How the Left Thrives on Hate and Wants to Silence Us


By Donald Trump

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This is the book that the leftist elites don't want you to read: Donald Trump, Jr., exposes all the tricks that the left uses to smear conservatives and push them out of the public square, from online "shadow banning" to rampant "political correctness."

In Triggered, Donald Trump, Jr. exposes all the tricks that the left uses to smear conservatives and push them out of the public square, from online "shadow banning" to fake accusations of "hate speech." No topic is spared from political correctness. This is the book that the leftist elites don't want you to read!

Trump, Jr. writes about the importance of fighting back and standing up for what you believe in. From his childhood summers in Communist Czechoslovakia that began his political thought process, to working on construction sites with his father, to the major achievements of President Trump's administration, Donald Trump, Jr. spares no details and delivers a book that focuses on success, perseverance, and determination.


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Look, everybody is called a traitor once or twice in their lives, right? Everybody gets falsely accused and wrongly investigated by the FBI and has to testify in front of Congress for over thirty hours, answering the same stupid politically motivated questions over and over again, don’t they? And, everybody has an army of social justice warriors combing through every word they’ve ever said online to find something to be offended by, correct?

Why should I be mad? I’m not mad. In fact, my plan was to write a feel-good book about forgiveness and healing, sort of a Chicken Soup for the Political Soul type of story. I was even going to call it Kumbaya instead of Triggered, but it seemed that title was already taken, probably by one of the 2,467 Democrat candidates currently running for president.

So instead of chicken soup, over the next 300 pages or so, I’ll take you on a tour of all the craziest, most destructive ideas that the left has come up with in the last decade or more. Think of it as a trip through Jurassic Park, only instead of dangerous dinosaurs, you get to see sleepy liberal losers, socialist crybabies, and hypocritical politicians and media. If you decide to come along, I promise that nothing will jump into the car with us.

You’ll also get to find out a little about me during the ride, if only as a way to dispel the conspiracy theory on the left that I was born with horns.

Before we get going, however, I need to make a few disclaimers. If you’ve been around lawyers as much as I have lately, you begin to think like them.

First: I am not operating in my official capacity as a spokesman for my father’s campaign in these pages. So if I were to say something like, oh, I don’t know, “Adam Schiff is a lying ass clown” or “Robert Mueller is a feeble old fool who got used by the Democrats”—you know, if I were to hypothetically say those things—that’s all just my opinion. No one on the campaign has been consulted, and I doubt any of them would care very much anyhow. I’m just saying what they all know to be true but don’t want to take the heat for saying in public. I guess that’s just one of those things that got passed down in the genes!

Second: As much as I might joke around, I am not actively trying to offend anyone with what I’m about to say. I’m just making arguments, backing them up with facts, and putting them out into the world, the same way millions of people have done with millions of books before mine. I would actually like to think of this book as offering a reasoned antidote to all the hysterical bullshit that’s flying around right now. That used to be called discourse. But today, “discourse” exists only for leftists. When conservatives do it, they call it “hate speech.” I also know that as the son of a rich white guy living in 2019, I’m essentially not allowed to have an opinion anymore, let alone express that opinion in public.

Finally, I guess I should probably include a note about the title of my book, because it’s probably not a term you hear every day. In fact, if you’re over the age of about thirty-five or you haven’t spent the last few years on a college campus, on Twitter, or in an asylum (and really, who can tell the difference anymore?), you probably have no idea why this book is called Triggered.

Allow me to explain.

Today, as it appears on the internet at least, the term “trigger warning” is used to describe something, say a tweet from my dad, that blows up the fragile sensibilities of the liberal Twitterverse. At the very least, it sets their hair on fire and creates a minor news story for a few days. But at the worst, it moves them to real-life outrage and organized violence. And before you ask, the freaking out is wildly disproportionate. While conservatives usually get worked up over important things—such as the killing of babies or the stripping away of our natural rights as human beings—with liberals the “triggers” tend to be much sillier. If you say capitalism is better than socialism, they freak out. If my father says America is the greatest country in the world, they lose it. If you tell them the cat video they posted isn’t that cute, they have a complete breakdown.

With every passing day, the bar for what’s considered “triggering” gets lower and lower. For example, have you ever asked someone where they’re from? Well, according to liberals, you can’t do that anymore. It’s called a microagression. (Don’t worry, I’ll explain these terms as we go.)

