Happy Black Friday UTP’ers. I hope you had a good Thanksgiving and made a point to bring up controversial topics and plug my newsletter to your coolest family members. I really appreciate it. I also hope you full-body-checked five dads for a good TV deal, but I know you didn’t, because that America we were promised is gone. RETVRN!
Actually, I thought people didn’t shop on Black Friday in-person, but I swear to God the traffic in and around both the Eagan outlet mall and the Mall of America was worse than I’ve ever seen it. Easily a thousand-plus cars between the two locations just trying to get in. At 3PM! Insanity.
I wanted to make a note that picks up off last week’s UTP. You may recall I published a diatribe about AEW CEO Tony Khan’s fumbling of Eddie Kingston’s return after a year-long injury. Well, Tony must have read my newsletter, because last night, on the Thanksgiving episode of AEW Collision, we were treated to three courses of whoop-ass as Eddie Kingston cut a self-described “shoot” promo, where everything was off the cuff. Unfortunately the YouTube video version cuts out a good minute or two of preamble, but this is the first promo since his return where Eddie is ruthlessly real. Please watch the 2-minute clip.
I hope you’re enjoying the long weekend are prepared for more snow if you live in da Great White North. Oh yeah, we’re on Instagram now. Thanks for reading.
COMING SOON TO YOUR INBOX HOLE AND SPOTIFY OR APPLE PODCASTS FEED:
Facebook had an outsized impact on my adolescence, as well as my late mother’s adulthood. Early Facebook signaled the final stages of transition from bulletin board systems and forums to multi-billion user websites and apps that define most people’s experiences online.
In this sentimental special (hopefully not a series, lol), I’ll reflect on Facebook’s power to connect yet isolate, its stupid f*****g games, and more on Zuckerberg’s zombie social network, from when I made my account at age 12 in 2009, to today’s malformed monster that is Meta.
Coming soon.
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U(TP) DECIDE ‘26
THE DONALD TRUMP FACE TURN: THE (OTHER) SWERVE AMERICA NEEDS
This week we got the first piece of political news out of the White House this calendar year that brought me true joy: the bonkers, totally unexpected press conference Donald Trump held with New York City Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani in the Oval Office.
There were conflicting reports. In the morning, there were rumors Trump had backed out of the meeting. I had seen a headline or two that it might be happening, but I was shocked when I saw the N** Y*** T***** email subject line that Trump was “heaping praise” on Mamdani. Excuse me?
In case you weren’t paying attention to the New York Mayor’s race, MAGA-land had come out in full force as anti-Mamdani. Although not in force enough to rally behind the endorsed Republican candidate and living Grand Theft Auto character Curtis Sliwa—Trump actually endorsed Andrew Cuomo, the disgraced former Democratic Governor of New York who was making a pathetic attempt at keeping moneyed Democrats (read: Republicans) in power. Cuomo lost in a blowout.
The anti-Zohran campaign was heavily focused on Mamdani’s identity. Brown man, socialist, non-white name, baddie Hinge-wife. Crash-outs a-plenty across social media after Mamdani’s decisive win. There were even threats to deport him, despite his citizenship.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and a lot has happened, but MAGA-land has towed the party line, as everyone would expect them to when they spent the entire campaign regurgitating racist comments and seek to discredit then-Representative Mamdani’s reputation simply because he isn’t white.
In this context, we get the Oval Office meeting. It’s a press conference. The administration has not been afraid to use these exact opportunities to humiliate wavering allies at home and abroad, and to welcome some of the most evil warlords on the planet (an ex-Al Qaeda leader and MBS—in the same week). So we expected the worst. Only problem, Trump fuckng loves Zohran.
Even the Donald isn’t immune to Zohran’s infectious charm, positive attitude, and focus on getting things done, or at least that’s what he told us.
“He said some things that were very interesting and very interesting as to housing construction and he wants to see houses go up. He wants to see a lot of houses created and a lot of apartments built. We actually—people would be shocked. But I want to see the same thing.”
Pardon me what? When the f**k was the last time Donald Trump talked about the idea of “housing.” Like what?
I don’t have much more to say about this press conference except that it gave us a Trump we really haven’t seen in a minute. I saw a tweet remarking that he hasn’t looked this happy since the McDonald’s banquet lunch he held for the Crimson Tide during his first term.
He was genuinely happy to meet with Zohran. He took him on a tour of the White House, and most notably, took a photo together in front of a painting of FDR that Mamdani had said was one he liked. In the photo, Mamdani seems to struggle to even half-heartedly smile, while the President is beaming from ear-to-f*****g-ear.
