Flagrant: Brocasting Trump, Part III


DOI: https://doi.org/10.59350/y49hf-b4539
In total, Trump appeared on fourteen podcasts or video streams during his 2024 campaign, which together earned a combined 90.9 million views on YouTube and on other video streaming platforms, not even including audio podcast listens, which, because of the decentralized nature of RSS, are notoriously difficult to pin down.
That’s a lot.
In the following series of posts, I am particularly concerned with Trump’s success with the so-called podcast bros – partially because my own research interests are in the area of mediated masculinities, but also because they may have put him over the edge with a key demographic – with Gen-Z men.
Over this series—which began in January 2026 with Logan Paul—I will examine several of Trump’s appearances on largely apolitical “bro” podcasts during the 2024 campaign season, including his interviews with Logan Paul, Theo Von, Andrew Schulz, , and Joe Rogan. In the course of this examination, I will pay attention not only to what Trump said on these shows, but also to the way in which they established a sense of intimacy, and how that intimacy worked to underscore Trump’s reputation for authenticity. Along the way, I will also discuss the podcasts and podcasters themselves and attempt to locate them within the broader scope of the manosphere. Finally, given the passage of time since Trump’s appearances, I will consider to what extent, if any, individual hosts have become critical of his administration’s policies and actions – as Joe Rogan famously has.
Here’s our third installment, on Flagrant.
***
On January 28th of this year, the 42-year-old self-proclaimed “anti-woke” comedian Andrew Schulz raised a few eyebrows when he revealed on his Flagrant podcast that the January 24 murder of Alex Pretti by U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) agents in Minneapolis was a “breaking point” for him (Schulz and his co-hosts would incorrectly attribute the murder to ICE agents throughout their conversation, but the agencies, which both operate under the umbrella of the Department of Homeland Security, were working together at the time on Operation Metro Surge).
“All right, let’s do it. Let’s talk about what happened in Minneapolis,” Schulz began. “ICE murdered an American citizen in cold blood and then the Trump administration called him a domestic terrorist … Like plain and simple. I see the administration trying to spin it and it’s fucking disgusting.”
He wasn’t wrong. But having hosted Trump for a softball interview just prior to the 2024 election, Schulz and his co-host, Akaash Singh, were pilloried by some in their audience for their naïve complicity.

“Instead of voting for a woman, you voted for an incompetent sociopath that blamed immigrants for everything. You’re partly responsible for Alex Pretti’s death,” wrote one YouTube user.
“Comedy bros did more to elect Trump than most anybody else, based on the young man vote alone,” another observed. “The attempts to salvage your reputations will and should fail. The damage you did will take us decades to recover from, if we ever do.”
“You voted for this, you soapboxed it, you platformed this,” wrote a third. “There was [sic] no lies or secrets, Donald was very open about his plans. You are apologetic? Apologize for how you contributed to it, and actually do something about it. I am so tired of you guys ignoring your part in the damage.”
For their part, on their January 28th episode, Schulz and Singh, along with their co-hosts Alexx Media and Mark Gagnon, had a rather thoughtful conversation (to be fair, it came after about 21 minutes of jokes about masturbation and penis size) about federal agents’ “abhorrent” and murderous actions and the administration’s subsequent attempt to “gaslight” the American public. Noting that he wasn’t trying to “curry any … good will” with the administration and wouldn’t “stay silent,” Shulz explained to those who might argue that he was exaggerating, that “you have a government enforced militia with no accountability … poor training, obviously you saw from this circumstance, no effort to deescalate. If anything, efforts to escalate the situation, and … it’s absolutely disgusting.”
“They’re doing things that objectively … I don’t care what side of the aisle you’re on, objectively, are unconstitutional,” he later added.
But one wishes he would have found this fire when he was interviewing Trump in 2024. Instead, he chummed it up with the former president, asking questions that seemed designed to allow him to polish his image as a proud father, a tough-as-nails assassination survivor, a savvy negotiator, and a rhetorical genius adept at the so-called “weave.” Evidently beguiled by their guest’s charm, Schulz and Singh offered little in the way of pushback or follow-ups, taking his claims about trade imbalances, border policy, and a possible Iranian assassination conspiracy at face value rather than pressing for more information – or evidence.

