LONDON — Former British Labor Party leader Jeremy Corbyn said Thursday he is forming a new left-leaning political party to advocate “mass redistribution of wealth and power” and take on his former colleagues at the ballot box.
The new formation has a website — yourparty.uk — but does not yet have a name.
“It’s your party,” Corbyn said. “We’re going to decide [a name] when we’ve had all the responses, and so far the response rate has been massive.”
Corbyn said he hoped the new party would have its inaugural conference in the fall.
Corbyn, 76, led Labor to election defeats in 2017 and 2019, but the veteran socialist campaigner remains popular with many grassroots supporters. and the new party has the potential to further fragment British politics. The long-dominant Labor and Conservative parties now have challengers on both left and right, including the environmentalist Green Party and hard-right Reform UK.
Plans for a new party emerged earlier this month when lawmaker Zarah Sultana, who has been suspended from Labor for voting against the government, said she would “co-lead the founding of a new party” with Corbyn.
At the time, Corbyn did not confirm the news.
On Thursday he denied the party launch had been messy, saying the process was “democratic, it’s grassroots and it’s open.”
A longtime supporter of the Palestinians and critic of Israel, Corbyn was suspended from Labor in 2020 after Britain’s equalities watchdog found anti-Jewish prejudice had been allowed to spread within Labor while he was leader.
He was suspended after failing to fully accept the findings¸ claiming opponents had exaggerated the scale of antisemitism in Labor for “political reasons.”
Corbyn was reelected to Parliament last year as an independent.
Prime Minister Keir Starmer succeeded Corbyn as Labor leader in 2020 and dragged the party back toward the political center ground. He dropped Corbyn’s opposition to Britain’s nuclear weapons, strongly backed sending weapons to Ukraine and stressed the party’s commitment to balancing the books.
Starmer won a landslide election victory a year ago, but has struggled to maintain unity among Labor lawmakers as the government struggles to get a sluggish economy growing and invest in overstretched public services. He has been forced into a series of U-turns by his own lawmakers, including one on welfare reform that left his authority severely dented.
Attending a BTS member’s solo show is probably the best way to understand the power of the group beyond Western conceptions of boy bands and the limitations of the K-pop idol system.
Jin, the eldest member of the group, has become the third bandmate to solo headline a world tour with his #RUNSEOKJIN_EP. Tour, which brought him to Anaheim’s Honda Center on Thursday and Friday night.
At the outset of the septet’s 2022 break, Jin was on a time crunch. South Korea had raised the mandatory age of military enlistment from 28 to 30 years old(with legislation nicknamed the BTS law), and it was his time to go.
Without time for a bigger project before heading off, he debuted the soaring single “The Astronaut,” co-written by his favorite band, Coldplay, and paired with a nostalgia-tinged sci-fi music video.
Jin plays piano during his two-night run at Honda Center
(Bright Music)
After he was discharged from the military in June of last year, he got straight to work releasing the upbeat pop-rock EP “Happy,” followed six months later by his latest release, “Echo,” which veered in a more indie direction. Much of the songs on the tour’s 18-song set list come from both of these releases, sprinkled with a few of his earlier stand-alone singles.
On Thursday’s show, the over-18,000-capacity arena appeared nearly sold out, so far proving the group’s famous fandom will show up for each member.
Jin’s particular brand of quirky, humorous and suave energy was on full display at both shows, drawing out an element of the group’s alchemy that helps explain its broad appeal and devoted fans, while also showing how the group is a world unto itself.
Perhaps more than any other BTS member, Jin seems to want to deliver to existing fans rather than reaching for more. The tour is designed as an exclusive love letter to the fandom with nearly every element of its design.
Jin is especially skilled at merging elements of his personality and interests into an integrated intellectual property that transcends visuals, merchandising and format while remaining firmly in on the joke, as well as sincere and engaging.
The name of the tour references his solo variety show called “Run Seokjin,” which itself is an iteration of the group’s variety show, “Run BTS.” (Seok-jin is his birth name.) It provides a framework for the structure of the concert, as classic Korean variety-show elements are employed during the nearly two-hour-long set list.
Preshow, concertgoers could be found in either official or fan-made merch with a dizzying array of references to either the artist’s music, aspects of his personality or both.
A cute alien figure, the character created for the space-themed “The Astronaut,” graced headbands, while tuna hats and various fishing-related outfits nodded to the viral “Super Tuna,” an EDM-meets-trot love anthem to a tuna fish and his love for fishing in general. There are even a few ramen-themed outfits, as he is now the face of a famous Korean ramen brand that coincidentally shares his name.
A known gamer (some fans could also be seen in “Super Mario” costumes), he began the show sauntering onstage in silence only to slam on a game-show buzzer that launched both a blast of confetti and the first strains of “Running Wild,” the all-English-language pop-rock lead track off of “Happy.”
Jin changes into a country-western look during the song “Rope It” at the Honda Center
Within BTS’ vocal line, Jin’s ability to hit clear, clean high notes added to the group’s reputation for songs in a high register, with the lower tenor work picked up by bandmates V and Jungkook.
“Running Wild,” however, begins with a beautifully low resonant tone that Jin has been able to explore more on his solo efforts.
Throughout the show, he was anchored by guitarist Park Shin-won, bass player Yoo Hyun-wook, drummer Kim Dong-hyun, and keytar/keyboardist Kim Chang-hyun, all veteran players in the Korean music industry. But for the first half of the show, the band remained obscured by screens as the focus was on Jin, who cuts an almost young Elvis-like figure with hisfamously swoon-worthy good looks.
In a later rock segment of the set, the band took on more visible prominence but remained as supportive figures. Clad in a glittery Gucci jean suit (he is a brand ambassador), Jin then exuberantly launched “I’ll Be There for You,” an uptempo rockabilly-tinged pop song with a sing-a-long chorus, a style that seems to be his rock ’n’ roll safe space.
The orchestrated madcap structure takes hold when backed by a running instrumental. Relatively early in the show, he announced that a short break was in order. A giant clock appeared, counting down the minute and a half onstage while he sipped water, vibed with his band and exchanged “woofs” with the crowd.
Jin sporting his baseball jersey merch onstage at Honda Center
(Bright Music)
He transitioned into the lushly melancholy “With the Clouds” off of “Echo” — an interesting track with a cool “backpedal” transition that highlights his softer midrange tone. But before the audience members got too deep in their feelings, at its conclusion, he offered them his best Zoolander stare and blew kisses — which they loudly ate up.
“Every show is a challenge,” he said in English, referring to the game-show format, “And you and I have to do it together,” making it clear participation was expected going forward.
