Can You Define America? | The Cultural Fluency Test | Trans Tuesday

Does America actually have a culture?

For decades we've been told America is merely a melting pot, an economy, or an idea. But if that's true, what exactly are people assimilating into?

In this Trans Tuesday episode, Chad Law explores the concept of cultural fluency and asks whether many of today's political leaders understand the culture they are attempting to govern.

From I Love Lucy and shared cultural references to government grocery stores, suburbs, homeownership, abundance, choice, and the American Dream, this episode examines what makes America uniquely American—and why so many political debates feel impossible.

Topics include:

• Zohran Mamdani
• Nithya Raman
• Ilhan Omar
• Abdul El-Sayed
• The American Dream
• Assimilation
• Government grocery stores
• American culture
• Choice and abundance
• Reagan's Shining City on a Hill

📱 Text the show: 252-CHAD-LAW

🎙 For exclusive pre-shows and post-show Q&A episodes, follow Chad on Rumble.

Podcast Chapters

00:00 Intro
03:30 America Has A Culture
12:45 The American Operating System
26:30 Assimilation Into What?
33:45 The Cultural Fluency Test
47:15 Different Maps, Different Americas
59:00 The Grocery Store Test
1:13:20 Why Americans Value Choice
1:24:50 Cultural Anchors
1:35:30 Reagan Reminder
1:39:00 End

Podcast Keywords

#AmericanCulture #AmericanDream #AmericanIdentity #PoliticalCommentary #ChadLaw #CommonSenseWithChadLaw #AmericanValues #AmericanExceptionalism #TransTuesday #CulturalFluency #AmericanPolitics #ZohranMamdani #NithyaRaman #IlhanOmar #GovernmentGroceryStores #Assimilation #AmericanHistory #CultureWar #ConservativePodcast #Reagan #PoliticalPodcast #CommonSense #PublicPolicy #AmericanLife #NationalIdentity

