As we all prepare for the trials, tribulations and tough talks coming our way during Thanksgiving break, I invite you to take a moment to look at how someone’s boomer grandpa is actively dismantling government systems to create a script for “South Park” writers.
If you’ve ever sat across the dinner table while an older relative goes on a tirade about “kids these days,” “real” America, or how he alone has the solutions if everyone would just listen, you already have a preview of what’s going on inside Donald Trump’s mind.
A recent New York Times opinion article describes Trump not as a traditional political figure but as a “performance artist,” someone who thrives in a vertical, top-down worldview where dominance equals competence and aggression is a form of emotional currency. According to the article, Trump’s philosophy is built on a simple belief shared by certain self-appointed family patriarchs: “The wolves see themselves as those who have not forgotten to be a human being.” Translation: the world is a jungle, and only the loudest guy survives.
And honestly? Many of us are already familiar with this man. Not personally, but very intimately. Because Trump, like many other authoritative figures in American life, resembles our angry family members that we brace ourselves for each November. The uncle who slams his fist on the dining table because someone dared to disagree. The grandfather who believes every opinion he has is a universal truth. The relative whose worldview is less about facts and more about nostalgia and long-simmering resentment.
So what makes Trump any different from any other bigoted, angry relative you’ll see this Thanksgiving? Not much, except that instead of rambling about the turkey being cold, he became the commander-in-chief of a nation.
Well, many of us can’t choose our family members. And for many of us, if we could go back, we would absolutely not have chosen to have Trump as our grandfather. Here we are, I guess.
According to Psychology Today, anger in older men is often tied to withdrawal, irritability, physical pain, loneliness or cognitive decline, but also to a deep fear of losing relevance. Trump embodies all of this on a national stage. Finally! Representation for the silent male suffering we all constantly have to hear about.
Trump’s emotional range swings between grievance and grandiosity; everything is either a victory he single-handedly orchestrated or a conspiracy against him. If your family boomer feels threatened by new ideas, shifting cultural norms or the simple fact that you exist with opinions of your own, imagine multiplying that defensiveness by more than a few million followers and a presidential podium.
Your level-headed relatives will tell you to brush it off: “they’re from a different time,” or “that’s just how men were raised back then.” It becomes a convenient shield for excusing racism, sexism, bigotry or an outright refusal to grow. But when that same mindset is projected onto the national stage, it doesn’t just shape an uncomfortable family gathering. It shapes policy, power and the future of our country.
The danger isn’t just that Trump operates like someone’s angry grandpa. It’s that millions of Americans look at that behavior and see it as a sign of strength. Authoritarianism becomes repackaged as “leadership,” aggression as “confidence” and cruelty as “common sense.” The traits we roll our eyes at during Thanksgiving dinner — the stubbornness, the belittling, the refusal to listen — suddenly have real consequences when written into law.
And while we may not be able to choose our family members, we can choose how to respond to people who try to control the narrative, whether at our dinner table or in the White House.
The real question is: if America stops normalizing the angry boomer relative energy, will we also stop electing it?