He was not joking. He read out the rules for what was essentially an arena-scale game of charades between him and the audience, in which his number of wins determined which costume he donned for the next act. “I have nine seconds to change my clothes, so be good and talk to the person next to you,” he quipped, leaving the stage with a countdown clock, popping up dutifully on time in a large fishing hat and boots.
After the insanely campy “Super Tuna,” he spun a “Price Is Right”-style wheel to determine what song the audience will karaoke to as he changes again. The audience chose “Anpanman,” a punchy BTS classic that played with lyrics as hilarious Y2K low-fi graphics of him singing bumps on the screen.
Upon his return, clad in black, he accompanied himself on the longing ballad “I Will Return to You” and transitions into “Abyss.” Credited as a songwriter on almost all of his solo songs, “Abyss,” a single released in 2020, delves into especially early feelings of self-doubt that are jarringly in contrast with his later confident demeanor. Both songs were not accompanied by subtitles, allowing the listener to focus on the particular beauty and comfort he embodies while singing in Korean and further underlining a focus on the fandom.
After the fan chants of “Kim Seokjin” died down, he switched back to rock mode with the gorgeous “The Background.” Whether or not he has experienced real-life heartbreak is unknown — BTS members keep their lives private — but he makes you believe he has: “Even if I call you / It echoes back and hurts me again / Even waiting / I try to convince myself it’s love.”
The massive Army crowd gathers for Jin at Honda Center
The campiness wasn’t completely over as he thrilled fans again with “Rope It,” a quirky, pop-country ditty where he gamely hip-swiveled and hat-tilted, channeling his inner Clint Black. A medley of BTS hits including “Dynamite” and “Butter” followed, where he danced a bit. Sexy frontman, variety-show host, rock star, comedian, he was everything for every fan.
With all of its wacky charm and big confetti budget, the show remained remarkably minimalist; no fancy choreography or set pieces. Jin is comfortable onstage and at his most charming when going off script and speaking freely to the audience in Korean through a translator.
It will be interesting to see where he takes his incredible vocal prowess as a solo performer in years to come — it’s exciting to think of the possibilities of even a harder-edged sound or a full country album.
But as the show slowly wound down, and after one last talk with the crowd, amid his trio of encore songs, perhaps lies the most compelling version of him. “Epiphany,” off the 2018 BTS album “Love Yourself: Answer,” offers both a sonic and mental self-actualization that has as he has transitioned from his 20s into his 30s: “The real myself inside the smiling mask / I reveal it entirely / I’m the one I should love in this world / shining me, precious soul of mine.”
CLEVELAND — President Trump wants Washington’s NFL franchise and Cleveland’s Major League Baseball team to revert to their former names, which where changed in recent years because many considered them racist.
Trump said Sunday on his social media site that “The Washington ‘Whatever’s’ should IMMEDIATELY change their name back to the Washington Redskins Football Team. There is a big clamoring for this. Likewise, the Cleveland Indians, one of the six original baseball teams, with a storied past. Our great Indian people, in massive numbers, want this to happen. Their heritage and prestige is systematically being taken away from them. Times are different now than they were three or four years ago. We are a Country of passion and common sense. OWNERS, GET IT DONE!!!”
Josh Harris, whose group bought the NFL’s Washington Commanders from former owner Dan Snyder in 2023, said this year the name was here to stay. Not long after taking over, Harris quieted speculation about going back to Redskins, saying that would not happen.
Cleveland Guardians president of baseball operations Chris Antonetti indicated before Sunday’s game against the Athletics that there weren’t any plans to revisit the name change.
“We understand there are different perspectives on the decision we made a few years ago, but obviously it’s a decision we made. We’ve got the opportunity to build a brand as the Guardians over the last four years and are excited about the future that’s in front of us,” he said.
Both teams have had their current names since the 2022 seasons. Washington dropped Redskins after the 2019 season and was known as the Washington Football Team for two years before adopting Commanders.
Cleveland announced in December 2020 it would drop Indians. It announced the switch to Guardians in July 2021. In 2018, the team phased out “Chief Wahoo” as its primary logo.
The name changes had their share of supporters and critics as part of national discussions about institutions and teams dropping logos and names considered racist.
The Guardians are the fifth name for Cleveland’s baseball franchise. It joined the American League in 1901 as one of the eight charter franchises, as the Blues. It switched to the Bronchos a year later and used the Naps from 1903 through 1914 before moving to the Indians in 1915.
Washington started in Boston as the Redskins in 1933 before moving to the nation’s capital four years later.
Washington and Cleveland share another thing in common. David Blitzer is a member of Harris’ ownership group with the Commanders and holds a minority stake in the Guardians.
We’re nearing the home stretch for kiddie summer movies, moms and dads. Stay hydrated and nourished, because your multiplex chaperone duties aren’t truly over until early August or so, when the fare turns distinctively adult-themed before going full prestige in the child-unfriendly zone of fall awards season.
But with the messy, strained “Smurfs” on offer this weekend, a tired parent may want to bail early and find a last-minute sleepaway camp to shove the little ones off to instead, because this latest big-screen version of the cute-culture behemoth may test your tolerance for all things wee and cerulean. As legacy management goes, it’s more trial than celebration.
Even if you grew up with Belgian artist Peyo’s utopian woodland humanoids (rendered with Hanna-Barbera efficiency for cheap ’80s television), nostalgia isn’t on offer here — just the usual running tap of attention-driven wackiness, creating a fast-growing puddle of gags, colors, songs (including pop icon Rihanna’s contributions) and believe-in-yourself platitudes that feel random, not earned. As deployed by “Shrek” franchise veteran Chris Miller (“Puss in Boots”), animation is less a storied artistic method with which to enchant, so much as a whiz-bang weapon of mass distraction, scalable and noisy.
The Smurfs themselves have come in for something of an origin makeover. No longer simple, communal mushroom-village inhabitants with happy lives centered on personality quirks and avoiding a mean wizard, in this telling (written by Pam Brady) they hail from a line of ancient, cosmic guardians of goodness, a background that feels beholden to the superhero mindset overriding so much popcorn gruel these days. Conversely, the baddies, wizard brothers Gargamel and new antagonist Razamel (both amusingly snarled into existence by voice actor JP Karliak, channeling Harvey Korman), belong to — what else? — an Evil Alliance set on world domination.
Everything about the story, from opening to closing dance party, feels like it was made up on an especially unimaginative playdate by bored kids who’d rather be watching TV. A Smurf called No Name (James Corden) wants to be known for something, like his trait-defined pals Hefty, Vanity, Grouchy, Baker and Clumsy. Close friend Smurfette (Rihanna), the village’s confident, outgoing badass, tries to buck him up, but he sings a boring who-am-I lament anyway.
