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May 20, 2024 39 mins

Memory Lane Mondays: How do you handle a triggered leftist? To find the answer, we follow the story of a time when our humble co-host, Adryana, had a run-in with perhaps one of the most triggered human species on the face of the planet – a Hollywood lefty…and what she did to put this rare breed in its place. Note: Some adult language.

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Speaker 1 (00:00):
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Speaker 2 (00:21):
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Speaker 1 (00:38):
And if you're listening to this on a podcast platform,
please give us a five star rating. Leave us a review.
It helps us beat the big tech algorithm. Thanks for
helping us save America one story at a time. Now
on with the show. This episode was originally broadcast on
June twelfth, twenty twenty. We're entering into crazy season, also
known as an election cycle, that moody time of life

when people become irrational and emotions flare up.

Speaker 3 (01:10):
I'm fard of you.

Speaker 4 (01:12):
You're not my brother, you're not my brother.

Speaker 1 (01:14):
It's like one bad American temper tantrum, and when it comes,
the left seems to act like poopy diaper toddlers. Just
one of your social media posts can send them on
a tailspin, ending some mediocre friendships, and, if you're lucky,
a few distant family members that you've been trying to
shake for decades peel off. When that moment comes, when
people go nuts over politics, what should you do? How

do you handle a triggered leftist? I'm Patrick Carelci.

Speaker 4 (01:43):
And I'm Adriana Cortes.

Speaker 1 (01:45):
And this is Red Pilled America, a storytelling show.

Speaker 2 (01:49):
This is not another talk show covering the day's news.
We're all about telling stories.

Speaker 1 (01:55):
Stories. Hollywood doesn't want you to hear stories.

Speaker 2 (01:58):
The media mocks stories about everyday Americans that the globalist ignore.

Speaker 1 (02:03):
You can think of Red Pilled America as audio documentaries,
and we promise only one thing, the truth. Welcome to
Red Pilled America. Elections are typically heated times, but since

Trump entered the scene, voting season has made emotions go nuclear.
Social media was once a fun place where people could
update friends and family on their life and occasionally post
a topic that tweaked a person's followers without fear of
losing it all. But ever since the Donald entered the scene,
a simple post that just hints at supporting the president

can send a joyless acquaintance or annoying family members on
a tirade hell bent on shaming you on the digital
public square. Who would have thought that being against defunding
the police or choosing not to martyr criminal would be
an act of white privilege. As the election season progresses
and you come across adults with the impulse control of
a toddler, what should you do? How do you handle

a triggered leftist? To find the answer, we're going to
follow the story of a time when my co host
and partner in life, Adriana, ran across perhaps one of
the most emotionally unstable human species on the face of
the planet, a Hollywood lefty, and what she did to
put this rare breed in its place.

Speaker 2 (03:33):
America has had a lot of gate scandals. First, of course,
was Watergate, then climb Agate, to plate Gate, gamer Gate,
Grab Him by the Pussy Gate, and probably my personal favorite.

Speaker 4 (03:44):
Wiener Gate.

Speaker 2 (03:45):
My curiosity for dissecting these train wrecks was bound to
engulf me in one of my own gate controversies, and
in fact it eventually did, albeit not a very famous one.

Speaker 4 (03:56):
I called it selfie Gate.

Speaker 2 (04:01):
It was set in Lalla Land, amongst the rich, famous,
and virtue signaling Hollywood elites. But unlike most scandals, getting
embroiled in, this one was well therapeutic. It was July
twenty fifth, twenty sixteen, and the day started off like
any other beautiful sunny summer morning in southern California. I

woke up, I read my emails, made some coffee, checked
out the new filters on Snapchat, reviewed my friend notifications
Ooh goop, followed me back, then dropped off my kid
at summer camp, and went to work. We all take
quick social media breaks throughout the day. It's become part
of our daily routine. So sometime mid afternoon, I peeked

into Facebook. Truth be told, Facebook had been on a
steep decline for me self, Indulgent political diatribes had replaced
the things that I loved most about the site, namely
cute animal videos and clips of laughing babies. What was
different about this day, though, was that it just so
happened to be day one of the Democratic National Convention

what was supposed to be a well choreographed event to
anoint Hillary Clinton as the first female nominee for president
on a major party ticket. The problem was that massive
news had just hit everyone's social media feeds.

