A Democracy Drive Thread
The words and phrases he says over and over — the one-word tics, the two- and three-word slogans, and the one-hit-wonder lines — that make up the MAGA vocabulary.
A field guide to how the president talks: the recurring words, the slogans, and the infamous one-off quotes, grouped by length. This one is a lexicon, not a timeline — the entries aren't dated, and most aren't individually sourced.
From the 2005 Access Hollywood hot-mic tape: “When you’re a star, they let you do it… grab ’em by the pussy.” He dismissed it as “locker room talk.”
His response to the deadly 2017 white-nationalist rally in Charlottesville.
His 2016 boast that he could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot someone without losing voters.
The unfinished midnight tweet — “Despite the constant negative press covfefe” — that became a meme.
His March 2020 answer about the failed federal COVID-19 testing rollout.
The words he said he aced on a cognitive test, recited as proof of his mental fitness.
The line from the 2019 Ukraine call that triggered his first impeachment.
His 2024 debate claim about Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio — which local officials said was false.
His promise from the 2016 Republican convention stage.
His 2024 warning about what would happen if he lost; he later said he meant the auto industry.
He credits his intelligence to genetics and his late uncle, MIT professor John Trump — proof, he says, that he instinctively grasps complex science, especially “nuclear.”
In his rain-disrupted 2019 Independence Day speech, he said the Continental Army “took over the airports” during the Revolutionary War.
His 2017 discovery, which came as news to health-policy experts everywhere.
What he called himself, glancing skyward, while talking trade war with China in 2019.
His 2016 scripture stumble at Liberty University — “Two Corinthians” instead of “Second Corinthians.”
His explanation for not needing daily intelligence briefings.
His self-diagnosis, first tweeted in 2018 and repeated for years.
His 2015 boast about his command of language.
His 2016 suggestion that gun owners might be able to stop Hillary Clinton from picking judges.
His 2018 description of Haiti and African nations during an immigration meeting.
His celebration after winning the 2016 Nevada caucuses.
How he pointed out a supporter at a 2016 rally.
His recurring self-defense, often “…that you’ve ever met.”
From his 2015 campaign launch on Mexican immigrants: “they’re bringing drugs, they’re bringing crime, they’re rapists.”
His 2015 dismissal of John McCain’s war-hero record.
His 2018 nuclear-button boast aimed at Kim Jong Un.
What he called Apple CEO Tim Cook, to his face.
His misspelled tweet about the fast food he served championship athletes.
His 2015 swipe at Fox’s Megyn Kelly after she pressed him on insulting women.
His 2018 remark after the Parkland school shooting.
From his 2015 campaign announcement — “and nobody builds walls better than me.”
His all-purpose superlative — a “beautiful” bill, a “beautiful” wall, “beautiful clean coal,” a “beautiful” letter from Kim Jong Un.
His intensifier, as in cutting taxes “bigly.” He later insisted he’d actually said “big league.”
His verdict on anything he opposes — a policy, a city, a person — usually a “total disaster.”
“Make America Great Again” — the hat, the movement, and the label for his most loyal supporters.
What any investigation, scandal, or inconvenient fact becomes — Russia, impeachment, COVID, climate.
His description of conduct under scrutiny — most famously the “perfect phone call” with Ukraine’s president.
“Republican In Name Only” — his brand for any Republican who crosses him.
The one-word kicker to a put-down, often standing alone as its own sentence. Sad!
Among his favorite superlatives — tremendous crowds, tremendous success, tremendous people.
Deployed for both praise and outrage, whichever the moment calls for.
His framing for any process that doesn’t go his way — courts, elections, the press.
The promised state of his presidency — “we’re going to win so much you’ll get tired of winning.”
“Huge,” as pronounced — a staple of his rally superlatives.
His foreign- and trade-policy slogan — a phrase with a loaded historical past he embraced anyway.
What he calls the United States whenever its justice system is aimed at him.
His label for the criminal cases against him, reframing prosecutions as attacks on his campaign.
The verbal tic he appends to claims that are often the hardest to believe.
His 2016 nickname for Hillary Clinton, repeated until it became a brand.
The shadowy career-bureaucrat conspiracy he blames for thwarting him.
Any reporting he dislikes — the two words he did the most to popularize.
His nickname for Joe Biden, later upgraded to “Crooked Joe.”
Washington’s entrenched establishment, which he vowed to drain and then staffed with insiders.
His framing for every investigation into him, from Mueller to the indictments.
His running brand for the network he attacks most.
The 2016 rally chant and central promise — the border wall Mexico was going to pay for.
The anti-establishment pledge to clean out Washington.
The press as an institution, recast as the enemy of the people.
The 2016 chant aimed at Hillary Clinton, later revived for other foes.
His standard claim of unprecedented scale — crowds, deals, disasters, numbers “never seen before.”
His framing for any charge, report, or verdict against him.
His catch-all for Democrats, the press, judges — anyone in opposition.
His promise to hire “the best people” — a phrase that aged poorly amid record turnover and indictments.
His signature superlative construction — every crowd, deal, and disaster is unprecedented.
His 2023–24 line about immigrants, echoing language historians traced to fascist rhetoric.
His 2023 promise to supporters: “I am your warrior, I am your justice… I am your retribution.”
His 2022 call to allow “termination” of constitutional rules to overturn the 2020 election and reinstate him.
His May 2020 post about the protests after George Floyd’s murder.
His December 2020 tweet summoning supporters to Washington for January 6.