Papa Smurf (John Goodman) is kidnapped through a portal, the first of many. There’s a missing magical book given the name Jaunty (Amy Sedaris). The Smurf rescue party goes to a disco in Paris. Then the Australian Outback. Outer space too. Natasha Lyonne voices the leader of an underground species of what look like scratchy couch pillows. Razamel hates Gargamel. Papa has a red-bearded brother, Ken (Nick Offerman tiringly doing Nick Offerman), and we learn later, a long-lost sibling named Ron (Kurt Russell). All these brothers, yet I still wouldn’t say family dynamics are a going emotional concern.
Sometimes everyone floats in the air. Mostly, it’ll be your mind. But turn away for one second, and the characters will have likely gone to another dimension. Because, of course, multiverses are really popular now too. Like the kind in which no voice cast member was likely in the same city as any other when they phoned in their lines.
At least the animators looked like they stayed busy. At one point, when dimension-palooza hurtles our tiny blue posse into different animation modes — claymation, pencil drawings, 8-bit video graphics — there’s a whiff of the delightful, meta-zany chaos of classic cartoons. But for the most part, “Smurfs” hews to the textbook silliness of CGI-generated action and attitude humor, only this time so needlessly zigging and zagging it barely has time to convincingly sell its ultimate message of strength in togetherness. An incoherent movie is hardly the vessel for that kind of lesson. When it ends, though, it’ll definitely feel like an example of kindness.
‘Smurfs’
Rated: PG, for action, language and some rude humor
“I didn’t know how it was going to go,” Freeman said.
This was the kind of setting that could have very easily turned the emotional Freeman into a sobbing mess, and he admitted as much the previous day. He was returning to the market in which he spent the first 12 years of a career to play in the kind of event that is often a source of reflection.
The absence of tears represented how much can change in four years, especially four years as prosperous as the four years Freeman has played for the Dodgers.
“Time,” Freeman said, “heals everything.”
For both sides.
The same fans who watched him transform from a 20-year-old prospect to a future Hall of Famer warmly cheered for him during pregame introductions — just not with the kind of back-of-the-throat screams they once did.
The same fans who used to chant his name chanted his name again — just not as long as they used to, and definitely not as long as the fans at Dodger Stadium now chant his name.
Freeman will never be just another visiting player here. He won an MVP award here. He won a World Series here.
Braves fans appreciate what he did for them. They respect him. But they have moved on to some degree, just as Freeman has.
“You spend 12 years with Atlanta, you pour your heart into it,” Freeman said. “Now I poured my heart into four years with the Dodgers and still got many more hopefully to go.”
Gaining such a perspective required time.
Freeman acknowledged he was wounded by the decision the Braves made after they won the World Series in 2021. They didn’t offer him the six-year contract he wanted and traded for Matt Olson to replace him as their first baseman. Freeman signed a six-year deal with the Dodgers.
“To be honest, I was blindsided,” Freeman said at the time. “I think every emotion came across. I was hurt.”
He carried that hurt with him into his return to Atlanta, which came a couple of months into his first season with the Dodgers. He spent much of the weekend in tears.
Now looking back, Freeman said, “It does feel like a lifetime ago.”
So much so that Freeman said it was “a little weird” to be back this week in the home team’s clubhouse at Truist Park.
“I was sitting with [Braves manager Brian Snitker] in the office and seeing him and talking to him, seeing all the home clubhouse guys and then it kind of just comes all flying back that, like, well, it has been four years,” Freeman said.
Freeman has since returned to Southern California, where he was born and raised. He’s been embraced by an entirely new fan base that supported his family when his now-five-year-old son was temporarily paralyzed last year because of a rare disease. His postseason heroics — particularly his walk-off grand slam in the Game 1 of the World Series last year — has made him one of the most beloved players on a stacked roster.
“Now, everything’s in the past,” he said. “I get to play in front of my family every single day and we won a championship, so everything’s OK.”
His experience in Los Angeles has liberated him from the negative feelings associated with his breakup with the Braves, allowing him to focus on his positive memories with the organization.
Because of that, Freeman was grateful he was offered a chance to speak directly to the fans before the game.
“From the bottom of my heart, thank you,” he told them.
He was also thankful of how Roberts replaced him with Pete Alonso at first base while the American League was batting. The crowd gave Freeman a standing ovation. Freeman saluted the crowd in return.
“I really appreciate the moments,” Freeman said.
Freeman grounded out in his only at-bat, which was preceded by respectful applause and a brief chant of his name. Another NL first baseman elicited louder cheers when he stepped into the batter’s box, however. That player was Olson, his successor in Atlanta. Freeman wasn’t the only one who had moved on.
NEW YORK — Martin Cruz Smith, the best-selling mystery novelist who engaged readers for decades with “Gorky Park” and other thrillers featuring Moscow investigator Arkady Renko, has died at age 82.
Smith died Friday at a senior living community in San Rafael, “surrounded by those he loved,” according to his publisher, Simon & Schuster. Smith revealed a decade ago that he had Parkinson’s disease, and he gave the same condition to his protagonist. His 11th Renko book, “Hotel Ukraine,” was published July 8 and billed as his last.
“My longevity is linked to Arkady’s,” he told Strand Magazine in 2023. “As long as he remains intelligent, humorous, and romantic, so shall I.”
Smith was often praised for his storytelling and for his insights into modern Russia; he would speak of being interrogated at length by customs officials during his many trips there. The Associated Press called “Hotel Ukraine” a “gem” that “upholds Smith’s reputation as a great craftsman of modern detective fiction with his sharply drawn, complex characters and a compelling plot.”
Smith’s honors included being named a “grand master” by the Mystery Writers of America, winning the Hammett Prize for “Havana Bay” and a Gold Dagger award for “Gorky Park.”
Born Martin William Smith in Reading, Pa. , he studied creative writing at the University of Pennsylvania and started out as a journalist, including a brief stint at the AP and at the Philadelphia Daily News. Success as an author arrived slowly. He had been a published novelist for more than a decade before he broke through in the early 1980s with “Gorky Park.” His novel came out when the Soviet Union and the Cold War were still very much alive and centered on Renko’s investigation into the murders of three people whose bodies were found in the Moscow park that Smith used for the book’s title.
“Gorky Park,” cited by the New York Times as a reminder of “just how satisfying a smoothly turned thriller can be,” topped the Times’ fiction bestseller list and was later made into a movie starring William Hurt.
