Inside Tucker Carlson’s Traveling Conspiracy Show
It’s evening and rain falls on the MAGA caps queuing up for a half-mile outside the Giant Center in Hershey, Pennsylvania. I’m here for an evening of laughter and enlightenment starring Tucker Carlson and Republican VP nominee J.D. Vance, who at this moment is a few hundred yards away at Hershey Park choking back vomit on the Tilt-A-Whirl. It’s the 11th night of Carlson’s 16-city tour across the nation with a rotating guest-star list of the canceled and the who-cares. (Opening night in Phoenix found Carlson praying with new Christian/accused-sexual-predator Russell Brand, who denies the allegations.) I’m in Pennsylvania for two shows. Tonight, Carlson’s guest is Vance, and Monday it is terminal conspiracist Alex Jones, a concise juxtaposition of what is now acceptable company in the Trump-era Republican Party.
Tonight’s show is a mind-meld between nativist soulmates — Vance appeared on Carlson’s facts-optional Fox show 46 times before the talk-show host was cut loose in 2023 after Fox settled for $787 million in the Dominion voting-machine defamation lawsuit. Some thought this would be the end of Carlson, but he merely left the highway of network punditry for the dirt roads of a freak show circus master, a detour the Republican Party was happy to follow. Carlson’s online show featured cuddly interviews with a wide variety of unsavory men, including Jones, some guy who said he did crack and hooked up with Barack Obama, and Russian strongman Vladimir Putin. Carlson and his experts thought the Ukrainians would fall in a week after being invaded by the Russians. That didn’t happen, so Carlson consoled Putin with a cozy interview in February. On the same trip, he verbally ejaculated over the greatness of a Moscow grocery store.
Optimists hoped Carlson’s descent into the basement of extremism would leave him a political untouchable no longer taken seriously. Instead, he gets to spend the evening with possibly the next vice president of the United States, with his followers paying more than $100 a ticket to attend the festivities. Carlson’s podcast regularly rates in the top five nationwide, and his political influence burns brightly with Donald Trump despite the release of Carlson texts in the Dominion lawsuit where he was recorded saying “I hate him passionately.” His political influence has increased, as indicative of Trump choosing Vance as his running mate, reportedly at Carlson’s urging, after Carlson suggested that Doug Burgum and Marco Rubio, the two other finalists, were advocates for American military power abroad, and that fact might lead to the isolationist Trump being assassinated by the deep state.
Anyway!
I was arriving straight from a Tim Walz rally in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, at the impossibly named Freedom High School — home of the Patriots. The vibe had been a bit different, the capacity crowd singing along to My Girl to pass the time. Maybe it is the rain, maybe it is the polls, but the Hershey mood is decidedly not sweet. The crowd, including myself, is mostly dressed in T-shirts and hoodies, but there are a few decked out for a night at the theater. Behind me is a middle-aged woman in a green dress with a St. James medallion around her neck. Her makeup is TV-ready, tastefully applied with just a tint of Trump orange.
We will call her Kasandra with one S because her truth bombs always miss the target by a couple of area codes. I eavesdrop for a few minutes as she talks to an older couple from Pittsburgh. Kasie has a lot to say. Once, she waited 22 hours to get a good view at a Trump rally. “What made me mad is a lot of people just put their chairs in line and leave. That isn’t fair.” Her patter is familiar Trump stan talk, but then she whispers to the couple.
“I met Trump once,” she says in a conspiratorial voice. “Up close, he was ugly. He has these acne pits on his face.” The couple is shocked. “No, it’s true.” She then critiques Carlson’s wardrobe. “Every time I see him, he’s wearing the same exact plaid shirt and blazer. I mean, buy another shirt.”
I turn around and introduce myself. I give my media affiliation. This leads to groaning and muttering from the forty-ish man ahead of me. He has violent teeth and a combover increasingly exposed by the drizzle. The look he gives me doesn’t scream all are welcome.
Sure, talking to a person in line at a Tucker Carlson show is just slightly above interviewing an undecided voter in a diner, but Kasie seems different. A gimlet-eyed Trump supporter seeing through the bullshit. She tells me she drove halfway from Ohio to Hershey, stopping at a hotel near the highway so she could watch her Buckeyes take on Marshall at a sports bar before finishing the drive. “I stayed at a hotel, right by the highway, you don’t want to go too far off the main road these days.”