Speaker 5 (05:19):
The latest emails released by WikiLeaks suggests the top officials
at the Democratic National Committee planned to undermine Bernie Sanders
presidential campaign.

Speaker 2 (05:28):
Wiki Leaks had just dropped the mother load of document dumps,
a batch of Democratic National Committee DNC emails that showed
without question that Hillary Clinton and the DNC had colluded
to screw Bernie Sanders out of the Democrat nomination.

Speaker 5 (05:43):
The Sanders campaign had long accused the DNC of tipping
the scales in favor of Hillary Clinton. In this email
for May twenty sixteen, DNC Press Secretary Mark Postenbach wrote
wondering if there's a good Bernie narrative for a story
which is Bernie never ever had that together that his
campaign was a mess.

Speaker 2 (06:02):
Within hours of the news, Hillary's campaign manager had oddly
already assessed how the emails had gone public. In their telling,
the DNC email server had been hacked by Russia to
help Donald Trump win the election.

Speaker 6 (06:16):
What is the reaction of the Clinton campaign to these
DNC leaked emails, suggesting that top officials, including the CFO there,
were actively discussing ways to hurt Bernie Sanders in the primary.

Speaker 7 (06:28):
Well, I think the DNC needs to look into this
and take appropriate action, and I'm sure that they will.
What's disturbing to us is that we experts are telling
us that Russian state actors broke into the DNC stole
these emails, and other experts are now saying that the
Russians are releasing these emails for the purpose of actually
helping Donald Trump. I don't think it's coincidental that these

emails were released on the eve of our convention.

Speaker 2 (06:54):
Here. They must have had the greatest forensic IT team
ever assembled to come to that conclusion so quickly, or
maybe it was just bullshit, because if they had had
that kind of computer muscle on hand.

Speaker 4 (07:06):
They wouldn't have been quote unquote hacked.

Speaker 3 (07:08):
In the first place.

Speaker 2 (07:10):
While the story that the leaked emails told hit the
Dumb convention like a nuclear bomb, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, the
chairman of the DNC, was forced to resign. The entire
event was falling apart at the scenes right before everyone's eyes,
and it was glorious. It felt a little bit like redemption.

For months, America had been seeing political violence for the
first time in decades, directed at one specific group, Trump supporters.
Hollywood in the mainstream media were an overdrive, pumping out
the nasty narrative that anyone who supported Trump was a
despicable racist, signaling to the crazies that it was open
season on the Maga crowd. Their year long effort paid

off when just a month earlier, San Jose Trump rallygoers
were pummeled while news cameras and a battalion of police
officers quietly stood on the sidelines, refusing to intervene.

Speaker 8 (08:08):
Overnight all out brawls outside the Trump rally in San Jose, California,
Trump supporters harassed, beaten, and bloodied by mobs of protesters.

Speaker 3 (08:18):
They're like spitting on me and stuff.

Speaker 8 (08:20):
This man says he was sucker punched, his clothes torn
off his back.

Speaker 3 (08:24):
Seven more people this comment start punching me.

Speaker 9 (08:27):
Tarl I look very bad.

Speaker 8 (08:29):
This lone female Trump supporter tried to stand her ground,
her son torn from her hands, her glasses ripped off,
then shoved in her face. George This was one of
the most violent scenes I have ever witnessed at a
Trump rally. At times, it seemed like the police had
no control of the situation. People were getting beat up
right in front of them, and these were not clashes.

These were pure attacks. Trump supporters, men, women, even the
elderly left this building last night and walked right into
danger America.