But in his own defense, Schulz noted in the January 28th episode that he had actually pushed back on Trump’s stance on immigration reform by pointing out that the real estate developer may have himself hired illegal immigrants through his businesses, and that it was necessary to have empathy and a pathway toward citizenship. Trump, Schulz remembered, had assured him that his administration would only go after the criminals. “And maybe I naively believed that he would do that,” the podcaster admitted.
This is putting it mildly. It’s hard to square, for instance, Schulz’s vision of a precisely targeted deportation effort with Trump’s 2024 campaign rhetoric, which often promised to conduct the “largest domestic deportation operation in American history.” Such maximalism would seem to preclude a focused and carefully orchestrated enforcement effort sensitive to civil liberties. This would be a mass sweep.
But if Trump’s lack of nuance didn’t bother Schulz, maybe his virulently anti-immigrant demagoguery should have. In a broadly publicized speech at an April 2, 2024 campaign rally in Grand Rapids, Michigan, for instance, Trump repeatedly called illegal immigrants “animals.”
The Democrats say, ‘Please don’t call them animals. They’re humans.’ I said, ‘No, they’re not humans. They’re animals,’ Trump said. ‘Nancy Pelosi told me that. She said, “Please don’t use the word animals when you’re talking about these people.” I said, ‘I’ll use the word animal because that’s what they are.’
If Schulz had been serious about pushing back on his guest, he might have asked him to explain these remarks; he might have identified these statements as eliminationist in character and, as such, a rhetorical prelude to launching a war within. And perhaps because of this (or, say, simply because of January 6), he might not have invited Trump on the show at all.
But he did. Recognizing his complicity, but not quite apologizing for it, Schulz admitted, “anybody who wants to criticize us for platforming [Trump], 100%. That is fair. 100%.”
In Schulz’s conception of American politics circa 2024-2025, however, Trump seems to have simply been the current Republican running for office. His departure from ethical, legal, administrative, and even epistemic norms during his first term in office, and his controversial family separation policy and “Muslim Ban” (among other things) were apparently forgotten, swept away by a kind of equivalency in which “both sides” could go too far.
Appearing on the similarly anti-woke podcast, Triggernometry in April 2025, for instance, Schulz, himself a former Democrat, explained to sympathetic hosts Konstantin Kisin and Francis Foster that in the past decade or so, it had been the Democrats themselves who had been too extreme in their embrace of wokeism and thus too distant from the values of personal liberty – especially the freedom of speech – that he associated with the political center. Politics, he asserted, was like a pendulum, and recently it had been the left that had been ascendant. But they had lost their way. Sometime after the Clinton era, they had stopped being “cool” and started being scolds.
Trump, in contrast, was cool. He was the one “getting p*ssy left and right … he’s the one saying say whatever the fuck you want,” and it was this image, this association with personal freedom that most appealed to Schulz (although he would later admit to a reporter from the New York Times that perhaps he shouldn’t have used those exact words).
But this didn’t mean that Schulz was a “right-wing MAGA lunatic.” Sure, he had optimism for the second Trump administration, but he didn’t “believe in … taking sides, per se.” Soon enough, he told Kisin and Foster, the right was liable get too extreme and “say crazy fucking shit” and alienate the public just as the Democrats had.
But Trump, he agreed with Foster, had clearly been the better candidate in 2024.

