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Stop YELLING At Us
Eighteen minutes of Trump shouting, inventing numbers, and economic fantasy; all while Americans keep paying higher bills and wondering why the president is yelling at them.
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Guest article by Michael Cohen. Remember to follow him on Substack for more by clicking here. Michael just hit 500,000 subscribers on YouTube! Subscribe today for free here and let’s keep the momentum going!
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I’ve seen Donald Trump lie in private, lie in public, lie under oath, and lie with such confidence that he almost convinced himself. But Wednesday night’s 18-minute White House address wasn’t just a lie; it was a tantrum with a teleprompter. A grievance sermon delivered at warp speed, yelled at the American people, as if your bank account personally insulted him.
This wasn’t a presidential address. It was a hostage video starring facts bound, gagged, and shoved into the trunk of a golf cart.
Presidents usually go prime time when something big happens. War. Peace. A dead terrorist. Trump went prime time because his poll numbers are underwater and sinking fast. Sixty percent of Americans disapprove of how he’s handling the economy. That’s not a rounding error; that’s a flashing red siren screaming we don’t believe you.
And so, he yelled at us louder.
He rattled off prices—eggs, turkeys, airline tickets—like a man speed-reading a grocery receipt he found in the parking lot. He claimed costs are “coming down very fast,” which is a bold thing to say when Americans are still choosing between rent and electricity like it’s a game show called Who Wants to Stay Housed?
Here’s the thing Trump never understands: you can’t gaslight a debit card. You can’t shout inflation into submission. And you definitely can’t bully people into believing their lives are cheaper just because you said so from the Diplomatic Reception Room.
The defining problem—cost of living—was treated the way Trump treats inconvenient documents: ignored, minimized, and lied about. Rent isn’t down. Electricity isn’t down. Insurance isn’t down. Groceries aren’t magically cheaper because Trump says “believe me” at the end of a sentence.
Americans aren’t stupid. They know whether their lives are more affordable. And according to an NPR/PBS/Marist poll, 61% say the economy isn’t working for them personally. Seventy percent say the cost of living is flat-out unaffordable. Seventy. That’s not Biden’s mess. That’s Trump’s reality check.
Instead of addressing it honestly, Trump did what Trump always does: exaggerated until the truth suffocated.
If he had stuck to reality, he might have made a case. Gas prices have dipped across the country. Border crossings are down. Those are defensible claims. But Trump doesn’t do defensible; he does delusional. So instead, he invented numbers so cartoonishly overstated they crossed the line from spin into fiction.
Take the pièce de résistance: the so-called $1,776 “warrior dividend.” Checks already on the way, he said. Paid for by tariffs that magically raised “a lot more money than anyone thought.” Nobody understood it until 30 minutes ago—which should have been the first red flag. When Trump says nobody understood, what he really means is nobody asked questions about something that is completely untrue.
Tariffs don’t rain money from the sky. They’re taxes paid by consumers. You pay them. I pay them. The guy buying the eggs Trump keeps bragging about pays them. But Trump talks about tariffs the way a drunk guy talks about a casino system for playing blackjack; convinced he’s cracked the code while bleeding cash.
He blamed Biden for a country “on the brink of ruin,” then promised an economic boom “the likes of which the nation has never seen.” That line again. He’s been promising that boom since the first administration, back when things were cheap and the lies were fresh.
What he didn’t mention: unemployment quietly ticking up to 4.6%, the highest in five years. Inflation still rising month after month. Mortgage rates still brutal. Housing still unaffordable. Those facts didn’t make the cut.
Instead, we got promises about appointing a new Fed chair; because apparently monetary policy works like The Apprentice. Fire Powell, cue dramatic music, exit the Trump helicopter with a dozen long-haired women following, and poof—mortgage rates magically drop.
Even Lindsey Graham—professional Trump translator—admitted beforehand that Republicans need to focus on “fixing people’s problems.” Afterward, Graham told America to “be patient; help is on the way.” That’s Washington-speak for we have nothing concrete, so please stop yelling at us.
And then came the perfect ending. After eighteen minutes of shouting at America about how great everything is, Trump looked at the press and complained about how hard it was to give the speech. Then he sipped a Diet Coke like a man rewarding himself for surviving his own performance.
That moment said it all.
This wasn’t leadership. It was insecurity in High Definition. A president yelling because persuasion failed. A man who believes volume substitutes for truth and repetition turns fiction into fact.
Eighteen minutes. No new ideas. No real solutions. Just grievance, garbage, and a Diet Coke chaser. Eighteen minutes stolen from the country; followed by a full news cycle laundering it as leadership.
Don’t take Trump’s word for any of it, or for anything said in that wasted speech.
Believe your wallet. It’s been fact-checking Trump in real time.
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Yeah, I know; you’re tired. This shit is exhausting.
Guess what? Me too.
But I’ve spent the last eight years throwing punches in the dark so truth could get a little daylight. And now I’m asking you to step into the ring with me.
Because if you’re still reading this, you already get it:
This isn’t just a newsletter. It’s a rally cry. A war drum. A line in the sand.
We are not passive observers of the downfall. We are the resistance. We call out the liars. We drag corruption by the collar into the sunlight. We say the quiet parts out loud; and we don’t flinch.
But here’s the truth: I can’t do this solo. Not anymore.
The storm is already here. We are standing in it. And it’s wearing stars and stripes like camouflage, preaching “freedom” while it sells fascism at retail.
So let me ask you:
Are. You. In?
Because this is not a scroll-and-forget read. This is a living, breathing, fire-breathing movement; and movements don’t move unless you do.
We need to be louder than spin, tougher than propaganda, and impossible to gaslight.
That takes more than clicks. More than likes.
It takes skin in the game.
So if you believe truth matters; if you’re sick of the bullshit, if you’re ready to stop screaming into the algorithm and start pushing back with purpose, this is your next step.
HERE’S HOW YOU PUT YOUR FOOT ON THE GAS:
Become a paid subscriber. Fund fearless, unfiltered journalism that hits back.
Share this with the loudest people you know; the ones who never sit down and shut up.
Build the community. Amplify the message. Be the damn megaphone.
And yeah—Founding Members? The first 240 of you will get a signed, numbered, limited-edition Substack version of Revenge. That’s not just a collector’s item. That’s receipts. Proof you didn’t sit this one out.
But let’s be clear:
This isn’t about a book.
It’s about backbone.
It’s about calling out the gaslighters and refusing to be played.
It’s about locking arms and saying, “Not. On. Our. Watch.”
You want to make a difference?
Then make it; right now.
Because if we don’t fight for truth, no one will.
But if we fight together?
They can’t drown us out.
Let’s be so loud, they wish we were just angry tweets.
Let’s be unshakable.
Unignorable.
Un-fucking-breakable.
Let’s go!
 | A guest post by
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