And when Robert Mueller says the president of the United States is not an agent of Russia—which, call me crazy, seems as though it should be good news for everyone—they melt down and console each other like they did when they found out Al Franken was a creepy pervert.

So, because my book will contain sections with a number of these so-called dangerous ideas, I thought it best to include a little warning of my own. Though it isn’t illegal—yet—to discuss triggering ideas like this in a book, who knows where we’ll be by the time this goes to print. I could be brought up on charges just for having an opinion or a picture of myself on the cover.


Do not continue reading this book if you don’t like conservative ideas or if the thought of reading bad words scares you. Do not continue reading if you don’t have a sense of humor or are American but somehow, magically, Donald Trump is not your president. Also, if you find any of the following even remotely offensive: patriotism, masculinity, hunting, MAGA hats, the American flag, guns, sex, religion, Roseanne Barr, criticism of stupid ideas, capitalism, skyscrapers, or the use of the word “Christmas” during the Christmas season, then you should definitely stop reading.

In fact, if you’re a dyed-in-the-wool liberal or a social justice warrior, why don’t you go ahead and put this book down altogether. Just close the cover, march right back to your local bookstore, and hand it back over the counter. Better yet, buy it and throw it away. Put it in the recycling bin if that makes you feel better. Maybe your favorite vegan restaurant can make menus out of it. Either way, you’ll be engaging in capitalism, which is a good thing, whether you like it or not.

Are they gone?

Good. I thought I’d have to break out my MAGA hat.

Now that it’s just you and me, my fellow patriots, Trump-supporting Americans, and those from the whisper campaign who actually like our president but are afraid to tell people, I think we can finally get down to the heart of this book.

Things have gotten way out of control in this country. We’ve elected socialists to our Congress, allowed anti-Semitism to run rampant throughout our government, and allowed our most important media institutions to be run by angry mobs and leftist activist “journalists” on Twitter. Worst of all, we have completely ceded control of what we can and cannot say in public to the left, who are just a bunch of oversensitive babies who find everything offensive. If a liberal declares that something is racist, it is. If a liberal says he or she is offended by something, that thing, no matter what it is, is suddenly unspeakable. My father says a place is infested with rats, the mob cries racism. My father says he likes taco bowls from Trump Tower, the left cries racism. Since my father announced his run for the presidency, screaming racism has become the Easy button of left-wing politics, just like in those old Staples commercials. It’s the liberal “trump card,” if you will.

Facts aren’t working for you?


Math is hard?

IT’S RACIST! Obviously.

The problem with using racism as a label for everything you don’t like, of course, is that racism is still a real problem that persists in this country—not nearly to the extent that the left would have you believe, of course, but it’s still one of our major issues. Real people face real racism every day. And when you use it as a buzzword to try to win a losing argument, it does a disservice to those who live under it. People have become numb. When they hear “racist,” they roll their eyes because that term has been so overplayed on such a vast scale, always hurting the real victims along the way.

The left has also gone crazy with its newfound powers of censorship. Things have gotten so bad that the list of what we are no longer allowed to discuss in this country has gotten longer than the Mueller Report. There are stacks of books we’re no longer allowed to read, public figures who are no longer allowed to speak in public, and crucial debates we are no longer allowed to have—all because they might hurt someone’s feelings. Even what passed for rather amazing comedy just a few years ago is now considered offensive and regressive by the left. Just ask Dave Chapelle, who’s fighting off an online outrage mob as I type these words over a comedy special he just released. So many people have been “canceled” by the left for minor offenses against “wokeness” (I’ll explain these terms as we go) that I can hardly keep track anymore. What’s next? Book burning?

So before they light the bonfire, I decided to write a book that includes just about every subject that the left believes we shouldn’t talk about. I’ve also decided to call it Triggered, because, well, why not? Anything that makes the veins in a few liberal foreheads bulge out is fine by me.

Okay, now that you’ve had the appetizer, let’s get to the red meat.



I DON’T KNOW if you’ve heard, but the Mueller Report is out. Turns out I’m not a Russian agent after all! After spending almost $40 million in taxpayer money, employing nineteen of the most prejudiced Democrat lawyers they could find in Washington, DC (some of whom had worked for the Clinton family and others who had been at her “victory party”), magically without a single Republican, and taking nearly two years to do an investigation that anyone with half a brain could have done in five minutes, the Mueller team found absolutely zero evidence of collusion or obstruction.