“Russia is a character in my Renko stories, always,” Smith told Publishers Weekly in 2013. “‘Gorky Park’ may have been one of the first books to take a backdrop and make it into a character. It took me forever to write because of my need to get things right. You’ve got to knock down the issue of ‘Does this guy know what he’s talking about or not?’”
Smith’s other books include science fiction (“The Indians Won”), the Westerns “North to Dakota” and “Ride for Revenge,” and the “Roman Grey” mystery series. Besides “Martin Cruz Smith” — Cruz was his maternal grandmother’s name — he also wrote under the pen names “Nick Carter” and “Simon Quinn.”
Smith’s Renko books were inspired in part by his own travels and he would trace the region’s history over the past 40 years, whether it be the Soviet Union’s collapse (“Red Square”), the rise of Russian oligarchs (“The Siberian Dilemma”) or, in the novel “Wolves Eats Dogs,” the 1986 Chernobyl disaster.
By the time he began working on his last novel, Russia had invaded Ukraine. The AP noted in its review of “Hotel Ukraine” that Smith had devised a backstory “pulled straight from recent headlines,” referencing such world leaders as Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine, Vladimir Putin of Russia and former President Joe Biden of the U.S.
Smith is survived by his brother, Jack Smith; his wife, Emily Smith; three children and five grandchildren.
But that hasn’t stopped his name — Dennis Rodman — from coming up during coverage of the prestigious tennis tournament, which she has been attending in support of her boyfriend, Ben Shelton.
On Monday, after Shelton defeated Italy’s Lorenzo Sonego 3-6, 6-1, 7-6 (1), 7-5 to advance to the Wimbledon quarterfinals for the first time, Rodman took to her Instagram Story to express her frustration about the matter.
“For Ben’s matches he has his family there as his support system, which includes his dad,” wrote Rodman, who is often shown on the broadcast sitting in the stands with Shelton’s parents and his sister, Emma. “my dads not even in MY life no need to bring him up during HIS matches when I don’t even want him talked about during mine. It’s him and his loved ones’ moment. Thank you.”
Named the NWSL rookie of the year in 2021, Rodman helped the Washington Spirit win its first league championship the same season. She also has made a name for herself with the U.S. women’s national team, scoring three goals during the squad’s run to Olympic gold last year in Paris.
Rodman has made no secret of the fact that her father — a five-time NBA champion and basketball Hall of Famer — has not been a constant presence in her life. She spoke before the Olympics about his pattern of showing up occasionally — as he did for a 2021 NWSL playoff game — and then disappearing once again from her everyday life.
“Like I’ve said before, I’ve gotten closure with it all,” Rodman said at the time. “I know he’s proud of me. I truly do. He has his own things to deal with, but at the end of the day, he’s communicated to me that he knows I was going to be here, and that’s all I need.”
In December, Rodman spoke more about her complicated relationship with her father and the “anger” she often feels toward him.
“He’s not a dad,” Rodman said. “Maybe by blood but nothing else.”
There’s a reason Nate Jackson’s debut Netflix special arrives during barbecue season. Perched on a stool under the spotlight at his shows, the comedian spends most of the evening delivering hospital-worthy third-degree burns to crowd members who want the smoke. If you lock eyes with him in the first five rows, chances are you even paid extra to be his next victim by sitting in “the roast zone.”
During a recent pair of packed, back-to-back gigs at the Wiltern last month, the Tacoma-bred comic made full use of his flame-throwing abilities to torch his highest-paying L.A. fans over their questionable fashion choices, weird haircuts and bad teeth. As the evening progresses he dives deeper, extracting more information and grilling them about their personal lives and romantic relationships with a camera zoomed in on them, broadcasting their faces on a jumbo screen if they were at a Dodger game. When everything works right, Jackson finds a way to weave the stories of his random burn victims together in a way that makes the whole show feel pre-planned. Meanwhile, even as Jackson is busy making fans the butt of his comedic freestyle, the person laughing the hardest is usually the roastee. It’s the mark of good crowd work that’s not simply well done but more importantly done well.
This ride of the unpredictable twists and turns is given the same spotlight and attention in his special as his pre-written jokes in a way that keeps the pace engaging while making his audience the stars of the show. It makes his debut “Nate Jackson: Super Funny” a testament to the style and the brand of comedy he’s grown from a weekly comedy night to a brick-and-mortar comedy club and now a Netflix special that bears the same name.
Speaking of names … no, he didn’t interview himself for this story. But a journalist and the comedian swapping professions for a day or two could be funny. Whaddaya think, Nate?
Recently Nate Jackson spoke to Nate Jackson about his career coming up in the Tacoma comedy scene, refining his ability to improv on shows like MTV’s “Wild ‘N Out” and using his crowd work skills to go viral on TikTok.
This conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Well, well … Nate Jackson.
Nate Jackson.
I heard about you, man.
When I Google me … we come up. What is the likelihood of that?
It’s been my whole career — searching “our name.”
Then there’s a random guy [another Nate Jackson] playing a guitar and then all of the sudden, a third-string Denver Bronco [also named Nate Jackson] wants to write a book about playing football while high, and then he takes over the front three pages of our name.
No worries, us doing this interview together will definitely help us both surge in Google rankings.
So you’re Nate Jackson. I’m Nate Jackson Jr., and my dad is [also named] Nate Jackson. So this is a lot of Nate Jackson.
Some Nate-ception going on!
[Laughs] Bars!
Congrats on your latest special, “Nate Jackson: Super Funny.”
What’d you think?
I thought that it was a great balance of what everyone’s seeing on you on their phones [via TikTok] recently, and it also shows people what you spent your entire career doing in comedy before social media. You’re able to convey the level of crowd work you do in a live setting really well. I know a lot of people say, “Oh, crowd work is so easy to do,” but is it actually really hard?
Oh no, it’s easy to do. It’s hard to do right.
“Organic [humor] wins almost every single time when you’re writing material. One of the main challenges is making it so that it’s consumable by the masses,” Jackson said. “You want to write about things that people can relate to.”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
How did it start for you with the crowd work becoming a central part of your act?
It never was a thing I wanted to go to as a central part of my act. I fought against that concept. If you work on a joke for three months, you want that to work more than the thing you just walked out [on stage] and said, “Look at that light flickering.” But you can’t control what is going to hit harder. Organic [humor] wins almost every single time when you’re writing material. One of the main challenges is making it so that it’s consumable by the masses. You want to write about things that people can relate to. You want to be relatable, right? Well, what’s more relatable than, “It’s hot in here, and we can all feel it.”
How did you get started in the Tacoma comedy scene?