Transcript

Chad Law: America, I want you to picture a name, Mamdanny. Ramen. Omar. now watch what happens to the room. You say one at a dinner table and people don't just disagree. Forks go down, the voice goes up. And if you ask what set them off, they reach for the policy, the taxes, the zoning, the grocery store. But that's never quite it, ⁓ because the too big for the policy. Nobody's hands shake over a zoning variance. It's like they're reacting to something underneath the policy, something they feel but can't name. And here's the best I've got. There are people very confident they should redesign America who can't clearly tell you what America is. See, before you change a culture, shouldn't you understand it? I'm Chad Law, America's binary brother, the holiest homo in conservative media. And yes, I checked. The title's still available to me. Common sense extremists living in radical reality, broadcasting truth on the only rainbow that matters, the red, white, and blue rainbow. And this is common sense. Buckle up. This is not the show you think it is. You saw three names and half of you already loaded the cannons. Put them down. We're doing something harder than a hit job tonight. You get told your whole life, America has no culture, just a melting pot, just an idea, basically an economy with a flag. And it always sounds so sophisticated, like they're letting you in on a secret. But here's the weird part. Gumbo's a melting pot, too. It still has flavor. Sausage, shrimp, okra, the whole Louisiana junk drawer, one bite, and you know exactly what it is. That's not the absence of identity, that's the recipe. So when someone says we're just a melting pot, ask the follow-up question. Okay, then what do we taste like? Because a pot with no flavor isn't a melting pot, it's lukewarm water, and that ain't us. Now they pivot to the old countries. Japan's got 1500 years, Italy's got the Romans. You've got 250 years in Costco. And sure, they're old, we're not. But catch the trick they're running. Old means real. Young apparently means empty. But history and culture aren't the same thing. History's how long you've been here. Cultures who you became while you were here. Plant an oak. Year one, it's a twig. Snap it with two fingers. But that twig is already a hundred percent oak. That's the whole shape encoded. It just hasn't grown up yet. Don't confuse young with weak. We're a young oak with deep roots and a very specific shape. And tonight I'm gonna define that shape, which weirdly, nobody ever does. So let's do it. Not politically. Culturally. The stuff that's true, whether you vote red, blue, or leave me alone. Number one, independence. We want room to build, to worship, to fail, to leave. You tell an American what to do, his first instinct isn't yes, sir. It's says who. We want the door unlocked even if we never walk through it. Two, opportunity. Where you start shouldn't be where you're stuck. A waitress's kid can hit the Senate. A guy can start behind a chair cutting hair, build something that's his, and one day sell it. That's not a fairy tale, that's a Tuesday here. We're obsessed with the comeback because your last name isn't your destiny, it's your starting gun. Number three, reinvention. The second act. You can move three states away, tell everyone you're in consulting now and nobody checks. In a thousand year old village, you are who your grandfather was. Here We'll let a man be born again four times before lunch. Four. Optimism. The irrational kind. Ask a European how it's going? ⁓ we'll see. Ask an American. Having a terrible week? Man, it's gonna turn around. Based on what? Nothing. Pure vibes and a full gas tank. The rest of the world thinks we're insane that naive optimism went to the moon. Five, and this one's the load bearing. Skepticism of power. Part of American culture is we don't trust government, media, corporations, experts, any of it. And I can prove it's not a vibe. Pew late last year, same question since 1958. In 1958, almost three in four supported Washington. Today, seven percent. Everybody panics at that number, and I look at it and think that might be the most American number on the chart. Not trusting power, maybe our oldest institution. We were founded by people literally flipping off the king. George Washington walked into Congress and said, Everybody relax, trust me. Half the country would start a podcast by lunch. Sources say Washington's hiding something. That reflex isn't cynicism, that's a citizen refusing to be a subject. Six Choice. I'm just planting this one because there's a grocery store later that's going to explain this whole country. We don't want the thing. We want to pick the thing. Seven, abundance. Big roads, big trucks, big drinks, big dreams. And later, somebody's gonna look at all that and call it a problem to solve. I'll have something to say about that. Eight, informality. First thing a foreigner notices off the plane, we smile at strangers. Hey, I'm Chad. Hey Chad, I'm Dave. We're friends now, Dave. In some countries that warmth from a stranger means one of you's about to get robbed. Here it just means we're all roughly equal, no bowing, no titles, just hey. That's eight. That's not lukewarm water. That's a flavor. That's a culture. Everything I just said, that's not race, not ancestry, not skin color, there's no American face, there's no American posture. I've met people born in five other countries more American in their bones than guys whose families predate the country. You can become American in one generation. But you cannot become American if nobody's willing to tell you what America is. And lately, nobody is. We stopped teaching it. Somebody has to hand it down. And it doesn't download itself. I said that already, but it's still true. Here's the question that rewired me. Both sides love the word assimilation. Okay, if America has no culture, assimilate into what? You can't blend into a blank wall. Welcome to America. Adopt our values. Great, what are they? We'll get back to you on that. We hand people a blank recipe card and then get mad the soup tastes wrong. You want people to assimilate? Be able to say what they're assimilating into. And here's the uncomfortable