As I write, Trump just wrapped up a euphoric Madison Square Garden event. Its packed audience was treated to an evening of common sense, humor and America-loving courage—a New York taste of Reaganesque optimism. Best of all, this spectacle occurred right in the middle of the Left's vaunted stronghold; and who didn't love the blazing rendition New York, New York at the end?

While anything could happen by election day, the political juxtaposition of bold optimism and demonic lusts couldn't be more revealing. While Kamala's scowling camp salivates over abortion and porn, Trump's crowd celebrated a return to safety, prosperity, and Constitutional freedoms. While Kamala tries to repackage her tired incoherence with fake accents and Beyonce "vibes", Trump continues to gather a true diversity of freedom-loving Americans, many drawn from Kamala's own disaffected party.

One especially bright spot in our political moment is the resurgence of public manhood. Admittedly, it doesn't yet resemble the brawn of older generations, but it at least aspires to their greatness. After spending the last four years silently ducking the left's hormonal rage, men are finally emerging from the political forest. One by one, they step out of its shadows—a growing brotherhood of those who aren't willing to let the he/hims destroy their world anymore.

The left, ever ignorant of human nature, never considered that the repulsive creations of their radical agenda would one day face reckoning in the real world—and in the real world, people got tired of the Frankensteins. The sporty girls didn't want to share locker rooms with hulking and mentally-ill males, much less hand over their medals to them. High school boys couldn't be convinced that "some males menstruate," much to Tampon Tim's chagrin. People didn't admire drag queens, criminal migrants, "trans-men" or terrorists—weird!

Somehow, they imagined that the pale men of the left—syrupy, apologetic buffoons who'd prefer that girls rule the world—would lead their suicidal movement to unseat the Y chromosome. They imagined that the actual men would let this charade go on endlessly, eventually surrendering their chivalry, muscle, wit, and instincts at the altar of progressivism. They were wrong.