I don’t need my president to be my therapist. I don’t need him to tuck me in at night, validate my feelings, or send me a Christmas card. I need him to stand in the gap while people I will never meet, in places I will never see, plot to take apart the country my grandchildren are supposed to inherit.
If that takes a man who is blunt, loud, and more than a little full of himself, then so be it.
I don’t care if you’re arrogant, if you can save my country.
We’ve had plenty of “nice” politicians. They smile, they speak softly, they never raise their voice. They also sign away our border security, ship our factories overseas, and bow and scrape at every global conference where unelected elites dream up ways to “reset” our lives without ever asking our permission. They apologize for America while cartels flood our streets with fentanyl, while Iran toys with the Strait of Hormuz, and while China buys up mines, ports, and politicians.
That kind of nice is killing us.
I’m told I should be terribly offended if a leader is rough around the edges. I’m supposed to clutch my pearls because he tweets too much, or he doesn’t say everything just right. Meanwhile, the “respectable” crowd quietly enables an invasion at our southern border, looks the other way as criminals are caught and then spun right back onto our streets with no bail, and treats parents at school board meetings like the real threat.
Forgive me if I worry less about a sharp tongue and more about a country coming apart at the seams.
Arrogant is talking big and doing nothing. What we’ve seen instead is a man who talks big and then actually does something—forces uncomfortable conversations about China, NATO freeloading, energy independence, and the insanity of open borders. If you are the first person in 30 years to tell the ruling class, “No, America does not exist to fund your experiments and clean up your messes,” people are going to call you arrogant.
That’s fine. You can call the surgeon arrogant when he tells you the truth about your heart condition, too. You’ll still want him in the operating room.
There’s a little secret polite society won’t admit: they’re far more offended by a leader who fights for us than they ever were by leaders who quietly sold us out. They don’t hate arrogance; they hate independence. They don’t hate rudeness; they hate resistance. They’ll forgive an endless list of failures as long as you keep your tone soft and your spine flexible. But the moment you say, “No. We are closing the border. No. We’re putting America first. No. We’re not signing on to your Great Reset,” suddenly you’re “dangerous.”
If I have to pick between a smooth talker who will manage our decline and a stubborn, loud, sometimes exasperating fighter who will try to stop it, I’ll choose the fighter every time. I’ll take the man who bruises egos in Brussels and Beijing over the one who sells my grandchildren’s future for a good write‑up in the Washington Post.
I’ve lived long enough to know you can survive a little arrogance. You don’t survive the destruction of your borders, your economy, and your culture.
And I’ll say this plainly: in case it is too late, or in case he fails, I will love him forever because he truly tried. When the history books are written, I’d rather my grandchildren read about a flawed man who threw himself into the breach for his country than another polished politician who smiled while America slipped away.
So no, I don’t lie awake at night fretting about whether my president is liked at dinner parties. I care whether my grandchildren will grow up in a country that still belongs to its citizens, still speaks freely, still bows only to God and not to bureaucrats. If it takes an “arrogant” man to slam the brakes on this runaway train, then hand him the controls. History is full of imperfect people who stood in the right place at the right time and refused to move.
You can keep the gentle voices that calmly explain why we have to surrender just a little more every year. I’ll stand with the one who may never win a manners contest, but might just win back our country.
I don’t care if you’re arrogant, if you can save my country—and if, in the end, all you can do is fight with everything you have, I will honor you for that, too.
