It has become a predictable, almost tiresome ritual of American political life. As a presidential election looms, a chorus of high-profile celebrities takes to the airwaves and social media, clutching their pearls and delivering a dramatic ultimatum: “If that person wins, I’m leaving the country.”

It’s a threat that has been hurled from the hills of Hollywood for decades, a performative act of moral protest. And yet, when the dust settles and the votes are counted, the promised exodus never materializes. The private jets remain parked in Los Angeles. The lavish estates in the Hollywood Hills remain occupied.

Miley Cyrus, back in 2016, famously declared, “I am moving if Trump is my president! I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Years later, she was very much still in America, shining at the Grammys, not broadcasting from a distant, self-imposed exile. Comedians like Eddie Griffin and George Lopez echoed the sentiment, promising moves to Africa or a mass “return” from a country they suddenly found intolerable. They, too, are still here.

This long-running spectacle of empty threats finally reached a breaking point for political commentator Bill Maher. In a blistering monologue that has since gone viral, Maher didn’t just mock these “woke” celebrities; he systematically dismantled their entire premise, exposing their complaints as the height of privileged entitlement and profound ignorance.

Maher’s core argument was not just that they were hypocrites for staying, but that their very threat to leave revealed a staggering lack of perspective.

“The problem isn’t that America isn’t worth defending,” Maher argued, his voice dripping with exasperated sarcasm. “Maybe the problem is that lots of people today are entitled whiners who have no perspective and no idea how good they have it.”

With the precision of a surgeon, Maher began to dissect just where, exactly, these disgruntled stars planned to go. If America under a disfavored politician is so “awful,” what is the alternative?

“You think America’s evil?” he challenged, before painting a grim picture of the realities they would face elsewhere. He pointed to Russia, where simply calling the war in Ukraine a “war” can land you in one of its “fabulous prisons” for 15 years. He brought up China, where the state maintains the death penalty for nearly 50 different crimes, or Uganda, where being gay isn’t just frowned upon—it can get you executed.

“Suddenly, the ‘don’t say gay’ law doesn’t sound all that bad,” he quipped, contrasting Florida’s controversial legislation with a literal death sentence.

The power of Maher’s argument was in this stark, uncomfortable contrast. The “suffering” of these celebrities, he implied, is missing out on an Oscar nomination or attending an awards show they don’t like. For hundreds of millions around the world, suffering is persecution, imprisonment, or death for a stray word or for simply existing.

Maher didn’t stop with the rich and famous. He noted this “America-hating” trend has metastasized, trickling down from Hollywood to the social media feeds of everyday people. He highlighted a new, bizarre trend on TikTok: young people posting videos with captions like, “I’m 18 years old and I escaped America.”

“Escaped?” Maher scoffed. “You don’t have to ‘escape’ America.” He pointed to one of the most powerful and visible symbols in the entire debate: the wall. “That wall we’re always debating,” he said, “isn’t to keep you in.”

This, perhaps, is the central, undeniable fact that unravels the entire “America is a dystopian hellscape” narrative. If the United States were truly the failed state, the “homophobic, oppressive” regime its loudest critics claim it is, why is the line to get in millions deep?

“Nobody can answer that,” Maher stated. “If this place was such a nightmare… then why do millions of people risk their lives just to come here?”

You do not see people crawling under fences to get into North Korea. You do not see families crossing dangerous oceans on makeshift rafts to get to Venezuela or Iran. You see them doing it, every single day, for a shot at living in the very country these influencers and celebrities are so desperate to “flee.”

Maher, a staunch liberal himself, reserved special ire for the hypocrisy he sees on his own side of the aisle. He cited a recent story about “vulnerable minorities” wanting to flee America, including a gay man who described his life in New York City as a “dystopian homophobic hellscape.”

“I wonder if he knows,” Maher pondered, “that there are 66 countries where just being gay is a crime.” He detailed a recent news item where Burundi’s president called on citizens to “stone gay people.” In this context, calling New York City—one of the most liberal and LGBTQ-friendly cities on Earth—a “hellscape” is not just hyperbole; it’s an insult to those facing real, mortal danger.

This is not to say, as Maher was careful to point out, that America is perfect. He is no blind patriot. He openly recited a list of America’s failings, noting the country ranks “54th in the world in infant mortality, behind Cuba. 19th in literacy, behind Russia. 72nd in female representation in government, behind Iraq.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “a lot of work to do here.”

But that, he argued, is precisely the point. The solution to America’s very real problems is not to be a “quitter.” The answer is not to throw a tantrum, pack your bags, and threaten to leave when your team loses an election—especially when you have no intention of going.

“Real patriotism,” Maher concluded, isn’t just loving your country when it’s easy. “It’s when you stay even when it’s messy… and caring enough to make it better, not just running off when it’s inconvenient.”

He argued that the country doesn’t need more quitters. It needs people who will “stay and fix” what is broken.

In the end, Maher landed on the most glaring contradiction of all. How can one simultaneously argue that America is a “terrible” place that any sane person would want to flee, while also arguing that it is such a beacon of hope that we must let in everyone who wants to come?

The two ideas cannot coexist. It makes, as he put it, “zero sense.”

“Unless,” he said, “you realize it’s all just for show.”

It’s not about morals; it’s about “looking cool online and getting applause.” It’s about loving the sound of your own voice more than you love the country that gave you the freedom to have that voice in the first place.

And that, Maher proves, is why they never leave. They aren’t moving; they’re just making noise. Deep down, they know the truth. This country isn’t perfect, but as he cuttingly observed, it’s still the best deal going. And for the millions of people living in actual “hellscapes,” the performative complaints of those living in Beverly Hills are not just hollow—they’re a profound humiliation.