If You Can Understand Pro Wrestling, You Can Understand Trumpism
Don't bother telling them it's fake
I used to think the Epstein case got them excited because they cared about pedophiles and sex trafficking. Boy was I wrong. I watched them drop that in a heartbeat—and here's why it never mattered.
Because it was never about the crime. It was about the story. When it fell off the storyline, they all moved on. Only the Democrats and liberal media still trying to fact-check Trump into submission are continuing to talk about it.
Kayfabe Politics
Professional wrestling has a word for this: kayfabe. Everyone knows the matches are scripted, but nobody cares. The audience buys into the storylines, cheers the heroes, boos the villains, and lives inside the drama. It isn't "real," but it isn't a "lie" either. It's performance.
Trumpism operates on exactly the same principle. The facts are beside the point. Supporters know he exaggerates, contradicts himself, and blows smoke. But they don't experience it as deception. They experience it as theater.
That's why fact-checking him never works. It's like telling a pro wrestling fan that it's fake. Does anyone think a 300-pound man jumping on someone from a height with his full force wouldn't seriously injure or kill them? Does anyone think you can get smashed over the head with a steel chair and bounce right back up? Of course not. But in the moment, none of that matters.
Heroes and Villains
Once you've chosen your hero and your villain, the rest is just narrative. You watch to see your guy win.
Trump's audience cast him as the hero a long time ago. Every indictment, every scandal, every "fact check" just becomes another test of loyalty, another chance for the hero to fight off the corrupt villains. And his opponents? They get slotted into the role of the heel—the one you're supposed to boo, no matter what.
The audience isn't parsing policy. They're watching a morality play where the categories are already locked in.
Work and Shoot
In wrestling, there's a difference between a work (the scripted storyline) and a shoot (something unscripted and real). The magic happens when the two blur—when you're not sure whether the anger in the ring is acting or genuine.
Trump blurs those same lines. Is the outrage staged? Is the insult deliberate? Is the legal trouble real or just part of the act? For his supporters, it doesn't matter. In fact, the not-knowing is part of the fun. The scandal doesn't weaken the story. It deepens it.
The Pop
Wrestlers talk about "the pop"—the roar of the crowd when you land the big move, deliver the catchphrase, or spring the surprise. Everything is built around getting that reaction.
Trump plays the same game. His nicknames, his rally riffs, his one-liners—none of it is policy, all of it is performance. The point isn't persuasion, it's the pop. The instant gratification of the crowd going wild.
Heat
In wrestling, "heat" is what the villain draws from the crowd—the boos, the jeers, the outrage. The more heat, the better the storyline.
Trumpism thrives on the same energy. His fans don't just like him because of what he says or does. They like that it makes liberals squirm. Every triggered reaction is proof that he's landing the punch. The outrage isn't a bug, it's the feature.
And just as in wrestling, the hero feeds off the crowd's energy, Trump feeds off the boos directed at his opponents. When the crowd screams, the show is working. Liberal outrage becomes part of the script too. The horrified op-eds, the "this is unprecedented" reactions, the breathless fact-checks all play their assigned role in the performance.
Audience Participation
Pro wrestling isn't a solo act. The crowd is part of the show. The chants, the signs, the call-and-response—they complete the performance.
Trump's rallies work the same way. The audience knows the lines: Lock her up. Build the wall. Witch hunt. It's communal kayfabe, a shared script. Supporters aren't just spectators; they're co-authors of the spectacle.
Media as Announcers
Wrestling announcers keep kayfabe alive. They narrate the storyline as if it were real, never breaking the illusion.
The press often does the same with Trump. Instead of puncturing the spectacle, they amplify it. They cover every outrageous line, every new twist in the storyline, as if it were all happening at face value. They call the play-by-play while the crowd cheers.
Why Normal Logic Fails
This is why applying normal logic to Trumpism is a non-starter. You can't counter kayfabe with spreadsheets. You can't argue someone out of a story once they've chosen their hero and their villain.
Fact-checking assumes politics is a debate. But Trumpism is a performance. Debating a performance doesn't end the show. It just gives the audience more reason to cheer.
What It Means
The mistake is thinking Trump's appeal is about issues, or even about lies. It's about the show. The fans know it's scripted, but they don't care. The drama is the point.
And once you see it that way, the persistence of Trumpism makes perfect sense. Every takedown, every scandal, every "this time he's finished" moment is just another resurrection storyline. Another comeback plot. Another chance for the crowd to roar when the hero walks back into the arena.
Closing
If you can understand why the crowd still pops when the Undertaker rises from the dead, you can understand why Trumpism survives every supposed knockout punch. It isn't about logic. It isn't about truth. It's kayfabe politics. And in kayfabe politics, the show goes on for as long as the crowd wants to believe.