Don Imus: Trump Didn’t Want to Serve in Vietnam Because He’s a 'Coward'

September 08, 2017

WRITER

Legendary radio host Don Imus brought his usual vim to commentary on President Donald Trump’s job performance on radio Friday.

Glenn attempted to add something uplifting to the conversation by talking about people helping each other after Tropical Storm Harvey devastated parts of Texas and left tens of thousands of homes flooded.

“The world has been at each other’s throats for the last couple of years, and then we’ve had a nice break where people come together and they love each other and it’s nice,” he said.

But “nice” isn’t exactly the Imus brand. “How’s your boy Trump doing?” Imus asked.

“Don’t even start with me,” Glenn returned.

Imus asserted that he was just waiting for Trump “to say ‘I’ve had enough’ and go back to Trump Tower.” He pointed to the president’s Twitter habit as a weakness, asking why he needs constant validation on the size of crowds hearing him speak.

“It’s not the same guy I knew; I knew him for 40 years,” Imus said.

The longtime radio host then proceeded to trade barbs with Glenn while knocking Trump for reportedly dodging the draft for the Vietnam War.

“You know why he didn’t want to go to Vietnam? ‘Cause he’s a coward,” Imus said, recalling Trump’s disparaging comments on veteran and POW Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.). “I was in the jungles of Vietnam … so people like you could have these stupid little radio programs,” he said.

This article provided courtesy of TheBlaze.

GLENN: Every time I -- I say something like what I'm about to say, I am -- in my head, it is always preceded with, the guy is still alive. Don Imus joins us on the program now.

Now, hello, Don, how are you?

DON: Not good.

GLENN: So, Don --

DON: First of all, I'm on hold, listening to these commercials. You got one for the IRS, if you're in debt, haven't paid your taxes. Then the next part is a blood thinner deal. And then the last part, they give you if you're 85 -- or, you get a deal on a -- on a funeral -- who is listening to your program?

GLENN: You. Those were fed down the phone line for you.

(laughter)

So, Don, first of all, were you affected by the hurricane? Because you live in Texas. Most people don't know that.

DON: We live in Buddham (phonetic), Texas. We have a ranch here, in Washington County. We're 85 miles from Houston. We got 30 inches of rain here at the ranch. My son, Wyatt Imus, goes to Rice University, which is right in the middle of Houston. And my other son flies fighter jets out of Pensacola.

GLENN: So maybe this is God just trying to wipe the Imus family out. Have you thought about that?

DON: It does sound that way.

GLENN: Yeah, it does sound that way.

DON: So we weren't flooded here because we're at a high point in the county. But, you know, 30 inches of rain, like the house is -- 11,000 square foot house, got a brand-new copper roof on it, and the roof started leaking.

So, but nothing like -- hey, what's this Operation Barbecue thing you're doing?

GLENN: We thought that it would be, you know, helpful to go cook some food. So we're -- we are supporting the Operation Barbecue, a group that goes out. And they're actually doing at the convention center, they've provided I think 335 meals since this thing began.

DON: Is that your deal?

GLENN: We're one of their big supporters, yes.

DON: Okay. And who handles the money?

GLENN: Not me.

DON: Okay. Well, that's fine.

GLENN: Yeah.

DON: But, I mean, is the Red Cross involved or FEMA?

GLENN: I'm not sure how -- I'm not sure what everybody is doing. I know that we're supporting a couple of them. Operation Barbecue. Team Rubicon. Do you know anything about them? They're an amazing group.

DON: No, I don't.

GLENN: They're a group of veterans all over the country, that when there's a need, they just all kind of come in. And we've flown I think 1100 of them in from all over the country. And they're just going in, and they're mucking out these houses.

DON: Well, Deirdre Imus, you know, my lovely wife. You've met her.

GLENN: Yeah.

DON: Well, we call her El Chapo around the ranch here. We wanted to give some money, but there's certain organizations we won't give any money to. So maybe off the air, you can text me.

