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No Kings, Just Chaos: Fighting Without Losing Your Mind

Columnist Will O’Bryan explores how humor, rage, and protest can help us stay sane in Trump’s chaotic America.

By on October 11, 2025

Photos courtesy Will O'Bryan
Photos courtesy Will O’Bryan

At 56, I’ve seen plenty. Never, of course, have I seen the federal government so batshit bonkers, so desperate to assert itself into every nook and cranny of American life, from the critical to the comical. Take that, Colbert and Kimmel! Gotcha, plaque mentioning Transgender participation at the Stonewall Inn! We’re gonna get you, sandwich guy!! We’re deporting Bad Bunny! To… ahem… Puerto Rico?

What do you call this clinical level of desperation? Stephen Miller.

We’ve got masked federal goons playing tough in cities far and wide. Are these Proud Boys? Oath Keepers? Three Percenters? Quite likely, but who the hell knows? Aside from Kristi “Canine Killer” Noem, Tom (sub)Homan, and their colleagues, presumably.

The National Guard has been called up as a show of force against fellow Americans. And to pick up garbage, which should be outrageously offensive to anyone who supports our military. God knows I’m offended. I’m offended by so much. Every day there is a new offense, or merely a continuation of the ones already let loose. One must imagine it’s by design. When, for example, administration puppet master Russell Vought is pledging to traumatize our federal workforce, there’s a near infinite abyss of offense and disgust and rage coloring this second term of lame-duck Donald Trump.

Living in a constant state of rage, however, is not an option. That only benefits the mediocre madmen and madwomen hoping to sap our collective strength. And I do mean collective, as it’s important to remind ourselves that this administration has little claim to any sort of “mandate.” Trump may have secured more votes than Kamala Harris, but he fell short of a majority. I’ll say it again: 49.8 is no mandate. Consider that when Franklin D. Roosevelt first took the White House, he did it with about 57 percent of the votes. Now, that’s a mandate.

So, what’s a decent American to do? There have been plenty of suggestions buzzing about, from join a community group to calling your elected representatives. I have joined a group of neighbors to discuss resistance over hummus. Check. As a Washingtonian, however, I’ve been denied meaningful representation at the Capitol, making any call pointless. I promise you, D.C. shadow Sen. Ankit Jain already knows how I feel about this (hopefully brief) era of oppressive government.

I have, however, found a number of things that are helping me mightily. In hopes that they might help you, too, I’m going to share a few of them. You’re welcome!

First, do not lose your sense of humor. Resistance requires humor. It keeps our spirits up, while mockery deflates the powerful. As a former Portlander, my disposition improves markedly when I see some new absurdist attack on the regime’s reign in the Rose City. The ICE “tea party” and puffy frog come to mind. Portland is keeping it gloriously weird, and I am so here for it.

Do you meditate? If not, please give it a shot. You may be doing something very similar already, whether it’s praying or zoning out on a walk. Our crazy complex human brains need a chance to quiet and reset. My daily 13 minutes are invaluable. In a tranquil spot, I control my breathing for 3-second counts: 3 in, hold for 3, exhale for 3, hold for 3. To help me along, I employ a series of three-syllable mantras. These days, “harness fear” has been very helpful. There is plenty to frighten us, whether that’s losing employment thanks to Elon and the DOGEbags, Trump’s outrageous push for self-serving gerrymanders to debase our democracy, measles, or take your pick from the grab bag of horrors. But don’t panic. Fear is mighty powerful. If you can take a few moments to try to redirect it, you may well get a little useful mileage out of it. No wonder “harness rage” is the second mantra in the rotation.

With credit to the late psychologist Arthur Janov, we have “primal therapy” — a.k.a. scream therapy. Though, granted, Cabaret probably introduced me to this sort of release, with Liza’s Sally therapeutically screaming at the top of her lungs as the Berlin S-Bahn loudly rattled overhead. Years ago, I would sometimes execute such a scream in a remote corner of a parking lot, in my car, windows rolled up. The need to rage scream has returned. If some night, in the area of Shaw, Logan Circle, or Mount Vernon Square, you hear a blast of “Fuck Trump!” or similar carried on the wind, it might be me. Might not. I’m far from the only person in D.C. who knows how to shout.

Those powerful pipes of yours are also welcome in the light of day, en masse. I’ve lost track of the number of protests I’ve joined this year. My photo album tells me the first of 2025 was on Jan. 18. The next, Oct. 18, is organized nationally under the No Kings banner. If you’re a protest virgin, you may find the idea of shouting in the streets pointless, obnoxious, or both. I don’t know about the crowds around me, but good goddam, they sure make me feel better. And if ever your presence in the streets was needed to broadcast a statement of solidarity, now is the time. See you Oct. 18!

A more elegant exercise, perhaps, is to support a small-town, red-state organization that wakes up every day behind enemy lines. My mom’s recent move to Tyler, Texas, has introduced me to this raging red locale, which I’ve visited a handful of times. Today, I made small donations to Tyler Area Gays+ (TAG+) and to Alphabet Army/The Glass House, who “empowers, educates, and supports LGTBQIA+ youth, allies and parents by providing a safe and inclusive space to build a community.” If Queer advocacy anywhere in America needs a boost, it’s Tyler. Maybe you, too, are a city slicker with ties to some far-flung right-wing community. Surely there’s some small counter-culture cohort who needs your support.

These are some ways I keep the faith. I hope you have ways of your own. We need all of us like never before, so please don’t give up. Seriously, the party on the other side of this shit is going to be epic, and you should be there.

Will O’Bryan is a former Metro Weekly managing editor, living in D.C. with his husband. He is online at www.LifeInFlights.com.

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