We are way past due for a Donald Trump face turn.
Using wrestling parlance when talking about who is good and who is bad with Donald Trump are actually pretty apt, not just because I have no other frame of reference with culture other than wrestling. Did I mention I didn’t start watching wrestling until I was 26?
If you didn’t know, in the aughts, Donald Trump was a frequent guest star on WWE programming. Trump is famously friends with Vince McMahon (which makes a lot of sense knowing how they’re both pervert sex pests). I was never a WWE fan, so I can’t tell you many of the angles, but I know they ran an angle where Trump had “purchased” RAW, and was going to be making booking decisions. Another, and perhaps the most famous angle, was when Donald Trump and Vince McMahon had “their” respective wrestlers duke it out, and whoever lost, had to have their head shaved. Trump would go on to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2013—our first WWE Hall of Fame President.
Trump’s appearances on WWE programming are sporadic over the years, but his friendship with McMahon goes deeper than just occasional attendance at WrestleMania. Vince’s kids were groomed much in the same way as Trump’s to be underlings for dad. Vince has appeared on The Celebrity Apprentice as a guest judge and “expert” promoter (read: carny).
The entire premise of a huge chunk of challenges on The Apprentice involve who can be the most obnoxious on the streets of New York for attention. Hillary Clinton was more right than anyone will give her credit for when she called Donald Trump a “carnival barker.” Like all her clunky, intellectualized insults, this one could have been refined to just “carny b*****d.”
My personal favorite intersection of prescient-politics-and-wrestling that was more foreboding than anyone could have expected was during an in-ring promo at WrestleMania XX in 2004. Former Minnesota Governor and WWE Hall of Famer Jesse Ventura conducted an in-ring interview with Donald Trump, who was running as the presidential candidate for Jesse’s Reform Party, a half-hearted publicity stunt that famously got Roger Stone connected with Trump. Ventura asks about the likelihood of a wrestler, suggesting himself.
As Ventura touched Apollo, the stage was set for Donald Trump to make himself the main storyline in American culture for the first quarter of the 21st century. If you watch old episodes of The Celebrity Apprentice particularly, you see a different kind of Trump. Trump’s not usually the one running the show in the board room (where deliberations happen before he fires someone on the losing team each episode), because he usually sics his kids or a powerful guest/friend (like McMahon) on people; Trump is really there to be the real-world Hedonism Bot from Futurama. How decadent, mmmm!
So now it’s been a week or so now and have we seen Trump turn face? No.
This wasn’t a face turn because I don’t think Donald Trump views Republicans as the ‘faces’ of American politics. He used to be a Democrat, after all, and has never really exemplified anything close to “statesman.” He has, however, been hyperfixated on whether he will go to heaven or hell when he dies, and he talks about it a lot. Supposedly, Pope Leo XIV told him he would not be saved simply because of the Abraham Accords, the Trump-era peace agreement for the Middle East that famously precluded *gestures wildly at Palestine*.
The face turn can only happen if Trump believes that Democrats are actually good guys and that he might see some redemption as a universal good guy, and I don’t think that’s going to happen. Trump called Tim Walz a slur on Thanksgiving on Truth Social, so I don’t think he’s any different than he was before this.
Maybe Mamdani can leverage this relationship to be a more effective negotiator than any of DC’s Democratic leadership. Wild speculation on Xitter called for naming massive public investments in housing, transit, and health care after Trump, and that Mamdani might be the only lefty politico who is savvy an charismatic, and professional enough to trick Trump into doing good things only so he can take the glory.
Imagine the country if the cult of personality of Trump was able to steer his toxic fanbase towards being less evil? Mamdani’s visit all but showed that the posturing, insults, dehumanization, coded and overt racism, and much more are all exactly what everyone knows them to be: just another f*****g promo.
Instead of pay-per-views, we get elections. Instead of Bret Hart burying that piece of s**t Bill Goldberg, it’s Donald Trump literally burying his political rivals. Everything is done for the fan reactions, for the “pop.” It’s not a coincidence that Trump has held his signature rallies non-stop since before his first election in 2016. He’s a carny b*****d who has to do basically nothing to get a crowd wrapped around his fingers.
But he could have so much more. Imagine if he were actually celebrated? Imagine if he was agreeable enough to not get yelled at when he goes out to eat in DC. I’d put up with oversaturation of the Trump personality cult, if only meant the material conditions in America, what actually matters to 99% of people, actually improved.
Until then, I guess he’s gonna continue saying slurs online.