The line to clear security is two hours long — something Carlson will blame on Vance’s opponents without proof — so we have time to talk. Kasie speaks with the confidence of the half-informed. She teaches school about two hours from Springfield, Ohio, and has been carefully following events there. The Republican governor of Ohio has denounced the lies that Trump and Vance have been spreading about Haitians eating the cats and dogs of their neighbors, but Kasie still thinks it is true. She teaches Somalian immigrants at her school and thinks they are, well, different from real Americans.
“Their neighborhoods are crowded and dirty,” she says. I have kids saying that Somalia is their real country, and I tell them no, America is your country now.”
I suggest complaints about dirty, crowded neighborhoods and divided loyalties is the same line of attack used against the Irish and Italian immigrants a century ago. She lights up.
“I’m both Italian and Irish! But we worked at it and blended in.”
She then offers a wry smile and a knowing look.
“The thing no one talks about is that a lot of these Haitians came here under Trump. Sh, not a lot of people know that.”
Alas, this is not true. Trump fought temporary status for Haitian refugees during his entire presidential term.
We talk about election security, and she plays the hits about ballot boxes being shipped across state lines and being counted in the middle of night. I mention that states like Pennsylvania must count through the night because Republican lawmakers refuse to let mail-in ballots be tabulated before the end of Election Day. That’s when the man with the jagged teeth spins around.
“You think Biden got more votes than Barack? That is bullshit.”
I suggest Biden got more votes than Obama because the country is growing, and 25 million more people voted. His response is one word.
“Idiot.”
I try to lighten the mood. I tell Kasie that her St. James medal is beautiful. She beams. “The thing is that St. James was responsible for kicking millions of Muslims out of Spain, but we don’t talk about it.”
I check her story on my phone. It is 0.000045 percent true. St. James was one of Jesus’ apostles and eventually became the patron saint of Spain for convoluted reasons. The Catholic Church supported the Spanish monarchy driving the Moors out of Spain in the 15th century. This was approximately 1,500 years after the death of James.
No matter, we have finally reached the metal detectors. Kasie gives me a smile and says it was nice talking. She hands over her phone and keys and strolls into the Palace of Misinformation. She is home.
IN AN EARLIER AGE, SAY 2020, it would be unthinkable that the vice-presidential nominee of the Republican Party would participate in a cozy promotional chat with Carlson, a dude who just weeks ago platformed faux historian Darryl Cooper, who claimed that Churchill was the real villain of World War II and the German death camps were a mere failure of the bureaucracy. Throw in the fact that Carlson was hosting serial Sandy Hook liar Jones two days later and there’s no way mother would have allowed Mike Pence to go to that party.
Turns out 2020 was a very long time ago. Vance didn’t even blink after the Cooper fiasco. Regarding the Carlson-Cooper alliance, Vance’s campaign said in a statement, “Senator Vance doesn’t believe in guilt-by-association cancel culture.” Vance is similarly enthusiastic about Jones.
My seat is in the penalty box for the Hershey Bears, the arena’s regular tenant. This seems right because the night is akin to serving an endless major misconduct penalty. The speakers and the jumbo screen scream endlessly about the benefits of Cardio Miracle, a supplement powered by nitric oxide, a short-lived gas produced in the walls of arteries and veins. The veracity of the product is unknown, but what gives me pause is the fact that it features Jason Whitlock, a fellow right-wing shit stirrer, who recently broadcast eating a lunch meal featuring both McDonald’s and Wendy’s. The crowd grows restless as the start time is pushed back by more than an hour. A sweaty comedian comes out and tries to entertain the crowd with the voice of Marge Simpson singing Guns N’ Roses. The response is tepid despite the guy playing on our sympathies by mentioning his four kids. Cornered, the dude pulls an ace from the bottom of the deck. He leads the faithful in a karaoke version of Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A. A thousand phone flashlights take the place of lighters.
Thankfully, Carlson emerges a few minutes later. He enters to guitar rock and video scenes from dystopia, with images of strung-out drug addicts, riots, and flames. Clad in the aforementioned plaid shirt and blazer, he brandishes a Diet Mountain Dew, the much-talked-about preferred drink of the Vance campaign.