Speaker 2 (09:00):
I was learning quickly that it was okay to punch
a right winger, so watching the Democrat Party devolve into
complete and utter chaos on the very first day of
their convention was better than a new pair of designer shoes.
When I logged onto Facebook that day, the mud slinging
from the bernie Bots at Camp Hillary had already reached

defcon one. The bernie Bot commis were so livid that
they were posting tie raids encouraging riots on the convention floor. Listen,
that's par for the course today, but four years ago
that was still considered insane behavior. Angry doesn't begin to
describe what I was witnessing on my feed. The insults
and putdowns would easily get you banned for life from

Facebook today. Truthfully, we'll never understand why people think it's
appropriate to hide behind a computer screen and be rude
on social media. That's just not how I roll personally.
I prefer to be rude to people's faces so long
as it's warranted. I guess I'm old school like that.
So there I am scrolling through Facebook and really hoping

for a laughing baby video, but all I'm seeing is
DNC political venom. At the time, for the sake of
our daughter, my husband Patrick and I had made a
concerted effort to tone down our politics on social media.
We'd been early supporters of Donald Trump. Shortly after his
presidential announcement, Patrick Pennon OpEd for Brettbart News. It was
critical of what would later be known as the Republican

never Trump crowd that seemed hell bent on taking the
real estate mogul down. But the environment had turned violent,
and our baby girl was attending a prestigious Hollywood private school,
Oakwood Elementary, that was jam packed with elite triggered Hollywood leftists.
We'd been butting heads with the parents because of our
right leaning politics for years and really didn't mind the
conflict personally, but now our daughter was starting to take

some of the incoming fire. It felt as if these
people were on the verge of being unhinged. On top
of that, I was still recovering from major organ surgery,
so we thought it best to take it easy on
politics when posting on social media, especially on Facebook, where
all of the parents from our school seem to live.
You see, the thing about Hollywood is that it's infested

with Trustafarians, and many of them spend their days smoking
a ton of pot and being keyboard warriors on Facebook.
It was tempting to get in on the social media
in salt bandwagon, but Patrick and I had a plan
de escalate the political vitriol, and I had to stick
to it. I swear that man is always holding me back.

So I came up with a bright idea for every
heated political take I saw on Facebook. I'd post a
silly selfie of myself with a stupid saying. I picked
a cute picture of myself in sunglasses, then wrote at
the bottom, these sunnies are bomb. To launch my good
humored campaign, I wrote a Facebook post explaining that we

all needed to bring down the political temperature. The post read,
share your sunshine, focus on the positive, be mindful of others,
think twice about sharing negative memes or long winded posts
about how much you hate the other side. I have
the common sense to refrain from posting beautiful selfies of
myself when I really want to, because, let's be honest,

I'm better looking than most of you. Also, I'm courteous
enough to keep my political views to myself when clearly
my opinion matters way more than yours, and the person
that I'm voting for is.

Speaker 4 (12:25):
The one who's gonna win.

Speaker 2 (12:27):
So please be respectful or prepare to get a selfie
from me. This is Facebook, where we all haven't seen
each other since high school or have possibly met once.
If you want to discuss politics, make a dinner reservation
with your real friends. Thanks in advance. I then proceeded
to post the selfie on a few select Facebook posts
that I felt were, let's say, impolite.

Speaker 4 (12:48):
The whole thing just took a few minutes.

Speaker 2 (12:50):
Then I logged off of Facebook and went back to work,
But as luck would have it, I started.

Speaker 4 (12:54):
Getting inundated with notifications.

Speaker 2 (12:57):
My post was getting some serious traction, so I logged
back on and I saw that my post had a
significant amount of comments and likes. My gosh, I'm on
the brink of becoming Facebook famous, I thought. The new
found attention quickly went to my head. I'd felt this
feeling before, back in middle school, when I walked on
campus after winning my first real fistfight.

Speaker 4 (13:19):
People I didn't even know were cheering me on.

Speaker 2 (13:21):
I should have learned my lesson back then not to
bask in random accolades, but I didn't. I became drunk
from the praise. From there on. It's a bit of
a blur, but I can clearly remember saying to myself,
Holy shit, I'm the laughing baby video of the day.

Speaker 3 (13:37):

Speaker 4 (13:37):
When opportunity knocks, I opened the door.

Speaker 2 (13:40):
So I proceeded to go on an epic Facebook ship
posting campaign, slapping a selfie on every political post I saw.
I had a fever and the only prescription was more selfie.
The original mission had completely gone out the door because
I was blinded by the likes. As I posted self
after selfie of myself on vulgar political rants, I thought

to myself.

Speaker 4 (14:04):
Wow, I'm trending.