Now, most people would have been willing to leave it at that. Most people would have been relieved to have their name cleared in public after so many years of having it dragged through the mud. And if I were “most people,” this chapter might be a little different. Maybe it would open on the afternoon the Mueller Report came out. There’d be some vivid writing about how relieved I felt, how I could breathe easily for the first time in years. Or maybe there’d be scenes from right in the middle of the whole ordeal, and I’d tell you about how I’d curled up in a corner every night with a teddy bear praying that I wasn’t going to go to prison over this made-up nonsense. I might include some tear-filled speeches from my friends and family about how they were going to stick with me till the end, how they brought me strength in troubled times.

If that’s what you’re expecting, you’d better go buy a different book.

I’m not “relieved” to have the Mueller investigation over with. I don’t feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I’m not breathing any easier than I was on the day that old, over-the-hill puppet was first appointed. I’m not relieved because I know that it was never about Russia or collusion or obstruction. It certainly wasn’t about “the integrity of our elections” or “national security.” If the Mueller investigation had been about any of those things, the Democrats would have been celebrating along with everyone else when we learned that the President of the United States had not colluded with a foreign power. But they didn’t celebrate. They waved the report in the air like a bunch of lunatics and claimed that You have to read between the lines, man! It’s all in there! They had officially joined the ranks of the tinfoil hat brigade who think the moon landing was staged in a television studio or who think we’re keeping aliens in Area 51 (if you really want to see aliens, the first place I’d look would be in Nancy Pelosi’s office).

From the day the Mueller investigation began, it was about one thing and one thing only: taking down my father, the only president in the history of this country who was elected without the approval of the ruling class. He was a populist candidate who spoke for real Americans, and that meant he had to go. The investigation was, and always had been, a complete farce. It was started by people who hate Donald Trump more than they love America.

But for some reason, we were all expected to stay quiet and let the Mueller team carry out their crooked investigation in peace. While the Democrats were telling outright lies about us on the floor of Congress during the day, then moving their clown show over to cable news and doing the same thing every night, we were supposed to just nod along and not say a word. Sorry, not the way I operate. Throughout the entire investigation, I kept up the heat on television and on Twitter, calling out all of the lies Adam #FullofSchiff was telling about me—which, by the end of the whole thing, got to be like a full-time job—and taking shots right back at the Democrats who were trying to remove my father from office.

You might be shocked to hear, but not everyone was pleased with my combative stance. One afternoon, right in the heat of the Russia hoax, even my lawyers approached me and said, “Don, you might want to slow down on social media, maybe not be so aggressive.” I politely declined. Shortly after that, my father—yes, my father, Donald J. Trump, our tweeter-in-chief, the so-called Shakespeare of 140 characters—told me that I might be getting “a little too hot” on my social media accounts.

I respect the heck out of my dad, and when he gives me advice I take it ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. This, however, was probably the one time I decided not to listen! He knew as well as I did that there’s no such thing as being “too hot” on social, at least as far as I’m concerned. I consider myself a shit-talker par excellence.

Plus, I knew that when it came down to it, all the morons in the House and the Senate—these clowns like Eric Swalwell and Ted Lieu who were attacking me every day—would throw me in jail themselves if they had the power to do it. They didn’t give a damn about investigations or getting to the truth. They just wanted to get my father out of office and punish anyone who supported him—starting with me and my family.

So, no, I didn’t think it was the time to “slow down” or “take it easy.” I still don’t.… and I won’t.

Throughout the entire Russia investigation, it seemed, the Democrats in Congress had only one reason to exist, and that was to try and make my father and me cower in a corner, curl up in a ball, and die. Well, that had about as much chance of happening as them finding proof of collusion. My lawyers could’ve talked to me until they were blue in the face, which they pretty much did, but my attitude wasn’t going to change. Not one bit. Because I fight back. That’s what we do.

I wasn’t surprised when those same lawyers came back to me at the end of the investigation, when the report was out and everyone was beginning to learn the truth, and told me I had probably been right all along to hit the Democrats so hard. I don’t blame them for being skeptical, though. None of them were actually there when this supposed collusion took place.

I was.

Like the rest of my family, I worked on the Trump campaign. I know what it was like in the early days before the primaries, when the whole world was against us and we were struggling just to compete in a crowded Republican field. As I’ve often said, we couldn’t have colluded to order a cheeseburger, much less coordinated an espionage campaign with a foreign power.

