
When Donald Trump scheduled a press conference after a weekend in which rumors about his health swirled, two women in red-state Oklahoma launched a livestream for their more than 1 million followers on YouTube to speculate about the condition of “Cankles McTacoTits”, shortened to Canks “for expediency and spite”.
It was fitting for the profanity-laced, straight talking liberal podcast I’ve Had It that quipped, after interviewing Barack Obama, that the former president has “big dick energy”.
Jennifer Welch and Angie “Pumps” Sullivan have risen up the podcast charts, buoyed by Democrats looking to commiserate and find their party’s answer to the bro-filled atmosphere that helped propel Trump’s victory in 2024.
In Oklahoma City, in the upstairs of Welch’s design studio, the self-described “two middle-aged women in the buckle of the bible belt trying to stand up for democracy” pivot between recording their podcast – in early September, that meant interviewing the mayor of Los Angeles, promoting their new co-authored book, and catching up on life like the old friends they are. Welch tells Sullivan to get that vape out of her mouth. They talk about their kids, the ones who originally brought them together in the trenches of motherhood years ago.
This purple city in a deep red state is an unlikely spot for a rising voice on the left in new media. But as the left grapples for its counter to the rightwing media ecosystem, the two blonde suburban moms – who admit they look “Fox-coded” – offer one inroad. Across all platforms, they have several million followers, including 1.3m on YouTube and nearly 1m on Instagram. On the weekly Apple podcast charts in early October, they ranked as the second-most listened to among society and culture shows. On YouTube’s charts, their news show, IHIP news, ranked 18th among podcasts. They regularly chart as one of the fastest-growing podcasts.
“Everyone always talking about we need to find the Joe Rogan of the left when they’re right here!” Gibson Johns, a podcaster and pop culture aficionado wrote on X with a photo of Welch and Sullivan.
Trying to find a singular Joe Rogan on the left is the wrong question, Welch said. It’s “too myopic” – the left isn’t devout to a leader, like the right is to Trump. “The left needs to have a very large, diverse tent.” Their “cult,” as they often call their community, brings in “some of the gays, some of these white ladies that are getting radicalized”. They see other liberal podcasts as allies, with the more people consuming liberal media, whoever it is, the better.
“Liberals have hobbies,” said the 51-year-old Welch. “Our whole identity isn’t hating conservatives … the Republican party presents the enemy, and they can just feast on it.”
The show launched in 2022 as an entertainment podcast, drawing followers who remembered their Bravo reality TV show. Its first episode, “Toddlers are Assholes,” focused on how toddlers are, well, assholes. They went viral for their funny rants soon after, but quickly blended politics into the show. Their political content caught the eyes of big-name Democrats, and they snagged guests including Mary Trump, Donald Trump’s niece, in 2023, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in early 2024, then Kamala Harris, Barack Obama, Gavin Newsom and Bernie Sanders.
They’re quick with salty language and nicknames. Trump looked “puffed up like a bubble tick”. JD Vance is “Lil Smokey,” a shorter version of “Smokey Eye Failed Drag Queen”. Childish people are “titty babies”.