GLENN: Sure.

DON: Tell me who it is. We'll be happy to send you some money.

GLENN: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll give you some --

DON: Is O'Reilly on?

GLENN: Oh, jeez. Here we go.

STU: No, we didn't. We didn't.

DON: What do you mean, oh, jeez, here we go?

GLENN: Because, Don, the world has been, you know, at each other's throats for the last couple of years. Then we've had a nice break, where people come together and they love each other and it's nice. And, you know, I did question my wisdom inviting you. I thought, well, you know, all good things have to come to an end. Let's just pile Don Imus into this and reverse the thrusters.

DON: Well, we all know what O'Reilly did, and we all know what I did when I got fired for trying to be funny, which I shouldn't have been. And Bill wound up okay. But, you know, listen -- the thing I was thinking about this morning is we don't know what you're doing.

GLENN: Wait. What?

DON: There's something that you're doing that we, the great unwashed out here, that we don't know. You could have a couple of midgets -- you can't say midgets, Imus -- you could have a couple of little people in your basement with a pony and two hookers. And who -- but we wouldn't know about it.

GLENN: Right. You wouldn't have any idea. I've hidden it pretty well, haven't I?

DON: Yes, you have. But here's the thing: You can bet on this, it's going to come out. It's going to come out. So here's what I'm saying to you: Tell us now. Tell me.

(laughter)

GLENN: I -- I really --

DON: What are you doing? What are you doing to the pony, Glenn? Glenn, did you try to kiss a pony?

(laughter)

STU: Try? Yeah. Even ponies won't kiss me.

DON: How is your boy Trump doing?

GLENN: My boy Trump?

DON: Yeah.

GLENN: Don't even start with me on my boy Trump. You're the one who writes to me, telling me how much you love him.

DON: You know, it's not the same guy I knew. I knew him for 40 years. Not the same guy. God Almighty.

GLENN: So did he -- you know, there's some people saying he's become the -- yesterday was his first day as a Democrat in office. Do you buy into that?

DON: No. I don't -- I mean, I'm just waiting for him to say, I've had enough, go back to Trump Tower, which, by the way, has ruined his name and everything else. The guy is a moron. Please stop it.

GLENN: Wait a minute. I thought this was your guy?

DON: Well, he's not my guy anymore, Glenn. So now what?

You know, I was done with him when he jumped on McCain. Not his -- you know, his kind of war hero is not one that's captured. Are you kidding me? This fat, blubbered-tittied moron has got five deployments to keep from going to Vietnam. You know why he didn't want to go to Vietnam? Because he's a coward. You know who did go to Vietnam, got shot down over Vietnam? John McCain, that's who. You know that I was in the Marine Corps. I was in the jungles of Vietnam, killing the Congs so people like you could have these stupid little radio programs. What are you talking about?

(laughter)

DON: Well, actually I played the bugle in the Marine Corps band.

GLENN: Right. But you were there. You were there. You were there.

DON: Yeah.

GLENN: So, Don, what has changed in Donald Trump since -- you say you've known him for 40 years. This is not the guy you knew. What's different about him?

DON: Well, I just thought he was a lot smarter. And, you know, once you're president, you wouldn't think you would have to defend every slight. You wouldn't think you would have to validate your presence on the planet with tweets about how big the crowd was or this -- I mean, you know, I had gotten into a huge fight with him that the press covered back 25 years ago. He was a bachelor then. And he was posing for some -- I forget what it was. And I said he had grandma arms. You know, he had the big old flap on his arms.

GLENN: Yeah.

DON: And he was going bankrupt in his casinos. So I said the boy was going from the back of the limo to the front of the limo. So he took great offense to that. And said, now that I wasn't drinking liquor anymore and doing cocaine, I wasn't as funny as I used to be. Howard Stern was a lot better. And Stern voted for Hillary Clinton, but...