I started because I had a room in Tacoma, Washington. I had a lot of rooms in Washington, and I consolidated them into a Thursday night, and it was the “Super Funny Comedy Show,” which is now the “Super Funny Comedy Club.” But it was every Thursday, and I was young enough in my career that I was like, I need to produce a show that would pack this place out, and I don’t have the skill set to be the [driving force] yet. But I can host; I can add a live band. I need my headliners coming from somewhere else. So that’s why we had [big names like] Lil Rel, Tiffany Haddish, Leslie Jones, Deon Cole. So Tacoma was spoiled by the lineups that came and did [my] Thursday night.
In doing that, every week I could write, but I could not keep up with the pacing of having a monologue every Thursday. [I was] a new comic without my voice. So I abandoned that. Sometimes I would make a joke and then say, “Now I’m just gonna mess with who’s in front of me.” And that [crowd work] muscle started to pulsate. Then I added a little improv to it. Then it I said, “All right, this next [set] I’m gonna go up with [no material]. I’m gonna go up naked and I’m coming off with a ‘W.’” It got to where people are like, “Yo, I kind of like it when you just freestyle.”
So doing improv on stage led to you freestyle roasting people?
It didn’t necessarily need to be a roast. I could be [a joke on] something I saw on the news that day. They just want to see me create — to just pick up the newspaper and then go off that. I’m like, “Guys, that’s a slap in the face to when I’m putting three, four hours in at Starbucks, working on the writing and making sure the punch lines are all there.” But it’s the same thing I’m doing with the crowd work content. I don’t just mess with people for the sake of messing with them. I am getting information to then plug into a setup. Now we’re in a comedy structure where it’s act out and mix up a set up, a punch line, etc. I want to make it worth slowing down the pacing that I would have if I was the only one talking and dictating the energy.
When I go to somebody, it is now at their pacing. They can take four minutes on the answer, and people are now fidgeting in the crowd. I’m like, “Come on now, hey, come on.” You got to keep it moving; that’s the rule to what’s happening onstage. It can go slow, but we need to feel like we’re going from point A in a story or an interaction to point B. Sometimes maybe I’m going from point A to point C, and I hit you with some misdirection in there, then, wham to point C and all connects. People are like, “Wait, so the last 10 minutes was a setup?!” That’s what I pride myself on. So you, how do just say, “Oh, that’s crowd work” — is it?
“I think that what I’m doing it is the evolution of stand-up,” Jackson said. “You [can’t] go on stage and just do your set the same way — the way you practice it in your mirror — in front of a blinding light, where you can’t even see [the crowd].”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
It’s definitely more than what people ascribe to it as a part of a show. It turns the fans into the show in a way that they can walk away feeling good about — even if they’ve been roasted.
And that’s on me, because I could just be malicious and leave it bad. But I always, I try to uplift. I’m a “Que,” a member of Omega Psi Phi [fraternity]. It’s one of our principles, “to uplift.” I don’t want you to leave the show being like, “Man, I’ll never watch a show again.” No, it should be like, “Okay, [he roasted me], but we had fun.” I’m not trying to beat up on people.
I wanted to talk about the role TikTok played in your recent glow-up in comedy over the last few years. How did it help you develop as a comedian?
I just started showing [my skills]. Once you start showing it, you’re not a secret anymore. Comics would come to Tacoma — which is off the beaten path — and then be like, “There’s a guy up there that even as a host you need to have, you need to be ready to follow, because he’s just — he’s literally just up there winging it, and he’s on fire.” Everyone in comedy knows the guy or the girl, and that was kind of what the stigma became. I was one of comedy’s best-kept secrets. People would come up [to my comedy shows], they would see my razzle-dazzle, they would take little bits of my recipe and add it to their stuff. And so I would watch people years later and be like, “Really … really?!” Don’t come up here and take my sauce and then, because you got more shine than me, use it. It takes a lot to just be the person that can handle that and not develop a chip on the shoulder. But if I’m the creator, if I’m their origin and I’m the source of [my style of comedy], then I have no issue continuing to create.
People were just like, “You need to get online!” I was like, “I am! I have every app and I’m tired now. How many things I gotta manage?” And it just got to the point where I was like, “Alright, let me get on. Let me do TikTok. That’s the app where people are following.” I saw friends that were having wild success on there, and I was like, alright, I’ll try it. And sure enough, within six or seven clips — the seventh [clip] hit. It wasn’t mega viral or anything, but it did more than my average video was doing over on on Instagram. I said, there’s something to this. And I stayed on it. And then things kept it [growing]. And so I was watching, and the needle was moving. And so here we are.
How often would you post clips on TikTok when you started using it?
I was posting at least once a day. That is not easy, because you got to get your sound right, your video needs to be quality, and then you got to pull it, edit it, and caption the words that are on the screen. There’s AI now, but all of us who were doing this [before AI] would laugh about it and be like,“When do you caption?” We’ll watch a movie and literally just be captioning. For a five-minute video, a four-minute video, I’m talking about exhaustion … Now, you plug that thing in [with AI] and the whole thing is done. Thank God, or thank computer. I don’t know who [I] was supposed to thank in that scenario, but it streamlined the process so much more content can come out now. What took me all night long to get one clip out — now we do three a day. Or two a day now, at the very least.
We talk about how AI can be a threat to original entertainment, including comedy. But are there ways AI and social media have changed the art form for the better?
Yes, and we can do so much more. We can now edit a whole podcast in two minutes. You would think it’s getting rid of jobs, and in theory it should be, but it should make one person be able to do so much more. Instead of someone losing the job, we have the capacity to put out way more content. So let’s keep all of our employees, but let’s now do 180% times more work. Also as far as AI goes, I’m okay if we stop right now for two years. Let’s just stop right now … before we legitimately are in a plot of “Terminator.”
With the type of show you’re doing now, where do you see the future of comedy going?
“Live your life to the fullest. Love hard, play hard,” Jackson said. “We only got one shot at this. I left it all out on the stage. That’s exactly how we should live every day.”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
I think that what I’m doing it is the evolution of stand-up. You [can’t] go on stage and just do your set the same way — the way you practice it in your mirror — in front of a blinding light, where you can’t even see [the crowd]. What’s the difference between being in front of seven people or 70,000 people? It feels exactly the same. I think there’s a detachment between the person and the people. We’ve seen the guys that are such glitzy superstars — that just being there to watch it, that’s the presence you want to be in. But with human interaction, every show is different. You have to be malleable and loose. You can’t do your set, 1-2-3-4-5 — you gotta be able to go 5-3-2-1-4, with different segues on the fly.
