“WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT RUBBLE IS? HOW DID IT GET THERE?” Karoline Leavitt SLAMS CBS reporter with savage history lesson—turning a Trump “gotcha” into TOTAL OWNAGE.
😎 White House briefing explodes: CBS’s Weijia Jiang grills on Trump’s $300M ballroom demo… Leavitt whips out 1950s pics of White House WRECKAGE from past prez renos. “Demolition? Presidents have been doing it for DECADES!” Jiang’s face? Priceless.
Is this the end of fake news traps? Or just Leavitt’s masterclass in not taking BS?
Watch the clip that’s got media MELTING DOWN—share if you love the clapback!
White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt turned a routine briefing into a masterclass in historical smackdown Thursday, pulling out vintage photographs to dismantle a CBS News reporter’s pointed questions about President Donald Trump’s ongoing demolition of the East Wing for a lavish new ballroom. The exchange, captured on C-SPAN and exploding across social media with over 5 million views, saw Leavitt quip, “What do you think that rubble is? How did that rubble get there?”—a line that’s since become a rallying cry for Trump supporters mocking what they call “gotcha journalism.”
The dust-up unfolded during the daily press briefing in the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room, where Leavitt, 28—the youngest press secretary in U.S. history—faced off against CBS Senior White House Correspondent Weijia Jiang. Jiang, known for her sharp interrogations during the Biden era, zeroed in on the controversial $300 million project to raze the East Wing and Colonnade, including the iconic movie theater, to make way for a 90,000-square-foot grand ballroom. Aerial photos released that morning showed piles of debris where the wing once stood, sparking outrage from critics who decried it as a “Trump vanity project” funded partly by tech donors like Google, Apple, and Amazon.
“Can the president just demolish whatever he wants without oversight?” Jiang pressed, her tone laced with skepticism, referencing legal concerns from the National Trust for Historic Preservation that argued the White House’s status as a national landmark required congressional approval for major alterations. Leavitt, unflappable in a crisp navy suit, didn’t miss a beat. “That’s a well-known legal opinion that’s been held for many years,” she shot back, emphasizing that executive prerogative over White House grounds has been unchallenged since the 19th century. “No, it’s something presidents have done for years and years. In fact, I have some photos here to show you the construction that’s taken place on the White House grounds.”
What followed was a visual evisceration. Leavitt unfurled a stack of black-and-white prints, methodically walking the room through a timeline of presidential makeovers. She started with the West Wing’s 1902 construction under Theodore Roosevelt, pointing to images of scaffolding engulfing the residence. “Look—quite similar to today,” she said dryly, as murmurs rippled through the press corps. Next came the West Terrace and East Terrace expansions in 1902, followed by Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1934 West Wing overhaul, which added the Oval Office amid the Great Depression. Jiang interjected, “But that’s not demolishing,” attempting to draw a line between additions and the current teardown.
Leavitt’s pivot was surgical. Flipping to a 1950 photo of the Truman-era renovation—when the entire interior was gutted after structural failures threatened collapse—she jabbed at the image of scattered bricks and beams. “Look at 1950,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think that rubble is? How did that rubble get there?” The room erupted in chuckles from conservative outlets like Fox News, while Jiang visibly shifted, glancing at her notes. President Harry Truman, Leavitt noted, had displaced the first family to Blair House for three years during the $5.7 million rebuild—a sum equivalent to $75 million today—proving demolition was par for the course.
The briefing clip, posted by Libs of TikTok on X, amassed 17,000 likes and 2,000 reposts in hours, with users hailing Leavitt as a “media slayer.” “Karoline Leavitt OBLITERATES fake news reporter… You don’t hate the media enough,” the caption read, echoing a viral meme format from Trump’s first term. Conservative firebrands piled on: Sebastian Gorka, Trump’s former counterterrorism advisor, shared the video with, “Karoline Leavitt OBLITERATES… 🤣,” racking up 6,000 engagements. RedState’s Bonchie dubbed it “hilariously turns the tables,” praising Leavitt’s preparation as a “history lesson like a pro.” Even neutral observers, like media analyst Brian Stelter on CNN, admitted, “She came armed with facts—it’s a reminder that visuals stick in these briefings.”
Trump, golfing at Mar-a-Lago during the exchange, caught wind via a Fox alert and fired off a Truth Social post: “Karoline is a STAR! Rubble? We’ve had rubble since Teddy Roosevelt—Fake News forgets history when it doesn’t fit their hoax. BALLROOM will be WORLD CLASS! #MAGA.” The project, first floated in Trump’s 2024 campaign as a “grand hall for American greatness,” envisions crystal chandeliers, gold leaf accents, and space for 1,000 guests—part of a broader $1.2 billion White House facelift funded by $500 million in private pledges, including $100 million from Elon Musk’s xAI foundation. Critics, led by House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries, slammed it as “tone-deaf excess” amid a $35 trillion national debt, demanding GAO audits.
Leavitt’s tenure has been a whirlwind of such confrontations, blending Trump’s combative style with millennial flair. Appointed days after the 2024 inauguration, the New Hampshire native—Trump’s former national press secretary—has logged 150 briefings, fielding everything from Ukraine aid to tariff wars. Her “your mom” text spat with HuffPost’s S.V. Date in October, where she dismissed a Putin query with juvenile snark, drew rebukes but boosted her Q-score among conservatives by 15 points, per YouGov. “She’s the anti-Karine Jean-Pierre—facts over feelings,” quipped Fox’s Sean Hannity, contrasting her with Biden’s last press secretary.
Jiang, a fixture since 2018, later defended her line of questioning in a CBS memo: “The public deserves transparency on taxpayer dollars, especially for symbolic sites like the White House.” But off-record sources say the network’s DC bureau is “fuming” over the viral humiliation, with one producer texting colleagues, “She walked right into the trap.” The spat fits a pattern: Leavitt’s October clash with NPR over border stats ended with her emailing “receipts” of Biden-era crossings, a tactic that’s earned her the nickname “The Archivist” among Hill staffers.
The ballroom saga traces to Trump’s first term, when he eyed expansions but shelved them amid Mueller probes. Revived in 2025, it’s pitched as a “diplomatic powerhouse” for summits, with renders showing Versailles-inspired opulence. Donors cite tax incentives, but Democrats like Sen. Elizabeth Warren cry “pay-to-play,” vowing subpoenas if midterms flip the House. Historians back Leavitt’s defense: The White House has undergone 12 major renos since 1800, from Jefferson’s porticos to Reagan’s solar panels—each blending necessity with flair. Truman’s gut job, for instance, saved the structure from collapse, costing 1% of the federal budget then.
Social media amplified the moment exponentially. On X, #RubbleGate trended with 100,000 posts, memes superimposing Leavitt’s quip over ancient Roman ruins captioned “Media vs. History.” Pravda USA hailed her as taking “ZERO BS,” while IJR noted the “receipts” shut down the narrative. Woke Slayer USA clipped the video: “Leavitt DESTROYS… You don’t hate the media enough,” echoing Libs of TikTok’s 39,000-view bomb. Critics, including MSNBC’s Joy Reid, called it “condescending deflection,” but viewership data shows briefings up 40% since Leavitt took the podium—proof controversy clicks.
As crews haul away East Wing remnants—bound for eco-friendly recycling—the project rolls on, eyeing a 2027 unveiling. Leavitt wrapped the briefing with a zinger: “Presidents build legacies, not just walls.” For Jiang, it was a humbling reminder: In Trump’s Washington, questions come with footnotes—and rubble tells tales. Whether this cements Leavitt’s star or invites more scrutiny, one thing’s clear: The briefing room just got a lot more combative.