GLENN: Is there any -- is there any difference though on, A, how you treated Bill Clinton? I'll never forget the flop sweat on Don Imus.

DON: There wasn't any flop sweat. What are you talking about?

GLENN: Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. I felt like I was living -- you know, if I would watch it again, there would be no difference between this and Hurricane Harvey. There was so much water coming off of you.

DON: I had the guts to stand up there and hammer his ass.

GLENN: You did.

DON: And, by the way, I played the speech the next day on-air. I killed it though. What are you talking about?

GLENN: I agree you did. But it -- I've never seen you squirm like that. It was --

DON: Well, no. He was glaring at me. And Hillary, she was glaring at me. And they were thinking about walking out. They were so --

GLENN: Right. So what is the difference -- what is the difference between what you said there and their reaction? And when you talk about grandma arms and to, quote you, blubber titties, what is the --

DON: Well, I don't know. I don't know how to answer that question. Don't ask me difficult questions.

(laughter)

No, but I don't want -- I like you. I like to call your program. My wife and I wanted to give some money to this deal, if it's not some scam. But I didn't call up to take an SAT test.

GLENN: It's not a scam. All right. All right. How much money are you going to give?

DON: I'd give 100 grand if we would -- I'd give 100 grand, if it's legitimate.

STU: Wow.

GLENN: Well --

STU: It is legitimate.

GLENN: It is legitimate, Don. Not a dime goes through --

DON: I want to know who handles the money. If the Red Cross or FEMA handles any of the money, then I'm not giving any money.

GLENN: No. FEMA and the Red Cross -- actually my charity was started because I don't trust FEMA and the Red Cross.

DON: All right. Good.

GLENN: And so there's not a dime that comes to us. If you mark it for Hurricane Harvey or Irma or whatever, 100 percent of the proceeds go right directly to the things that we have earmarked on the site. And you can even say, "You know, I want it to go to Operation Barbecue or Team Rubicon." Or --

DON: You can -- you can -- you have my email address. I get your whiney little email from you all the time. Send me a note about who handles the money, once it leaves Mercury Arts and whatever. And where to send the money. And we'll give you $100,000.

STU: Wow.

GLENN: That's nice of you, Don. That's a little cheap now that you've gotten rid of the cancer farm. You know, I thought you would be a little more generous.

DON: You really are just a worm.

(laughter)

DON: We always knew you were weird.

(laughter)

DON: I just --

(laughter)

Little fat boy, sitting there getting a lap dance from...

GLENN: All right. All right. All right. Don -- all right.

DON: I got to go.

GLENN: Goodbye, Don.

(laughter)

STU: That was Imus in the Morning. Imus.com. You get the updates on the -- on whatever Glenn is doing with that pony in the basement. We have that coming up, along with Doris Goodwin.

He's awesome.

GLENN: He is great. I have to ask him for permission to print the emails -- the email exchanges from us over the years. For like ten years, we've been going back and forth on emails. And they're the most cruel, politically incorrect, just brutal beatings of one another.

I mean, just beating of one another.

STU: Relentless.

GLENN: Hysterical.

STU: And there's not a moment of saying, no, but, you know, we like you. There's none of that.

GLENN: No, I said that -- remember this? The first time we went back and forth, and I -- you know, I thought, okay. I'm going to write -- Don gave me his email address. I can't write something nice. Because that's not who he is. So I gave him a backhanded compliment. And he came back even stronger. And so then we just got into this war. And then about -- I don't know. About six emails in, I decided to say, but really, you're a great guy and everything else. And he just went off on me. Really? Really? This is who you are? You really need to think you need to say that? Don't ever write to me again.

I mean, he's just brutal in all ways.

STU: Uh-huh.

GLENN: But what I really like about him is he's a really nice guy, and he can take the punch as hard as he can throw it.

STU: Yeah. And also say, you should not brush off the fact that he just offered $100,000 for Harvey relief. You know, I mean, it doesn't --

GLENN: He spends that in medication every month.