In a two-party system in which politics are typically understood in terms of a binary left-right spectrum, it can seem like such neutrality, such willingness to critique “both sides” for their inattention to “nuance” is representative of a rational center. Politics and partisanship are not co-extensive, however. The refusal to adopt a partisan position is itself political, and, at least in Schulz’s case, suggests that his anti-woke, anti-establishment positions are moderate, if a little edgy.
But if one were to describe Schulz’s politics on the eve of the 2024 election, it would probably be accurate to identify him as a disaffected Democrat, a White, heterosexual, cis-gendered man who had soured on liberals’ turn toward identity politics in the post-Ferguson era. His embrace of Trump was thus in large part a reaction to what he perceived to be a change in Democratic politics; but it can also be attributed to his dim view of Kamala Harris as a candidate, generally.
Indeed, as Schulz told Matt Wilstein of The Last Laugh podcast, he didn’t think that having Trump on his podcast really moved the needle on the election outcome. “I think that America had made up their mind, and I think that a lot of people assumed that the vote for Trump was because he’s this populist superstar that everybody loves and they’re obsessed with. And I think what they’re not calculating is, there are a lot of people that were unhappy with the status quo, and they were voting to reject the current administration, which seemingly was saying that they weren’t going to make any changes.”
This very well may describe the rationale of millions of Trump voters in 2024. Yet to support Trump is to ignore (accept?) noxious, autocratic, and just plain absurd behavior (remember sharpie-gate? His statement that there were “very fine people” on “both sides” at Charlottesville? His promise to be a dictator “on day one”?). The willingness to overlook these things, and, as Schulz earnestly put it on Flagrant’s post-election episode, to hope that Trump’s election heralded the dawn of an American “golden age,” must be seen as taking the side of illiberal reactionaries against liberal democracy as it has heretofore been practiced. However, if one calculates that the authoritarian demagogue is the lesser of two evils, one cannot claim to represent the center as it has been traditionally understood. One has thrown in their lot and should not be surprised when despotic desires have despotic ends.

What Schulz probably got right in his post-election analysis, though (despite his protest that the audience had already made up their minds), was his assessment of why Trump’s podcast tour worked out so well for him. The distinctive characteristic of podcasting, he asserted, is its ability to forge a sense of community. Noting how comedians – himself and his co-hosts included – used podcasts as a form of self-promotion to help them sell tickets to their standup shows, Schulz conjectured that Trump was simply following the same playbook, using his podcast appearances to develop a kind of parasocial connection with audiences that would then go out and vote for him. Harris’s mistake, then, was not doing this as effectively – not really connecting with the right podcast audiences and instead relying on a legacy media strategy that didn’t pay the same parasocial dividends.
Given audio media’s reputation for intimacy, this is an important insight with implications for the future of political media strategy, and hence, for democracy. As I have suggested in previous installments of this series, the podcasting circuit provides candidates with something of a shelter from the rigorous questioning of traditional political journalists. Indeed, it is likely that podcast hosts are happy enough to have such high-profile guests to boost their engagement that they are unlikely to risk the access by being prickly (though one could reasonably point out that the question of access is relevant to legacy media as well). But neither are podcasters really trained to ask such questions.
It’s not likely to happen, but I think podcasters need to realize that they have leverage in these situations: They offer political candidates an intimate venue through which they can connect with potential voters and benefit from the community they have already built. The cost of admission could very well be a few difficult questions.
But again, most podcasters just aren’t trained for it. Nor is “journalism” really the point of these shows.
Instead, we are at a moment in which the work of the fourth estate must share space with (if it hasn’t already been superseded by) content produced by the new media royalty. And these new shapers of public discourse are decidedly less interested in playing a watchdog role than they are in staging intimate conversations and building personal brands. What this means for the future of presidential campaigning and for the cultivation of an informed electorate, remains to be seen.
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Featured Image: M Chifftie, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
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Andrew J. Salvati is an adjunct professor in the Media and Communications program at Drew University, where he teaches courses on podcasting and television studies. His research interests include media and cultural memory, television history, and mediated masculinity. He is the co-founder and occasional co-host of Inside the Box: The TV History Podcast, and Drew Archives in 10.
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REWIND! . . .If you liked this post, you may also dig:

Impaulsive: Bro-casting Trump, Part I—Andrew J. Salvati
This Past Weekend with Theo Von: Brocasting Trump, Part II–Andrew J. Salvati
Taters Gonna Tate. . .But Do Platforms Have to Platform?: Listening to the Manosphere—Andrew J. Salvati
Listening to MAGA Politics within US/Mexico’s Lucha Libre –Esther Díaz Martín and Rebeca Rivas
Gendered Sonic Violence, from the Waiting Room to the Locker Room–Rebecca Lentjes
—
This Past Weekend with Theo Von: Brocasting Trump, Part II


