The Simulation is Glitching: Brain Rot, Retcons, and the Savage Fight for the Narrative
The Algorithm is poisoned, the NPCs are rewriting the history books, and the only way to stop this fascist vibe shift is to main-line the raw, uncut truth. It’s time to build the Trumpsonian.
The Museum of Receipts
House Republicans are rebooting Jan. 6 (via Politico). We’re building a pop‑up that archives the chaos with satire, VR, and ironclad receipts - and we need you in the conspiracy.
I’m in the headset, heart thudding like a subwoofer, trapped in the crush on the Capitol steps. A chant morphs from noise to threat, the walls seem to tilt, and somewhere behind me a door splinters - this is the moment when slogans die and consequences show up IRL. I yank the visor off and I’m back in a Los Angeles warehouse, blinking at strangers who look exactly like I feel: rattled, awake, ready to stop doomscrolling and start doing.
That VR drop into January 6 is the centerpiece of the Trumpsonian - an immersive, satirical museum engineered to turn “I saw a headline” into “I felt the stakes.” Not a lecture. A download to the limbic system. Because while you and I are trying to hold on to the actual timeline, the political content farms are already cranking out the remix. House Republicans just set up a new subcommittee to “reinvestigate” the insurrection - third time’s the charm, apparently - with the obvious goal of recasting the day and laundering responsibility.1 “Retribution, not reconciliation, appears to be the prime motivation,” as one summary of the plan put it, echoing Politico’s reporting.2 On cue, Trump is pumping fresh copium into the feed - falsely suggesting the FBI “sparked” the violence - to keep the algorithm fed while the Hill builds its narrative machine.3
And it isn’t just Congress. From the Smithsonian to the Kennedy Center, the culture war has been escalated into policy. In March, the White House dropped an executive order with a vibes‑heavy title - “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History” - and a very specific target: how national museums tell our story. It frames the Smithsonian as a problem to be “fixed,” then green‑lights an “internal review” to scrub content that strays from the preferred mythos. If you’ve ever seen a regime try to “optimize” the past, you know exactly what this is.4 Meanwhile, down at the Kennedy Center, workers are unionizing in direct response to the takeover - a flashing red light on the dashboard of American arts. WTOP News+1
So yes: we need a museum that fights back.
What the Trumpsonian Is (and Why It Hits Different)
Forget velvet ropes and hushed plaques. The Trumpsonian is a pop‑up, swipe‑able, viral‑ready circuit through the last nine years - built by immersive designers, comedy writers, researchers, and civic nerds with receipts. The show is structured like a story: start with the absurd, walk through the wreckage, end with a plan. Here’s the route:
Hall of Ignorance. Welcome to a space where reality was “customizable” and we all lived through it. Throw a (digital) ketchup plate at a Fox News wall. Browse the Apothecary of Quackery - brightly lit bottles of bleach, ivermectin, UV wands - pitched like skincare. Draw your own hurricane with a Sharpie, then print the “Stable Genius” certificate for your fridge. It’s dumb, it’s delightful, and it perfectly captures an era when “LOL” was the only way to keep from screaming.
Carnival of Failure. Pull the lever on our Bankruptcy Slot Machine and watch the IOUs rain. Pose in a cap and gown for your Trump University graduation photo, diploma included (it’s as useful as the original). Circle the Carousel of Calamities (Steaks, Shuttle, Casinos, rinse–repeat). Here, the joke lands hard: the house busts, the owner wins, contractors and students eat the loss. Post your selfie; you just did a micro‑PSA.
The War on Truth. An Infinity Mirror Room of Lies takes a single conspiracy from anonymous post to prime‑time chyron to presidential podium. You watch the mutation in real time - the meme becomes the message becomes policy - and you realize “disinformation pipeline” isn’t a metaphor; it’s a factory with a loading dock.
Uncomfortable Truths. The laughter drops out. You move through a pageant dressing room soundscape, the Bergdorf vestibule with E. Jean Carroll’s account, the Access Hollywood audio. No selfies. No ironic captions. Just a prompt to post a message of solidarity for survivors if you choose. The point here is simple: character is policy.
January 6 VR. You’re a journalist inside the chaos. You hear the mob, feel the shove, and document what’s happening because the lie depends on your amnesia. When you exit, a massive “Where’s Waldo?”–style illustration dares you to find politicians who hid that day and later voted to memory‑hole it. It’s dark comedy with a knife‑edge.
The Authoritarian Checklist. A sober, receipts‑only compare‑and‑contrast: press as “enemy,” purges for loyalty, cult‑of‑personality, normalized political violence - it’s a pattern, not a vibe. No games here; just context that sticks.
Hope Activation Zone. The ending is the point. Wall of Heroes (Ruby Freeman, Shaye Moss, Michael Fanone, Eugene Goodman). Voter‑registration kiosks. Petition stations. A Pledge Wall where you add what you’ll do next. You selfie less and sign more. It’s not just catharsis; it’s onboarding.
That’s the loop: laugh → learn → feel → act. This isn’t a museum of sadness; it’s a movement builder shaped like a meme factory. And we’re building it precisely because the other side is trying to capture the galleries, the grants, and the “official” story.