part. Most of us can't. So a challenge for everybody, including me. Could the average politician define America? The media, the academy, Congress? Can you? Right now, in your own head, one breath, what is America? Harder than it sounds. And that should bother you. Because if you can't define a culture, how can you possibly improve it? Now I gotta tell on myself here. When I first chewed on these names, my first instinct was immature. It was anger. Totally. And I can defend the heat a little. Democratic socialism is the opposite of almost everything I believe. But here's the thing about anger: it's a smoke alarm. Tells you something's burning. Doesn't tell you what. Scream at the smoke alarm long enough, you never find the fire. So I took the immature hat off. Put the adult hat on, and it asks the annoying question: why? What's the actual mechanism, Chad? First answer felt obvious. Maybe they don't get America because they weren't born here. The one half the internet high-fives you for, right? But it falls apart the second you look at it. Because I've met immigrants who get America in their bones. Two suitcases, a thick accent five years later, they own the dry cleaner, the building, and a porch flag bigger than the house. Nobody explained the dream to him. He smelled it from another continent and swam over. And I've met fourth generation Americans who treat the whole country like an embarrassment they got stuck with. So where you're born isn't the line. The map doesn't fold there. And you know what killed the theory dead? The Lucy story. That 26-year-old born here, smart American, missing a whole layer of the operating system, not because she's foreign, because nobody handed it to her. The problem was never the passport, it's the fluency. Cultural fluency isn't a flag pen, folks. It's understanding what people value, what they fear, what they're trying to build and pray their kids inherit. It's the difference between speaking a language and being fluent. You can know 200 words and still miss the joke, miss the insult, miss a heartbreaking right in front of you. It happens. You can be born here and never get fluent. You can move here and get deeply fluent in a decade. Fluency's earned, not inherited. So I stopped asking, where are they from? and started asking, are they fluent in American? The culture. To get there one idea, the key to the whole night. You can buy a cheap house, suspiciously cheap, then you find out why. It's next to the train tracks. First night, 3 a.m., the house shakes, you sit straight up like the apocalypse is pulling into the station. But live there long enough. Eventually you stop hearing the train, right? The train didn't get quieter, you adapted. Your brain filled it under normal. Buddy visits. Flies out of the guest bed at 3 a.m. What the hell is that? And you go, what's what? That's normalization. We all do it. And it's not just trains. People normalize poverty, disorder, crime, scarcity, public behavior that has stopped traffic a generation ago. Whatever you grow up next to, eventually you stop hearing it. Now, look right at me. There's a cheap, ugly version of this, and I'm not gonna say it. I'm not saying poor countries don't care. I'm not saying immigrants like homelessness. I'm not saying anybody's less civilized. That's the immature hat. We took it off. But here's what I'm actually saying. Different environments make different baselines. Different baselines make different assumptions. Different assumptions make different policy. That's it. No villain. But if your baseline includes a level of disorder, it doesn't trip your alarm. Not because you're bad, because you don't hear that train anymore. Same street, two different nervous systems. Let's run a real one through it, Mandami in New York, not as biography, the worldview, the city grocery stores. Forget, love it, or hate it. What does it assume? That when something matters, government provides it, that the market fails ordinary people. The problem with food is mostly price. That's the air you breathe. A government grocery store isn't radical. It's obvious. It's compassionate. You're not seeing a power grab, you're seeing a fix. But run it through our operating system we just went through: independence, choice, skepticism of power. And the same proposal hits a totally different nerve. An American doesn't hear cheaper eggs, he hears the government deciding what's on the shelf. Same store, two alarms. I'm not saying who's right. They're reading two totally different maps. Look at Nithya Raman, West Coast. LA Homelessness. And the timing's wild that the primary's happening right now, the fake encampment outside of her house a couple days ago. The reaction wasn't sympathy. It was now you know what our block feels like. And that gap is the whole episode. I mean, why do residents rage about encampments while some leaders stay calm? The cheap answer is they don't care. But I don't buy it. It's the train tracks again. Spend years deep in the issue, and you've moved in next to those tracks. You've normalized a baseline, a mom with a stroller never will. Mythia Raman can sincerely believe she's solving homelessness. We can sincerely believe she's normalizing collapse, same sidewalk. One sees compassion, one sees chaos. They're defining success completely differently. And so it's not one flavor, quickly, Elon Omar. When your earliest baseline includes war, a w refugee camp, your gut read on government safety borders is calibrated on a different scale than someone raised in suburban Ohio. That's not an insult, it's physics. You bring your first map with you. Everyone does. Me too. Now, moving on. And here's the guy who proves it. Abdul Al-Sayed, born in Michigan. He was a road scholar, about as born and raised as it gets. And his map, Big Public Solutions, Deep Suspicion of Corporate Power, is a very different map. Born here, different map. Still clinging to its immigration? There's your poor there's your Proof it isn't. The line was never the border. It's the map. So let me make the map real. Two people, same street corner, same minute, different maps. One map, safety, means nobody's arrested unnecessarily. Other map, safety means you