They say the truth will set you free. In 2025 America, truth feels more like folklore, a half-remembered song buried beneath noise. We don’t follow facts anymore. We follow playlists. Not of music, but of meaning. Curated outrage loops. Mythical mashups of suspicion and certainty.
Currently at the top of every agenda board spun by both tribes, the same song plays on repeat: Epstein and President Trump.
It’s a strange thing to witness. Liberals and conservatives, who seemingly agree on nothing, have found common ground in obsession. Not justice. Not truth. Obsession. The left is convinced the Epstein files finally tie Trump to the abyss. The right insists they prove he’s been framed by the very elite cabal he dared to expose. Both sides are scanning flight logs like scripture, interpreting names with the fervor of Q prophets or MSNBC anchors. No one stops to ask the obvious question: why are we all so consumed by this?
The Epstein story should have been a moral reckoning. It had every ingredient—real victims, elite impunity, a grotesque abuse of power that transcended party, industry, and ideology. But instead of confronting that collective rot, we turned the story into a spotlight. A directed beam, pointed at our favorite villain.
And once again, that villain is President Donald Trump.
Trump Derangement Syndrome—TDS—is real. And before the right cheers, they should recognize it has a mirror image. Call it Trump Devotion Syndrome. Two sides of the same neurological coin. One half sees a predator in every room. The other sees a messiah under siege. Either way, we’re not responding to reality. We’re reacting to the story we’ve already decided to believe. The Epstein files aren’t being used to investigate. They’re being used to confirm.
Meanwhile, the real questions aren’t ignored. They’re buried. The Biden administration had these same files. Same names. Same chance to act. We’ve had books, leaks, insiders from both sides. Congress did nothing. So why now? Why the theater?
This isn’t about justice. It’s about airtime. The cameras are rolling, but the country’s standing still. Congress isn’t passing bills that matter. They’re not tackling inflation, or housing, or the quiet crisis in healthcare that’s bleeding families dry. They’re staging a production. Feeding the narrative machine—one more hearing, one more headline, one more fundraising blast disguised as righteous fury. And while they perform, the people they swore to represent slip further into the shadows.
Call it what it is—performance. While we chase scandals to confirm what we already believe, the world burns. Israel and Gaza are at war. Ukraine fights for survival. Syria screams again, as atrocities unfold without cameras, without consequence. We don’t seek truth. We sort for alignment. We scroll past war crimes unless they flatter our side. We turn global suffering into background noise, and build playlists of outrage that keep the story intact—even if the facts don’t.
What do we gain from this? What changes? Who’s better off? This isn’t forward motion. It’s theater. And the audience is paying the price.
Recently, Chris Cuomo had Alan Dershowitz on his program—the man who was Epstein’s personal attorney—where he discussed the files, the accusations, the context. But because the answers didn’t fuel the hysteria, didn’t light up the dopamine circuit of tribal righteousness, the segment came and went without fanfare. It didn’t suffice. It didn’t feed the beast.
It’s reckless to treat every photo or dinner with Epstein as evidence of guilt. Proximity is not proof. This rush to implicate everyone he ever stood beside does more to muddy the waters than clarify the truth. Not every monster keeps a blackmail file. People like Epstein don’t operate from fear of consequences. They believe they’re untouchable. That the rules don’t apply. Until one day, reality catches up. And for some, it catches up so violently that they take the only exit they can still control.
Slow down. Listen. The facts are out there—if you’re willing to hear them. The celebrities and presidents, from Clinton to Trump, are not the Mr. X or Ms. Y in the redacted lists. The names are sealed to protect victims, not hide villains. Pretending otherwise is not just misleading—it’s dangerous.
The reality is—there has been serious reporting on all of this. For years. For anyone actually interested in truth over theatrics, the record exists. Journalists like Tara Palmeri have spent time untangling what’s real from what’s performative. The facts are rarely viral, but they are available.
Finally, no conspiracy circuit would be complete without its oldest scapegoat. Enter the Mossad theory—a favorite of internet extremists who never miss a chance to trace any shadow back to Israel. In this version, Epstein wasn’t just a predator. He was a spy. His island wasn’t just a haven for exploitation, it was allegedly funded by Israeli intelligence. He was a Mossad asset, they claim. A Zionist agent running blackmail ops for the Jewish state. It’s nonsense, of course. But it sticks. Because antisemitism, like any conspiracy, thrives when the truth is too complicated and the villain too familiar.
This isn’t curiosity. It’s choreography. And the longer we dance to this playlist, the harder it becomes to recognize the silence we’re avoiding.
If it’s justice we seek, then let it play out—quietly, patiently, without the comfort of a narrative arc. Not every ending will satisfy the noise machine. But here’s what we forget: we control the narrative. We decide what matters. And when we choose to pay attention—really pay attention—the machine adjusts to us. That’s the power we’ve abandoned.
We need to get back to wanting better. Obsessing over what actually counts. Calling Congress not for spectacle, but for solutions. Demand action on affordable living, not airtime over Epstein files. Call for a special prosecutor if it matters. Call for a committee. But do it in the service of justice, not dopamine. Our tax dollars are better than this. Our democracy is more important than this. And we should start acting like it.