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By Kenneth A. Carlson / Original to ScheerPost
There’s a curious psychological phenomenon playing out in American politics, and it’s not new, but it has become dangerously exaggerated in the era of Donald J. Trump. It’s what happens when a voter, like a consumer who’s just driven off the lot in a shiny new car, realizes the vehicle they bought is a lemon. It sputters, leaks oil, the brakes fail and the salesman — so confident and charismatic during the sale — won’t return their calls. Yet instead of returning it under the lemon law or admitting regret, the buyer polishes the bumper, cranks up the radio to drown out the noise, and insists to anyone who’ll listen that the car runs just fine.
So it is with Trump’s base. After six months of his second — and deeply embattled — term, he’s delivered not a slate of achievements but a fleet of scandals. He didn’t end the wars in Ukraine or the Middle East. Inflation still bites at the grocery store. The border wall stands as a monument to bluster, with no pesos from Mexico to pay for it. And rather than draining the swamp, he’s hawking $60 Bibles printed in China, touting them as spiritual souvenirs of a campaign fueled by grievance.
This is not a partisan gripe. It’s a lament for a country in cognitive dissonance.
What we’re witnessing is not a case of buyers’ remorse but buyers’ denial, rooted in the fear of being wrong, of being made a fool. Trump’s supporters were sold a product — a disruptive outsider, a dealmaker, a man who would stand up for the “forgotten.” But six months in, that product has failed spectacularly. Rather than confront the mounting evidence of corruption, cruelty and incompetence, many have doubled down, clutching to their Trump-branded merchandise — literal and metaphorical — as if it were a shield against shame.
And shame, as a motivator, may be more powerful to some than truth.
The signs are all there: 34 felony convictions, a civil jury of his own peers finding him liable for sexual assault, documented admiration for authoritarians, a White House turned into a bizarre showroom for $TRUMP meme coins and Elon Musk’s Tesla vehicles, and the normalization of cruelty — especially through agencies like ICE, now more empowered than ever to go after “the least of us.”
Trump makes a mockery of institutions, cuts aid to the needy, bullies dissenters and governs as if the only loyalty that matters is to himself. He’s as interested in the rule of law as he is in reading the Constitution — something I doubt he’s ever done or the least bit interested in doing. And yet, many Americans cling to him not because they believe he is great, but because it appears that admitting they were wrong feels worse than enduring the consequences of being right.
I grew up in a small town in Ohio, the son of a preacher, where people took immense pride in their purchases — cars, tractors, houses, politicians. But there was also a quiet and modest wisdom: if the machine doesn’t work, you trade it in. It takes humility to say, I was sold a bill of goods. I made a bad deal. I want something better.
But Trumpism isn’t just a political stance anymore. For some, it’s a religious devotion — especially among white evangelicals who call him an “imperfect vessel” sent by God. That vessel, mind you, once bragged about grabbing women “by the pussy,” walking in on naked teenage pageant contestants and mocking a disabled New York Times reporter while telling the world that he, Trump, and he alone, could fix all our problems. Meanwhile, he’s hawking sacred texts while funneling political loyalty through more than $1 million per seat on average for a dinner party at the White House, reserved for top-tier investors in Trump’s cryptocurrency token.
Six months into Donald Trump’s second term, the numbers tell a story even his bravado can’t shout down: the façade is cracking. His job approval has plunged to 37%, the lowest point of this term and only a hair above the ignominy of his all-time worst at the end of his first presidency. The most damning shift comes from independents — the pragmatic middle that decides elections — where his support has collapsed by 17 points to a paltry 29%, matching its lowest ebb in either term.
These are not just statistics; they are warning flares. Americans, particularly those who once suspended disbelief, seem to be waking up to the chaos fatigue, to broken promises and corrosive leadership. Trump once promised to remake Washington; instead, he’s remade disappointment.
At what point does this all become too much? When do even the most diehard supporters say, “Enough!”?
For some, it seems the answer lies in the long-awaited Jeffrey Epstein files. That, apparently, is the line they’re willing to see crossed. Not the sexual assault conviction. Not the nepotism, nor the hush money scandals, nor the praise of dictators, nor the chaos he sows domestically and abroad by erratically imposing tariffs only to casually lift them. But Epstein. That’s the proverbial yellow line in the road.
It raises the question: How warped has our moral compass become when the deal-breaker isn’t what Trump’s done, but what we fear might implicate others? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful there is a line and they at long last might have found it. But Trump’s refusal to release the Epstein files makes him look like he’s genuinely hiding something under the hood.
Trump is not a misunderstood genius or a messianic figure. He is, by the measure of public record and private testimony, one of the most corrupt elected officials in modern American history. And if that statement feels harsh, ask yourself whether the story would sound less absurd if it were about another leader in another country. It’s familiarity and pride on the windshield that ultimately blurs our view of the truth.
The Good News (and yes, that is bible reference) is there is still time to trade in the lemon. But it requires courage, not cultism, integrity, not image management. We’re long past the point where defending Trump is about hope for change. For many, it’s simply about saving face. And in clinging to that need to save face, we are watching the soul of our democratic republic slip away.
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Kenneth A. Carlson
Kenneth A. Carlson is a distinguished filmmaker known for his compelling documentaries and feature films that tackle profound human stories. He directed and produced The Heart of Nuba, a feature-length documentary about Dr. Tom Catena, the sole doctor serving a million patients in Sudan’s war-torn Nuba Mountains. The film received critical acclaim, opening in over 30 U.S. cities and has been screened globally, including at the U.S. Congress, British Parliament, and the International Criminal Court. The Heart of Nuba was executive produced by Maria Shriver and is currently available on Hulu, iTunes, and Amazon.
Carlson’s recent work includes Those Who Serve, a documentary that explores the journeys of American combat veterans facing the judicial system after committing crimes, offering a raw look at the intersection of mental health and justice. His earlier credits include the award-winning documentary Amargosa, an Academy Award finalist, and Wild Bill Hollywood Maverick, which won multiple accolades, including Best Documentary from the National Board of Review.
As a director and producer for NBC, Carlson worked on the prime-time reality series Lost, which garnered strong ratings, and Meet Mister Mom. For nearly seven years, Carlson worked on America’s Most Wanted, directing and producing over 275 segments that contributed to the capture of more than 72 criminals.Currently, Carlson is directing and producing a documentary about Death Row inmate Kevin Cooper, who has been in San Quentin State Prison for over 36 years. Carlson’s photography has been featured in outlets such as the New York Times, Washington Post and Boston Globe. He is a proud member of the Academy of Motion Arts Pictures and Sciences, the Directors Guild of America and The Adventurers’ Club of Los Angeles.
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