felt. There was something satisfying about having a major political figure just flatly state what most people already knew: that the whole Trump circus, from the gold-plated gaudy aesthetics to the rage-baiting frenetic rants, is fundamentally bizarre.</p><p>Then there was Walz again, describing Elon Musk hopping around at a Trump rally as “jumping around like a dipshit.” It wasn’t soaring rhetoric, but it was effective. It had the blunt force of schoolyard mockery, the kind of thing Trump himself might say if the roles were reversed. In its own way, it mirrored Trump’s crude but effective bullying style, cutting through the usual politeness of Democratic messaging. </p><p>The problem was that these moments were few and far between, and crucially, they were still only reactions to Trump and his orbit. They didn’t generate any real momentum of their own—they just acknowledged, however mockingly, the gravitational pull of Trump’s libidinal force. Even at their most biting, Democrats were still orbiting around him, reinforcing his central position as the defining figure of American politics.</p><p>Since the election (unless the entire media ecosystem is somehow deceiving me — unlikely, given my political leanings) that dynamic hasn’t changed. The Democrats still haven’t figured out how to muster any libido from the grievance or frustration of either their base or the broader American public. There’s been no meaningful, visceral confrontation with Trump’s libido. The only moment that even came close was the image of Gavin Newsom confronting Trump on the tarmac during a presidential visit to California. Trump had been ignoring Newsom’s calls during a national disaster, and Newsom used the opportunity to get in Trump’s face. But even that moment, striking as it was, was fleeting. It didn’t turn into a broader shift in strategy. It was a rare flash of emotion in a party that still seems committed to governing like a group of school principals trying to reason with a mob of kids who just want to see a fight.</p><p>And this is the real issue: the Democrats don’t understand the importance of aesthetic performance in channeling libidinal energy. Politics isn’t just about policy—it’s about spectacle, image, and the <em>feeling</em> that something is happening. Trump understands this instinctively. After surviving an assassination attempt he pumped his fist in the air, and turned the moment into a cinematic scene of defiance. Whether people loved him or hated him, they <em>felt</em> something. Compare that to the Democrats insane kneeling in kente cloth back after the George Floyd protests in 2020—a moment that was meant to be symbolic but landed as hollow and performative, the political equivalent of a boardroom diversity training seminar.</p><p>Despite the brutal loss in 2024, the Democratic Party still refuses to absorb the lesson. Rather than seeking out younger, hungrier leadership that could actually inspire people, they continue to sideline figures who carry the kind of passion and energy that could challenge Trump’s appeal. Take Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, 35, one of the few figures in the party who actually commands attention when she speaks. She is sharp, confrontational, and, crucially, libidinous in the way all great politicians are—she doesn’t just present policies; she <em>sells</em> them. People either love her or hate her, but they <em>feel</em> something. </p><p>Her libido, her sexuality, her desire to make you <em>feel something</em> is perfectly displayed in her unapologetic use of red lipstick. Maligned by the right and the subject of think-piece after think-piece about self expression on the left, AOC’s lipstick is a display of exactly the kind of libido the Democratic party can’t seem to discover anywhere else. Red lipstick has long been associated with sexuality, rebellion, and power; it signals intensity, attraction, and a refusal to be ignored. In politics, where women are often pressured to soften their image to appear more palatable, Ocasio-Cortez’s unapologetic embrace of a bold un-ignorable sexual self-presentation is exactly the kind of life force the Democratic Party is desperately lacking.</p><p>And yet, when the time came to appoint new leadership to key positions, the party passed her over for the Oversight Committee, ensuring that another dynamic, young figure would be kept at arm’s length. The message was clear: the party would rather lose quietly than fight loudly.</p><p>The reality couldn’t be clearer: The left, burdened by coalition politics and beholden to billionaire donors, has no idea how to channel this energy. And so they keep losing to someone who does.</p><p>This is how they lose. The right offers its voters catharsis, a constant rush of aggression and retribution. The left offers a balancing act, a carefully managed coalition where nobody’s anger is allowed to be <em>too</em> disruptive. One side channels libidinal energy. The other side manages it. And people who feel impotent in the face of overwhelming challenges don’t want careful management; they want <em>release</em>.</p><p>So long as the left refuses to acknowledge the role of emotion, spectacle, and raw grievance in contemporary politics, it will keep showing up to a gunfight with a rulebook. And it will keep losing to people who understand that, in politics today, <em>feeling right</em> is more powerful than <em>being right</em>.</p><p><p>Midwest Existentialism - Brendon Lemon Official is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.</p></p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe</a>
