There is an old adage in politics, roughly translated from the language of hardball to plain English, that you don’t spend ammunition on a target that isn’t a threat. By that measure, the American left has just handed JD Vance the most sincere endorsement a political figure can receive: they are terrified of him, and they want you to hate him before you’ve had the chance to decide for yourself.
The coordinated campaign to define the Vice President is now fully underway, and its architects aren’t even bothering to disguise the strategy. Democrat operative Lis Smith — the same consultant who helped Pete Buttigieg transform himself from the mayor of South Bend into a national commodity — put the game plan on the table without apology: the left must begin defining Vance “not in 2027, not in 2028 — but today.”
That kind of candor is almost refreshing. It is also a tacit admission of something the polling has confirmed for months. At the 2026 CPAC straw poll, 53% of over 1,600 attendees selected Vance as their preferred presidential choice — the second consecutive year he has dominated the survey. CNN polling analyst Harry Enten wrote that Vance is “like Mario Andretti and the rest of the GOP is going around in go karts when it comes to 2028.” When the opposition party’s chief strategists announce that their most urgent task is to make voters distrust a man who hasn’t even declared a candidacy, they are not operating from a position of confidence.
The Character of the Attack
What is most revealing about the left’s opening salvos is not their ferocity, but their intellectual bankruptcy. Consider the contributions on offer. Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear — a man whose political future depends on winning back the kind of working-class Appalachian voters who have found in Vance something that resembles their own story — called the Vice President “the most conceited politician I’ve ever heard.” This from a party that recently ran a candidate whose campaign apparatus dubbed her an icon before she’d finished a sentence in a press conference. Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro accused Vance of being a “phony” who doesn’t care about all Americans. Representative Ro Khanna of California, speaking at Yale, compared Vance to Joseph Stalin. Stalin, one notes, governed by mass starvation and the Gulag. Vance serves as Vice President of a constitutional republic. The comparison doesn’t merely fail on the merits — it suggests a mind so untethered from proportion that the audience at Yale should have asked for a refund.
Then there is the entertainment wing of the operation. John Oliver dedicated a full thirty-minute segment to attacking the man, landing on the observation that Vance is “another abrasive MAGA a-hole with a load-bearing beard” — a line that apparently passes for insight on HBO. Jimmy Kimmel mocked Vance for being named by Iranian officials as a potentially more acceptable diplomatic interlocutor than other American figures, treating the suggestion that a Vice President of the United States might be taken seriously in foreign diplomacy as an occasion for ridicule. Set aside the irony that the left spent years demanding American officials be respected abroad; apparently that standard applies selectively.
What unites every one of these attacks is their complete absence of substance. No one is arguing that Vance’s policy positions are wrong. No one is making the case that his reading of American industrial decline — a reading he laid out with considerable intellectual rigor in Hillbilly Elegy before most of his critics had thought seriously about the subject — is mistaken. The attacks are personal, aesthetic, and emotional. They are designed not to persuade thinking people but to pre-poison the well before thinking people get a chance to drink from it.
Why It Has to Start Now
The Democrats’ urgency here is not accidental, and it is worth understanding why Lis Smith and her colleagues believe they cannot afford to wait.
The political left’s model for defeating populist conservatives has always depended on early narrative capture. It worked with varying degrees of success against figures from Pat Buchanan to Newt Gingrich to the first iteration of Donald Trump — right up until it didn’t, spectacularly, in 2016 and again in 2024. The theory is simple enough: if you can establish a caricature of a politician in the public imagination before that politician has a chance to speak directly and repeatedly to voters, you can inoculate enough of the electorate against him to make the race competitive. The problem with applying this theory to Vance is that Vance has already spoken directly and repeatedly to the American people. He has been Vice President of the United States. He sat across from Tim Walz in one of the most-watched vice-presidential debates in recent memory and spent ninety minutes being relentlessly civil, substantive, and composed. Americans who watched that debate did not see Stalin. They saw a man who had done his homework.