“You want to go low, we’re gonna go lower,” Welch said. “The integrity politics of being perfect as a liberal needs to stop, and we need to bully the shit out of these guys, because they respond to it.”
Their language and commentary elicits pushback and vitriol from liberals at times, said Sullivan, who is 55. But, Welch added, while they don’t want to punch down, they are “still going to play a brand of fuck-you politics”, something she wishes elected Democrats would do more often.
Their pivot from entertainment to politics happened naturally. Welch is a lifelong Democrat and atheist who grew up defending her beliefs in Oklahoma. For Sullivan, a former Republican who shed religion in recent years, the supreme court’s Dobbs decision, overturning the right to an abortion across the US, made her “so fucking mad at white women”.
In early episodes, listeners wrote in to tell them to stay out of politics and use fewer swear words. The president of a company they partnered with to sell ads told them not to talk about politics. In turn, they started talking about politics more and more. They dropped the “dead weight” of people who only came for entertainment, Welch said.
“And it turns out, when you believe in something and you defend it vigorously, some people are going to dislike you for your beliefs, and that’s fine, but the people who like you, that turns into love, and you create a community,” she said.
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Welch’s first child and Sullivan’s second child were each other’s first best friends. They wanted to be together all the time, so Welch and Sullivan were together all the time while their husbands were “crazier than shithouse rats”. Welch’s husband, who Sullivan met in law school, was battling addiction, while Sullivan’s husband was frequenting sex workers and spending through their money. They’d pile into Sullivan’s three-row white suburban and cart the kids to gymnastics or pizza buffets.
Welch became Sullivan’s “lifeline,” Sullivan said, “like the only person on the planet that I could trust with what was going on with me, so that made her safe no matter what.”
Sullivan described their bond in their book Life is a Lazy Susan of Shit Sandwiches: “The reason Jennifer and I banter so well is that we’ve been through a lot together. We have an Olympic-sized pool of combined tears, but there’s also been a lot of laughter.
“We’ve traded in Jen’s porch for the podcast studio these days, and we’ve both quit smoking, but it’s basically the same idea: we talk through everything, even the scary stuff.”
Religion at times stood between them, when Sullivan was still religious and right-leaning. At lunch, over chips and queso, Sullivan asked Welch: “Religion didn’t always come up with us, did it?” Welch responded: “You were always trying to get me to go to Bible study.” Sullivan described a “gradual evolution” away from her faith, which she told Welch about in 2020. “You could have knocked me over with a feather,” Welch said of the big reveal.
Now, their podcast often includes laments against the conservative Christians seeking to use their religion to govern. “Once you get out of it, you become more turned off by it,” Sullivan said. Welch quipped: “She’s gotten worse than me.”
Welch and Sullivan’s Bravo show, Sweet Home Oklahoma, ran for two seasons from 2017-2018, which gave them a small but dedicated built-in audience when they launched the podcast. Welch still works as an interior designer on high-end homes, though she’s more selective in what she takes on. Sullivan recently left her job as a divorce attorney because juggling a court schedule and clients with the growing podcast became too much.

Welch financed the podcast, paying herself back over the course of a year. They use her building as a studio. She bought all the equipment. She didn’t want to be beholden to anyone or feel hesitant to dish out criticisms to whomever she chose. They can say what people are thinking, in terms they choose, because they are “untethered to anybody”.
Clips of them taking Democrats to task have gone viral this year, including a heated interview in which Welch went after Rahm Emanuel for abandoning trans people. Emanuel said of Democratic messaging: “The only room we were doing really well was the bathroom, and that’s the smallest room in the house.” Welch reacted with “pure, unadulterated anger,” enraged that Emanuel would throw trans people under the bus. At one point, Emanuel suggested people in red states with harsh anti-trans or anti-gay laws could move somewhere else if they wanted. Welch’s only regret about the interview is that she “didn’t chew his ass out over that”.
In a recent episode, she repeatedly asks a Democratic candidate for governor in Georgia whether he will take donations from the pro-Israel AIPac, a clip of which spread widely with the comment “Damn this is intense.” In another, she ran down a list of Democrats who took AIPac money. They regularly call for the party to embrace “moral clarity” on the Gaza war.
Other clips in which they bashed Republicans sometimes make it into rightwing media. One rant where Welch said she’s had it with Trump voters who go to Mexican or Chinese restaurants while supporting deportations drew a comment from the White House: “Rich liberal white women love to pretend to be champions of diversity.”
When their clips have ended up on rightwing media, they’ve received threats and harassing messages. “We voluntarily get up every day, we choose to do our podcast, so we’re not victims of any of what the commentary in the aftermath is,” Welch said. Comments will focus on their appearances or intellect. But what goes too far, Welch said, is receiving wishes of sexual violence, both against her and her children. She shut down email inquiries to her design firm. She doesn’t read her direct messages anymore.

“Are my feelings hurt? Do I live in fear? No. Is it helpful for me to read all of this shit? No,” she said.
The life of the podcast
I’ve Had It gets big-name guests through a combination of the politicians reaching out to pitch them and them seeking out people they want to talk to.
Karen Bass, the mayor of Los Angeles, joined an episode in September, to talk about her city under federal occupation. At the start of I’ve Had It, the hosts and guest say one thing they’ve “had it” with, and for Bass, it’s false depictions of Los Angeles. At one point, when they refer to Trump as “Canks,” Welch notes, “I know it’s probably beneath you, mayor.” They also play a game called “had it or hit it,” where guests weigh in on what they are cool with or sick of.
Welch’s younger son is now in college in Los Angeles, she tells the mayor, and she’ll be there soon to visit. She’d love to meet in person, she says. Bass warmly agrees.
In addition to I’ve Had It, their flagship, they do a regular news video series called IHIP News for YouTube. In September,