STU: That's true. But, I mean, that's -- every week is probably more accurate.

GLENN: Probably every day. But -- all right. Well, but we accept it. And that is really nice. That's very nice of him.

America’s moral erosion: How we were conditioned to accept the unthinkable

MATHIEU LEWIS-ROLLAND / Contributor | Getty Images

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Chicago, Portland, and other American cities are showing us what happens when the rule of law breaks down. These cities have become openly lawless — and that’s not hyperbole.

When a governor declares she doesn’t believe federal agents about a credible threat to their lives, when Chicago orders its police not to assist federal officers, and when cartels print wanted posters offering bounties for the deaths of U.S. immigration agents, you’re looking at a country flirting with anarchy.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

This isn’t a matter of partisan politics. The struggle we’re watching now is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between good and evil, right and wrong, self‑government and chaos.

Moral erosion

For generations, Americans have inherited a republic based on law, liberty, and moral responsibility. That legacy is now under assault by extremists who openly seek to collapse the system and replace it with something darker.

Antifa, well‑financed by the left, isn’t an isolated fringe any more than Occupy Wall Street was. As with Occupy, big money and global interests are quietly aligned with “anti‑establishment” radicals. The goal is disruption, not reform.

And they’ve learned how to condition us. Twenty‑five years ago, few Americans would have supported drag shows in elementary schools, biological males in women’s sports, forced vaccinations, or government partnerships with mega‑corporations to decide which businesses live or die. Few would have tolerated cartels threatening federal agents or tolerated mobs doxxing political opponents. Yet today, many shrug — or cheer.

How did we get here? What evidence convinced so many people to reverse themselves on fundamental questions of morality, liberty, and law? Those long laboring to disrupt our republic have sought to condition people to believe that the ends justify the means.

Promoting “tolerance” justifies women losing to biological men in sports. “Compassion” justifies harboring illegal immigrants, even violent criminals. Whatever deluded ideals Antifa espouses is supposed to somehow justify targeting federal agents and overturning the rule of law. Our culture has been conditioned for this moment.

The buck stops with us

That’s why the debate over using troops to restore order in American cities matters so much. I’ve never supported soldiers executing civilian law, and I still don’t. But we need to speak honestly about what the Constitution allows and why. The Posse Comitatus Act sharply limits the use of the military for domestic policing. The Insurrection Act, however, exists for rare emergencies — when federal law truly can’t be enforced by ordinary means and when mobs, cartels, or coordinated violence block the courts.

Even then, the Constitution demands limits: a public proclamation ordering offenders to disperse, transparency about the mission, a narrow scope, temporary duration, and judicial oversight.

Soldiers fight wars. Cops enforce laws. We blur that line at our peril.

But we also cannot allow intimidation of federal officers or tolerate local officials who openly obstruct federal enforcement. Both extremes — lawlessness on one side and militarization on the other — endanger the republic.

The only way out is the Constitution itself. Protect civil liberty. Enforce the rule of law. Demand transparency. Reject the temptation to justify any tactic because “our side” is winning. We’ve already seen how fear after 9/11 led to the Patriot Act and years of surveillance.

KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic. The left cannot be allowed to shut down enforcement, and the right cannot be allowed to abandon constitutional restraint.

The real threat to the republic isn’t just the mobs or the cartels. It’s us — citizens who stop caring about truth and constitutional limits. Anything can be justified when fear takes over. Everything collapses when enough people decide “the ends justify the means.”

We must choose differently. Uphold the rule of law. Guard civil liberties. And remember that the only way to preserve a government of, by, and for the people is to act like the people still want it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Stand with Voddie Baucham’s family in this time of loss

In the quiet aftermath of a profound loss, the Christian community mourns the unexpected passing of Dr. Voddie Baucham, a towering figure in evangelical circles. Known for his defense of biblical truth, Baucham, a pastor, author, and theologian, left a legacy on family, faith, and opposing "woke" ideologies in the church. His book Fault Lines challenged believers to prioritize Scripture over cultural trends. Glenn had Voddie on the show several times, where they discussed progressive influences in Christianity, debunked myths of “Christian nationalism,” and urged hope amid hostility.