“I’m not going to try that,” says Carlson. I’m not a man of the people.” He brings out a Perrier.
Carlson then gives a speech that would win a gold medal at the disingenuous Olympics. He speaks softly.
“The entire presentation of American history is designed to make you believe that this is a country based on hate, the hate of Americans for each other. They’ve been telling us this version that is the core problem of the country’s, that people really, really hate each other.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that, ever, not one time, and what I see actually is just the opposite. I see people of all backgrounds and all beliefs totally determined to get along with each other and doing it despite the encouragement of their leaders.”
I wonder if Carlson doesn’t remember his own career. A few minutes later, Vance trots out in white shirt and blue jeans, still looking peaked from the Tilt-A-Whirl. He reports his kids were worried about him. “I told them just let Dad be.”
Much of the white guys’ gab is a long-winded conversation about the evolution of the Ohio senator. Vance is the ultimate political shape-shifter, a venture capitalist before becoming a bearded populist. In eight years, he has gone from writing “I go back and forth between thinking Trump is a cynical asshole like Nixon who wouldn’t be that bad (and might even prove useful) or that he’s America’s Hitler” to being the ex-president’s heir apparent. Vance shares this artful U-turn with Carlson: Both supported the Iraq War; Vance served there as a Marine. Now they both are Trump isolationists rooting for Russia’s violation of Ukraine’s sovereignty to become permanent. Vance remembers the first time he met Carlson.
“We were at some massive bankers’ conference,” recalls Vance.
“I feel dirty just thinking about it,” says Carlson, whose father married into the Swanson frozen-food fortune.
Vance had just written Hillbilly Elegy. “I started to feel kind of dirty about participating in the way that our leaders used my book to try to look down on their fellow citizens, rather than maybe learn something about their fellow citizens.”
That’s exactly not how the book was received, but it serves Vance’s redemption story. He presents himself as an idealistic Dorothy making his way through the evil Oz that is the nation’s capital.
“If you spend any time in professional Washington, which I’ve spent a couple years here, you realize that one of the things that gives a lot of people meaning is like playing a chess game with the lives of other people’s children,” says Vance. “And, of course, if you think like that, you are kind of a sicko and you shouldn’t be anywhere near power.”
Of course, this is exactly what Vance did to Haitians legally in this country when he falsely claimed they were eating cats and dogs in Springfield, Ohio, resulting in bomb threats and Vivek Ramaswamy coming to their community. Vance’s admission that he was happy “to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention” was like playing chess with two queens.
According to Vance, the problem with America is that the elites look down on the working class, who have the guts to protest unchecked immigration and other issues that impact their lives. The elites call them racists, insists Vance, for just wanting a fair shake.
You’ll never guess what happens next. Vance tells us one man has his ear to the lips of the common man. That man is Donald Trump.
Vance offers as proof the vice-presidential selection process. He recalls a conversation with Trump in Mar-a-Lago on a July Saturday, where they talked about the ticket.
“We’re talking about the VP thing, and he’s like, ‘I like to talk to everybody about who should be the VP. I spent about 30 minutes talking to the gardener of Mar-a-Lago about what he thought.’ And I’m sitting there sweating bullets, like, ‘Well, sir, what did the gardener of Mar-a-Lago have to say?’”
There’s absolutely zero chance Trump spent a half hour talking to the man who cuts his roses, but everyone still laughs. Vance then inadvertently admits he might not be the most influential man on the stage.
“I don’t know when he finally made a decision,” says Vance. “Probably was Monday morning. Now, when I think about it, you probably know better than I do.”
Carlson just smiles.
The event wraps up a few minutes later and I drive back to my hotel in a driving rainstorm. I must admit I was irritated, my aging eyes peering through the gloaming just before I may or may not have run over a red-eyed possum just west of Reading. This was not the Carlson I met in 2017 while profiling him for another magazine. That guy compared CNN’s Jim Acosta to a drunk guy at a party with bad breath, and told foreign-policy pundit Max Boot: “Maybe you should choose a different profession. Selling insurance. House painting. Something you’re good at.” My profile begins with Carlson addressing students at a protest regarding the presence of CIA recruiters at Trinity College, his alma mater. “Honestly, what I really think is you’re all a bunch of greasy chicken-fuckers,” said Carlson.
