Somewhere between clutching a cheeseburger with one hand and national security with the other, Donald J. Trump—former president, current golf cart menace, and walking indictment—graced us with another performative meltdown. This time, it wasn’t just the military-industrial complex getting whiplash. No, this time he fired his full mental arsenal (read: an expired Nerf gun) at CNN’s Anderson Cooper… or as Trump, in his signature Freudian drag, referred to him: Allison Cooper.
Yes. Allison. Because nothing says “I respect the gays” like feminizing a man’s name as an insult while spiraling over a geopolitical screw-up. Somewhere RuPaul just clutched her pearls, and it wasn’t from joy.
Let’s set the stage.
Trump was fuming after what he called a “very successful” but somehow also “very blocked” bombing attempt on Iran—a mission so effective, it didn’t happen. According to sources who still have security clearances and a shred of sanity, Iran may have moved their enriched uranium before Trump’s tantrum could materialize into a full-blown war crime. Naturally, the former president did what any five-time draft dodger with internet access would do: blame the gays. Or rather, Allison.
Because when your foreign policy fails harder than your marriage to the truth, why not throw a little queer-baited shade at Anderson Cooper, the silver-haired oracle of reason?
A Very Stable Misogayny
Now, let’s be clear: misnaming someone on live television isn’t new for Trump. He’s referred to Tim Cook as “Tim Apple,” Yosemite as “Yo-Semite,” and famously thought Frederick Douglass was still alive. So calling Anderson “Allison” may not seem like much. But in Trumpworld, every misstep is a calculated slur disguised as a “joke” told to a drunk uncle audience with WiFi.
Trump has always danced on the fine line between playground bully and 1930s propaganda cartoon. But make no mistake: calling Anderson Cooper “Allison” wasn’t a slip. It was the kind of emasculating jab people like him weaponize against anyone who dares challenge their rotting meatloaf version of masculinity.
Because what’s more horrifying to the MAGA base than a man who’s smart, calm, fact-based, and—gasp—gay?
Enriched Uranium, Depleted Brain Cells
Let’s talk about that Iran situation for a second. Trump, in his latest “Look at me, I’m still relevant!” tour, claimed he could’ve stopped Iran from enriching uranium but was “stabbed in the back by generals” who, unlike him, read actual briefings. Turns out, Iran may have moved their materials well before Trump had a chance to reenact Call of Duty: Senior Citizen Edition.
But in Trump’s version of the world, it’s never about nuclear diplomacy, foreign intelligence, or caution. It’s about optics. If a drone explodes and no one’s around to tweet it, did it even happen?
So instead of accountability, we got performative outrage and an impromptu drag name for Anderson Cooper. Somewhere, Lindsey Graham clutched his pearls and whispered, “Work.”
The Closet in the Oval Office
Let’s not pretend this is new behavior. Trump’s record on LGBTQ+ issues reads like a hate group’s vision board. He’s banned trans soldiers from the military, cozied up to anti-LGBTQ+ evangelical leaders, and appointed judges who treat gay rights like a Choose Your Own Adventure book—with all the pages ripped out.
But what really gives the game away is this: he always goes for the gay jab. Not policy critiques. Not journalism standards. No, he sees a confident, successful, openly gay man on screen and reverts to middle school. Anderson becomes Allison. Pete becomes “boot-edge-edge.” Pronouns become punchlines. It’s not just childish—it’s a strategy.
When you’ve got nothing left to say, you insult the way someone speaks, walks, or who they love. It’s not political. It’s pathetic.
Queer Rage is Patriotic
Let’s be real. Queer folks have been on the frontlines of every fight for democracy: Stonewall, AIDS activism, voting rights, anti-police brutality protests. Meanwhile, Trump dodged Vietnam by claiming bone spurs, then spent four years launching moral wars from his tanning bed.
Anderson Cooper—whether or not you love CNN—represents a type of queer visibility that deeply unsettles authoritarian minds. He’s intelligent. Composed. Soft-spoken. Informed. And unbothered. Nothing infuriates a tyrant like a gay man who refuses to flinch.
Trump, on the other hand, is the human equivalent of a malfunctioning Ring doorbell. Always on, always loud, always sending alerts no one asked for.
Allies, Take Notes
If you’re straight, cisgender, and fuming over this, good. But let this be a reminder: being an ally isn’t about slapping a rainbow on your LinkedIn or saying “Love is love” once a year in June. It’s about calling this shit out. Loudly. Consistently.
When someone feminizes a man’s name as an insult, challenge it. When casual homophobia gets dressed up as “locker room talk,” burn the whole locker room down. And when Trump does… anything… consider it a bat signal to activate your critical thinking.
Because homophobia doesn’t always show up in slurs or hate crimes. Sometimes, it sneaks in through petty name-calling. Through side-eyes. Through insinuations. Through Allison.
The Final Drag
So here’s to Allison Cooper. May your poise forever expose the chaos. May your reporting cut through the noise. And may your very existence continue to make old men in red hats clutch their pearls harder than their Russian passports.
And to Trump: if you’re going to insult someone, at least try to be clever. Because right now, all we see is a 77-year-old man yelling at a gay cloud while Iran quietly upgrades their uranium program behind your back.
You weren’t a crash test dummy for the MeToo movement. You were a speeding Hummer of entitlement crashing into the reality that consent, accountability, and respect aren’t optional features anymore.
So if Anderson Cooper is Allison, then I guess Donald is… Delusionala Trumpette. Queen of Projection. Duchess of Disgrace. Long may she flail.