It was the best of times and the worst of times.

In one America, Trump has erected a UFC staging event on the White House lawn. Only the best satirical novelists could have conceived of such a thing. It’s the Gonzo Presidency that always keeps the plot unpredictable, shocking, and above all, entertaining.

In the other America, po-faced women with their piercings and blue hair will march, and caterwaul with No Kings signs to ensure America has a hangover headache every second Trump is in power. A Festival of Karens whose idea of fun is dreaming of how much they hate Trump and MAGA.

It reminds me of that line from The Silence of the Lambs, “Oh, Clarice. Your problem is you need to get more fun out of life.”

Perhaps that’s a bad comparison since on a good day, the Left would see Trump as worse than Hannibal the Cannibal. He’s all of the things they hate and fear wrapped up in one man - a heterosexual white man who does things like hold UFC fights on the White House lawn. Are you not entertained?

Oh, and in case you might be bored by the caterwauling Karens marching with their No Kings sign, Jane Fonda has signed into the chat.

You can just hear the giant sucking sound of emptying testosterone from the soul of America. Future generations should thank Trump for bringing it back. Yes, we need it. No, not injected into adolescent girls but coursing through the veins of men.

To say they need to get more fun out of life would be the understatement of the year. They don’t even know fun. Misery is all they know. Trump was elected again, and that has brought them to the brink of hysteria, so they’ve taken it out on all of us.

No one is allowed one minute of fun if they had their way. From the French throwing a hissy fit:

To the celebs making jokes:

To a desperate last-minute lawsuit:

But it was struck down, so suck on that.

They’re even hoping it rains.

We’ve been hectored, lectured, sneered at, screeched at, scolded, canceled, judged, and all for what? So America can go back to the kind of fun you can only have with parents hanging around as chaperones?

Jonathan Lemire’s piece in The Atlantic, which he has “gifted” to social media users, because who would actually pay to read it, illustrates how dull, lifeless, and boring the Left has become in the Trump era.

They can march, scream, and throw fits. They can do what they’ve been doing for a decade now, unite in blinding hatred for Trump and his supporters. What they can’t do, what they’ll never do, is top it because who could?

They got Trump wrong in 2016, and they still have him wrong. They know it, too, deep down. Trump could have obliterated Iran and taken over the entire country if he wanted to. Instead, he emerges as more of a dove than he ever gets credit for. He isn’t a guy who fights. He’s a guy who likes watching the fights. No, he doesn’t like it. He loves it. It is his happy place.

I mean, come on.

Trump is the ultimate troll to the virtue signaler army, and his supporters love him for it. I know the feeling. He’s always there to scratch that itch for the powerless who often have to just sit there and take it, their agonizing marches and protests for ten years now over everything he does.

And just to drive the troll factor up to 11:

Even if I’m not exactly into the UFC, or even if I thought it was tacky and garish and a bad look for America, I know it doesn’t compare to a ten-year hate-filled odyssey of miserable people who have gutted a once-thriving culture, couldn’t take a joke if their life depended on it, and have stuck us with their decade-long temper tantrum because they will not be ignored, Dan.

It’s not exactly a mystery that when Trump enters the UFC arena, it’s like entering a different world, one where the people cheer him on. They might boo him at the Knicks game, but they love him at UFC. This is a birthday present to himself and a way to show the rest of America what he loves.

Trump identifies with Teddy Roosevelt, and indeed, they have much in common. Both were shot and then went on to give record-breaking 90-minute speeches afterward. Both have decided to bring fighting to the White House for fun — yes, people, for FUN.

No, Trump isn’t actually fighting like TR did, and his politics are a little different, but both are men in the Arena all the same.

It’s crazy for me, a former caterwauling Karen, to now say Trump is the greatest president of my lifetime. But I can’t think of anyone who was better - who stood up to a massive alignment of power, was shot in the head, and came back to win again. There is no one who comes even remotely close.

I realize that this has ruined much of the life I built, terrified many of my friends and even my family. It’s confused those closest to me and has made me a target of many an attack. Not a day goes by that I don't feel that cold breeze of hate.

But Trump stood there, and he took it. That, to me, is what makes him a hero. He bounced right back up with a smile, raised his fist in the air, and got on with things. I wish him nothing but the happiest of birthdays.

I’m glad he has lived to celebrate his 80th birthday, and if you can’t celebrate a guy like that, who has survived what he’s survived and who put everything on the line to serve this country his way, then you might as well not celebrate America’s 250th either.

Trump is very much a symbol of America at 250. It’s a hot mess but a glorious one. A scrappy survivor, full of contradictions. Bombastic and miraculous. Offensive to many, loved by more.

God willing, Trump makes it through his second term and then retires to play golf with his granddaughter. I hope for him a peaceful return from his Hero’s Journey. We will miss him, that’s for sure. And more than that, we’ll miss the fun.

Those who have spent the last ten years consumed by hatred can marinate in misery in their America. I’ll be over here in the other America with the deplorables watching history unfold as I crack open a can of beer.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President.