I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED…IT’S KIND OF A FUNNY STORY
WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK IN YOUR LIVING ROOM?
This is the first in a new series in our regular three-story UTP programming focused on highlighting the various eccentric and odd items I have around my house. These are conversation pieces that no is here to have a conversation about, and I wanna talk about them anyway.
So what’s the deal with the shepherd’s crook in your living room?
I’m so glad you asked…it’s kind of a funny story.
The dining room of my home is vaguely religious themed: a stylized Last Supper sits above the hi-fi and turntable opposite a framed copy of Minnesota’s state photograph Grace. But tucked in the corner is a roughly 6’ tall bamboo shepherd’s crook with a clear purple Goodwill tag still stuck to the top.
I bought this stupid decoration in December 2022, mere weeks before Emily and I would move back to Minnesota from Arlington, VA. I found it at the Arlington, VA Goodwill on Glebe Rd, perhaps the greatest single Goodwill location I’ve ever been to. This location is in a cute brick building in vernacular NoVA architecture and was probably a strip mall or auto shop or something in a past life. I was there with my friend Clare (hi Clare, if you’re reading this), who I have a long tradition of thrifting with.
This Goodwill rules for a number of reasons. This location has been aggressively resistant to the corporatization Goodwill has undergone since the 2010’s. I’m guessing this is simply my perception because Goodwill’s franchises are pretty funky in terms of regional management, and if I had to guess, I’d bet the Glebe Road one falls under a more independent franchisee. It uses old stickers and prices are fair. I’ve found incredible art and furniture, and my best thrifts include a somewhat-overpriced-but-still-fairly-priced Logitech G27 PC racing wheel in great condition and a brand-new pair of turquoise Puma suede sneakers.
My favorite part is it’s location: on one of the Arlington Transit (ART) bus routes. The ART system (at least how it was in 2022) is incredible. Arlington does have Metrobus routes and has four Metro lines running through it, but also operates its own network and fleet of buses, separate from the regional bus system. Buses only operate in Arlington County, which is the smallest county by area in the country. ART buses are infamously clean, rarely packed, and make getting around the county extremely easy without a car. I can’t say (aside from including wait times) I ever had a trip that went more than 10-15 minutes. I could count on one hand how many times I had to stand on one of them.
On the day I acquired my shepherd’s crook, Clare and I had taken the bus, which typically limits what you can purchase. I found the crook in the golf club section. It was listed for $10—too rich for my blood. I was enamored with it. It’s stupidly large, yet discreet, and would make a humorous conversation piece/possible Halloween costume.
We went shopping around the store and as we were getting ready to check out, I noticed a sign: purple tags are 50% off.
S**t. Gotta get the crook.
Without thinking, I grabbed the crook and made my dastardly purchase. The only problem is that I had to take it home on the bus. I figured I’d get stares, but we’re rolling with it.
The bus took longer than usual, I keenly remember. I had this stupid crook in my hand as we waited for the bus and I remember getting looks from people stopped at the light the bus stop was next to. At this point, I had figured out my favorite joke.
The bus rolls up, and I step forward. Before the bus driver has even fully engaged the brakes, I am in position. I slam the crook on the ground twice in rapid succession like Moses parting the Red Sea, and just like the great prophet of old, the door opens for me. The bus driver laughed.
Emily was baffled that I had bought such a large, useless item just weeks before we were set to have a cross-country move. But you know what? It made it here and fits in well with the Jesus vibes of the dining room. Let my people go!
So yeah. That’s my shepherd’s crook. It’s kind of a funny story!
UTP SOUNDWAVES
ROYEL OTIS’ “MOODY” IS AN ANTHEM FOR THE REGRESSIVE 20’S
Over the past year, YouTuber RegularCarReviews has included a phrase in multiple car reviews that I have latched onto as an explanation for the cultural zeitgeist we currently exist in: the Regressive 20’s.
Everyone knows about the Roaring Twenties, that decade inter-war period where America dramatically liberalized culturally. Women won their long-fought right to vote, the safety bicycle enabled women (and everyone else alike) to travel without a horse and carriage, and certainly without the need to be accompanied by a man. Flappers and jazz music were abound. A young Joe Piscopo taught us how to laugh.
100 years on, halfway through the Regressive 20s, and it feels decisively different.
Political correctness, at least in moderate (and white) spaces, has become passé. The R-word has made a roaring comeback while probably more contextually useful words like “suicide” are reduced to “unaliving” to avoid angering automatic censors or getting demonetized or whatever. Facebook explicitly allows bullying based on identity now. We’re basically due for a resurgence in new Jeff Dunham racist stereotype puppets.
