The Charisma Black Hole: J.D. Vance’s Thanksgiving Turkey Rant Exposes the GOP’s Deep Trouble Heading Into 2028

The holiday season is usually a time for political figures to generate feel-good content—visiting troops, pardoning turkeys, and emphasizing unity. Senator J.D. Vance, however, chose a radically different, and far more precarious, route. In a widely circulated video from a visit to U.S. troops at Fort Campbell, Tennessee, the potential 2028 presidential contender went viral for all the wrong reasons: delivering a bizarre, extended, and deeply “cringey Thanksgiving rant” about his visceral hatred for turkey, and publicly accusing anyone who claims to enjoy the American staple of being a liar.

The segment was instantly seized upon by critics as a perfect, encapsulated example of Vance’s political awkwardness—a stark reminder that while he may be intellectually positioned by the conservative elite, he remains a “blackhole of charisma” whose every attempt at levity or connection comes off as “weird, stilted, and unnatural.”

“You’re All Full of Sh*t”

Vance, speaking before a gathering of soldiers, attempted what appeared to be a self-deprecating, unifying bit about holiday traditions. Instead, it quickly spiraled into a strange interrogation of his audience’s honesty.

He launched directly into the controversial premise: “Think about turkey. Who really likes, be honest with yourselves, who really likes turkey? You’re all full of shit. Everybody who raised your hand. I know,” Vance stated with defiant, if misplaced, confidence. The initial intention may have been to charm, but the result was an audience left totally flabbergasted by a political leader essentially calling them frauds over a poultry preference.

Vance then proceeded to use his own, slightly skewed logic to “prove” his point to the assembled U.S. troops, suggesting the tradition is rooted in obligation rather than genuine culinary enjoyment.

“Think about it. And here’s, here’s how I know that every single one of you who raised your hand is lying to me. How many times do you roast an 18 pound turkey just randomly?”

Vance continued, challenging the authenticity of the tradition. “Just, you know, a nice summer afternoon, we’re going to go get an 18 pound turkey.”

The rhetorical point, according to Vance, was simple: “Nobody does it because turkey doesn’t actually taste that good,” he insisted. The collective, cultural need to “do turkey” only on “the most American holiday” is the only force driving the tradition.

The Deep-Fried Dilemma

The most quoted—and subsequently mocked—part of Vance’s rant centered on the extremes Americans go to in order to rescue the supposedly flavorless fowl. He acknowledged the elaborate preparations required to make the enormous American bird palatable.

“We cook this gigantic American bird and we do all kinds of crazy things to make it taste good,” Vance went on. He then cited an anecdote that perfectly encapsulated his argument: “I talked a soldier today who she said she’s going to deep fry a turkey. And I’m actually going to deep fry a turkey myself tomorrow.”

This self-acknowledged need for extreme intervention led to his fatal punchline: “And look, here’s the thing. If you’ve got to deep fry something to make it taste good, it probably isn’t that good,” said Vance.

“That’s a pretty good rule of thumb when it comes to food.” He contrasted the turkey’s inherent flaw with the universal appeal of chicken: “Chicken is good all the time. Chicken is good when you deep fry it, but it’s also good outside of it.”

Vance attempted to land the entire bit on a redeeming note, pivoting from the poultry critique to the deeper meaning of the holiday: “But here’s the thing about Thanksgiving, it is so American because at the heart of it is the spirit of gratitude.” However, the transition was too abrupt, and the damage was already done. The viral clip cemented the perception that Vance is incapable of connecting naturally with a general audience.

The Cynical Calculation

The underlying critique of Vance’s performance is far more damaging than just a bad joke. Critics, watching the clip, quickly diagnosed the incident as political theater gone horribly wrong. They claim Vance’s problem is that he is “deeply inauthentic, overwhelmingly cynical,” and is “simply going through the motions of what he thinks that a charming politician would say and do.”

He lacks the crucial “instinct for riffing and working a crowd” that defined his political mentor, Donald Trump—who, despite his moral failings, possessed a rudimentary talent for connecting with his base through sheer, unscripted energy. Vance, by contrast, is seen as delivering a manufactured, pre-calculated political product that falls flat, highlighting the difference between genuine, if chaotic, charisma and a rehearsed performance.

The perception that he is an “empty suit foisted into power by Peter Thiel and the dark money oligarchs” is amplified by these failures of basic human connection. For Republicans looking ahead to a crowded and challenging 2028 primary, the viral clip of the turkey rant serves as a grim warning sign. If this “low talent” is “the best that Republicans have to offer in 2028, they’re in deep trouble.” The incident proves that a politician can have all the right backing and ideological alignment, but without a believable human core, a presidential campaign can “crash and burn harder than his attempts at humor.” The question remains whether Vance can move past the deep-fried, flavorless image he created for himself just as the holiday season began.