The shock of Baucham's death has deeply affected his family. Grieving, they remain hopeful in Christ, with his wife, Bridget, now facing the task of resettling in the US without him. Their planned move from Lusaka, Zambia, was disrupted when their home sale fell through last December, resulting in temporary Airbnb accommodations, but they have since secured a new home in Cape Coral that requires renovations. To ensure Voddie's family is taken care of, a fundraiser is being held to raise $2 million, which will be invested for ongoing support, allowing Bridget to focus on her family.

We invite readers to contribute prayerfully. If you feel called to support the Bauchams in this time of need, you can click here to donate.

We grieve and pray with hope for the Bauchams.

May Voddie's example inspire us.

From isolation to connection: Overcoming loneliness

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

Loneliness has become an epidemic in America. Millions of people, even when surrounded by others, feel invisible. In tragic irony, we live in an age of unparalleled connectivity, yet too many sit in silence, unseen and unheard.

I’ve been experiencing this firsthand. My children have grown up and moved out. The house that once overflowed with life now echoes with quiet. Moments that once held laughter now hold silence. And in that silence, the mind can play cruel games. It whispers, “You’re forgotten. Your story doesn’t matter.”

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

It’s a lie.

I’ve seen it in others. I remember sitting at Rockefeller Center one winter, watching a woman lace up her ice skates. Her clothing was worn, her bag battered. Yet on the ice, she transformed — elegant, alive, radiant.

Minutes later, she returned to her shoes, merged into the crowd, unnoticed. I’ve thought of her often. She was not alone in her experience. Millions of Americans live unseen, performing acts of quiet heroism every day.

Shared pain makes us human

Loneliness convinces us to retreat, to stay silent, to stop reaching out to others. But connection is essential. Even small gestures — a word of encouragement, a listening ear, a shared meal — are radical acts against isolation.

I’ve learned this personally. Years ago, a caller called me “Mr. Perfect.” I could have deflected, but I chose honesty. I spoke of my alcoholism, my failed marriage, my brokenness. I expected judgment. Instead, I found resonance. People whispered back, “I’m going through the same thing. Thank you for saying it.”

Our pain is universal. Everyone struggles with self-doubt and fear. Everyone feels, at times, like a fraud. We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

We were made for connection. We were built for community — for conversation, for touch, for shared purpose. Every time we reach out, every act of courage and compassion punches a hole in the wall of isolation.

You’re not alone

If you’re feeling alone, know this: You are not invisible. You are seen. You matter. And if you’re not struggling, someone you know is. It’s your responsibility to reach out.

Loneliness is not proof of brokenness. It is proof of humanity. It is a call to engage, to bear witness, to connect. The world is different because of the people who choose to act. It is brighter when we refuse to be isolated.

We cannot let silence win. We cannot allow loneliness to dictate our lives. Speak. Reach out. Connect. Share your gifts. By doing so, we remind one another: We are all alike, and yet each of us matters profoundly.

In this moment, in this country, in this world, what we do matters. Loneliness is real, but so is hope. And hope begins with connection.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Russell Vought’s secret plan to finally shrink Washington

Bloomberg / Contributor | Getty Images

Trump’s OMB chief built the plan for this moment: Starve pet programs, force reauthorization, and actually shrink Washington.

The government is shut down again, and the usual panic is back. I even had someone call my house this week to ask if it was safe to fly today. The person was half-joking, half-serious, wondering if planes would “fall out of the sky.”

For the record, the sky isn’t falling — at least not literally. But the chaos in Washington does feel like it. Once again, we’re watching the same old script: a shutdown engineered not by fiscal restraint but by political brinkmanship. And this time, the Democrats are driving the bus.

