Move over, reality TV drama. The feud that refuses to die has officially gone transatlantic. Rosie O’Donnell, the comedian, actress, and self-proclaimed mortal enemy of Donald J. Trump, has traded New York penthouses and security gates for Irish rain, sheep, and more Guinness than a human body should safely consume—and yet, the 79-year-old former president remains her full-time obsession.
In a revealing interview with The Washington Post, O’Donnell, 63, confessed that she tried to find peace away from Trump—but peace is apparently illegal when the former president exists. She promised her therapist she would take a two-day break from posting about Trump online. That vow lasted mere hours. “I told my therapist, I’ll take a break,” O’Donnell said. “But then he did something outrageous. What else was I supposed to do?”
Her longtime friend, Jeanne Kopetic, who has been by O’Donnell’s side since seventh grade, tried to intervene during a trip to Ireland: “Roseann, you’ve got to detach. You’ve got to disconnect.” The advice, unfortunately, was as effective as a chocolate teabag in boiling water. Days later, O’Donnell attempted another social media fast—three days this time. Again, failed spectacularly. The digital war against Trump continues unabated, across an ocean and in real time.
The O’Donnell-Trump feud is nothing if not a masterclass in relentless animosity. It began in 2006, on The View, when O’Donnell publicly called out Trump over Miss USA Tara Conner’s underage drinking and cocaine scandal. Trump’s reaction? Classic Trump: dismissive, theatrical, and impossible to ignore. O’Donnell’s response? Fiery, unfiltered, and destined to echo in the tabloids for nearly two decades.
“Probably the Trump stuff was the most bullying I ever experienced in my life, including as a child,” O’Donnell told People. “It was national, and it was sanctioned societally. Whether I deserved it is up to your own interpretation.” Her feud with the former president has been mostly played out on social media, and the intensity has only increased over the years—especially during his presidencies. For O’Donnell, it’s part therapy, part performance art, part obsessive-compulsive keyboard warfare.
After Trump’s second inauguration, O’Donnell fled the U.S. for Ireland with her child, Clay. In a TikTok post that felt like a cross between a political manifesto and a vacation brochure, she explained that she would only return “when it is safe for all citizens to have equal rights there in America.” Ireland, with its rolling green hills and lack of 24/7 cable news screaming Trump’s name, seemed like the perfect refuge.
Trump, naturally, couldn’t resist a cameo in her European exile. He allegedly joked about revoking her U.S. citizenship, calling her “a threat to humanity.” O’Donnell fired back with razor-sharp wit that could slice through Fort Knox: “You want to revoke my citizenship? Go ahead and try, King Joffrey with a tangerine spray tan. I’m not yours to silence. I never was.” Social media exploded. Memes were born. Cats and dogs collectively sighed.
Even in Ireland, O’Donnell’s life has softened in some ways. Her brother Eddie told The Washington Post that moving abroad was “the best decision she’s made, I think, in her life, honestly.” Kopetic added that O’Donnell now mingles with actual humans instead of bodyguards and paparazzi, walking from her car to her house without barricades. Peace, it seems, is possible… just not for long.
Because Trump is never far from her mind—or her fingertips. O’Donnell admits that the “crimes” she believes he commits are constant, making her digital abstinence impossible. Across oceans, she remains the irate, keyboard-wielding vigilante she’s always been—a one-woman army of outrage that knows no borders.
Picture it: Rosie, in cozy wool sweaters, pacing the living room of a quaint Irish cottage, laptop balanced precariously on a stack of Guinness cans, fingers flying across the keyboard, muttering darkly about tweets from 3,000 miles away. A neighbor may glance over and see a tiny storm cloud of fury materializing over her head. A flock of sheep outside appears confused, as if even nature itself cannot process the intensity of this transatlantic obsession.
O’Donnell’s social media crusade has become part diary, part political commentary, part late-night roast session that never ends. Each post, each retweet, each fury-laden TikTok is both a warning and a love letter—to chaos itself. And Trump? He keeps tweeting, blissfully unaware that his actions are being scrutinized and ridiculed by an exile who has mastered the fine art of Atlantic-level obsessive trolling.
Friends and family watch in a mix of awe and horror. Kopetic admitted that the comedian now lives a more relaxed life, but relaxation is relative when your nemesis can dictate the rhythm of your heart from a different continent. Eddie O’Donnell concurs: the move to Ireland was life-changing, yes—but only because the chaos of American streets is buffered by rain, stone walls, and Guinness.
And so, the feud rages on. Rosie O’Donnell may have left the U.S., but she didn’t leave Trump behind. Across oceans, through fiber-optic cables and satellite signals, she continues her battle, digitally armed and fueled by righteous indignation. She has turned obsession into art, and art into a one-woman, Atlantic-crossing war that shows no signs of ending.
In short: Rosie O’Donnell fled America, but she couldn’t escape Trump. And judging by her posting history, she never will. She is exile, vigilante, commentator, and meme all rolled into one—and if Trump tweets, Rosie tweets back. The world watches. And somewhere, a sheep nods knowingly, silently acknowledging that some battles are eternal.