Speaker 2 (14:06):
There was obviously a pent up, silent majority that was
tired of seeing these leftist hate tiraids on social media,
and I took note. In fact, it was one of
the first clear signs to me that Trump was going
to win. As the day progressed, I was pleased to
see that my guerrilla marketing campaign continued to generate favorable metrics.

Speaker 4 (14:23):
People seemed to get the joke.

Speaker 2 (14:24):
Friends who hadn't seen in years responded with witty banter
of their own. Some asked if they could share the
post on their pages, and I said yes, I'm happy
to waive my valuable copyright. For the first time in
a long time, I was actually enjoying Facebook, and everyone
seemed to understand that I was trying to share some
light hearted humor on a particularly divisive day. I continued

to ride the wave of accolades for the next few hours,
and at some point, as the notifications began to die down,
I entered into a conversation with my husband Patrick about
how maybe this election cycle wasn't going to be so bad.
When my phone beeps with another Facebook notification. Wow, this
thing's still going, I tell Patrick, But this time a
comment with a completely different tone entered the mix.

Speaker 3 (15:11):
Ah, obviously idiots are everywhere.

Speaker 2 (15:14):
Said a woman named Christine, a parent of twins that
were elementary school classmates of my daughters. She'd left the
comment on one of my selfie posts. I've known Christine
since our children were in preschool together, but as the
years progressed and our children had grown, our relationship had not.
As fate would have it, Christine was not my favorite

person in the world. She was a writer that had
an arrogance about her that didn't quite match her talents.
To give you a feel of where her politics stand,
a portion of the proceeds of her first book went
to Planned Parenthood. She was a triggered leftist. One of
my earliest experiences with her was when our family was
touring private elementary schools. The school that we were touring

had a reputation for being less leftists than the other
private Hollywood schools. Its founding in the nineteen forties was
based on the need for religion in the daily education
of its students since its birth, though the school had
been inundated with Hollywood types. However, the school's origin story
must have screened conservative to Christine. The tour convened in
the gym and Christine was sitting in front of me

as the administration played a video showing an array of
children on campus. As we were all watching, Christine blurted
out in a disdainful tone.

Speaker 3 (16:30):
White kid, white kid, white kid.

Speaker 2 (16:33):
Christine was, like most of the Hollywood elites, also white.
Everyone sort of awkwardly shifted in their seats, and a
few people glanced over at my husband and I with
half smiles because oddly Patrick and I were the only
Hispanics in the private school touring circuit, a fact that
everyone knew.

Speaker 4 (16:51):
It's a small community.

Speaker 2 (16:52):
We didn't end up choosing that particular school, but as
chance would have it, both our family and Christine's family
chose the same private elementary school called Oakwood in North Hollywood,
and our kids ended up in the same class. We'd
later learn that Oakwood was a gateway into the Hollywood machine,
and anybody looking to work in Tinseltown that had kids
pulled out all the stops to get into that school.

The campus also doubled is practically a remote satellite office
for Democrat fundraisers. The wealth of the parents lined the
pockets of the I'm with Her campaign, so much so
that many families within the school community were actually on
Hillary Clinton's million dollar donor list. At Oakwood, if you
were part of the Hollywood it crew, then you were
golden and as it turned out, Christine was part of

that clique because her husband was once the head writer
for a little known show called Friends during its forgettable years.

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Speaker 2 (18:52):
Welcome back to red pilled America. So, like I was saying,
the kids of raging Lefty, Christine and my daughter ended
up being class at a prestigious Hollywood elementary school called Oakwood.

Speaker 4 (19:03):
The school was a gateway.