This shutdown may be inconvenient. But it’s also an opportunity — to stop funding our own destruction, to reset the table, and to remind Congress who actually pays the bills.

Democrats, among other things, are demanding that health care be extended to illegal immigrants. Democratic leadership caved to its radical base, which would rather shut down the government for such left-wing campaign points than compromise. Republicans — shockingly — said no. They refused to rubber-stamp more spending for illegal immigration. For once, they stood their ground.

But if you’ve watched Washington long enough, you know how this story usually ends: a shutdown followed by a deal that spends even more money than before — a continuing resolution kicking the can down the road. Everyone pretends to “win,” but taxpayers always lose.

The Vought effect

This time might be different. Republicans actually hold some cards. The public may blame Democrats — not the media, but the people who feel this in their wallets. Americans don’t like shutdowns, but they like runaway spending and chaos even less.

That’s why you’re hearing so much about Russell Vought, the director of the United States Office of Management and Budget and Donald Trump’s quiet architect of a strategy to use moments like this to shrink the federal bureaucracy. Vought spent four years building a plan for exactly this scenario: firing nonessential workers and forcing reauthorization of pet programs. Trump talks about draining the swamp. Vought draws up the blueprints.

The Democrats and media are threatened by Vought because he is patient, calculated, and understands how to leverage the moment to reverse decades of government bloat. If programs aren’t mandated, cut them. Make Congress fight to bring them back. That’s how you actually drain the swamp.

Predictable meltdowns

Predictably, Democrats are melting down. They’ve shifted their arguments so many times it’s dizzying. Last time, they claimed a shutdown would lead to mass firings. Now, they insist Republicans are firing everyone anyway. It’s the same playbook: Move the goalposts, reframe the narrative, accuse your opponents of cruelty.

We’ve seen this before. Remember the infamous "You lie!” moment in 2009? President Barack Obama promised during his State of the Union that Obamacare wouldn’t cover illegal immigrants. Rep. Joe Wilson (R-S.C.) shouted, “You lie!” and was condemned for breaching decorum.

Several years later, Hillary Clinton’s campaign platform openly promised health care for illegal immigrants. What was once called a “lie” became official policy. And today, Democrats are shutting down the government because they can’t get even more of it.

This is progressivism in action: Deny it, inch toward it, then demand it as a moral imperative. Anyone who resists becomes the villain.

SAUL LOEB / Contributor | Getty Images

Stand firm

This shutdown isn’t just about spending. It’s about whether we’ll keep letting progressives rewrite the rules one crisis at a time. Trump’s plan — to cut what isn’t mandated, force programs into reauthorization, and fight the battle in the courts — is the first real counterpunch to decades of this manipulation.

It’s time to stop pretending. This isn’t about compassion. It’s about control. Progressives know once they normalize government benefits for illegal immigrants, they never roll back. They know Americans forget how it started.

This shutdown may be inconvenient. But it’s also an opportunity — to stop funding our own destruction, to reset the table, and to remind Congress who actually pays the bills. If we don’t take it, we’ll be right back here again, only deeper in debt, with fewer freedoms left to defend.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Glenn's Show Prep

Don Imus: Trump Didn’t Want to Serve in Vietnam Because He’s a 'Coward'

America’s moral erosion: How we were conditioned to accept the unthinkable

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

Moral erosion

The buck stops with us

Stand with Voddie Baucham’s family in this time of loss

From isolation to connection: Overcoming loneliness

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

Shared pain makes us human

You’re not alone

Russell Vought’s secret plan to finally shrink Washington

Trump’s OMB chief built the plan for this moment: Starve pet programs, force reauthorization, and actually shrink Washington.

This shutdown may be inconvenient. But it’s also an opportunity — to stop funding our own destruction, to reset the table, and to remind Congress who actually pays the bills.

The Vought effect

Predictable meltdowns

Stand firm