Why I Finally Went to my First Protest

I spent the first fifty years of my life marinating in Republican politics — campaigns, committees, smoke-filled strategy rooms where partisanship was thick, and the cynicism even thicker. That’s where the decisions got made — the ones that shaped elections and governance. I’ve ghostwritten freedom-loving soundbites for candidates and elected officials who couldn’t pass a civics quiz if the entire goddamn Bill of Rights were tattooed on the insides of their eyelids.

Until recently, I’d never attended a political protest. Not once.

But now, at 58, I’ve finally marched. At the “No Kings” rally at Michigan's Capitol. And I’m pissed it took this long.

I didn’t show up on June 14 because I discovered a late-in-life love for pithy signs or patchouli. I’m not suffering from adult-onset hippie syndrome. I showed up because the stakes have changed. This isn’t politics as usual — it hasn’t been for a decade. This is a full-blown DEFCON-1, five-alarm, constitutional grease fire — and the arsonists aren’t even pretending to hide the matches anymore.

They’re out in broad daylight, gleefully wielding flamethrowers aimed straight at We the People and everything we were taught this country stood for: freedom, liberty, checks and balances, and the ongoing, imperfect quest to build a more perfect union. They are trampling out the vintage where the grapes of despotic tyranny are stored. Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where’s the goddamn Tylenol?

The Republican Party — the one I once helped win elections — has mutated into a frothing death cult in a stupid red trucker cap. They’ve traded the Constitution for Trump’s incoherent, semi-literate, all-hat-no-facts feed of grievance-soaked gibberish on Truth Social. They’re hellbent on turning the United States into a banana republic with better fast food — and worse healthcare.

And too many people — especially the polite, credentialed, “we’re not those Republicans” crowd — still cling to the fantasy that MAGA is just a temporary rash and not a lethal cancer that’s subsumed the party’s conscience and soul. They’re wrong. Dead wrong. Meanwhile, apolitical Americans in the middle are tuning out — worn down, worn out. That’s precisely what the authoritarians are counting on: apathy.

So what do we need? Visibility. Rage. Relentless noise. Protests with teeth. Optics that shake people out of their stupor. That’s why I marched. And I’ll do it again.

Because history won’t remember how clever your tweets were (humblebrag: some of mine might make the cut.) It’ll remember we showed the hell up when democracy was on the line.

Now here’s the part that makes some of my newfound allies squirm: we’ve got to keep our shit together.

The pro-democracy coalition — disaffected conservatives, mainstream liberals, progressive activists, and everyone who still gives a damn — needs to stop demanding purity tests or playing mission creep politics. Want to debate Gaza? Go for it. Want to unpack the nuances of police reform? Have at it. Pronouns? Interject whatever dangles your participle or doesn’t. But for the love of democracy, keep your eye on the ball. This is about addition, not subtraction. Every protest speaker espousing “from the river to the sea” removes a Jenga piece from the asymmetrical coalition we need to survive this.

Focus. Fast.

This is about the rule of law. The Constitution. Elections decided by voters, not mobsters masquerading as political partisans. Courts that apply justice instead of vendettas. It’s about the idea — once boringly uncontroversial — that no one, not even a bloated, ex-reality TV sociopath with 34 felony convictions and a mob of cosplay fascists, is above the law.

That’s it. That’s the rallying cry. Everything else? Save it for another day. Because if you want people like me — people you need to reach 51 percent — to stand with you, don’t turn every protest into a roundtable of leftist grievances. Not now. Not with democracy on the edge.

We don’t all need to like the same bands or pronouns or policy proposals. But we sure as hell better agree that if the remaining three-and-a-half years of Biff’s second term are anything like these initial four months have been, the American experiment might not survive it.

And let’s be blunt — because subtlety is for think tanks and Times editorials: the bastards are counting on us to stay home. To doomscroll. To cannibalize our allies instead of confronting the enemy. That’s how they win. That’s always how they win.

As my recurring muse, Warren Zevon, wrote: “Disorder in the house / Reptile wisdom / Zombies on the lawn.” Trump may be old, tired, and flaccid, but the cult he built is fired up and frothing. They are relentless. We need to be, too.

Zevon also said: “So much to do, there’s plenty on the farm / I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
So stop waiting. Grab your boots, your sign, your voice. Now would be a good fucking time.

I finally marched at 58. That means nobody else has an excuse. Not you. Not your neighbor. Not your wine-sipping in-laws. Not your cynical friend who “doesn’t do politics.” This isn’t about “both sides.” This is about whether we’re going to have sides at all — or just one autocratic boot pressing down on everyone’s neck.

This isn’t performative politics. It’s survival.

And survival demands noise.

So let’s make some.

Jeff Timmer is a political consultant, strategist, and Warren Zevon fan. He was Executive Director of the Michigan Republican Party and served as a Republican on the Michigan Board of State Canvassers. He is a Senior Advisor to the Lincoln Project.

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Are We American Spectators or American Patriots?

Joe Trippi · Jun 19

The “No Kings” protests, which began as a collective outcry against authoritarian overreach and for democratic renewal, are not just a passing moment of outrage. They are a national pivot point — and if we treat them as fleeting, we risk missing the most powerful pro-democracy surge this country has seen in a generation.

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