Imagine risking your Army career for a washed-up hack like Kid Rock. Because that’s apparently what two Apache helicopter crews decided was a terrific idea, and then they got suspended—
Wait a minute. We’re getting word that in the middle of a war, at a time when we are ostensibly engaged in high-stakes negotiations with Iran to bring things to a close, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth made time to go on social media to let Kid Rock’s cool Army ‘copter friends know that spending your tax dollars on stunts like this isn’t just A-okay, it’s downright patriotic:
Let’s wind things back to see how we got to the place where some random dipshits in control of attack helicopters got away with nothing but an “attaboy” for taking a U.S. Army helicopter worth tens of millions of dollars to visit Kid Rock’s knockoff White House in Tennessee.
Honestly, it sucks so much that we have to even type that sentence. Mad Libs-ass administration.
On Saturday, two Apache attack helicopters flew over a “No Kings” rally in the Nashville area before zipping over to Kid Rock’s house. We learned about this not only because folks attending “No Kings” posted pictures of the chopper flying overhead, but also because Mr. Rock, whose real name is Robert James Ritchie, simply couldn’t stop himself from posting two videos of the visit on X.
A military helicopter flies over a “No Kings” protest on March 28 in Nashville, Tennessee.
One would think that Apache helicopter crews are not typically assigned to just toodle on over to the Nashville-area mansion of a has-been rock star, even if he is a big Trump fan. One would also hope that said crews are also not typically assigned to drop down to only 625 feet and make several passes over a peaceful protest.
When the news first broke, the Army tried to vague this up, saying it was conducting an “administrative review” rather than an investigation of the incident. That eventually changed, likely when it became clear that the leaders of the 101st Airborne Division had no idea why their Apache crews were hitting up “No Kings” and Kid Rock.
So the Army suspended the crews and opened an investigation—only to be promptly kneecapped by Hegseth.
Hegseth’s decision to bless this sophomoric behavior sends the same sorts of signals that Trump’s pardons do: The rules do not apply to our allies, and they will suffer no consequences.
In some ways, Hegseth’s actions here might be worse than Trump’s pardonpalooza. Where Trump’s pardons have largely sent an individual message to individual wrongdoers that his mercy is for sale to the highest bidder, Hegseth has functionally told the whole military that they need not follow command structure as long as their antics are sick, dude.
Of course, Kid Rock is a perfect avatar for the Trump era: his tacky replica White House, his faux-working-class vibe. All from a man who grew up on a 5.5-acre estate. He’s basically a skinnier, more strung-out-looking Trump.
Oh, god, please never let Kid Rock run for president.
