Musk found judges trying to block his efficiency efforts who have family members getting tons of money from NGOs. No wonder they’re desperate to stop him. Both Republicans and Democrats are in on it. Senator Cotton and Lindsey Graham have been getting rich off Ukraine funding, too.

Barry and my other liberal friends can’t see any of this because their news sources won’t report it. Instead, they focus on Trump’s personality, his tweets, and his legal troubles. They miss the bigger picture while obsessing over details that don’t matter. Except when I actually listened to Barry’s concerns instead of dismissing them, some of his points landed. Trump’s “retribution” rhetoric wasn’t just tweets—he was explicitly talking about prosecuting political enemies, deploying the military against protesters, and punishing media organizations. Barry sent me clips where Trump said these things in his own words, not filtered through MSNBC commentary.

“You’re so focused on Deep State corruption that you’re ignoring authoritarian red flags right in front of you,” Barry said. “What if you’re trading one type of corruption for another? What if the cure is worse than the disease?”

I didn’t have a good answer. Because Barry was right about one thing: I’d become so focused on exposing one set of problems that I’d given Trump a pass on behavior that would have horrified me from any other politician.

I’m not saying Trump is perfect. He wasn’t my first choice. Kennedy was. Trump can be reckless, he’s an egomaniac, he’s a bullshit artist. But he’s also practical. He knows how to deal with tough characters because he’s been doing it his whole life in New York real estate and Atlantic City casinos. You don’t succeed in those businesses without learning how to handle dangerous people.

The world is a tough neighborhood right now. Putin has hypersonic missiles. China is playing the long game. Iran is funding terrorist groups. We need someone who can make these lunatics think twice before they act. Kamala Harris wouldn’t scare anybody. Neither would that trans general in the Pentagon who shows up in a dress.

But here’s my biggest fear — Trump might give Netanyahu everything he wants. The guy has been pushing for war with Iran for decades. If Trump lets him attack Iran, we’re looking at World War III. That’s the one thing that could ruin everything.

The dialogue in this book occurred during the months following the election, while policies were being implemented and their impact was beginning to appear in everyday life. These are real people and real conversations. I altered the names, but all else remains as it transpired.

Barry believes I’ve been brainwashed by conspiracy theorists. I believe he’s been conditioned by corporate media propaganda. We both love America. We both care about our families. But we can’t even agree on the facts anymore.

Perhaps that’s the actual crisis. Not so much that we disagree, but that we can’t even agree on what’s actually going on.

It was Gloria who first opened my eyes to just how much I’d gotten wrong about Trump. She became so angry with me that she refused to talk to me for eight months after I made a flippant remark about him. When we did resume talking, I worked hard at listening to her. She convinced me, not by argument, but by introducing me to facts I’d never previously seen.

That is what these discussions are all about. Not winning arguments, but exchanging information. Not establishing who is correct, but attempting to see things the way the other person does.

The country is more divided than ever. Talk of civil war isn’t just crazy talk anymore. Half the country stands firmly against the other half. That’s dangerous. It creates opportunities for bad actors, both foreign and domestic, to manipulate us against each other.

But we keep talking. Despite the anger, despite the frustration, despite thinking the other side has lost their minds, we keep picking up the phone. We keep trying to explain our positions. We keep looking for some sliver of common ground.

That might be our salvation. As long as we’re still talking, there’s hope we can figure this out. The alternative is too scary to contemplate.

The night of the election, sharing laughs with Gloria about the extreme reactions we were seeing, I realized this was just the beginning. The real work happens in these conversations. Not the ones on TV between paid professionals, but the ones between real people who’ve known each other for years and still care about each other despite their political differences. When Barry finally called a week later, his voice heavy with despair, and when Howie reached out after three weeks with his worried questions, I understood that the divisions had only deepened. Yet somehow, we were all still talking.

These conversations are messy. They don’t end with everyone agreeing. Sometimes they end with someone hanging up angry. But they’re honest. They show where we really are as a country, not where we pretend to be.

The stakes are high. We’re being presented with crises that demand national unity — economic issues, global conflicts, technological advancements at a rate more rapid than we are able to keep up. But still, we’re divided by the fundamental facts of what’s occurring.

If we can’t learn to speak to one another, to hear each other out, to collaborate in spite of disagreeing, we jeopardize losing all that we’re all struggling to preserve.

This book is my attempt at that conversation, though I know it will fall short. Barry will read it and see me cherry-picking evidence. Gloria will read it and wish I’d gone further. Howie will put it down halfway through, frustrated that I’m not the open-minded person he thought he knew.

They’ll all be partly right. I’ve tried to include perspectives that challenge my own, but I know my biases. I know I trust some sources more than others. I know I give my side more benefit of the doubt. This isn’t a neutral document—it’s one man’s journey through the most divisive period in modern American history, told from a perspective that half the country will find validating and the other half will find infuriating.

But it’s honest. These are real conversations with real people who genuinely love America and genuinely fear for its future. We’re just terrified of different things. Maybe that’s where understanding begins. Not in agreement, but in acknowledging that the fear on the other side is as real as your own.

This is my contribution to that effort. An imperfect, biased, but honest look at where we are, how we got here, and what it might take to find our way forward together—even when “together” feels impossible.