Why Now (a.k.a. The Timeline Is Under Attack)
Congress is running a reboot. A new GOP‑led panel will “reinvestigate” Jan. 6, with all the subtlety of a four‑hour YouTube “debunk.” That’s not accountability; it’s a content strategy.5
The spin machine is live. Trump’s latest FBI‑did‑it claim was fact‑checked into confetti within hours, but the goal was never accuracy; it was outrage fuel to keep the base engaged while the Hill writes a friendlier history.6
Institutions are being “optimized.” The executive order on “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History” directs the Smithsonian to self‑scrub for “improper ideology.” That’s not a neutral code review; it’s a cultural purge dressed as UX.7
Arts leadership has been politicized. Kennedy Center staff moved to unionize after the shake‑up; even performers are sounding alarms. The message is loud: if you can’t capture the content, capture the venue.8
TL;DR: They’re speed‑running the “edit history” button. Our job is to screenshot reality, annotate it, and push it back into the feed with enough craft that it sticks.
What Your Support Builds (and How It Scales)
We’re seeking $500,000 to fund the initial Los Angeles build: high‑production sets (yes, including the ketchup wall and the VR rig), venue and permits, interactive tech, and the kind of safety and operations people who keep pop‑ups from turning into fire drills. That seed unlocks a touring model: LA → NYC → DC → Chicago, with modular sets, city‑specific updates, and a merch line that pays for a lot of the gas.
This is for‑profit with a mission - because a sustainable cultural engine can’t live on grants alone. Ten percent of net goes to Run for Something, helping recruit and support the next wave of down‑ballot democracy‑defenders. The museum also bakes in onsite voter registration and activist tools. When people ask “Does this actually move numbers?” the answer is: yes, by design.
And no, we’re not naive about the blowback. We expect cease‑and‑desist letters and content‑farm rage. That’s part of the dramaturgy. Parody and fair‑use counsel is already on retainer, and we treat bad‑faith legal threats as earned media. It’s baked into the run‑of‑show.
Donor Rewards That Understand the Assignment
You’re not a donor. You’re a co‑conspirator. And the rewards reflect that - high satire with high shareability:
“The Covfefe Tweet.” A personalized, typo‑laden thank‑you in ALL CAPS for your archive. Post it, frame it, drop it in the family group chat.
“Tariff Exemption.” A printable certificate liberating your artisanal cheese from imaginary trade wars. Also: an early LA museum ticket.
“Classified Documents Starter Pack.” A bright red TOP SECRET folder stuffed with heavily redacted nonsense. Bathroom placement optional.
“Emoluments Package.” A parody hotel minibar IOU plus a ticket to our LA Opening Party.
“Cabinet Appointment (Acting Secretary of Whatever).” No Senate hearing. Just clout.
“Trump University Diploma.” Doctor of Griftology. Real frame. Fake prestige.
“Presidential Pardon.” Gilded parchment and - seriously - Executive Producer credit on the project.
These are not tchotchkes; they’re conversation starters designed to spread the brand (and the receipts) into the wild.
How the Trumpsonian Supercharges the Pro‑Democracy Movement
Let’s talk outcomes, not vibes.
Memory that resists manipulation. The Jan. 6 VR hits different than a thread or a clip. Once you’ve “stood there,” you will not be gaslit by a friendly report or a cable panel.
On‑ramps to action. We turn emotion into sign‑ups at kiosks, pledges on the wall, and QR‑driven donations to vetted causes. The exit is a funnel by design.
Network effects. Every selfie in the Hall of Ignorance or the Carnival of Failure is a shareable civics lesson that travels farther than any white paper. The experience is built to algorithm‑optimize truth without dumbing it down.
Cultural flank. While the Hill runs its “reinvestigation,” while executive orders comb museum copy for “improper ideology,” we’re holding space for the messy, documented story - a museum of “we saw it, we saved it.”9
This isn’t adjunct to politics; it’s infrastructure for political memory. When the public square is a perpetual scroll, you need installations that imprint - places you remember with your senses, not just your takes. That’s how you inoculate a democracy against the next wave of narrative laundering. (No cap.)
Join the Conspiracy (A Structured CTA You Can Act On Today)
1) Chip in. Fuel the build and claim a satirical reward. Your dollars go straight to sets, tech, safety, and opening‑night readiness; your receipts are literal - the thing you fund is the thing that defends our receipts. Target: $500,000 for LA, and we are off to the races.
2) Join the mailing list. Hit “Join the Conspiracy” on our site and get drops on build progress, previews, volunteer shifts, city tour dates, and digital toolkits to amplify. The list is how we mobilize, not monetize. (Then yes, we mobilize to monetize the opening week - because scale is the mission.)
3) Spread it. Post this article. Thread the Politico‑adjacent updates on the Jan. 6 rewrite push. Share your favorite concept render or reward tier with #Trumpsonian. The war on history is an information war; distribution is power.10
4) Recruit. Text three friends who still say, “I’m not political.” Tell them: This isn’t politics; it’s a content platform with a conscience. Bring them when we open. They’ll leave with a plan.
5) Keep receipts. When the new House report drops, don’t rage‑watch, compare notes. We’ll have the context wall ready; you’ll have the VR in your head. If they try to overwrite, we overwrite back - with artifacts, not adjectives.
Final Thought
Authoritarians love tidy museums with approved stories. We’re building the opposite: a chaotic, funny, devastating, screenshot‑proof record of what we lived through - and a ramp to what we do next. If they’re going to patch the past, we need a museum that patches the public: hearts, minds, muscle memory.
This is the mission. Join the conspiracy. Join the mailing list. And when someone tells you the insurrection was exaggerated, the cruelty overstated, or the corruption an asterisk, tell them: I’ve seen it. I’ve walked through it. I’ve got the receipts. Then send them the link - and bring them to the opening.
We’ll be ready. So will you.