Speaker 2 (19:05):
Into the Hollywood machine, and the campus practically doubled as
a satellite office for Democrat fundraisers. At Oakwood, if you
were part of the Hollywood a crowd, then you were golden.
And as it turned out, Christine was part of that
clique because her husband was once the head writer of
the sitcom Friends during its forgettable years. His old boss

and show creator, Marta Kaufman, was at one point the
chair of the Oakwood Trustees board. Marta has a potus
pede here sign inside of one of her home bathrooms
where she hosted a fundraiser in twenty twelve for President
Barack Obama. In other words, these people were connected within
the leftist cult that we call Hollywood. So you get
the flavor of the crowd that we were roaming with

at Oakwood. Honestly, I never cared much about any of
the Hollywood stuff. I've been around enough celebrities to know
that most are not that impressive, But coming from a
background with the very little means, it was clear to
us once we unwittingly entered this cult that Patrick and
I weren't yet accustomed to how they operated. So when
I received the Facebook comment from Christine obviously idiots are everywhere,

as she so eloquently put it, I was stunned. Our
kids were in the same class together. They'd been sharing
the same school for seven years, and they'd likely be
going to school together through the twelfth grade. Christina and
I may not have been chummy, but honestly I was
holding out hope that we'd developed some sort of a friendship.
As far as I was concerned, we were part of

the same tribe. So you can imagine how shocked I
was at this bitch was publicly calling me an idiot
for everyone at Oakwood to see. Our relationship had been
in decline for years. We started off cordially, sharing many
many mutual friends. Our husbands developed a great relationship She
also hosted an annual Halloween trick or treat party with

the kids and invited our family and our daughter. Christine
initially commended us for calling out a school parent we
referred to as mister Creepy, a dad at our school
that was getting in bed with other people's kids. But
when the twenty twelve election came along, her husband took
it upon himself to email me an election voting guide,
basically telling people how they should cast their ballot in
the upcoming election. You know how people in Hollywood think

that they're better and smarter than us regular Americans. Well,
in case you hadn't gotten the memo, I did, literally,
But because I'm not a deranged leftist, I wasn't offended,
just a little weirded out. Her husband and I had
never discussed politics, and now he was basically telling me
how I should vote, and worse, he was assuming I
was a Democrat. I responded in a politically incorrect way,

thinking he'd appreciate it since he was a comedy writer.
So I responded to his email with something along the
lines of thanks, mih, but this brown bean leans right.
Given that the only Mexicans that most people at our
school KNEWE personally were the gardener's nanny, janitors, and day laborers,
who most considered democrats. He was likely surprised by my admission.
Christine struggled to maintain social norms with me from then on.

She unfriended me on Instagram, which was somewhat of a
blessing because she curated her feed like a feminist wet dream. Nevertheless,
unfriending is a rather hostile move when it's with someone
you have to see on a daily basis. It's an
act of cold war. My daughter never received another invite
to their Halloween party, which was tough for her because
she had to hear what she missed the following day.

But I continued to maintain a respectful relationship with Christine
because unlike.

Speaker 4 (22:24):
Her, I have manners.

Speaker 2 (22:26):
But the birth of the Trump candidacy obviously pushed her
over the edge. In hindsight, I think she was patient
zero for trumped arrangement syndrome. She'd later go on to
host a Stop Bannon playdate where parents were asked to
bring over their ten year olds to create artistic postcards
to stop the president's chief strategist who makes leftist propaganda.

As a crafting hobby with kids.

Speaker 4 (22:50):
That's Rob Reiner weird.

Speaker 2 (22:53):
So I took a deep breath and I read Christine's
response to my selfie post again to make sure I
was interpreting it correctly and perceiving it through the lens
of my own bias.

Speaker 3 (23:03):
Obviously, idiots are everywhere. Hmm.

Speaker 2 (23:07):
She definitely wasn't making a joke. Christine is humorless. She
makes Rachel Maddow look incurably cheerful. Nope, she's definitely calling
me an idiot. I thought I ran it by my husband.
He agreed. I got a second and third opinion from
others who knew Christine, and everyone concurred she was indeed
publicly disparaging me. This was a million times worse than

being dumped on Instagram. So I thought I'd try a
different tactic. Instead of going full east Side Locachola on her,
As every fiber in my being was screaming, I thought
I'd double down on the funny. I responded to her

with another selfie, but this one was over the top ridiculous.
I used a Snapchat filter that morphed my face into
a gummy wormhead with a gummy worm coming out of
my nose. What I hoped was that she would return
with a comment that said something along the lines of, lol,
I hope you didn't think I was talking about you.
I was basically giving her an out, good plan, right wrong. Instead,

she responded, Yep, my heart sunk.

Speaker 3 (24:23):
If there was.

