Hey Dana Jane

Category: Politics

  • Common Sense and Politics: Oil and Water

    I don’t know when it became a crime to think for yourself, but here we are.

    If you don’t march in lockstep with the left, you’re a villain. A heretic. A backward, uneducated, heartless monster. And I’ve had it.

    The media demonizes us. Hollywood ridicules us. Social media silences us. And the loudest voices on the left? They don’t just disagree—they want us shamed, fired, ostracized, and erased. They claim to stand for tolerance, but only if you nod along and repeat their slogans like a trained parrot.

    God forbid you ask a question. God forbid you use common sense—because common sense and politics are like oil and water. They don’t mix. They can’t.

    We’re expected to accept the absurd without hesitation. We’re told crime isn’t a problem while cities burn. We’re told men can get pregnant. We’re told the economy is fine while our grocery bills double. We’re told to trust “the science”—until the science doesn’t fit their narrative, and suddenly we’re deniers.

    It’s all so blatantly hypocritical that I sometimes feel crazy. Like I’m the only one seeing it. But I know I’m not. The left lives by a double standard so glaring it should be blinding, yet they walk around with smug self-righteousness, utterly oblivious to their own contradictions. They scream “democracy!” while silencing dissent. They preach “equity” while crushing the middle class. They demand “accountability” but refuse to acknowledge their own failures.

    And somehow, we’re the problem?

    I’m tired. Tired of being told what to think. Tired of having my values mocked. Tired of being gaslit by people who wouldn’t last five minutes in a world without the very systems and structures they claim to despise.

    You don’t have to agree with me. But you sure as hell don’t get to silence me.

  • Donald Trump is Not Jesus: Why Do Conservatives Worship Him as a Savior?

    Let’s get one thing straight: Donald Trump is not Jesus. I know, shocking, right? Yet somehow, a staggering number of conservatives have elevated him to a near-messianic status. As someone who grew up with a basic understanding of Christianity, this belief both fascinates and shocks me. How does a thrice-married billionaire, who openly bragged about his sins on live TV, become the anointed one for people who claim to follow the teachings of a humble carpenter from Nazareth?

    I’m genuinely perplexed. How do devout Christians—who, I assume, own Bibles—justify putting Trump on such a high pedestal? Is it his policies? His charisma? His tan? What is it about this man that inspires slogans like “Jesus is my Savior, Trump is my President”?

    The Savior Complex
    One explanation lies in the rise of Christian nationalism, which marries American identity with Christian doctrine. Some believers genuinely see Trump as divinely chosen, a flawed but God-ordained leader sent to protect the nation. It’s as if they flipped through the Bible and decided he’s this era’s King David—ignoring the part where David repented.

    But does Trump himself fuel this narrative? Absolutely. He courts it. Whether it’s holding a Bible (upside down, no less) in front of a church or using buzzwords like “religious liberty,” he knows exactly how to speak to a crowd that wants a savior, not just a president.

    The Defender of Values (or at Least Some of Them)
    Here’s where it gets even trickier. Many of Trump’s biggest supporters view him as a warrior fighting against the so-called “war on Christianity.” They see him as the protector of religious freedom, the bulldozer of secularism, and the architect of a morally upright Supreme Court. For some, it’s not about his personal faith—it’s about the results he delivers.

    But isn’t there a line? At what point do principles outweigh politics? If the ends always justify the means, what does that say about the values being protected?

    Cult of Personality Meets the Cross
    It’s impossible to ignore the cult of personality surrounding Trump. He embodies their frustrations, fears, and aspirations in a way that feels deeply personal. He’s not just a politician; he’s their champion, their fighter, their chosen one. And in an age where social media amplifies every word, gesture, and soundbite, it’s easy for a leader to transcend politics and become something much bigger.

    But bigger than Jesus? Really?

    Let’s Think About This
    I’m not here to question anyone’s faith. But I do wonder: How did we get here? How did a religion that preaches humility and compassion become so intertwined with a political figure who, by all accounts, thrives on pride and division? And more importantly, what happens when the “savior” fails to deliver?