But first. . .
A Brief Synopsis of an Introduction to Bro-casting Trump: A Year-long SO! Series by Andrew Salvati
—
In total, Trump appeared on fourteen podcasts or video streams during his 2024 campaign, which together earned a combined 90.9 million views on YouTube and on other video streaming platforms, not even including audio podcast listens, which, because of the decentralized nature of RSS, are notoriously difficult to pin down.
That’s a lot.
In the following series of posts, I am particularly concerned with Trump’s success with the so-called podcast bros – partially because my own research interests are in the area of mediated masculinities, but also because they may have put him over the edge with a key demographic – with (white) Gen-Z men.
Over this series—which began in January 2026 with Logan Paul—I will examine several of Trump’s appearances on largely apolitical “bro” podcasts during the 2024 campaign season, including his interviews with Logan Paul, Theo Von, Shawn Ryan, Andrew Schulz, the Nelk Boys, and Joe Rogan. In the course of this examination, I will pay attention not only to what Trump said on these shows, but also to the way in which they established a sense of intimacy, and how that intimacy worked to underscore Trump’s reputation for authenticity. Along the way, I will also discuss the podcasts and podcasters themselves and attempt to locate them within the broader scope of the manosphere. Finally, given the passage of time since Trump’s appearances, I will consider to what extent, if any, individual hosts have become critical of his administration’s policies and actions – as Joe Rogan famously has.
Here’s the second installment, on This Past Weekend with Theo Von.
***
This Past Weekend with Theo Von: Brocasting Trump, Part II
DOI: 10.59350/qkwp6-e439

With about five-and-a-half minutes remaining in the podcaster and comedian Theo Von’s August 2024 interview with Donald Trump, the conversation turned to the U.S. southern border. Thus far, the interview had not shied away from policy concerns; however, though the questions were earnest, the answers were evasive and superficial. Noting that he had hosted Border Patrol agents on his show in the past, Von reported that one of the biggest problems that the agency faced was that its officers were arresting the same people over and over again. The reason, according to Von, was that “the people that are coming in illegally aren’t being prosecuted.”
The 44-year-old podcaster then asked the president in his lilting Louisiana accent what he would do differently to alleviate the problem and make the border more secure. Like many, it was a question that allowed Trump to indulge in his penchant for superlative and self-aggrandizement.
“So, the borders, well, I did it. I did it,” Trump declared. “We had the best border … we had the wall built. We had more going to come beyond, long beyond what I promised. I built hundreds of miles of wall, and it worked.”
Now, this post isn’t necessarily the venue for relitigating the failures of what was Trump’s signature project during his first administration, for reminding you, dear reader, that despite his promise on the 2016 campaign trail that he would “build a great, great wall on our southern border” (which Mexico would pay for), and despite signing an executive order just days after taking office that directed the Secretary of Homeland Security “to immediately plan, design, and construct a physical wall along the southern border,” by the end of his term in office in January, 2021, only 452 miles of wall had been constructed – much of which was not new, and had merely replaced existing barriers. Such reminders can be found elsewhere.
Rather, the moment captured the credulity which Von freely gave the former president throughout the interview, and thereby highlighted what I suggested in my last post is the problem – or, from the candidate’s perspective, the virtue – of a media strategy that allotted a significant amount of time to non-journalists: it was unlikely that he’d get much pushback.
***
And after listening through the episode a few times and trying to put myself in the place of an apolitical Theo Von listener, or one perhaps too young to remember the first Trump administration, I began to more fully appreciate the extent to which his apparent authenticity coupled with a sense that he is not just a political outsider, but an autonomous agent free of obligation to party. Typically, this last part comes out when Trump takes aim at “them” – Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, and other unnamed Democratic elites, as well as any other members of the “deep state,” or “establishment” who oppose him.
In contrast to these shadowy figures, Trump presents himself as someone who, largely because of his wealth, remains independent, and as such, is uncorrupted by “them.” He can thus position himself as a man of the people, and in fact frequently trumpeted his own popularity during the episode – with Von only too happy to provide affirmation.