Speaker 2 (24:23):
Any confusion before, there was none now because she just
confirmed that Yep, I'm calling you an idiot.

Speaker 10 (24:30):

Speaker 4 (24:31):
Thanks for clearing that up, bitch.

Speaker 2 (24:36):
This may come as a surprise to people who've never
been in a conflict with me, but I am a
proud ghetto card holder. Granted it's been a long time
since it's seen the light of day, but in the
blink of an eye, I can go from zero too.

Speaker 4 (24:48):
Oh no, you did it, hood rat.

Speaker 2 (24:50):
But honestly, that was the last thing I wanted because
our kids shared a class together. So I decided to
move the conversation offline and email Christine privately as a courtesy.
I'm not going to ask you this on Facebook. Are
you calling me an idiot?

Speaker 3 (25:04):
I asked.

Speaker 2 (25:05):
We had a bit of a back and forth, and
she made some excuse about Trump and Russia and attempted
to turn the tables, claiming that I obviously misinterpreted her
comment and that she wasn't interested in any drama. Now
she wasn't only disparaging me in public, she was also
attempting to insult my intelligence in private. So I responded,
if you aren't interested in drama, why would you publicly

insinuate then I'm an idiot. So I'll ask you again,
were you or were you not calling me an idiot?

Speaker 9 (25:34):
Yes? Or no.

Speaker 2 (25:35):
I've had email exchanges with Christine in the past, and
you can always tell when her husband takes control of
the steering wheel because the tone in the response typically
takes a notable more rational shift.

Speaker 9 (25:46):
She responded, is there something else going on that is
upsetting you? You were obviously an intelligent person, no need
for public name calling. I will happily delete that comment
with apologies if it means this conversation can end.

Speaker 2 (26:00):
A few minutes later, she deleted all previous Facebook comments
and inserts a simple note that said sincerest apologies. So
my work was done. The next morning, I woke up
ready to move on from my previous night's debacle, but
there was a new email in my inbox. It's from Christine.

Speaker 9 (26:18):

Speaker 2 (26:19):
She declares that she feels terrible about our exchange and
that the idiot's comment was not meant to be about me.
But when I responded with my gummy worm selfie, she
thought it felt very aggressive. You know what, Yeah, gummy worms,
they really do scream toxic masculinity. It was quite the
concoction of half truths in historical revision that I almost
admired in its creativity. She ended by asking if I

would meet her at the park outside of summer school
the next day to talk about it.

Speaker 4 (26:46):
I agreed to meet.

Speaker 2 (26:50):
I'm a big believer in hashing things out face to face,
something that I learned about myself at a young age.
When I was in Catholic school, we had to go
confession once a week. I had the choice of confessing
my sins to the priest in one of two ways.
Either to sit behind the screen so that the priest
could not see my face, which gives your confession some privacy,

or I could do it face to face with the
priest looking him dead in the eyes. While I confessed
my sins, I never went behind the screen. I considered
it to be a huge sign of weakness. I felt
like God respected those who had the balls to show
their mug and say, father, Michael, I lied to my
parents even though I said I wouldn't do it again.

Last week, I also shaved my legs without my mom's
permission after she specifically told me I wasn't allowed. That's
why I'm wearing these legwarmers in ninety degree weather. As
day two, if the Democrat Convention progressed, the DNC leak

scandal was reaching a peak. Walls had to be put
up to block the Bernie Sanders followers from pots testing
at the doors of the DNC, but the mainstream media
was largely staying away from the chaos. You had to
watch people like journalist Mike Cernovich's periscope feed to get
a feel for what was really happening on the ground.

Speaker 3 (28:11):
Do you think what you want?

Speaker 8 (28:13):
There's a lot of people here, So I'm gonna give
you a tour of this park that we're at by
the convention center, just so you can get a sense
of how many fucking people are here.

Speaker 2 (28:23):
To counter Hillary Clinton and her mainstream media, Lackey's decided
to step up their rhetoric, pushing heavily the idea that
Russia hacked their email server to help the Republican nominee
Donald Trump.