walk to your car safe at night. One map, fairness, means everybody ends up equal. Another, fairness means a fair shot, then it's on you. One map says community is the whole, what we provide together. Other community is your block, the people who you'd notice if your porch light didn't come on. Same spot, not the same city. Half the fights you see on the news are two people furiously giving each other directions to two different cities, which is the same thing I came here to say. People aren't angry because politicians disagree with them. They're angry because they feel the politician is reading a completely different map. And they are. Disagreement we can handle. Two people on the same map arguing the route? That's just Tuesday. But this is the gut sense that the person in charge doesn't even know what city they're standing in. That's not policy disagreement. That's a fluency problem. Remember the heat from the cold open? That's where it's from. Vote the test, and notice I'm not asking if a leader agrees with me, I'm asking if they understand. Can they explain the American dream? Not mock it, explain it. Can they describe a good neighborhood? Tell you why a paid-off house means more than a number on a balance sheet, why a family leaves a city without calling them stupid? Not whether they agree, whether they understand. You can govern people you disagree with. You cannot govern people you don't understand. You can only manage them, and Americans do not like being managed. Trait number one: it's our most primary American cultural phenomenon. And the more I sat with this, something else started bugging me. There are things about us outsiders find ridiculous, and things our own elites find ridiculous, and both make the same mistake. They assume ridiculous means meaningless. It does not. Some of the most ridiculous things about us are the most revealing. And there's one place where you can see the whole culture on shelves. One of the most American places on earth. The grocery store! I promised you I'd talk about the New York grocery store, so let's go. The mayor of New York wants the city to own and run grocery stores. One borough, five. First sites are real, East Harlem and the Bronx. City owns it, a private operator runs it, city rules keep prices low. And supporters like it for a sympathetic reason. Food's expensive, people are struggling. A store that doesn't need a profit sounds like help. That's the steel man. Critics? Also real reasons. 30 million for one store, reporting pushing it towards 55 once you count old funds? A private grocer opens for a fraction in a fraction of the time. Kansas City tried it, bled money, closed. That's the real fight in both sides. And here's where everyone expects me to yell about socialism for 10 minutes, not doing it, because there's no point in arguing with these people. And that's not the argument tonight. The policy isn't the argument. I'll argue policy all day. It's the culture underneath the policy that's creating the argument. A government grocery store is what happens when you read the American grocery store with the wrong map. Period. Picture a planner, smart, care, spreadsheet open, walks into a giant supermarket and asks, Why does anyone need 200 lunch meats, 100 cheeses, 700 wines? Why does a human need 47 barbecue sauce choices? And I want to be fair, that's not a stupid question. From an efficiency standpoint, it's a great one. Forty-seven sauces looks like 46 too many. The planner isn't evil, he's efficient. That's the map he's reading. But listen to what the American hears. The planner asks, why do you need all these options? The American hears, why do you need choices? Think about that. Those aren't the same question. One is about groceries, the other is about freedom. Every alarm from segment one goes off at once, right there in aisle nine. Because the American grocery store isn't a supply depot, it's a cathedral. Walk in with fresh eyes, a wall of flowers. Why? No reason. Welcome. An entire aisle of cereal, both sides, a hundred feet of cartoon mascot selling sugar-shaped like the alphabet. A whole section of bottled water, still sparkling, alkaline, raw water that costs more than gasoline for the stuff that falls out of the sky for free. A glowing wall of frozen pizza stretching to the horizon, fogged up, humming, 40 kinds of ranch dressing. Ranch, one sauce, 40 choices. Is it efficient? Absolutely not. Is it American? Abs freaking lutley, yes. Forty seven sauces for a cookout twice a year? Efficient, no? American? You bet. A wall of bottled water in a country with clean taps, efficient? Not even a little. American? Deeply. A frozen pizza section the size of a Berlin apartment? Efficient? It's a act of war against efficiency, okay? American? That is literally the flag itself. The inefficiency isn't a bug we haven't fixed. It's the whole point. Part of being American. People who come in and try to make us more efficient by eliminating choice don't understand America. And it's not just groceries. That's the easy one to see. Cars, we don't buy a car. We buy the trim with the bigger cup holders. Careers, a side hustle and a second side hustle. Churches don't like the music. There's another church for that. Want fog machines? Also a church for that. Streaming, nine services to watch one show on each. Complaining the whole time, there's nothing on. The dream isn't to find the option. The dream is to be somebody else's new option. That's not us being spoiled. That's a value on purpose. Don't believe me? Watch a foreigner walk into a Costco for the first time. I've seen grown adults get emotional. The cart's the size of a car, the ketchup comes in a jug, you could hide a body in. Free samples, free food for walking past. Then Buckies. A gas station with a hundred pumps, a wall of jerky, a beaver mascot, and the cleanest bathrooms in the Western Hemisphere. And here's what gets them it's not our Congress. Nobody files home raving about our committee structure. It's the abundance, the scale. They came expecting a country, they found a buffet with a flag on it. And here's the number that turned the lights on. The Food Industry Association tracks it. The average American supermarket carries 31,795 items. 