Where did that guy go?
TURNS OUT CARLSON WAS JUST WAITING for Vance to clear Pennsylvania airspace. After that, reality takes a holiday.
I wake up on Monday and flip through social media. Tonight, Carlson speaks again, but instead of a possible vice president, he’s hosting the conspiratorial all-star couple of Jack Posobiec — a major pusher of Pizzagate — and Jones, a major pusher of every batshit hateful story in American history.
It’s a rainy day, but I see that Jones is 30 miles away in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and his X-feed headline reads “Alex Jones Discovers Illegal Alien Invasion Hub.”
WTF? I click anxiously. Turns out Jones is shooting outside of the town’s quaint welcome center that mostly sets up historical walking tours. “This building is just full of indoctrination,” says Jones. One small problem: The welcome center is closed on Mondays, providing Jones no access and kind of shooting a hole in the idea that it is the throbbing artery of an illicit immigration operation.
I scroll down a bit more on Jones’ feed and he is at the airport in Austin, where he spies former NIH director Francis Collins, who retired in 2021 after serving honorably under three presidents. Jones sees it differently. He sidles up to him at his gate. “Twenty-plus million people dead from those shots,” shouts Jones. “The truth is coming out about you and Fauci. How’s it feel to kill more people than Hitler? You’re in a lot of trouble. Nuremberg Two is coming.”
(To save time, I’m not going to fact-check every one of Jones’ statements. Let’s go with every one of them is hateful and wrong).
I’m outside the Santander Arena in Reading a few hours later for tonight’s show. I spot Jones, who is 50 but doesn’t look a day over 70. He poses for photos with fans, and I shout a question at him: What proof does he have that the Lancaster City Welcome Center was the hub of illegal alien activity? Jones looks startled, he likes to get in people’s faces not the other way around. He mumbles, “They’re shipping them from everywhere.” This is a non-answer that underscores Jones was just making shit up. I am bodied out of the way, and he disappears into the arena.
There’s still time before the show, so I watched an interview Jones did with Carlson that afternoon. (Content is an unquenchable beast.) Carlson speaks calmly about the way the Democrats try to crush the spirit of the resistance. “They want to humiliate us and make us feel hopeless. That’s why they put a retard in as the president’s spokeswoman, you know, so we can look at her and be like, ‘Oh, this country sucks.’” Carlson puts on the worst French accent and botches the name of the woman he is slurring. “It’s not even worth defending if Katrina Jean-Pierre is the spokesman.” (The spokesperson’s name is actually Karine Jean-Pierre.)
Despicable Me Tucker is back! Entrance into the arena goes much more smoothly than in Hershey. This means I get to watch comic guy do five musical impressions. Life isn’t fair. Carlson is introduced by the tour’s sponsor, a Dutch father-and-son team hawking sleep aids that feature an unpatented blend of honey and other spices that will “Make America Sleep Great Again.” (Spoiler alert: The secret ingredient is antihistamine.) The dad promises that 10 percent of their profits will go to stopping child trafficking which is weird because his adult son has more than a passing resemblance to Jeffrey Dahmer.
Carlson comes out and is not talking about a nation where everyone loves one another. Instead, he gives a pretty good approximation of a 2028 presidential campaign stump speech. Carlson is furious that today Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro accompanied Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky on a tour of a Scranton munition factory producing ammo for the Ukrainian cause. Shapiro goes the extra mile and signs his name to an artillery shell, which seems, well, gross.
“I actually don’t really want to show up in somebody else’s state and attack their politicians,” says Carlson. “But I saw a photograph of your Gov. Josh Shapiro standing with a foreign leader, signing an artillery shell that is going to kill civilians in a country we’re not at war with, with a grin on his face. I was disgusted by it, actually. I was enraged by it.” The crowd lets out a primal scream. Carlson’s face goes red.
“And then to see him direct his love toward a foreign leader and a foreign population that he knows nothing about. He doesn’t speak Ukrainian. What do you know about Ukraine, Josh Shapiro? No, it’s a way for his friends to get rich and him to puff himself up like some sort of fake world leader and seem like he cares.”
