JD Vance: TurningPoint USA Is MY BITCH NOW

You know what really grinds my gears: A fuckmuppet vice president thinks he can resurrect a dead man's brand of performative douchebaggery while a widow watches her husband's legacy get ass-blasted into oblivion, because she’s too cuckolded to everyone else.

Listen, I need you to understand something that's so fundamentally fucked it makes my brain want to claw its way out of my skull and hitchhike to a dimension where logic still exists. JD goddamn Vance—Yale-educated couch-legend, Appalachian cosplayer, and professional political fartsucker—has somehow become the sweaty, desperate face of Turning Point USA. And before you ask, yes, this timeline is precisely as dickwaffled as it sounds.

Charlie Kirk is dead. Let that reality sink into your bones like November rain through a shitty motel roof. The man who built an empire of aggressive mediocrity (and it got pwned more times than he won arguments), who turned "triggering libs" into a business model more lucrative than selling overpriced water to people dying of thirst, got assassinated at Utah Valley University last September. His widow, Erika Kirk, inherited this monument to weaponized stupidity, and apparently the collective braintrust at TPUSA looked at her and thought, "Nah, this woman who stood beside Charlie through everything doesn't have the testicular fortitude to keep this grift machine running." So instead, they're pinning their hopes on a guy whose claim to fame involves writing a memoir that reads like poverty tourism and allegedly getting intimate with furniture.

As Simone de Beauvoir once observed, "I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely." Except apparently, nobody told TPUSA that Erika Kirk might possess these exact qualities, because they'd rather watch Vance flail around like a shitgoblin caught in a ceiling fan than give her a legitimate shot at leadership.

Picture this: It's a Wednesday, and the air inside this arena at Ole Miss feels like breathing through a wet wool sock soaked in anxiety and Axe body spray. Thousands of students pack themselves into this ideological thunderdome, and there's Vance—standing there with Erika Kirk like some kind of fucked-up political ventriloquist act where the dummy is actually the one pulling the strings.

And can we all just say what we want to really say here? JD Vance is probably now fucking Erika Vance, Couches, and NOT Usha, but remains fucking the rest of the country along with Trumpty ShitzVonPants.

The exchanges didn't just get heated; they got thermonuclear. Some brave-ass student—and I mean this person deserves a goddamn medal forged from the tears of cowards—stood up and called Vance out on his intercultural marriage. Here's this douchecanoe advocating for immigration policies that would make the Statue of Liberty cry black fucking tears of despair, and he's married to someone who represents the exact kind of American story he's trying to burn to the ground. The hypocrisy doesn't just stink; it reeks like a dumpsterfire of rotten douchebag logic left festering in the July sun.

Vance, smooth as a greased weasel, deflected. He declared his allegiance to "American interests alone," which got thunderous applause from a crowd that apparently doesn't understand that "American interests" is code for "whatever bullshit narrative I'm selling today." As John Stuart Mill wisely noted, "A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury." Vance's inaction on acknowledging his own contradictions causes a particular kind of evil—the kind that makes critical thinking curl up and die in a corner.

The questions kept coming like punches from a prizefighter who's had enough of the rigged match. Another student, sharp as a fucking razorblade, asked about megadonor Miriam Adelson—specifically whether her pro-Israel advocacy was compromising Donald ShitEater's Middle East policy. Vance parried this like he was in some kind of medieval combat, defending Adelson's "transparency," which is rich considering transparency in modern politics is about as common as finding a unicorn taking a shit in your backyard while juggling flaming chainsaws.

Here's where this whole shitstorm gets particularly twisted: Erika Kirk was only present at this one stop on the tour. One. Single. Stop. Meanwhile, conservative media personalities like Megyn Kelly and Tucker Carlson—people who have approximately zero organizational stake in TPUSA—are getting more tour dates than the woman who inherited this entire operation. Let that mindfuck marinate for a second.

The organization that Charlie Kirk built with his own brand of confrontational douchewizardry apparently doesn't trust his widow to carry that torch. Instead, they've handed it to Vance, a man whose political career has all the authenticity of a three-dollar bill printed on toilet paper. As Michel de Montaigne once wrote, "The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself." But apparently, TPUSA doesn't believe Erika Kirk knows how to belong to herself—or to the organization her husband died for.

This isn't just sexism; it's sexism wrapped in layers of political expediency and coated in the slick sheen of patriarchal bullshit. They looked at Erika and essentially said, "Thanks for being the supportive wife, but we need someone with a dick and a national platform to keep this shitshow rolling." Never mind that she probably knows more about running TPUSA than Vance knows about authentic Appalachian struggle. Never mind that she lived and breathed this organization's mission—whatever fucked-up mission that actually is—for years.

The crowd at Ole Miss chanted "48"—a reference to Vance potentially running for president in 2028. The sound reverberated through that arena like the death rattle of common sense. These people, these earnest, misguided souls, actually believe that JD Vance represents some kind of political future worth pursuing. It's like watching someone enthusiastically board a bus that's very clearly heading straight off a cliff, and they're not just boarding—they're fighting for window seats.

Bertrand Russell observed that "The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts." This chanting crowd embodies Russell's observation so perfectly it hurts. They're certain—absolutely fucking certain—that Vance is their guy, their answer, their political messiah who'll carry them to some promised land of conservative victory. Meanwhile, anyone with half a functioning brain cell can see this is heading toward a faceplant of legendary proportions.