When rumors of Trump’s demise were rampant, they launched a “Canks Watch”, volleying over how much longer they expected the president to live and how they’d feel once he was gone. “Straight-up elated,” Sullivan said.
Tens of thousands tuned in live to hear their banter, and the video netted more than 400,000 views. The president, though, looked pretty normal. “He sounds almost coherent for him,” Sullivan said. “Goddamn it, he’s doing a lot better than I thought,” Welch said.
Their podcasts are not really for moderates - in an episode with Zohran Mamdani, the New York City mayoral candidate, where Mamdani talks about his strategy of not browbeating voters who went for Trump, Welch responds with “guilty”.
They also run a Patreon and host a livestream with their Patreon subscribers weekly. They thank their “patriots, gay-triots, Black-triots, brown-triots” of about 100 people who sign on for an open Q&A-style conversation about their views on political topics and updates on their lives.
Groups of their most ardent fans have met up to go for cocktails before their live shows. During meet-and-greets, they have had young queer people come up to them crying because they stand up strongly for the LGBTQIA+ community. Some have told them they see them as the mothers they wish had.
“You go from an 18-year-old marginalized kid all the way to a Boomer, and there’s a unity in the messaging of being irritated about something, petty shit-talking, fighting for what’s right, and not giving a fuck what anybody thinks about it,” Welch said of their supporters.

After one day of recordings, I jump in the car with Sullivan, who has some errands to run. We hit up a vape shop, where she restocks on cartridges and spearmint chapsticks. We then pick up her dogs – two French bulldogs and a Siberian husky, her divorce dog. “I’d much rather have the Siberian husky than the husband. It’s not even a close second,” she said. We chat a bit about her dating life, which sometimes comes up in their podcast, too. “My picker is so bad. Serial killer is the bar, and I continue to fall under it every time.”
I then hang out with Welch, going to tennis lessons where she engages in friendly shit-talking with the instructor. Some journalists embed in warzones, she joked, and “we’re about to have a war right here”. She started playing tennis daily to combat long Covid after her doctor recommended a sport that included hand-eye coordination. We pick up her two Frenchies, one of which has his own Instagram page.
They both, on separate occasions, refer to the “yin and yang” of their relationship. Sullivan said she will defer to Welch on decisions if they’re on the fence. While it’s hard to be around anybody all the time, she said, they know how to communicate. “We rarely have disagreements,” Sullivan said. “When we do, we’re able to rationally talk about them. So overall, I would say far more positive than negative. But to say, oh, it’s easy, it’s all unicorns and rainbows, no.”
Decamping to New York
They’ve grown their podcast in a a state that boasts how every county voted for Trump in 2024. Around Oklahoma City, which remains purple, they’re sometimes recognized loudly and proudly, or via whispers from “Democrats in the closet” afraid to outwardly show their politics.

At the tennis club recently, an older woman who Welch thought for sure was a Republican squeezed her hand and said “keep doing what you’re doing,” she recounted. “This is anecdotal, but if this is happening to rich white women in Oklahoma City, I can’t help but think that this isn’t happening all over the place,” she said.
When Welch talked about these events in the Patreon stream, Sullivan said they gave her hope. But, she added, “I just found hope to be dangerous in these times.”
They want to keep expanding the podcast. Welch has become a frequent guest on TV news and commentary shows. The more she appears on these shows, the more requests she gets for others. But, she added, “we’re at an interesting intersection where our YouTube gets as many views as nighttime television does.”
Still, the time is right for a big move – Welch is heading to New York City, renting an apartment starting in October and planning to spend most of her time there now that her kids have graduated from high school. Sullivan plans to do the same, looking for an apartment to rent there later this year. The podcast will continue.
Welch has always felt like an outsider in Oklahoma as a progressive and an atheist. She’s found community there, building a group of like-minded friends, but still is bothered by the “hypocrisy” she sees among mutual friends who vote against their gay or lesbian friends.
She’s giving the New York experiment a year to decide whether it’s a good fit, with no expectations. It’s been a lifelong dream of hers, and she’s able to realize it now.
“I’ve always been stuck here, and I’ve always felt like an outsider. I’ve always been harassed and ridiculed for my belief system, and it’s going to be nice to be around people where it’s not a big deal that I’m an atheist.”
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