Carlson goes on for another 15 minutes, does the math, and somehow equates that if Shapiro spends an afternoon with Zelensky it means he doesn’t care about Pennsylvanians sleeping on the street or addicted to drugs. (It’s a standard Carlson trope, especially the part where he provides no plan on how to cure America’s homelessness crisis.)
“You think Josh Shapiro stays up late worrying about that?” asks Carlson. This might be the point where Putin takes over Player One. “No, he stays up late, worrying that you may not have enough weapons of mass destruction to win some unwinnable war.”
The crowd goes bananas. Empowered, Carlson targets the Democratic ticket. He suggests Walz is a creep. “Let me just say, as I always would tell my children: Someone seems creepy? He is. Am I indicting him for the crime? No, I don’t have enough evidence. But chances are my dogs would bark at Tim Walz if he came over to my house. One hundred percent. They’d back him into a corner.”
He turns his bile to the perception that Kamala Harris is unprepared to be president. You can see it in her eyes, according to Carlson.
“‘I’m Montel Williams’ side piece. What am I doing here?’”
Understandably, this makes the transition to introducing Posobiec a bit of a buzzkill. The square-jawed Posobiec is a former naval intelligence officer and a replacement-level conspiracy guy. If Charlie Kirk isn’t available, you call him. After Poso, as he now styles himself, promoted Pizzagate, an unfounded allegation that a popular D.C. pizza place was being used as a child-trafficking center for prominent Democrats, he filmed noted sane person Laura Loomer disrupting a Central Park presentation of Julius Caesar and shouting to the audience, “You are all Nazis like Joseph Goebbels!” Since then, he’s written quickie books denouncing such elusive targets as antifa and communism.
He takes a seat onstage and begins talking about the decline of his hometown of Norristown, an hour away by car. Poso says the hospital where he was born was torn down — it was replaced by a new state-of-the-art hospital — and that his close-knit neighborhood was terrorized by Jamaicans. He says he won’t even take his kids by his childhood home for fear they will be shot. (Crime stats show that violent crime in Norristown has dropped 37 percent over the past six years.) Poso says he has some news to break: He is writing a book about the attempts on the life of Trump along with Congressman Matt Gaetz. Apparently now he’s an investigative reporter. Later, he tells Carlson there’s someone who holds the key to our government’s chicanery.
“I used to think that, you know, we got to protect Trump,” says Poso. “We got to keep him safe. We got to keep him safe. Now, I realize there’s somebody else we got to keep safe. We’ve got to keep Diddy safe, because that’s the next guy they’re going to go for. Tucker, I don’t know. Maybe you have an in, could you get Diddy on the tour? I’m serious.”
Carlson just winces. No matter, Posobiec is just the halftime entertainment, a golden retriever running down a Frisbee while you buy a hot dog and Dr. Pepper. Everyone knows what’s coming next.
By introduction, Carlson calls Alex Jones a prophet for predicting 9/11 back in the summer of 2001. This is about 10 percent factual, which tonight passes for absolute truth. Jones did mention the possibility that Osama bin Laden could fly planes into the World Trade Center, but Jones suggested he would do it as a CIA dupe.
Carlson can’t believe that instead of celebrating Jones the government has tried to destroy him. “I will always believe, and I will always say in public, that Alex Jones is the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met,” says Carlson. The man with Trump on speed dial and most responsible for J.D. Vance being a vice-presidential nominee isn’t done. “I’m just gonna say that Alex Jones is my friend. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there. I’m not ashamed, and you shouldn’t be either. They should be ashamed.”
Jones bounds on the stage, a shine on his bald pate, his eyes blinking rapidly. The crowd’s demeanor changes noticeably, they titter and giggle nervously before Jones’ every sentence, like moviegoers trying to anticipate who is going to get axed next in a slasher film.
Carlson asks him about the state of play in America. Jones’ schtick is as old as time: He represents the masses against a global cabal of leaders — including but not limited to Bill Gates, Oprah Winfrey, King Charles, and the ghost of Prince Philip — who want to kill them.
“We’ve turned the tide,” growls Jones. “And whether it takes six months or 20 years, we’re going to evict the globalists out of this country, and we’re going to restore the republic. Victory is ours.” The crowd stands as one and cheers.
Carlson asks him if he really believes that. Jones pauses for a second. “Barring the globalists starting a nuclear war, but then they’ll still get beat in that process. Those of us who survive will dig them out of their holes. Their bunkers will be their tombs!”