But this turn toward the border and to immigration policy is also significant in retrospect, given that Von has since been critical of the second Trump administration’s mass deportation policies, and of the Department of Homeland Security’s (DHS’s) unauthorized use of his image and voice in one of its marketing videos in a way that seemed as if he supported the department’s deportation efforts.
In the now-deleted video (part of which can be seen here), Von looks directly into the camera and says “Heard you got deported dude, bye.”
The comedian quickly took to X (formerly Twitter) to vent. “Yoo DHS I didn’t approve to be used in this,” he said in a post that he later deleted. “I know you know my address so send a check. And please take this down and please keep me out of your ‘banger’ deportation videos. When it comes to immigration my thoughts and heart are a lot more nuanced than this video allows. Bye!”
Roughly a week later, on October 2, 2025, Von returned to the subject on his podcast with an impassioned statement explaining to his listeners the situation with the video and outlined some of his own thoughts on immigration. Contextualizing the clip by saying that it had been made in a parking lot after one of his comedy shows as a joke – though in Von’s telling, what he said still comes off as callous, as the “girl” who approached him with the camera was trying to tell the comedian that her friend had recently been deported – Von went on to talk about the blowback he received as a result of the DHS video, which was in no way an accurate depiction of his complex thoughts on immigration.
“And my father immigrated here from Nicaragua, right?” he explained, his voice beginning to break. “Like one of my prized possessions is I have his immigration papers [from] when he came here. And I have them in a frame … and, so I have tons of thoughts about it, but this was just fucked up, right? It was fucked up. And it was everywhere. It was on all platforms and stuff.”
What Von seemed to be doing here was saying that, though he may have supported a tough line on illegal immigration and had little tolerance for those who had been admitted into the country with a criminal record, he could not necessarily get behind the Trump DHS’s indiscriminate deportation scheme, which was sweeping up immigrants who had come into the country the “right way” alongside those who maybe hadn’t.
However in listening to Von’s Trump interview from 2024, it’s hard not to hear the future president laying the groundwork for what would become a maximalist strategy on immigration. “We have over 20 million people, in my opinion, right now, that came into our country [the number of unauthorized immigrants in the U.S. was estimated at 14 million in 2023]. Many come from prisons, jails, mental institutions, many terrorists,” Trump claimed, later adding that “we’re going to spend a lot of time getting the criminals out … we have a lot of people, hundreds of thousands of murderers. We have people, drug dealers … it’s not even believable.”
Although it would have been difficult at the time of the recording to imagine the terror that Trump’s Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) sweeps would unleash on communities like Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, and Portland in the months following his return to office, we can hear in his attempts to vilify unauthorized foreign nationals, and in his fear-mongering about how many of them were bad actors, a justification for the use of blunt force rather than nuanced policy.
And it seemed like Von agreed, at least in principle, with the law-and-order logic underpinning Trump’s statements. “Oh, I don’t think people should be allowed to be in our country if they’re criminals,” he stated.
To give this conversation a charitable reading, it is perhaps likely that Von assumed that, once in office, Trump’s administration would have the tools to determine which foreign nationals were authorized to be in the country and which were not. Further, he may also have believed ICE would know who among this group had a criminal record – and not conduct mass roundups based on race.
Yet, as we should have all probably known by the summer of 2024, for Trump and his chief advisers, blunt force (and cruelty) was the point. Recall the so-called “Muslim Ban” instituted during Trump’s first term, which was hardly an example of a well-calibrated policy, but was rather a “total and complete shutdown” of travelers and immigrants from seven Muslim-majority countries (though even this wasn’t without its conflicts of interest as it excluded several countries like Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates where Trump had business dealings).
Even the wall, which was conceived by Trump insiders in 2015 as a mnemonic device intended to help their boss to remember to mention illegal immigration at his campaign rallies, was deemed effective precisely because it was not subtle. As Trump 2016 campaign adviser Sam Nunberg told Business Insider, “I think one issue is people did understand walls … the wall in 2016 was symbolic of Donald Trump: common sense, practical solutions, simplified answers – as opposed to long nuanced, detailed policy speak.”