31,000. In a building you drove to in sweatpants. You can call that bloated waist, or you can see a portrait of a people. Because that isn't just retail. That's anthropology. Truly. You want to understand America? Don't read the Constitution first. Read the serial aisle. Now the trap everybody falls in. We see 47 sauces and think ridiculous, therefore meaningless. Not the same thing. Every culture on earth has stuff that makes total sense inside and looks insane from the outside. Go to Japan. The way they hand you a business card, two hands, a slight bow. Call it fussy if you want. You'd be the fool in that exchange, not them. That's rituals carrying respect. You not understanding it doesn't make it empty. Means you're not fluent yet. Go to Italy, two-hour lunch, shops close midday, and the Catholic rhythm runs through everything, even for folks who haven't been to Mass in 25 years. At that point, it's less religion, more cultural architecture, the beams the whole house is built on. And Efficiency guy says skip the long lunch, boost GDP. And the Italian looks at him like he's suggested selling his grandmother. Inefficient and wrong are not the same thing, folks. So come home. Big lawns we mow for no reason except they're ours. Big drinks, big trucks for the one thing we'll haul a year. Some of it's ridiculous, sure, but carve this into the desk. Just because you think it's silly doesn't mean it isn't cultural. The lawn's independence, the truck's capability, the 47 sauces our choice. It's the operating system in a goofy outfit. But it works and it's ours. For decades, a lot of powerful institutions looked at these preferences and filed them under backwards, wasteful, a little embarrassing. The suburbs are tacky, the truck's selfish. And I'm not saying every critique is wrong. Some have a point, but notice the posture. It's not someone trying to understand a culture, it's someone who already decided it needs correcting. And people feel that, even when they can't name it. Which brings us back to the line this whole night keeps circling. Before you change a culture, understand why it exists. Before you redesign the suburbs, no people move there for room safety in a yard. Before you knock homeownership, know a paid-off house is proof a man can't be moved. Before you replace the grocery store, No, those 31,000 items aren't chaos. They're a vote. You don't have to agree with any of it. But if you don't understand it, you've got no business redesigning it. You're doing surgery on a body whose anatomy you never learned. And this is the sentence I'd staple to every city hall in America. What frustrates people isn't disagreement. It's more leaders interested in correcting American culture than understanding it. Because elites have told us there is no such thing. A leader who understands you can disagree all day and you'll still feel respected. But a leader who's correcting you can agree on paper and you'll still feel like a project. Americans will forgive a wrong answer. We won't forgive the feeling that you think the whole country is a mistake you were sent to clean up. So here's where this leaves me. What if our biggest fights feel impossible? Not because the policies are hard, but because we lost our cultural anchors. You can't argue the route if you don't name the destination. You can't fix a culture you refuse to define. If nobody can say what America is, how do you ever agree what it should become? So let me tell you where I landed, and it's not where I started. I thought this would be about who's from here and who isn't. And the more I worked it, the less I cared where no anybody was born. They cared about something harder, whether they understand the culture they want to govern. Not the passport, the fluency. You can be born on this soil and be a stranger to it, as Nithya Rahman or Abdul Al Saeed. You can land here at thirty and read it like you've lived here a thousand years. The line was never the border, it's the map. Now it's Trans Principled Tuesday, and I told you up top, this isn't a transgender episode, it isn't. But that fight taught all of us one thing. Sometimes a debate is impossible not because people disagree, but because they're using the same word to mean two different things. Freedom, to one, being left alone, to another, being free from fear, opposite blueprints, equality, same shot or same result. And the biggest word of all, America. We all say it hand on our hearts, and half the time we're describing two different places. That's not disagreement, that's a translation failure. And that's my question to Nithya Raman and Mandami and all these people. Have you ever watched I Love Lucy? Have you watched Leave It to Beaver? Do you understand the cartoons every Saturday morning we grew up watching? Have you done any true American cultural education for yourself? I'm sure you've gone through Civics 101, but do you really understand what it is to be American? And is your sensitivity from being exposed to so much? Third world nonsense in your life is your sensitivity to homelessness and third world conditions much lower because that's been normalized in your upbringing. Well, you the disconnect. ⁓ I don't understand why people are freaking out about the homeless. Well, because Nithya Raman, I mean, she went back and lived in India for many years. I'm sure she was just living living around squalor. I've been there. It's squalor city. That's all it is. It's squalor everywhere. And they're used to it. It's normalized. 