Third Trump Assassination Attempt Sparks Questions About Media Rhetoric and Rising Political Hatred

My friends, this past weekend, we witnessed something that should stop every American in their tracks. But, of course, it won’t. Another attempted assassination of President Donald J. Trump. The third—that we know of. And while the headlines are still developing and details continue to emerge, I want to focus on something deeper than the immediate facts. I want to talk about how we got here.

Because this didn’t come out of nowhere.

When I first heard the news, it wasn’t shock that hit me—it was recognition. A grim, unsettling sense that this is where the trajectory has been heading for years.

You don’t spend nearly a decade labeling someone as a dictator, a fascist, or even comparing them to history’s most evil figures without consequences. Words matter. Repetition matters. Narratives matter.

And when those narratives are consumed daily by millions of people, they shape perception. They shape emotion. And in extreme cases, they shape action.

We now know the suspect allegedly held deeply anti-Christian and anti-Trump views. That’s not incidental. That’s not irrelevant background noise. That’s part of a pattern. A pattern where political disagreement is no longer just disagreement—it’s moral condemnation. It’s existential threat language. It’s the belief that your opponent is not just wrong, but dangerous to the very survival of the country.

That kind of thinking doesn’t stay theoretical forever.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: this is not simply a mental health issue. While mental illness can play a role in individual cases, what we are witnessing is something much broader. This is a spiritual crisis that’s happening to a large swath of our culture. A loss of grounding. A rejection of truth. And a replacement of that truth with outrage, fear, and ideological absolutism.

What troubles me most is how predictable this has become. When people are told repeatedly that someone is evil, that they are destroying the nation, that they must be stopped at all costs—eventually someone takes that literally.

And yet, after each incident, there’s very little reflection from the voices who helped build that narrative.

Instead, the cycle continues.

More rhetoric. More escalation. More division.

Now, let me be clear: disagreement is not the problem. Debate is not the problem. Even strong criticism is not the problem. That’s part of a healthy republic. But there is a line between disagreement and dehumanization. Between criticism and incitement.

And we’ve crossed it.

Again.

And until we can reverse this cultural trend, I’m sorry to say this won’t be the last time we find ourselves here.

Conservative, not bitter.
Todd

⚠️ Third assassination attempt raises national alarm
🧠 Media rhetoric examined as a contributing factor
📉 Escalating political hatred reaches dangerous levels
📜 Spiritual vs. mental health crisis discussion
🗣️ The consequences of dehumanizing political opponents
🇺🇸 A call to restore a belief in our shared humanity — while soundly defeating those who stir up this type of evil

^{The Stack of Stuff honors the memory of Rush Limbaugh by keeping his iconic phrase alive — only this time, it’s digital. These links give you context for today’s Toddcast, including pieces that back me up, push back, or simply lay out the facts so you can decide for yourself.}

For more on today’s Toddcast, visit today’s Stack on our website and dig in.

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My friends, from the mouths of babes.

Last week, on Take Your Child to Work Day, lawmakers took questions from journalists’ kids. And the 10-year-old daughter of CNN’s chief congressional correspondent, Manu Raju, asked a question that none of the make-believe journalists at CNN would dare ask.

She asked Hakeem Jeffries, “Why do voters view Democrats so poorly?”

Jeffries was caught off guard - and he didn’t have an answer. I guess he’s not used to getting real questions from CNN.

Instead, he joked, “Did your dad give you that question?” Of course he didn’t - because if he had, he would have asked it himself.

If CNN wants us to believe it’s the most trusted name in news, they better offer that kid a job.

In my mind, she’s already the most objective journalist they’ve got.

There’s something deeply unsettling about the word “manifesto.”

Not because it’s new. It isn’t. But because of what it represents in moments like this.

A line has been crossed.

When someone sits down and writes out their justification for violence—when they document their reasoning, their grievances, their beliefs—that’s not a moment of impulse. That’s the end result of a process. A progression. A way of thinking that has been building, reinforcing itself, hardening over time.

And that’s what should concern us.

Because people don’t wake up one morning and decide, out of nowhere, to “fix the world” through violence. That idea has to be planted. It has to be nurtured. It has to be repeated until it feels not just acceptable—but necessary.

Think about the language that dominates so much of our political and cultural conversation today. Opponents aren’t just wrong—they’re dangerous. They’re not just misguided—they’re evil. They’re not people to debate—they’re threats to be eliminated.

At least that’s how one side views it anyway.

But what happens when someone takes that seriously?

What happens when a person—already unstable, already angry, already searching for purpose—hears, day after day, that a political figure is destroying the country, threatening democracy, endangering lives?

At some point, for some individuals, that stops sounding like commentary — and starts sounding like a call to action.

That’s the manifesto mindset.

It’s the belief that extreme action is justified because the person or situation has been defined as extreme. It’s the idea that the normal rules no longer apply because the stakes have been exaggerated beyond recognition.

And once someone crosses that line, they don’t see themselves as the villain.

They see themselves as the hero.

That’s what makes this so dangerous. It’s not just about one individual. It’s about a broader environment that makes these conclusions possible for many people.

Now, to be clear—this doesn’t mean everyone who uses heated rhetoric is responsible for violence. But it does mean we should be honest about the cumulative effect of that rhetoric over time.

Words shape reality. Narratives shape belief. And belief, eventually, shapes action.

If we want fewer manifestos, fewer incidents, fewer moments like the one we just witnessed—we have to be willing to confront not just the actions themselves, but the ideas and the people who make those actions seem justified in the first place.

Because once violence becomes rational in someone’s mind, we’ve reached a point from which there is no return.