    Donald Trump is not Jesus. He’s not even John the Baptist. And maybe it’s time for some self-reflection: Are we worshiping the message, or are we worshiping the man?

    Because last I checked, there’s only room for one savior in Christianity—and he’s not running for president.

  • The Narcissist-in-Chief: A Nation’s Reflection in the Oval Office

    Every four years, we, the American people, engage in a curious ritual: we elect a president. It’s supposed to be the highest office in the land, a symbol of leadership, integrity, and service. But if we’re being brutally honest, isn’t it really just a contest to see who has the most polished version of their own reflection staring back at them in the mirror?

    Let’s call it what it is: an exercise in collective narcissism. We choose leaders who don’t just represent us—they embody the parts of ourselves we’re either too proud of or too ashamed to admit exist. And yes, presidents are narcissists. All of them. It’s practically a requirement of the job. Who else would willingly take on the pressure of running an entire nation, standing under constant scrutiny, and delivering speeches with the cadence of a savior?

    The “Me, But Bigger” Syndrome

    Take John F. Kennedy, for example. Charming, polished, and endlessly charismatic, he gave America exactly what it wanted to see in itself at the time: youth, vitality, and boundless ambition. But let’s not forget, JFK loved the spotlight just as much as the nation loved him in it. He wasn’t just a leader—he was a mirror reflecting an America that was ready to take the world stage with confidence and swagger.

    Or how about Ronald Reagan? The actor turned president. Reagan’s “shining city on a hill” rhetoric wasn’t just about national pride—it was about making everyone feel like the protagonist of a blockbuster movie where America always saves the day. We didn’t just vote for Reagan; we voted for a Hollywood version of ourselves.

    Then there’s Donald Trump. Love him or hate him, Trump’s presidency was like a national therapy session—except instead of confronting our issues, we projected them onto a man who mastered the art of shameless self-promotion. His slogan, “Make America Great Again,” wasn’t just about nostalgia; it was a reflection of our collective fear of being left behind in a world that’s moving too fast.

    Narcissism is a Feature, Not a Bug

    Let’s be real: you can’t get elected president without a healthy dose of self-obsession. The very act of campaigning—standing on a stage, waving to crowds, and saying, “I alone can fix it”—requires a level of confidence that most of us would need several years of therapy to even attempt. The same traits that we find grating in politicians—arrogance, an insatiable need for attention, and a knack for spinning reality—are exactly what make them electable.

    Barack Obama, with his soaring speeches and rockstar persona, made Americans feel like they were part of something bigger. But let’s not kid ourselves: you don’t run for president because you’re humble. Obama’s carefully cultivated image as the “cool dad” of politics wasn’t an accident. It was a masterclass in appealing to a nation that wanted to see itself as progressive, hopeful, and yes, a little bit cooler than the rest of the world.

    Why We Elect Our Own Egos

    The truth is, we elect the candidate who best reflects our collective ego at the time. In moments of crisis, we choose leaders who project strength and decisiveness—qualities we wish we had. In times of prosperity, we lean toward charm and vision, because hey, who doesn’t love a little inspiration when things are going well?

    But the darker side of this is that we also elect candidates who mirror our flaws. When we’re divided as a nation, we choose divisive leaders. When we’re insecure, we choose leaders who promise to restore our sense of importance. And when we’re looking for someone to blame, we choose leaders who are experts at pointing fingers.

    So, What Does This Say About Us?

    If every president is a narcissist, and every election is a reflection of ourselves, then maybe it’s time to stop pointing fingers at the politicians and start taking a good, hard look in the mirror. Why do we need leaders who thrive on applause? Why do we gravitate toward candidates who make promises that no one person could possibly keep?

    Maybe the problem isn’t just the narcissists running for office. Maybe the problem is the narcissists voting for them.

    So the next time you’re watching a debate or scrolling through campaign ads, ask yourself: Do I like this candidate because they’ll make a good leader—or because they make me feel good about myself?

    Because in the end, the president isn’t just the leader of the free world. They’re the ultimate reflection of who we are as a nation. And sometimes, the mirror doesn’t lie.