Especially in the beginning, the Trump campaign was filled with political neophytes, and I mean that in the best sense of the word. Almost all of us came from walks of life other than politics, meaning we were used to actually working for a living. All of us were accomplished, just not in the political arena. While the other campaigns were wasting time with polling data and staff shake-ups, we were figuring out ways to streamline the process and reach as many voters as possible. No one had time to reach out to foreign governments and ask for help. I mean, look, candidly? I got one unsolicited email. The Clinton campaign sought out and paid for foreign operatives to do research on its opponents. That’s a big distinction.

If you were a liberal in early 2017, the Russia collusion story was really all you had left to cling to. It absolved you and your candidate of all blame for her defeat, and it gave you a perfectly sensible reason to reject the results of the election. All of a sudden, once Big Bad Russia got involved, Donald Trump became an “illegitimate president,” and the whole getting-elected thing was just a colossal misunderstanding. It was the do-over they all wanted so desperately. Not only did Democrats get to carry on as if their candidate hadn’t lost, they also had free rein to take down just about everyone who had ever associated with Donald J. Trump, from his close associates and friends to the people who share his last name. Ask me how I know!

I mean, I’m old enough to remember when Barack Obama made fun of Mitt Romney by telling him “the 1980s called and want their foreign policy back.” But now, miraculously, Russia could be brought back from obscurity to be the villain in the Democrats’ assault on democracy. They always get to have it both ways.

Thank God we’re on the other side of the Russia hoax now. The reports have been written, the testimony—days and days and days of it—has been given, and we know the truth. There was no collusion. No obstruction. Not so much as an unpaid parking ticket as far as my father and his closest aides from the campaign are concerned. And finally, the liberal media have given up on the story.

Yeah, right.

They’ve kept up the delusion, assuring their disillusioned followers that more evidence is coming, more interviews are being unsealed, and there are more investigations to be done. No matter how many times Robert Mueller tells them to shut up and read the report—which, as my father has correctly said, exonerates him completely—they keep bringing up the man’s name as though he’s some kind of conquering hero, even dragging him in front of Congress so he could stutter and babble his way through five hours of testimony. Hell, I’m still waiting for all the evidence that Adam #FullofSchiff claims he’s been privy to over these past two years. It seemed as though he was on television every night, claiming he had “seen evidence” of collusion.

I have to admit that I almost felt bad for Robert Mueller during that testimony. And if it weren’t for the fact that I was probably number two on the guy’s kill list for years, I might have. I’m not against old people; I’ve always respected my elders. But watching those Democrats in Congress go at him, question after question, all of them trying desperately to make him tell them about the smoking gun they all wanted so badly, was like watching a bunch of kids find out Santa Claus isn’t real. For years, they had been living in their filter bubbles and echo chambers, able to spread lies about the Mueller Report without anyone throwing any facts into the mix. They had staked their entire reputations on the allegations being true and gone all in. They’d chosen—or rather, they’d used—Mueller because they’d thought he was beyond reproach, someone whom no one—not even my father—would dare attack. After all, he was a former prosecutor, the former head of the FBI, a decorated Marine. But it all came tumbling down when we realized he was nothing more than a pawn for the leftists running the show—an empty suit to fit their narrative and nothing more. Worst of all for Democrats, in their hysteria to destroy Trump, they forced the man they had elevated for two years to appear before Congress and he proved what he and the MAGA-sphere had known all along: that he was the author of his report in name only. Asked about key figures in the report and dates that anyone who’d even been following the story on Twitter would have known, Mueller came up short again and again. Oh, he said, I don’t know, I need to check that, I don’t know who that is… That’s beyond my purview. Seriously Mr. M? Well, it was right there here, so it really isn’t. You wrote the report and you can’t tell me what’s in it? You didn’t know anything about Fusion GPS, the opposition research firm hired by the DNC to dig up dirt on my father? You didn’t know that they were the genesis of the entire investigation and all of the FISA warrants? Sorry, I don’t buy it. You spent two years and nearly $40 million and you didn’t bother to learn how it all started? The genesis of the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people is “beyond your purview”? G.T.F.O.

Tell you what: if you see me on the street, feel free to ask me questions about this book you’re reading right now. I might not be a fancy former head of the FBI or anything, but at least I can remember things I’ve written myself.

