North Dakota’s Meaty Loyalty Oath

Published on: Wed, 08 Jul 2026 04:02:00 GMT
Original Story: North Dakota leaders talk Trump & Teddy Roosevelt over bison burgers – Politico

Alright, settle in, folks. Grab your lukewarm coffee and prepare for another dose of reality, filtered through the weary eyes of someone who’s seen too many corporate “synergy” meetings. Today’s special? A little tête-à-tête over bison burgers in North Dakota, featuring the man himself, Donald J. Trump, and a smattering of state leaders. Politico, ever the purveyor of high-brow political theatre, broke the news. And honestly, it’s just… *chef’s kiss* for sheer, unadulterated political performativity.

The Culinary Confession: Bison Burgers as Political Sacrament

Let’s be brutally honest here. When North Dakota leaders convene with Donald Trump, and the menu prominently features “bison burgers,” it’s not exactly a casual backyard BBQ. This isn’t about culinary exploration or a shared love for lean protein. No, this is a meticulously staged photo opportunity, a culinary communion designed to project an image of rugged, American authenticity, while simultaneously serving as a not-so-subtle loyalty test. Because nothing says “I’m one of you, Mr. President, and I support your populist agenda” quite like chowing down on a patty made from an iconic American mammal.

The symbolism is so thick you could carve it with a butter knife. Bison, a creature synonymous with the untamed American West, resilience, and a certain bygone era. Trump, a figure who constantly invokes a return to a perceived golden age of American strength. And the North Dakota leaders? Well, they’re there to bask in the reflected glow, to signal their allegiance, and perhaps, to secure a fleeting moment of attention from the political sun around which their party currently orbits. It’s a delicious, if not entirely digestible, power play.

The Shadow of Teddy: Conservation or Convenient Prop?

Now, here’s where it gets truly fascinating, and frankly, a bit galling. The Politico report explicitly mentions that Teddy Roosevelt was part of the conversation. Teddy Roosevelt. The Rough Rider. The trust-buster. The man who, among other things, was arguably America’s first great conservationist, responsible for establishing five national parks, 18 national monuments, 51 federal bird reserves, and 150 national forests. A man whose enduring legacy is intrinsically tied to the preservation of America’s wild spaces and natural heritage. What, pray tell, could Trump and his North Dakota loyalists possibly have discussed about him that wasn’t dripping with irony?

It’s almost too perfect. Roosevelt, a Republican, mind you, who believed in the power of federal action to protect resources for future generations. Trump, a Republican, whose administration systematically rolled back environmental protections and championed resource extraction. The cognitive dissonance here is so palpable, it almost deserves its own national monument. One has to wonder if, between bites of bison, anyone brought up how Trump’s administration, in a move that would have sent Roosevelt into a fit of indignation, shrunk Bears Ears National Monument by 85% and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument by nearly half in 2017. Those proclamations, signed by Trump, directly contradicted the spirit and letter of Roosevelt’s conservation efforts and the Antiquities Act he championed. The idea of discussing Roosevelt in this context, without acknowledging that glaring contradiction, is either a testament to a breathtaking lack of self-awareness or a masterclass in political gaslighting.

The Loyalty Test: A Time-Honored (and Tedious) Tradition

Let’s be real, this meeting isn’t just about bison or dead presidents. It’s about ‘The Loyalty Test’. It’s a public display of fealty, a ritualistic reaffirmation of allegiance to the party’s undisputed leader. In today’s Republican Party, such gatherings are less about policy debate and more about proving who’s “with us” and who’s a RINO (Republican In Name Only). It’s a transactional relationship: you show up, you publicly laud the man, you get his blessing (or at least, avoid his public ire). It’s the political equivalent of a corporate performance review, but with higher stakes and decidedly less HR oversight.

This isn’t a new phenomenon, but Trump has certainly perfected it. He demands unwavering support, and those who offer it are rewarded with political capital, endorsements, and access. Those who don’t? Well, they find themselves on the wrong end of a Truth Social rant, or worse, facing a primary challenge from a more “loyal” candidate. It’s a closed feedback loop, reinforcing a culture where dissent is treasonous and conformity is king. The North Dakota leaders, by participating in this bison burger summit, are effectively demonstrating their understanding of this unspoken rulebook. They’re signalling to their constituents, and to Trump, that they’re team players, fully aligned with the current direction of the party, no matter how ideologically twisty that path may become.

The Contradiction Economy: Trump’s Ever-Shifting Sands

Here’s the thing about loyalty: it often requires a flexible memory. Trump, the self-proclaimed anti-establishment crusader of 2016, who railed against the “swamp” and the “elites” in Washington, now *is* the establishment for a significant portion of the GOP. He’s the ultimate insider, the gatekeeper whose approval is sought by countless politicians, much like the North Dakota contingent. The man who promised to “drain the swamp” now holds court at elaborate, staged events, demanding homage from state leaders — precisely the kind of elite politicking he once scorned. It’s a fascinating paradox, watching the revolutionary become the institution he once vowed to dismantle.

The contradiction isn’t just about environmental policy or establishment politics. It’s central to Trump’s political brand. He thrives on it, spinning narratives that often directly oppose his past statements or actions, and his base, seemingly unfazed, embraces the latest iteration. It’s less about consistent ideology and more about consistent devotion to the leader. This makes any discussion of historical figures like Roosevelt, whose legacy is built on bedrock principles, inherently performative and often disingenuous in this context. It’s a selective appropriation of history to serve a contemporary political narrative, rather than a genuine engagement with it.

Snarky Takeaway

So, what have we learned from this meaty rendezvous in North Dakota? That political loyalty, much like a perfectly cooked bison burger, requires a certain amount of effort and a willingness to swallow whatever’s put in front of you. That historical figures, no matter how iconic, can be conveniently dusted off and trotted out as props, their actual legacies neatly compartmentalized or outright ignored when inconvenient. And that the Trumpian loyalty test continues to be a cornerstone of modern Republican politics, demanding unwavering devotion, even if it means dining on a side of contradiction. Just remember to wipe the grease from your chin before you pledge allegiance. It’s all part of the show, folks. And frankly, it’s getting a little tough to stomach.