His message to the Proud Boys at the 2020 debate when asked to condemn them.
His warning to the January 6 crowd before they marched on the Capitol.
The “MAHA” slogan he adopted alongside RFK Jr.
His re-election tagline.
His enduring, false description of his 2020 loss.
His 2019 attack on four Democratic congresswomen of color, all but one U.S.-born.
His standing rebuttal whenever his treatment of women comes up.
His 2016 pitch to Black voters.
What he told the January 6 rioters in a video as they stormed the Capitol.
His cryptic 2017 remark to reporters during a photo with military leaders.
His 2016 self-description — “nobody knows debt better than me.”
His 2015 claim of superior military expertise.
From his 2015 campaign-launch speech.
His 2016 promise on interrogation.
His 2015 boast.
His 2017 claim — “with the exception of the late, great Abraham Lincoln.”
His 2016 written rebuttal to jokes about his hand size, which volunteered that “various other parts” were too.
His 2016 statement on the religion.
His 2015 remark — adding that he’d be “the last to go to war.”
His 2016 promise about the relentless winning ahead.
His standing description of the economy on his watch.
The manufacturing-revival promise, repeated at every rally.
His pitch for the 2017 tax law, whoever the cuts actually favored.
His real-time scoreboard — cited when up, ignored when down.
The figure he invokes to sell tariffs, tax cuts, and trade fights.
His 2018 tweet launching the tariff era.
His all-purpose explanation for economic grievance.
What he promises America is about to become.
His rally device for invoking crime or chaos somewhere else.
His all-purpose attribution for claims with no other source.
The slogan in full — the hat, the movement, the era.
His paean to trade taxes.
His 2018 self-label.
His April 2020 COVID briefing musing about whether disinfectant or “very powerful light” might be used inside the body to fight the virus.
His repeated 2020 assurance that COVID-19 would simply vanish.
His August 2020 response to the U.S. death toll, then about a thousand a day.
His January 2020 assurance about the new coronavirus.
His March 2020 argument against pandemic restrictions.
His March 2020 claim, which was not true.
His September 2020 minimizing of the virus’s danger to young people.
His October 2020 message after his own hospitalization with it.
His names for the coronavirus, which critics tied to a rise in anti-Asian attacks.
His fall-2020 assurance as cases climbed.
His February 2020 prediction that 15 U.S. cases would soon vanish.
His term for family-based legal immigration, which he moved to curtail.
The practice of releasing migrants pending hearings, which he vowed to end.
Jurisdictions that limit cooperation with federal immigration enforcement — a recurring target.
His 2015 call for “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States,” later enacted as a travel ban.
The 2016 promise. Mexico did not pay for the wall.
The grievance at the center of his politics from 2015 onward.
The foreign-policy companion to “Make America Great Again.”
His 2016 promise to wipe out the group — he said he knew more about it than the generals.
The strongman framing of his foreign policy.
His recurring demand that allies spend more, or else.
His admiring assessment of the Russian president.
His 2017 nickname for North Korea’s Kim Jong Un — before they “fell in love.”
His anti-interventionist refrain — delivered even as he expanded U.S. strikes.
His 2017 threat against North Korea.
How he described his bond with Kim Jong Un after their exchange of letters.
His standing self-assessment — often “with the possible exception of Lincoln.”
His patriotism claim, usually aimed at a critic.
The core of the brand.
Applied to nearly every domain, qualifications optional.
His 2016 outsider pitch.
His standard claim of total expertise — taxes, drones, ISIS, the visa system, you name it.
His 2016 self-assessment — “or at least a very good temperament.”
His 2016 boast, of a piece with “a very stable genius.”
His signature label for the press — a phrase with a chilling pedigree.
His mash-up insult for mainstream outlets.
His standing epithet for the paper — whose subscriptions rose throughout.
His tag for the Post and its owner, Jeff Bezos.
The catch-all charge against any unflattering coverage.
His two slogans fused into his fullest attack on the press.
His framing of the opposition as an existential threat.
The restorationist call at the heart of his rallies.
His 2018 instruction to supporters to distrust the news and their own eyes.
The poem he reads at rallies — about a woman who shelters a snake that then bites her — as a parable about immigrants.
His 2024 rally references to the fictional cannibal, invoked while attacking asylum seekers.
His 2024 riff weighing whether, on a sinking electric boat, he’d rather be electrocuted or eaten by a shark.
What he calls his own tangential rally style, insisting the digressions all tie together.
The stock character in his anecdotes — a big, strong man who chokes up and calls him “sir.”
His 2016 invitation for Russia to find Hillary Clinton’s deleted emails.
His repeated slip for the “origins” of the Russia probe.
His claim that the noise from wind turbines is carcinogenic.
His recurring claim to historic persecution.
His all-purpose claim of total expertise — drones, taxes, ISIS, windmills, the visa system.
His way of sourcing a claim to no one in particular.
His preface to something usually well known, or untrue.
The emphatic tag he appends to assertions.
His favorite throat-clearer — often before something not especially frank.
His hedge on anything he won’t commit to.
His onomatopoeia for things happening fast and decisively.
His all-caps verdict on any investigation of him.
The Mueller-era refrain.
The insult, rendered for emphasis.
Elections, polls, trials — whatever doesn’t go his way.
His 2020 campaign cudgel.
His claim after the Mueller report, which did not exonerate him.
His term for congressional oversight.
His election-night 2020 demand — made where he was behind.
His all-purpose tag on unverified anecdotes.
His standard sign-off.