On a shaded corner of Los Angeles, nestled between parked cars and passing pedestrians, sits a familiar sight for many Angelenos: a homemade booth with a hand-painted sign that reads “Trump-Induced Anxiety Therapy — 5¢.” It’s not a protest. It’s performance art. And for Denise McCanles, it’s also a lifeline.
McCanles, a longtime artist and widow, has been running the “Trumpy Booth” across Los Angeles since the early days of Donald Trump’s presidency. Modeled after the classic Lucy Peanuts cartoon setup, her booth offers a simple service — a space to talk, vent, laugh, and, above all, connect.
“The reason I’m here is you’ve got to find humor in the darkness or just try to make people laugh.” McCanles said. “Every day you go, ‘What? What next?’”
The 5-foot-tall McCanles jokes that getting the booth out of her car is a workout in itself. But once she sets it up — usually choosing a spot based on proximity to parking, shade, and a bathroom — the real work begins. Conversations range from ICE raids and racism to family estrangements and fractured marriages, all tied together by the anxiety so many feel about Trump’s policies and rhetoric.
She said, “I saw an article about the demographic of the protest being older and at my booth I have found that the demographic is also older.” They’re still showing up. They’re still fighting.
Sometimes visitors cry. Sometimes they laugh. One day, she said, Kamala Harris’s in-laws even stopped by to offer their support and take a photo. Another time, she spoke to a woman whose engagement fell apart after the groom’s parents refused to accept that she wasn’t a Trump supporter.
The booth has become more than political commentary. It’s also a source of healing — for McCanles most of all. Her wife of 33 years passed away from cancer two years ago, and since then, the booth has helped fill the void.
“The loneliness is incredible,” she said, holding back tears. “I can come out here and I can meet people, and it has helped me with my grief so much.”
In a political moment defined by outrage and polarization, the Trumpy Booth offers a rare kind of catharsis: human connection on a folding chair, a cardboard sign, and the radical idea that laughter — even in despair — still matters.