President Donald J. Trump’s signature is seen on a plaque on the border wall Tuesday, Jan. 12, 2021, at the Texas-Mexico border near Alamo, Texas. (Official White House Photo by Shealah Craighead) (PDM 1.0)
And this would be a fair characterization of Trump’s remarks on This Past Weekend – when Von asked earnest policy questions, Trump offered simplified, seemingly common sense responses that presented his own approach to the problems of government as something different than politics-as-usual, different because it was guided by an intensely practical, no-nonsense ethos.
Like his appearance on Logan Paul’s Impaulsive, Trump’s calm, yet forceful tone of voice on This Past Weekend tended to support his overall credibility as a leader capable of bringing logical solutions to a crisis-ridden government – of brining decisive, masculine order to the chaos in Washington. Such was the impression that listeners may have gotten, for instance, from Trump and Von’s discussion of the president’s first term executive order mandating price transparency for hospital care, which Von asked Trump about specifically, and which, Trump claimed, “would have brought down the cost of care by 50, 60%” if Biden and Kamala had enforced it.
But Trump’s appeals to common sense also provided cover for what might have otherwise been an embarrassing bit of hypocrisy. When Von began to turn the conversation toward the power of lobbyists, asking why it was that the government couldn’t seem to do anything about the so-called revolving door, Trump explained that there was a “whole constitutional thing there” (the First Amendment right to petition the government), and agreed with Von that it was “a problem and … a big problem,” adding that “we were [in his first term] doing things about it.”
What his administration did, was issue an executive order banning executive branch employees from becoming lobbyists for a period of five years. This move may have seemed like it indicated a genuine desire to “drain the swamp,” as Trump routinely promised to do on the campaign trail in 2016, but, as ProPublica revealed in a 2019 report, his administration had actually hired 1 lobbyist for every 14 political appointees that it had made since taking office (281 in total), which was four times more than Obama had appointed six years into office.
Given that they had provided ingress to the executive branch, it is perhaps unsurprising that they would eventually provide egress, executive order notwithstanding. Indeed, on the final day of his first term, Trump revoked the order without giving explanation, clearing the way for members of his administration to secure lucrative lobbying gigs. Such contradictions, however, were more or less concealed behind Trump’s populist rhetoric, behind his apparent recognition that conflicts of interest are a problem in politics, or that medical debt is crushing Americans.

But taking a sound studies perspective, we can also see – or hear – how Trump’s tone of voice, which admittedly seems less energetic than it was during his Logan Paul interview, tended to convey an assurance that what he said was an authentic expression of his own thoughts and perspectives. Again, this was not the kind of stream-of-consciousness raving that we have come to expect from his rallies, but rather a low-key, intimate conversation about relevant issues and facts – or, at least facts as Trump saw them.
The implication here is that Trump as a political leader is free to operate in ways that mere politicians and government officials simply can’t because of their obligations to party, to donors, or to lobbyists. What is likely missed in all of this, however, is that what Trump is describing is a thoroughly authoritarian approach to political power, one that is of a piece with his claim that “I alone can fix it.” Positioning himself outside the political establishment – and even independent of the Republican Party of which he is nominally the leader – Trump can offer himself as a political messiah and claim the moral authority to act without regard for democratic processes in the name of a specious popular mandate.
In other words, by contrasting himself with “them,” and by holding himself at a distance from the dominant political order, Trump clears himself of the obligation to work with any group or individual that he deems to be opposed to his own quasi-populist agenda.
And for Von and those in his audience who are fed up with the status quo, that is a powerful appeal.
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Featured Image: Theo Von, Edited James Tamim, Wikimedia Images (CC BY-SA 2.0)
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Andrew J. Salvati is an adjunct professor in the Media and Communications program at Drew University, where he teaches courses on podcasting and television studies. His research interests include media and cultural memory, television history, and mediated masculinity. He is the co-founder and occasional co-host of Inside the Box: The TV History Podcast, and Drew Archives in 10.
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REWIND! . . .If you liked this post, you may also dig:

Impaulsive: Bro-casting Trump, Part I—Andrew Salvati
Taters Gonna Tate. . .But Do Platforms Have to Platform?: Listening to the Manosphere—Andrew Salvati
Listening to MAGA Politics within US/Mexico’s Lucha Libre –Esther Díaz Martín and Rebeca Rivas
Gendered Sonic Violence, from the Waiting Room to the Locker Room–Rebecca Lentjes
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