I think that this regression is bad. More and more aspects of life will continue to be what 2017 college classmates of mine would call “problematic,” as horribly evil nations like Saudi Arabia and the UAE work with American oligarchs to buy up media congloemerats across industries, like their purchase of Electronic Arts and speculation that a Saudi-led EA will either remove or otherwise censor content that doesn’t jive with the kingdom—take the LGBTQ inclusion of The Sims 4. One other example, is that WWE went from being condemned widely for a single PPV in Riyadh, to now rapidly expanding their presence, including announcing the next WrestleMania will be in Riyadh.
In this context, Emily and I were driving—I think it was heading out of town for the Missouri road trip—listening to Minnesota Public Radio’s The Current until we lose the signal in southern Minnesota.
I’ve largely stopped listening to this station. It was the main station I listened to throughout college, but the quality (in my opinion) has dipped significantly over the years. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that multiple personalities, mostly women, have left, and shared their deeply unpleasant experiences while working there—multiple women DJs were targets of violent threats and stalked by the same man. I also disagree with a number of aspects of American Public Media (APM), the Minnesota-based non-NPR affiliated organization which owns MPR and The Current.
Anyway, we’re listening to The Current when a mellow 4-chord pop song plays. I noticed I was enjoying it so I turned it up. Emily was also enjoying it. We listened to the song but were a little disarmed by the lyrics. Here’s the chorus:
She’s always giving it to me
Late nights she’s always accusing
Last time she said she would kill me
My girl’s a b***h when she’s moody
But she’s my everything
She’s all that I need
Sometimes more than I want
Hmm. On one hand this is a new song (summer 2025) that both my partner and I really enjoyed hearing and discovering the song for the first time, together—that doesn’t happen very often. On the other hand, the song perpetuates the “my crazy b***h girlfriend” misogynistic trope.
The song is “moody” by Australian band Royel Otis. They sound like 19 year-olds and the song sounds very targeted towards hormonal, unmedicated, lovey-dovey teenagers in toxic relationships.
TangerineTop8507’s top comment on an r/RoyelOtis post about the song having its lyrics censored for the radio (instead of b***h, they say trick) sums up the position that I don’t necessarily agree with, but represents the nuance of navigating the Regressive 20’s as someone who reallllllly doesn’t agree with the premise of cultural regression:
I’m saying this as a woman in my 30’s - it is such a shame how people find these things offensive. If a girl was singing this it would be like GO GIRL and POWER TO THE WOMEN but because a guys says “b***h” it’s suddenly misogynistic and so offensive. I just don’t see it at all … people totally misunderstood the whole point behind the song - no matter what he still loves her and she’s his everything, like where is the misogyny?
Okay. So I can like the song even if it’s misogynistic?
Actually, no. The band apologized for being misogynistic, although it’s still a top song on their Spotify page, and undoubtedly their biggest hit.
I also learned, while writing this piece, that Royel Otis is a lot of things, but two 19 year-olds singing about their toxic ex is not one of them. Royel, whose real name is Leroy, is actually 37 years-old, and Otis is 24. They started the band when Otis was still a teenager. Weird!
Worst of all, beyond a man who is way too old to be singing like a teenage guy with a thing for crazy girl, there are (relatively unsubstantiated) rumors and accusations that Leroy had an inappropriate relationship with a minor student while he was an instructor at a music conservatory in New South Wales. Yikes!
It’s in this context that I say: “moody” is an anthem for the Regressive 20s. It’s got everything: problematic lyrics that are misogynistic, inappropriate age gaps aplenty, and the most unfortunately contemporary regression of excusing or dismissing pedophilia because the predator is a public figure, or because the victim is said to be near the age of consent.
Even if you can look past the misogyny (I love cognitive dissonance), it’s hard to justify liking a band that, in general, isn’t very good, and represents the cutting edge in groomer-core music.
And much like Saudi Arabia buying EA (and in turn the Sims) and the Spotify CEO’s significant investments in AI warfare, Royel Otis shows that there’s nothing good in the world that can’t be sullied by evil men. It’s an extremely catchy song, and an extremely 2025-ass song. I really’” wanted to be able to say “go ahead, enjoy the Regressive 20’s at your own peril” and add this earworm to your rotation. Separate art from artist, etc.
I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that Anthony Fantano, the internet’s busiest music nerd, gave the album a “Strong 1,” a decisive condemnation of the album.
Let your friends know how cancelled I am for wanting to wax poetic about a song like “moody.” I’m sure they’ll love that.