Speaker 5 (28:34):
I Meanwhile, top Democrats blaming Russia for a hack that
released thousands of emails from the Democratic National Committee. Secretary
of Saint John Kerry this morning raised the issue with
Russia's foreign minister, the Russian scop that reports Muscos behind
the hack. The Clinton campaign has pointed to a so
called romance with Russian President Vladimir Putin, something Trump has

touted for more than a year.

Speaker 1 (28:58):
Wouldn't it be nice if we actually did get along
with Russia?

Speaker 2 (29:02):
The Democrats had released the Kraken, and if you were
in a far left enclave like my husband and I,
you felt the increase in vitriol immediately. The Democrats had
gotten their marching orders find and attack all Trump supporters.
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Speaker 4 (29:34):
Welcome back.

Speaker 2 (29:36):
So I found myself frightened for what was to come
because the Democrats had released the Kraken. And if you
were in a far left enclave like my husband and I,
you felt the increase in vitriol immediately. The Democrats had
gotten their marching orders find and attack all Trump supporters.
This was a landmark moment for Facebook and launched what

could be thought of as the unfriend me Now movement.
One mother at Oakwood Brook highlighted this phenomenon well with
her post.

Speaker 10 (30:05):
I understood why people liked Romney and McCain. I understood
why people voted for both Bushes and Reagan, but now
things have turned crazy. If you support Trump. Unfriended me
because I believe that if you support Trump, something is
deeply wrong with you.

Speaker 2 (30:25):
Notably, Brook, the daughter of two very prominent playwrights, was
buddies with the creepies parents at Oakwood that we had
called out because the dad of their family was getting
in bed with other people's kids. Apparently kid cuddling wasn't
unfriend me worthy for Brook, but vote for Trump now that.

Speaker 4 (30:41):
Was just a bridge too far.

Speaker 2 (30:43):
But her unfriend me post got me to thinking about
other things that I'd seen on Facebook. So I began
rifling through other people's pages and learned quickly that many
of the parents at the school were talking about yours
truly openly for everyone to see. It turned out I
didn't even have to talk about politics. The mere fact
that I posted selfies against political mudslinging was somehow an

act in support of Trump. I'd worked my entire life
to be a part of this community. I worked my
way out of poverty. I was the first in my
clan to make it through college, started a successful advertising
business with my husband, then landed my daughter at one
of the most prestigious private schools in California, if not
the country. I'd done everything right, and now these people,

the same ones that pretend to be the tolerant ones
looking up for minorities, were treating me as if I'd
done something wrong and I deserved to be punished. Their
sharp words managed to cut and wound me. What hurt
most was that this was a collective effort, a bloodthirsty
gang who'd banded together based on their belief that there
was something deeply wrong with me. The intent was understood,

then shared so others can join in. I felt small
and alone. It was about then that I got a
text message from another Oakwood parent, one of the few
that I considered to be a friend. Our families were
slated to go on vacation together in Mexico in one
short week. The text read.

Speaker 3 (32:07):
Somehow people think you're a huge Trump supporter. Did you
post something? Brooke just asked me after I posted something
saying how I am disgusted and silently unfriend Trump supporters,
And then she texted me and asked me if you
are supporting Trump and that's what people are telling her.

Speaker 2 (32:22):
Believe me when I say that the line about being
disgusted and silently unfriending Trump supporters landed pretty hard. I
think it's fair to say that I have thick skin
and that I'm not really the feel sorry for me type. However,
everyone has their limits. We'd lost a good amount of
friends after calling out the kid cuddler mister Creepy. Good
riddance to anyone defending that creep. But then others peeled

off after missus Creepy began a campaign promoting that we
were conservatives. The last remaining friends in our Oakwood community
had been hanging on by a thread. Being a Trump
supporter would likely be the straw that broke the camel's
back for anyone remaining. Again, Patrick and I weren't worried
about that for ourselves, we were concerned that our daughter
would become even more isolated. We all want to be accepted,

but at what costs. I ultimately came to the conclusion
that I had to be true to my beliefs. These
Oakwood people were not my tribe. Better to speak the
truth than live ali. So I pulled myself up from
my bootstraps and I responded to the text, questioning if
I was a Trump supporter, in what universe is it
okay for Brooke to ask you a question like that