In their desperate attempt to get him to testify beyond the report, the Dems actually did more to discredit the whole farce than anything before. And for that, I say: thanks!

But if you think a little thing like the debacle of Mueller’s appearance before Congress is going to stop the Democrats, think again. They are obsessed. They’ll believe anything that confirms what they already believe, and they’ll call anything that contradicts what they already believe a lie.

If you’re trying to find the starting point of this lunacy, look no further than the night of the 2016 election, right around the hours of midnight to six o’clock in the morning, when the craziest wing of the American left finally lost its mind for good. DJT has been living rent-free in their heads ever since—a strong real estate play from the best in the game.

It was in those few hours, right after the networks finally called the presidential election, that the liberal press and the Clinton camp first started groping around for anything that would explain their loss. For them, my father’s victory was the worst possible thing that could have happened. The postmortem that immediately followed the election read as if the world had come to an end. “The world’s shining light of democracy has gone dark,” one journalist said. Paul Krugman, a columnist for the New York Times, wrote that markets were plunging, and that they would probably never recover (How’d that work out?). A few weeks later, Jeff Zucker, the president of CNN—who, by the way, has my father to thank for his job—blamed himself, saying that the network probably shouldn’t have aired so many of DJT’s campaign rallies. Yeah, right, Jeff. You could have filled the airspace with New Year’s Eve with Anderson Cooper reruns, and my dad still would have won. I guess these days CNN is paying reparations by choosing to be the anti-Trump network at all costs—especially in the ratings. All the experts proved what we’ve all known all along. That they are full of shit. They all got it so wrong they needed cover and when they saw something, no matter how asinine, it became gospel to cover their abject failure.

Still, the left wouldn’t feel sorry for itself for long.

First it picked up the Russian spy story and started pushing it to every devastated reporter who would listen.

Then it did everything it had told us the Trump supporters would do if Hillary won. Think about it. For weeks leading up to the election, we had been hearing about all the horrible things Donald Trump would force his supporters to do if he lost. DJT wouldn’t accept the defeat they were all so sure was coming. The editorial boards at the New York Times and the Washington Post both ran many articles warning us about the chaos that was about to ensue. According to popular opinion, Trump supporters were going to riot in the streets, refuse to accept the results of the election, and begin some kind of underground coup against the duly elected president, Hillary Clinton. They would start a second civil war. The streets would become absolute anarchy.

And when things didn’t go the way the Democrats had wanted them to go, what happened?

Let’s see. They held riots in the streets. (Check.) They refused to accept the results of the election, cooking up one of the strangest spy-movie stories I’ve ever heard in order to maintain their collective delusion. (Check.) Then they formed an underground group of online keyboard warriors called “the Resistance,” dedicated to taking down my father one stupid hashtag at a time. Prominent journalists, liberal activists, and actors have all identified themselves as proud members of “the Resistance” on Twitter. When I’m attacked by an outraged mob online, their voices are usually among the loudest. (And Check.)

The hatred that fomented online and in protests became hand-to-hand combat—and I mean real violence, the kind you usually see only in Third World countries. I’m not kidding. The same party that used to preach peace, tolerance, and inclusivity (mostly platitudes when you look at its history, which I will) has now become the party of hate, violence, and suppression of free speech.

So-called activists on the extreme left have moved from their safe spaces and the basements of their parents’ houses out into the streets, usually clad in black hockey pads and carrying weapons. Sometimes they call themselves antifascists, or Antifa, but most of the time, they don’t know why they’re there or what they even believe. All they know is hate and anger. Time and again, these people try to shut down speakers with whom they don’t agree. They attack journalists in the streets and threaten anyone who doesn’t go along with their twisted sense of social justice and equality.


On Sale
Nov 5, 2019
Page Count
304 pages
Center Street

Donald Trump

About the Author

Donald Trump, Jr. is the eldest son of President Donald J. Trump. He is Executive Vice President at Trump Organization, where he has overseen major construction projects in New York City, Chicago, Las Vegas and numerous countries internationally. During the 2016 presidential election, he became a sought-after speaker on politics, Republican fundraiser, and played a major role in Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign. Trump, Jr. is an avid outdoorsman and when he’s not on the campaign trail he can be found on streams and in the mountains all over the world. He is also an active and loving father of 5 young children. Donald Jr. holds a Bachelor’s degree in Finance and Real Estate from the Wharton School of Finance at the University of Pennsylvania. He lives in New York City.

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