What’s a better mechanic, the one that does the same 14 diagnostic steps no matter what car comes in, or the one that opens the hood and listens and goes, “[Your car needs a] timing belt, gimme a timing belt”? Let’s say you have five jokes — your hot five. Three [jokes] are about your cat, one’s about your mom and one is about a motorcycle. And you walk out on stage and there’s a motorcycle club in the front four rows. Do you get off of your normal order and establish rapport with the audience by moving your motorcycle joke to the front, or do you set yourself up for failure by talking about your new cat for three jokes to a motorcycle gang? They’ll listen to you if they like you. So get what will establish that first — be malleable.
A lot of new fans of yours may not know, but you’ve had experience with improv years ago in the “Wild ‘N Out” days [on MTV during Season 8, circa 2016]. What’s it like taking those skills you learned on TV and moving it to your own specials, podcasts and social media in this new era?
It’s all “yes, and …” We take the current situation and go, “What else can we add?” We’re just building … the real talent, the expertise comes in when they build, and it’s also a pivot, like the segue you just did right now to get into this topic. So kudos to “Wild ‘N Out” to being able to procure and find all of us and put us together. But all of us obviously had something, otherwise how do you catch the eye of a network showrunner? Shout out to Nile Evans and everybody that’s a part of procuring the talent that ends up being the stars of tomorrow. We can be like, “Oh, it’s a little urban hip-hop show.” Or we can be real about the fact that Katt Williams and Kevin Hart and all these people have come down the halls of that show. I would argue “Wild ‘N Out’s” alumni that have hit are as decorated or more than “In Living Color.”
This special feels like just a big culmination of your career right now. What’s something you would want people to take away from it after watching?
Live your life to the fullest. Love hard, play hard. We only got one shot at this. I left it all out on the stage. That’s exactly how we should live every day. Bert Kreischer said [my new special] made him miss doing stand-up … that is so powerful. The best comics make you go, “Why didn’t I think of that?” or, “God, I gotta write!” He didn’t watch it and go, “You know who you remind me of?” I think that’s not flattering. He watched and said, “I gotta get down on my stuff.” I don’t know if it’s like, “Oh, this kid’s coming,” or if it’s just a, “I respect what you do, I appreciate it, and it made me want to get back on my stuff.” I feel like it’s more the latter, but there’s going to be some of that “OK, this kid’s coming.” There’s going to be nothing you can do because I’m coming, whether you like this special or not.
Following a surge in arrests by armed, masked federal immigration agents in unmarked cars, some California Democrats are backing a new bill in Congress that would bar officials from covering their faces while conducting raids.
The No Masks for ICE Act, introduced by Rep. Nydia Velázquez (D-New York) and co-sponsored by more than a dozen Democrats, would make it illegal for federal agents to cover their faces while conducting immigration enforcement unless the masks were required for their safety or health.
The bill would also require agents to clearly display their name and agency affiliation on their clothes during arrests and enforcement operations.
Rep. Laura Friedman (D-Burbank), who is co-sponsoring the bill, said Tuesday that the legislation would create the same level of accountability for federal agents as for uniformed police in California, who have been required by law for more than three decades to have their name or badge number visible.
“When agents are masked and anonymous, you cannot have accountability,” Friedman said. “That’s not how democracy works. That’s not how our country works.”
The bill would direct the Department of Homeland Security, which oversees Immigration and Customs Enforcement, to set up discipline procedures for officers who did not comply and report annually on those numbers to Congress.
A DHS spokeswoman did not immediately respond to a request for comment. The department has previously warned of a spike in threats and harassment against immigration agents.
The mask bill has no Republican co-sponsors, meaning its chances of getting a hearing in the GOP-controlled House are slim.
“I would think that there’s Republicans out there who are probably hearing the same thing that I’m hearing from my constituents: ‘I don’t like the idea of people jumping out of a truck, carrying very large guns with masks over their faces, and I have no idea who they are,’” Friedman said.
Friedman said she hoped that Republicans concerned about governmental overreach and the so-called “deep state” — the idea that there is a secretive, coordinated network inside the government — would support the bill too.
The proposal comes after weeks of immigration raids in Southern California conducted by masked federal agents dressed in street clothes or camouflage fatigues, driving unmarked vehicles and not displaying their names, badge numbers or agency affiliations. Social media sites have been flooded with videos of agents violently detaining people, including dragging a taco stand vendor by her arm and tossing smoke bombs into a crowd of onlookers.
The raids have coincided with an increase in people impersonating federal immigration agents. Last week, police said they arrested a Huntington Park man driving a Dodge Durango SUV equipped with red-and-blue lights and posing as a Border Patrol agent.
In Raleigh, N.C., a 37-year-old man was charged with rape, kidnapping and impersonating a law enforcement officer after police said he broke into a Motel 6, told a woman that he was an immigration officer and that he would have her deported if she didn’t have sex with him.
And in Houston, police arrested a man who they say blocked another driver’s car, pretended to be an ICE agent, conducted a fake traffic stop and stole the man’s identification and money.
Burbank Mayor Nikki Perez said Tuesday that city officials have received questions from residents like, “How can I know if the masked man detaining me is ICE or a kidnapper? And who can protect me if a man with a gun refuses to identify himself?”
Those issues came to a “boiling point” last weekend, Perez said, when a man confronted a woman at the Mystic Museum in Burbank, asked to see her documents and tried to “act as a federal immigration agent.” Staff and patrons stepped in to help, Perez said, but the incident left behind a “newfound sense of fear, an uncertainty.”
“Why is it that we hold our local law enforcement, who put their lives on the line every day, to a much higher standard than federal immigration officers?” Perez said.
The bill in the House follows a similar bill introduced in Sacramento last month by state Sen. Scott Wiener that would bar immigration agents from wearing masks, although it’s unclear whether states can legally dictate the conduct or uniforms of federal agents.
WASHINGTON — Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced Friday that the USNS Harvey Milk will be renamed after a World War II sailor who received the Medal of Honor, stripping the ship of the name of a slain gay rights activist who served during the Korean War.
In a video posted to social media, Hegseth said he was “taking the politics out of ship naming.”
The ship’s new name will honor Navy Chief Petty Officer Oscar V. Peterson, who was awarded the highest military decoration posthumously for his actions during the 1942 Battle of the Coral Sea in the Pacific.
The decision is the latest move by Hegseth to wipe away names of ships and military bases that were given by President Joe Biden’s Democratic administration, which in many cases chose to honor service members who were women, minorities, from the LBGTQ community and more.
It follows earlier actions by Hegseth and President Donald Trump, a Republican, to purge all programs, policies, books and social media mentions of references to diversity, equity and inclusion in the military and elsewhere.