16 people living in a one-bedroom apartment is a good deal in India and Mumbai. Not here. And the emotionality is so high, and people are so outraged. And I don't think it's because they're foreigners. I think it's because they don't understand American culture and they've bought into this elite assumption that we don't have one. We do. It's clear as crystal. I spelled it out. We get back to that question: what is America? Notice that flicker in your chest. You feel the answer. You absolutely feel it. But one clean sentence, suddenly it's grabbing smoke. And watch who dodges it. Ask a politician, a dean, an anchor. What is America? And watch them tap dance. Because if you say it's something specific, you've said it's not some other things. That feels like exclusion, so they hide behind it's just an idea, it's a blank page. A very sophisticated way of saying our culture means nothing and it's empty. But the regular person can't say it either. But it's a different can't. The elite won't because defining it has a cost. The regular guy can't because nobody taught him. But he feels it so hard he'd run into a burning building for it. One silence is cowardice, the other's love without the words yet. There's a big difference. And that missing sentence is why our debate goes in circles. Because every real fight must contain a cultural anchor. Homelessness isn't about beds and budgets. It's what are we preserving? The dignity of the person on the street or the safety of the family walking past. Anchor to one, you fail the other. Neighborhoods, units per acre, or people who notice when your porch lights out. Education, what kind of citizen are we making? Skip that question, and schools just daycare with homework. A culture that won't say what a good citizen is has quietly given up on making any. Period. And that's the payoff I've been driving at. If culture doesn't tell us where we're going, policy becomes an argument with no destination. Think about it. It's four people in a car screaming about which highway to take. And nobody will say where they're going. Take the five, no, the 405. And finally, someone goes, Wait, where are we even driving? And the car goes silent. That silence is American politics right now. Arguing routes with everything we've got, refusing to name the destination because the destination is a culture we all agreed to stop defining. You can't give directions to a place you won't name. So let's get back to the gumbo, the melting pot. Here's the problem now. People don't use the melting pot to describe America, they use it to avoid describing America. You'll see elitists and politicians on the left say, ⁓ it's a melting pot. Meaning, please don't make me say what America is. But a recipe isn't the absence of flavor. It's a hundred ingredients disciplined into one taste. America isn't culturally empty, it's layered. The melting pot never meant we have no flavor. It meant, look what flavors we made. There's a big difference. And this is the part I feel the most. Some of the most fluent Americans I've met weren't born here. The man who studied this country from across an ocean compared it honestly to every other option and still chose us. He didn't inherit America, he earned it. And you don't sacrifice for something you don't understand. Familiarity makes you stop hearing the train. He still hears it. He'll never stop. To him, it's not the noise, it's music. So, no. This was never about keeping people out. It's whether the people steering this thing, born here or not, ever bothered to get fluent in American culture. So the test, one last time, keep it for every ballot you ever fill out in your life. Before someone redesigns your city, your school, your street, your grocery score, ask if they can define it. The American dream, a good neighborhood without sneering. Why people plant flags and sink roots? Why we'll never fully trust power and why that's a feature, not a flaw. Not whether they agree, whether they understand. You see, agreement is optional, but understanding America is the job. And if they can't If they stand there polished, ready to remake the whole thing and they can't tell you what the thing is, remember the sentence that started all of this. There are people very confident they should redesign America who can't clearly tell you what America is. That's the Ramans, the Mundamis, the El Saids, the Ilan Omar's. And look, I'll give the critics their due. No empires, no geishas, no pope, no dynasties. We're young. But say it with me. Don't confuse young with weak. What we have is real, measurable. It's in the serial aisle and the comeback story and the first name handshake and the stubborn refusal to bow to anybody. A young oak, deep roots, a very specific shape, and worth understanding before anybody lays a hand on it. Which brings me to tonight's Reagan reminder. Everybody knows the phrase: the shining city on a hill. thrown around like a bumper sticker. But hear what the man actually meant. He used it right up to his farewell address. An old man about to hand the keys back, and here's what people miss. He never said the city was perfect, not once. He said it was on a hill, elevated, visibly, lit up so you could see it from a long way off. And his telling that city had walls with doors, and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get there. He didn't describe a fortress. He described a place distinct enough to be seen and good enough to be chosen. And that's the answer this whole episode. You don't keep the doors open by pretending the city has no shape. You keep them opening by being a place so clearly, confidently itself that people cross oceans to walk through them. A blank page doesn't shine. Only a real place puts off that kind of light. So Here's where I'll leave you tonight. You don't have to think America's perfect to love her. You don't have to think she's perfect to lead her. But you'd better understand her. You cannot preserve what you refuse to define, period. And you cannot improve a culture you never took the time to understand. These people do not understand quintessential America. So before they go changing America, let's make sure they still remember what America is. And I think we do. I think it's still in there. Most of us feel it in our bones and just forgot the words. Tonight was me trying to find them again, and I believe we're closer than they want us to believe. That's the show. I'm Chad Law, America's binary brother, the holiest homo in conservative media, the common sense extremist living in radical reality, still broadcasting on the only rainbow that matters: the red, white, and blue rainbow. Go to find something, America. And this. Is common sense. Stick around if you're on Rumble for the post show QA where I take the questions you've been texting in during the show. We'll reset the studio and be back in under 10 seconds.