about me? So basically, people think and are saying that
we're racist, homophobic, xenophobic, and misogynistic. Two Mexican Americans who
worked their way out of poverty were the ones that
people have decided to shun and target. People should think
twice before going on which hunts. I'm super fucking offended
and Brooke is in for a root awakening. Anything less

than a complete rejection of Trump meant we were maga,
and I knew that the verse was swift. One of
the last remaining families that we considered to be friends
at Oakwood canceled their Mexico vacation with us, claiming one
of their kids fell sick, then quickly planned a Hillary
Clinton fundraising bake sale. They wanted to show everyone they
weren't with us, they were with her. Apparently our conservative

stink had gotten on them and they needed to cleanse themselves.
News spread fast that we were maga, and most of
our remaining Oakwood friends ran faster than Anna and Navarro,
seeking in all you can eat buffet. The next morning,
I was slated to meet with Christine, so I put
on my game face and prepared for the worse, because

who knew, maybe this Christine woman was going to ambush
me at the park. I thought back to my middle
school days and channeled my inner Bruce Lee. As I
walked up to greet her, I noticed that despite how
attractive she was, she had that look of constipation, you
know what I'm talking about, a look of deep discomfort.
She couldn't hide her disgust from me. Christina's tall and slender,

with pale skin. Her dirty blonde hair was cut into
a short bob that framed her face, and her lips
were pursed so tightly that they resembled well ananus. The
irony was not lost on me that her personality aligned
well with her looking like an asshole. She immediately began

by patronizing me with the speech about how regular people
have a hard time understanding her method of communication. Uh no, bitch,
I understood. You were calling me an idiot, I thought.
As she continued with her gas lighting. The middle school
martial artist in me was on the brink of pouncing.
But I took comfort in the fact that I, whom
many of her ilk think of as the help, had

my child in the same prestigious private school as hers
after coming from nothing while many of them started on
third base. I've been stepping to and disposing of people
like her for years to come out of poverty, and
now I was going to beat her using her rules.
Christine had shown me her cards years ago. White kid,
white kid, white kid was with this elite, white leftist,

said while on a tour of private schools. As I
opened my mouth to respond, I realized it was time
to pull the left stone favorite choice of weapon.

Speaker 4 (36:17):
The race card.

Speaker 2 (36:19):
As a privileged white woman, Christine, you can't possibly understand
the challenges and cultural bias that I face on a
daily basis as a first generation American of Mexican descent,
I opened with venom. Look around, do you see any
other parents in the class that looked like me, and
you have the audacity to ridicule me for being different?

Speaker 4 (36:40):
How dare you?

Speaker 2 (36:41):
The look of shock on her.

Speaker 4 (36:43):
Face was priceless.

Speaker 2 (36:45):
A little brown woman was throwing identity politics right back
in her feminist face. For the record, I despise the
race card, but when an elite, white Hollywood lefftist calls
you an idiot because of your politics, it's time to
make them play by their own rules. The fact that

I was a Latina and a Trump supporter was more
than these leftists could bear, because I shatter every narrative
they hold so dear by the time I finished cashing
in my race card, she devolved into a stuttering fool.

Speaker 3 (37:19):
I'm sorry, she babbled. I can only imagine how you feel.
You're right, You're right, we need more diversity around here.
I couldn't agree with you more.

Speaker 2 (37:33):
I left our little encounter feeling energized. I say live
and let live, but if a leftist comes at me,
I'm going to return fire. And I played a win.
No apologies made. I will never bend the knee, and
neither should you, which brings us back to the question,

how do you handle a triggered leftist. The answer is
you make them play by their own rules.

Speaker 4 (38:04):
When an unhinged.

Speaker 2 (38:05):
Liberal or arrogant planned parenthood loving author tries to shame
you for your beliefs, do not go gentle into the night. Fight,
claw back with whatever you have at your disposal, use
the rules they created against them, and if you feel
like having a little fun, you can always mock them
with the story about a selfie.

Speaker 1 (38:27):
Red Pilled America is nheartradio original podcast. It's produced by
me Patrick Currelci and Adriana Cortez for Infirm Ventures. Now,
our entire archive of episodes is only available to backstage subscribers.
To subscribe, visit Redpilled America dot com and click support
at the topmenu. That's Redpilled America dot com and click
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