Hegseth’s announcement comes during Pride Month — the same timing as the Pentagon’s campaign to force transgender troops out of the U.S. military.
“We’re not renaming the ship to anything political. This is not about political activists,” said Hegseth, who earlier this month ordered Navy Secretary John Phelan to put together a small team to rename the USNS Harvey Milk replenishment oiler.
He said Peterson’s “spirit of self-sacrifice and concern for his crewmates was in keeping with the finest traditions of the Navy.”
When Hegseth announced the decision to rename the ship, officials defended it as an effort to align with Trump and Hegseth’s objectives to “re-establish the warrior culture.”
Peterson served on the USS Neosho, which also was an oiler. The ship was damaged during the Battle of the Coral Sea, and even though Peterson was injured, he managed to close the bulkhead stop valves to keep the ship operational. He died of his wounds.
The Navy in 1943 named an escort ship after Peterson. The USS Peterson served for more than two decades and was decommissioned in June 1965.
The USNS Harvey Milk was named in 2016 by then-Navy Secretary Ray Mabus, who said at the time that the John Lewis-class of oilers would be named after leaders who fought for civil and human rights.
Harvey Milk, who was portrayed by Sean Penn in an Oscar-winning 2008 movie, served for four years in the Navy before he was forced out for being gay. He later became one of the first openly gay candidates elected to public office, in San Francisco. He was assassinated in 1978 by a disgruntled former city supervisor.
“I was hoping José Padilla would be here to ask a question. But unfortunately I guess he decided not to show up because there wasn’t a theater.”
“Theater” is how Vance described what happened a week earlier, when Padilla was handcuffed and detained at the federal building in Westwood for trying to pose a question to Homeland Security head Kristi Noem at a news conference.
The only wannabe thespian that day was Noem, who channeled her inner Evita when claiming that the deployment of nearly 5,000 National Guard troops and Marines to clamp down on L.A. activists trying to stop la migra from conducting immigration raids was necessary “to liberate this city from the socialist and burdensome leadership” of Gov. Gavin Newsom and L.A. Mayor Karen Bass.
“José” is what Vance thinks of Alex. Anyone who thinks this was a slip of the tongue doesn’t know their anti-Latino history.
For over a century, Americans have used Spanish first names as catchall slurs against Latinos. Mexican men were dismissed as violent Panchos and stupid Pedros. Latinas of all backgrounds have endured being typecast as a slutty Maria or subservient Lupe.
“José” was originally deployed against Puerto Ricans, according to the Historical Dictionary of American Slang. By the 1970s, because of the name’s ubiquity, racists had adopted it to describe all Latino men. The Social Security Administration lists José as the most common Hispanic name for boys over the last 100 years.
Vance’s misnaming of Padilla “was the perfect linguistic and class storm,” said San Diego State English professor William Nericcio, who has spent his career documenting the psychology behind anti-Latino racism in this country. “The vice president was proclaiming to Sen. Padilla, ‘Yeah, I know you. I don’t even remember your name. That’s how little you mean. You’re a José. You’re a nothing, a nobody, a dirty Mexican.’”
Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) is removed from the room after interrupting a news conference with Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem at the Wilshire Federal Building in Los Angeles on June 12..
(Luke Johnson / Los Angeles Times)
“It was the cherry on top of them actually throwing Padilla to the ground,” Nericcio added, referring to federal agents’ handcuffing of Padilla, which was captured on video.
Padilla went on MSNBC over the weekend to call Vance’s jab “petty and unserious,” adding, “He knows my name,” since the two of them served in the Senate together, and the vice president presides over the Senate.
I thought of all my friends who had their name butchered as children and even adults — “Joe-zay,” “Josie” or pronounced correctly but in an exaggerated tone.
I thought of my grandfathers, José Miranda and José Arellano, who came from isolated Mexican mountain towns that are brothers from another madre to Vance’s ancestral home in Appalachia, but who never let hard times sour their outlook — unlike the vice president’s clan. I thought of my Tía Maria’s oldest son, José Fernandez, whom everyone calls “Chepe.” We cousins all love him for his gregarious attitude, delicious carne asada and a career in cement that saw Chepe advance from laborer to supervisor.
None of the Josés in my family were jokes. Neither were the Josés I admire — Cuban revolutionary José Martí, Mexican singer-songwriter José Alfredo Jiménez, farmworker-turned-astronaut José M. Hernández. Nor was Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus — José is what we call him in Spanish. Vance, a professed Catholic, should know better than to use such a holy name as a joke.
That Vance reduced Padilla’s attempted questioning of Noem to a charade shows what a clown he is. Spitting out “José” like a villain in a low-budget western reveals his rank racism. And if you think I’m exaggerating, consider how Vance’s press secretary, Taylor Van Kirk, responded when Politico asked her to elaborate on his José insult: She said her boss “must have mixed up two people who have broken the law.”
Not only did Alex Padilla not break any laws, but Van Kirk’s vague allusion to a second supposed criminal confirmed the point I made a few weeks ago: to Trump and his crew, all Mexicans are interchangeable, not to be trusted and most likely felonious.
So to repeat: Vance misnames Alex Padilla during a press conference. His press flak insinuates it’s because the senator’s name sounds like that of a nameless criminal.
The common dehumanizing thread is “José.”
I called up two Josés I know to see how they were feeling after Vance’s verbal ballet of bigotry.
José R. Ralat represents the sixth generation of men in his family with the same name. Yet that pedigree meant nothing when he moved to the mainland from his native Puerto Rico.
The taunts of “No way, José!” followed Ralat throughout his childhood in North Carolina — the same line his father had heard from gringos in 1960s New York. An elementary school teacher didn’t even bother to try to pronounce “José,” instead calling Ralat “Whatever your name is.” A middle school instructor called all the Latino students “José.”
“At first I was really confused,” said Ralat, who’s the taco editor for Texas Monthly. “It’s the most boring-ass name in Spanish, where I came from. Make fun of that? But it just kept happening. It was weird. It was awful. It was almost as awful as being called ‘spic.’”
That’s why when Ralat heard Vance’s José dig, “I rolled my eyes and thought, ‘Here we go again.’ It’s such a childish, boring insult. Shakespeare he is not.”
José M. Alamillo is chair of Chicana/o Studies at Cal State Channel Islands. Named after his father, he has traced the Josés in his family tree all the way back to 1759. But growing up in Ventura as a Mexican immigrant, the 55-year-old said the mockery he endured over his first name was so pervasive that he went by Joe through high school.
Alamillo only started calling himself José again at UC Santa Barbara, after a professor on the first day of class pronounced it like it was any other name.