Vance aimed to "resurrect Kirk's combative campus presence," according to the coverage, which is such a spectacular load of horseshit it deserves its own wing in the Museum of Bad Ideas. You can't resurrect someone's presence. You can attempt a pale imitation, a sad pantomime that captures none of the essence and all of the worst impulses, but resurrection? That's some next-level delusion.

Charlie Kirk was a unique brand of assclown—I'll give him that. He built something substantial, even if that something was substantially fucked. His DNA was coded into every TPUSA event: the confrontation, the performance, the weaponized debate tactics designed less to find truth and more to "own" opponents. That's not something you can download like a software update into JD Vance's political operating system.

What Vance is doing isn't resurrection; it's desecration. He's parading around with Kirk's legacy like a skin suit, hoping nobody notices that what made Kirk effective (or at least effective at what he did) isn't transferable. It's the equivalent of digging up Elvis, propping him up Weekend at Bernie's style, and expecting him to still rock the blue suede shoes. The moves might look similar from a distance, but up close? It's just a corpse doing a sad dance.

As Jean-Paul Sartre wrote, "Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does." Vance is free to attempt this resurrection act, but he's also responsible for the spectacular failure it represents. He's responsible for using a dead man's reputation as a shield for his own political ambitions. He's responsible for participating in the sidelining of Erika Kirk.

The questions at Ole Miss ranged from Christianity in public schools to "bridging America's yawning political chasm"—which Vance addressed by suggesting corporate monopoly reform as common ground with Democrats. Let me translate that political dipshittery: Vance threw out the most milquetoast, focus-group-tested response possible, one that commits him to absolutely nothing while sounding reasonable to people who aren't paying close attention. It's the political equivalent of saying "I like puppies and sunshine" when asked about your stance on climate change.

That Wednesday event was described as an "ideological battleground," and fuck me, if that isn't the most apt description of what TPUSA has become. Not a place of learning, not a space for genuine discourse, but a battleground—a place where people go to fight, to wound, to score points rather than make points.

One student asked about potential corruption regarding Miriam Adelson's influence. Another pressed Vance on the contradiction between his personal life and his public policy positions. These weren't just questions; they were daggers aimed at the soft underbelly of Vance's political persona. And how did he respond? With deflection, with crowd-pleasing soundbites, with the kind of empty rhetoric that sounds like substance if you're not listening too closely.

The tension and anticipation in that arena was palpable, crackling like electricity before a storm. You could probably taste it on your tongue—that bitter flavor of confrontation mixed with the sweet promise of someone finally saying the quiet parts loud. But what actually happened? More of the same performative bullshit that passes for political engagement in this ass-backward era.

As Albert Camus noted, "The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." Those students asking pointed questions were attempting this rebellion. They were trying to pierce through the carefully constructed facade. But Vance, trained in the dark arts of political double-speak, knows how to deflect rebellion and turn it into just another moment of theater.

The fact that this was the tour's only stop with Erika Kirk present speaks volumes about TPUSA's priorities. She's the grieving widow, the person who should be at the helm of this organization if we're being honest about competence and commitment. But instead, she's treated like a prop—wheeled out for one appearance to provide legitimacy, then shuffled back offstage so the real "leaders" can do their work.

This isn't just disrespectful; it's strategically fucked. TPUSA is essentially admitting they don't believe in their own stated values. If they truly believed in meritocracy, in leadership based on dedication and knowledge, Erika Kirk would be front and center. Instead, they've opted for the political equivalent of a celebrity cameo—bringing in Vance because he has name recognition and a national platform, not because he has any genuine connection to Kirk's mission or TPUSA's stated goals.

Here's the thing about prophecies: they're easiest to make when the evidence is already overwhelming. And the evidence here is so overwhelming it's practically crushing us under its weight. JD Vance leading TPUSA's charge is going to fail. Not might fail. Not could fail. Will fail. It's going to fail with the spectacular inevitability of a drunk tightrope walker performing over a pit of hungry alligators.

Why? Because authenticity matters, even in a movement built on performative outrage. Kirk, for all his faults (and fuck, there were legions of them), was authentic in his awfulness. He believed the bullshit he was selling. Vance? Vance is a political chameleon who's adapted his entire persona multiple times to fit whatever narrative serves his ambitions. He went from calling Donald TurdATrump "cultural heroin" to becoming one of his most obsequious asskissers. That kind of flexibility might work in yoga, but it doesn't work when you're trying to lead a movement that demands ideological purity.

The crowd at Ole Miss might have chanted "48," might have enthusiastically embraced Vance's performance, but enthusiasm is cheap and easily manufactured. What's harder to manufacture is sustained commitment, genuine leadership, and the ability to actually navigate the complex political landscape that TPUSA now faces without its founder.

Doreen Valiente once said, "For 'tis the nature of man to fear that which he does not understand, and that which he fears, he seeks to destroy." TPUSA, in its current incarnation, fears the vacuum left by Kirk's death. They fear what it means to have a woman at the helm in a movement that's built largely on traditional masculine aggression. So they seek to destroy that possibility by overlaying it with Vance's vice-presidential veneer.

But here's what they're missing: you can't build something sustainable on fear and performance. Kirk's legacy—whatever we think of it—was built over years of consistent (if consistently problematic) messaging and organizing. Vance is trying to parachute into that legacy with none of the groundwork, none of the authentic connection, and none of the actual fucking commitment to TPUSA's mission beyond how it serves his personal ambitions.

The confrontational debate style that Vance supposedly "channeled" from his "late friend Charlie Kirk" is exactly the kind of language that reveals the hollowness of this whole endeavor. Late friend. Were they actually friends, or is that just convenient political mythology? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks a hell of a lot like opportunism wearing the skin suit of friendship.