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15 MIN
Midwestern Marx - Eddie Liger-Smith
FEB 2, 2025
Midwestern Marx - Eddie Liger-Smith
<p></p><p>I sat down with Eddie Liger-Smith, co-chair of <em>Midwestern Marx</em>, to discuss the state of the American Left, the role of Marxism in the U.S., and global shifts in power. Our conversation covers a range of topics, including the decline of labor unions, the rise of MAGA populism, and China’s economic success.</p><p><strong>Topics Covered:</strong></p><p>* <strong>Introduction to Eddie & Midwestern Marx (00:00:00)</strong>Eddie talks about how <em>Midwestern Marx</em> started as a think tank focusing on political analysis and socialist theory. He shares his personal background, including how his father’s union was dismantled in Wisconsin during Scott Walker’s tenure.</p><p>* <strong>How Unions Were Dismantled in Wisconsin (00:01:00)</strong>Eddie explains how private and public sector workers were pitted against each other, and how Fox News helped push anti-union narratives. He critiques how corporate interests have systematically eroded labor rights.</p><p>* <strong>Why Anti-Union Arguments Don’t Hold Up (00:02:30)</strong>We discuss how blaming teachers and unionized workers for economic struggles is a distraction from the real issue: corporate exploitation of labor.</p><p>* <strong>How Bernie Sanders Radicalized Eddie (00:03:40)</strong>Eddie describes how Bernie’s 2016 campaign helped him recognize economic injustice and led him toward Marxist analysis.</p><p>* <strong>Why the American Left is Weak (00:06:30)</strong>We discuss why leftist movements in the U.S. struggle, including internal divisions, an obsession with identity politics, and a lack of focus on class struggle.</p><p>* <strong>MAGA Populism & Why Working-Class Americans Support Trump (00:10:00)</strong>Trump has successfully positioned himself as an anti-establishment figure, while the Left has failed to connect with working-class frustrations. Eddie explains how the Right has co-opted economic anxiety and redirected it toward culture wars.</p><p>* <strong>Marxism vs. Identity Politics (00:15:50)</strong>Eddie critiques how mainstream media and even some leftist groups have abandoned class struggle in favor of identity politics, which has made socialism less appealing to working-class people.</p><p>* <strong>The Rise of China & What the U.S. Gets Wrong (00:22:30)</strong>Eddie breaks down China’s economic strategy, how Deng Xiaoping restructured the economy while maintaining state control, and why China has outpaced the U.S. in infrastructure and poverty reduction.</p><p>* <strong>Why the USSR Collapsed & What We Can Learn (00:30:20)</strong>We discuss the successes and failures of the Soviet Union, including industrialization under Stalin, life expectancy gains, and why the economic transition after its collapse led to mass poverty.</p><p>* <strong>How the U.S. Hollowed Out the Midwest (00:40:10)</strong>Deindustrialization in the Midwest has devastated communities. We discuss how globalization, corporate offshoring, and neoliberal policies gutted the manufacturing base.</p><p>* <strong>Why the American Left Needs to Be More Aggressive (00:50:30)</strong>We critique the Left’s tendency toward political correctness and self-policing instead of focusing on mass mobilization and economic issues. Eddie argues that working-class men are being pushed toward the Right because the Left fails to present itself as strong, pragmatic, and action-oriented.</p><p>* <strong>The Midwest’s Unique Political Identity (01:05:00)</strong>We discuss Midwestern culture, values, and why the region is often overlooked in national politics despite being a key battleground. Eddie shares his personal connection to the Midwest and why he’s committed to staying there.</p><p>This conversation covers a lot of ground—whether you’re curious about socialism in America, the failures of neoliberalism, or the geopolitical shifts happening today, this is worth a listen.</p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">brendonfreakinglemon.substack.com/subscribe</a>
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72 MIN