“The move was small,” he said, “but it gave my name back some dignity.”
When Alamillo saw the clip of Vance misnaming Padilla, he immediately thought of Ricardo “Pancho” Gonzalez. The L.A.-born Mexican American tennis player dominated the game during the 1950s, yet was labeled “Pancho” by opponents and the media — a nickname he eventually adopted but always hated.
“What Vance did was really messed up,” Alamillo said. “I can see a staff member doing that, but not the vice president of the United States.”
The profe quickly corrected himself. “Actually, I’m sure he did it to appease to his followers and especially Trump — ‘Yeah, you got him! Way to show up Padilla!’”
Alamillo laughed bitterly. “To them, we’re all just a bunch of Josés.”
Donald Trump’s coalition has always been a Frankenstein’s monster — stitched together from parts that were never meant to coexist.
Consider the contradictions: fast-food fanatics hanging out with juice-cleanse truthers chanting “Make America Healthy Again” between ivermectin doses, immigration hardliners mixing with business elites who are “tough on the border” until they need someone to clean their toilets or pick their strawberries, and hawkish interventionists spooning with America Firsters.
Dogs and cats living together — mass hysteria — you know the bit.
Navigating these differences was always going to be tricky. But in recent days — particularly following Israel’s bombing of Iran, an operation widely believed to have been greenlit by Trump — the tension has reached new highs.
Signs of strain were already emerging earlier this year. We got early hints of discord during the “Liberation Day” tariff fiasco — where Trump declared an “emergency” and imposed steep tariffs, only to suspend them after they riled markets and spooked his business-friendly backers.
The tariff blunder was a harbinger of things to come. But it was the House’s passage of Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” — a budgetary monstrosity that self-respecting Freedom Caucus deficit hawks should’ve torched on principle — that truly exposed the rift.
Enter Elon Musk, the billionaire tech bro and MAGA ally, who publicly trashed both the bill and Trump in a flurry of posts. He even referenced Trump’s name reportedly appearing in Jeffrey Epstein’s files — a claim that, though unverified, was tantamount to “going nuclear.”
But before there was enough time to say “Republican civil war,” Musk deleted his mean tweets, adding to the evidence that this is still Trump’s party; that modern Republicans view deficits the way the rest of us view library late fees — technically real, but nothing to lose sleep over; and that ketamine is a hell of a drug.
The next internecine squabble was over immigration. Trump proudly ran on rounding ’em all up. Mass deportations! Load up the buses! But then it turned out that his rich buddies in Big Ag and Big Hospitality weren’t so keen on losing some of their best employees.
It even started to look like some exemptions were coming — until his Department of Homeland Security said “no mas.” (The raids will presumably continue until the next time a farmer or hotelier complains to Trump in a meeting.)
But the real fissure involves some prominent America First non-interventionists who thought Trump was elected to end the “forever wars.”
In case you missed it, Israel has been going after Iran’s nuclear capabilities with the same gusto that Trump aide Stephen Miller applies to deporting Guatemalan landscapers, and Trump is all in, calling for an “unconditional surrender” of the Iranian regime.
This didn’t sit well with everyone in the MAGA coalition.
“I think we’re going to see the end of American empire,” warned Tucker Carlson on Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast. “But it’s also going to end, I believe, Trump’s presidency — effectively end it — and so that’s why I’m saying this.”
And Carlson (co-founder of the Daily Caller, where I worked) didn’t stop there. “The real divide isn’t between people who support Israel and those who support Iran or the Palestinians,” he tweeted. “It’s between warmongers and peacemakers.”
Then he named names, alleging that Fox’s Sean Hannity, radio firebrand Mark Levin, media titan Rupert Murdoch and billionaire Trump donors Ike Perlmutter and Miriam Adelson were among the warmongers.
Trump hit back, calling Tucker “kooky” and repeating his new mantra: “IRAN CAN NEVER HAVE A NUCLEAR WEAPON.”
It’s tempting to see this spat as the beginning of a schism — a break that might finally yield a coherent Trump Doctrine, at least, as it pertains to foreign policy (possibly returning the GOP to a more Reaganite or internationalist party). But that misunderstands the nature of Trump and his coalition.
These coalitional disagreements over public policy are real and important. But they mostly exist at the elite level. The actual Trump voter base? They care about only one thing: Donald Trump.
And Trump resists ideological straitjackets.
If Israeli leader Benjamin Netanyahu rubs him the wrong way next week (as he did by congratulating Joe Biden in 2020), or if Israel’s military campaign starts slipping in the polls, Trump could flip faster than a gymnast on Red Bull.
There is no coherent philosophy. No durable ideology. What we’re watching is a guy making it up as he goes along — often basing decisions on his “gut” or the opinion of the last guy who bent his ear.
So if you’re looking for a Trump Doctrine to explain it all — keep looking. There isn’t one.
There’s only Trump.
Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”
Sen. Alex Padilla blasted the Trump administration Saturday, calling it “petty and unserious” after Vice President JD Vance referred to him as “Jose” during a news conference in Los Angeles the previous day.
“He knows my name,” Padilla said in an appearance on MSNBC on Saturday morning.
Vance visited Los Angeles on Friday for less than five hours after several weeks of federal immigration raids in the city and surrounding areas, sparking protests and backlash from state and local officials.
Padilla was thrown into the heated nationwide immigration debate when he was dragged to the ground by federal law enforcement officers and briefly detained when he attempted to ask U.S. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem a question during a news conference earlier this month.
Vance characterized the move by California’s first Latino senator as “political theater” in his remarks.
“I was hoping Jose Padilla would be here to ask a question, but unfortunately I guess he decided not to show up because there wasn’t a theater, and that’s all it is,” Vance said.
Vance served alongside Padilla in the Senate and is now the president of the upper chamber of Congress. Vance’s press secretary, Taylor Van Kirk, told Politico that the vice president misspoke and “must have mixed up two people who have broken the law.”
Padilla, in his TV interview, said he broke no laws.
He suggested the misnaming was intentional — and a reflection of the administration’s skewed priorities.
“He’s the vice president of the United States.” Padilla said. “You think he’d take the the situation in Los Angeles more seriously.”
Padilla said Vance might instead have taken the opportunity to talk to families or employers affected by raids carried out by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
Other California Democrats rallied behind Padilla after the misnaming incident.
“Calling him ‘Jose Padilla’ is not an accident,” California Gov. Gavin Newsom said in a Friday post on the social media platform X.
Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass highlighted racial undertones in Vance’s comments.
“I guess he just looked like anybody to you, but he’s not just anybody to us,” she said during a press conference on Friday. “He is our senator.”