Let’s pause for a moment. There is a school of thought that by printing Jones’ words I am enabling him and spreading his misinformation. I see it differently. It seems important to spell out in excruciating detail the words of a man who Vance and Carlson, the Republican Party’s top influencers, support with fervor.
Tonight, Jones, a chronic paranoid, seems even more juiced up than usual, perhaps because a judge was about to rule that Jones’ Infowars company will be auctioned off to partially satisfy the billions he owes the parents of Sandy Hook victims after losing defamation suits for pushing the lie that the 20 kids and six adults murdered was actually a ruse pulled off by crisis actors.
Unfortunately, many of us won’t be alive to see the judgment be paid because the United Nations has a plan to reduce the world population to 500 million. Why? Well, Jones says the elite have already started breeding a new superior species. He talks about grasshoppers being mated with salmon, but that’s just the start.
“The globalists are making aliens by mixing humans and other animals and insects and plants, and then they put them, they gestate them, and use cow uteruses to grow them,” insists Jones. “Humanoid hybrid chimeras are gestating at facilities across the United States. Part pig, part human, part cow, part human, so they won’t be rejected by the cows that are growing them. And then harvest the organs. They harvest the stem cells, and they’ve got facilities now with thousands of cows per facility with humanoids growing in them.”
I did not know that! Jones’ insistence that we are all about to be replaced by cow humanoids makes this a good time to revisit what VP nominee Vance thinks of Jones.
“If you listen to Alex Jones every day, you will believe that a transnational financial elite controls things in our country, that they hate our society, and, oh, by the way, a lot of them are probably sex perverts, too,” Vance said in a 2021 speech. “Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, that’s actually a hell of a lot more true than Rachel Maddow’s view of society.”
Tonight, Carlson is equally credulous: “This is why this freaks me out, because I know you’re telling the truth.”
Jones goes on to say pandemic lockdowns were just a prelude.
“Covid was just a drill. They admit it was to get us locked down. So they released a real bioweapon. You just stay at home and die, but we’re not gonna do it. And if they release the big bioweapon, we know who to go after! Bill Gates, we’ll get you in your bunker.”
Everyone here is now in ecstasy, smiling and laughing like Reading’s drinking water has been dosed with Molly rather than the fluoride that Jones says will kill us all. Carlson senses the audience is cresting, and like a matador driving a fifth sword into a fat bull, goes in for the kill. He asks Jones what he thinks of Vice President Harris.
“Harris is a soulless, truly empty flesh bag,” says Jones, whose physical appearance defines flesh bag. “She was admittedly a sex operative, just like Oprah Winfrey admitted she was an underage sex slave. Look it up. It’s all true.”
Posobiec chimes in: “You can find Oprah giving the girls to Weinstein,” says Posobiec.
Jones plows on. “Harris was a political sex operative. Willie Brown talks about it. Then, when she was the attorney general, she would put pro-lifers in jail that exposed the illegal killing of babies right at nine months, when they were already born, and the selling of their organs, including still-beating baby hearts. She is the greatest example of a mindless puppet that they want to put in to further demoralize us, to make America a further joke around the world.”
I guess this is where I should say again that none of this is true, but you know that.
After all the slander, fantasies, and lies, Jones gives credit to the creator.
“I’m a Christian, but I really wasn’t truly born again. You got to get on your knees in the morning before or in the middle of the night, or whenever you wake up, you got to get on your knees. You got to tell God: I can’t do this. I need you to take control and tell me what to do.… You’re on a mission, and you’re not possessed by the Holy Spirit, but you let it in, and it’s now driving and in control, and now you got God behind you, and nobody can stand against us if God’s with us.”
I immediately think of the Max von Sydow line in Hannah and Her Sisters: “If Jesus came back and saw what was being done in his name, he’d never stop throwing up.”
I’m pretty sure no one in the crowd shares my opinion. Instead, the arena is full of “Tucker! Tucker!” chants as the house lights go up.
Jones gives the host a rosary as a parting gift. Carlson exits stage right. An airplane beckons. Tomorrow night, one of the most powerful men on the American right has an appointment in Fort Worth, Texas, with another thought leader.
His guest will be Roseanne Barr.
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