Vice presidential hopeful JD Vance would like to be having a brat summer, but he is instead facing accusations of pushin’ the cushions of an unfortunate sofa.
Social media has been inundated with jokes and memes suggesting Vance once pleasured himself between two couch cushions.
What goes on between a man and his couch is between him, God, and whatever sexy sectional he chooses to victimize. While we can’t definitively state that Donald Trump’s running mate has never engaged in some furniture fornication, the viral allegation that Vance wrote about having sex with a couch in his 2016 memoir Hillbilly Elegy is false.
On July 15, the day the Ohio senator was confirmed as Trump’s 2024 running mate, X (formerly Twitter) user @rickrudescalves wrote that they “can’t say for sure but [Vance] might be the first vp pick to have admitted in a ny times bestseller to f***ing an inside-out latex glove shoved between two couch cushions (vance, hillbilly elegy, pp. 179-181).”
While Vance’s memoir contained plenty of gross generalizations about blue-collar, working-class Appalachians, he did not actually describe a sexual tryst with a hapless piece of upholstery.
Regardless, the claim took off with a vengeance.
Things escalated on Thursday when the Associated Press posted, then deleted, an article fact-checking the allegation. The piece was headlined: “No, JD Vance Did Not Have Sex With a Couch.” A spokesperson for the AP told Semafor that the story had been retracted because it hadn’t gone through the standard editing process at the wire service, and that the Associated Press was investigating how it made it to publication.
While the couch-sex debacle is silly, it’s not helping Vance recover from a series of early campaign stumbles. Earlier this week, the senator was widely mocked for awkwardly joking that Democrats will accuse anything of being racist. “I had a diet Mountain Dew yesterday and one today and I’m sure they’re going to call that racist, too,” he said at a rally on Monday.
The cringey attempt at humor has also found its way into couch-related content:
Vance was also widely criticized after a 2021 interview with Tucker Carlson in which he attacked Kamala Harris as a “miserable cat lady” whose lack of biological children made her unfit to serve in elected office. Vance’s past comments about abortion and Trump have also been widely circulated.
The comments about Harris, in particular, were met with widespread backlash by voters, commentators, and social media users who not only pointed out that Harris has two stepchildren but that attacking childless Americans — whatever their reasons for not reproducing — as inferior was a perilous message for a party already struggling to with the issue of reproductive rights and freedoms.
Again, we don’t know if Vance actually enjoys pushin’ the cushions, but if his concern is that the country needs to produce more children, that’s definitely not how they’re made.
President Donald Trump discussing Venezuela at a press conference at Mar-a-Lago.
Why Venezuela Could Be a Turning Point in Gen Z’s Support for Trump
When Donald Trump called himself “the peace president” during his 2024 campaign, it was not just a slogan that my fellow Gen Z men and I took seriously, but also a promise we took personally. For a generation raised in the shadow of endless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, it felt reassuring. It told us there was a new Republican Party that had learned from its failures and wouldn’t ask our generation to fight another war for regime change. That belief stood strong until the U.S. overthrew Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.
Growing up in the long wake of the wars in Iraq in Afghanistan shaped how my generation learned to see Republicans. For us, “traditional” Republican foreign policy became synonymous with unnecessary conflicts that caused young people to bear the consequences. We heard how Iraq was sold to the public as a necessary war to destroy weapons of mass destruction, only to become a long conflict that defined the early adulthood of many millennials. Many of us grew up watching older siblings come home from deployments changed, and hearing teachers and coaches talk about friends who never fully came back. By the time we were old enough to pay attention, distrust of Bush-era Republicans wasn’t ideological, it was inherited from what we had heard.
As the 2024 election was rolling around, that dynamic had flipped. After watching wars in Ukraine and Gaza dominate headlines while Joe Biden was president, the Democrats were now the warmongers. My friends constantly told me how a vote for Kamala Harris was a vote to go to war. On the other hand, Donald Trump and the Republicans were the ones my friends thought could keep us safe. “I’m not voting for Trump because I love him,” one friend told me. “I’m voting for him because he cares about us and I don’t want to go fight in a stupid war.” For many of my friends, much of their vote came down to one question: Who was less likely to send us to fight? The answer to them was pretty clear.
Fast forward to now, and Venezuela has begun to complicate that belief. Even without talk of a draft or a formal declaration of war, the renewed focus on U.S. involvement and troops on the ground has brought back the same language of escalation my generation was taught to distrust. Young men online have been voicing the same worries, concerned that the ousting of Maduro mirrors the early stages of wars they were raised to fear. When I asked a friend what he thought about Venezuela, he shared that same sentiment. “This is how all these wars always start,” he told me. “They might try to make it sound like it’s not actually a war, but people our age always end up being the ones that pay the price for it.” For young men who supported Trump because they believed he represented a break from interventionist politics, Venezuela blurs the line between the “new” Republican Party they thought they were backing and the old one they were raised to reject.
For many young men, Venezuela has become a major part of a broader shift of how they view Trump. A recent poll from Speaking with American Men (SAM) found that Trump’s approval rating has fallen 10 percent among young men, with only 27 percent agreeing with the statement that Trump is “delivering for you”.
Gen Z men’s support of Trump was never about ideology or party loyalty, it was about the idea that he had their back and would fight for them. But that’s no longer the case. Recently, Trump proposed adding $500 billion to the military budget. Ideas like that will only hurt the president with young men. My friends don’t want more military spending that could get us entangled in foreign wars; they want a president who keeps them home and fights for their economic and social needs. As Trump pushes for a bigger military and more intervention abroad, the promise that once made him feel like a protector of young men now feels out of reach.
For my generation, Venezuela isn’t just another foreign policy dispute, it’s a conflict many young men worry they could be the ones sent to fight. Gen Z men didn’t support Trump because he was a Republican, but because they believed he was different from the old Republicans. He would be a president who would have their back, fight for their interests and keep them from fighting unnecessary wars. Now, that promise feels fragile, and the fear of being the ones asked to face the consequences has returned. For a generation raised on the effects of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the idea of another war isn’t abstract, it’s personal.