Vance is the first non-sitting president to receive 50% or higher in New Hampshire early Republican primary polling since at least 1980 — a benchmark that CNN’s Enten called “historic.” A man who posts those kinds of numbers with two and a half years before a single primary ballot is cast is not a figure whose opponents can afford to approach leisurely. They have to start swinging now, because the window for defining him is closing.
The George W. Bush Template — And Its Limits
Democratic strategists have been here before, with a Yale-educated politician of unexpected folksy appeal who made them underestimate him at their peril. The effort to caricature George W. Bush as a dim-witted Texas cowboy succeeded well enough in faculty lounges and late-night monologues but failed catastrophically at the ballot box — twice. The lesson was apparently not retained.
The parallel has limits. Bush was a patrician who had learned to perform populism. Vance is the genuine article — a man who grew up in the kind of economic wreckage that coastal professionals theorize about in policy papers and he lived. That biography is not something opposition research can dismantle. You cannot define a man’s origins away from him. You can mock his memes and sneer at his beard, but you cannot make Middletown, Ohio disappear.
This is precisely the source of the left’s particular anxiety about Vance. He presents the most awkward possible challenge to the Democrat coalition’s self-understanding. The party has spent years positioning itself as the political home of the working class while its donor base, its media apparatus, and its cultural institutions have become almost entirely the property of the credentialed upper-middle class. Vance stands as a living rebuke to that claim — not because he argues against it (though he does), but because he is the counter-argument. He is the kid from the hollowed-out Rust Belt town who made it to Yale and then wrote honestly about what he saw on both sides of that divide. The Democratic Party didn’t produce that story. It can’t easily attack it. So it attacks the man instead.
The Vance Response
What may frustrate the opposition most is that Vance refuses to play the role they’ve written for him. The left’s caricature requires an angry, thin-skinned culture warrior who can be goaded into overreach. Instead, they keep running into a man who embraces the ridicule. When a viral meme depicted him as a lumbering internet troll, Vance shared it himself and went as the meme for Halloween. When Democratic politicians lecture him from their governors’ mansions about not caring for ordinary Americans, his advisors respond with a single word: “Yawn.”
This is not merely a communications strategy. It reflects something worth taking seriously about the man’s character. Vance has absorbed enough genuine adversity in his life that manufactured controversy from Andy Beshear does not appear to rattle him. As he put it himself, with characteristic directness: “Democrats, the one thing they should learn from President Trump is to laugh at themselves a little bit. They don’t have to be so serious. They don’t have to get offended at everything.”
That composure, that willingness to meet mockery with humor rather than grievance, is a political asset that cannot be easily manufactured. It is also, incidentally, a virtue that Scripture commends. Proverbs 17:22 observes that “a merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” The left has been dosing itself on outrage for so long that it has forgotten what it looks like when a man is simply unbothered by them — and it makes them more frantic, not less.
What the Crosshairs Really Reveal
Step back from the individual attacks and consider what the coordinated left-wing campaign against JD Vance actually communicates. A party with a compelling affirmative vision for the country does not spend the first half of an election cycle trying to destroy the other side’s probable nominee. A party confident in its ideas, its candidates, and its message does not need Ro Khanna to invoke Stalin at Yale to shore up its standing. Democrats head into 2026 with what some describe as a strong hand after recent off-year victories, yet they are simultaneously expending enormous energy trying to pre-define a man who hasn’t announced a campaign. That is the behavior of a party that knows the fundamentals of a 2028 general election will not automatically favor them — and is therefore trying to win the framing battle before the policy battle begins.
There is a kind of tribute in all of it. The political machine that defines you is the machine that fears you. By that measure, JD Vance enters the pre-campaign season with his opponents already in full defensive crouch, deploying governors, congressmen, and late-night comedians against a Vice President who has not yet said the words “I’m running.” The left may believe it is setting a trap. It may instead be laying out a welcome mat — confirming to voters across the country that this is the man the establishment most wants to stop. For a working-class kid from Appalachia running in a political moment defined by institutional distrust, there may be no better introduction.
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.










