There was a time I didn’t like Bill Maher.
I didn’t find him funny. He came across as just another babbling liberal voice in a media landscape already saturated with them.
But the more I listened, the more my view changed.
Let me be clear: Maher is a hardcore liberal. I’m a libertarian conservative. He’s an atheist. I’m a Christian. On many moral and philosophical questions, we’re miles apart. None of that has changed.
What has changed is my respect for how he argues.
Maher is remarkably straightforward about his worldview. He doesn’t pretend to be neutral. He doesn’t cloak his beliefs in euphemisms or hide behind academic fog. You always know exactly where he stands—and just as importantly, why.
And when he disagrees, he goes after arguments, not people.
That matters.
In an era where disagreement is routinely treated as moral defect—and where opponents are not debated but disqualified—Maher still practices an older, increasingly rare form of critique. He’ll point out contradictions. He’ll lampoon bad logic. He’ll call out hypocrisy wherever he sees it. And he does it sharply, often mercilessly.
Sometimes he makes me laugh.
Sometimes he makes me shake my head.
Often, he does both at the same time.
What he doesn’t do is try to demoralize those he disagrees with. There’s no ritual shaming, no demand that you first repent of your identity before you’re allowed to speak. You’re wrong, in his view—but you’re still a person worth arguing with.
That’s why I can listen to him, disagree with him, and still enjoy the exchange.
We would never resolve our deepest differences. Our divide isn’t merely political—it’s foundational. We disagree about the source of truth itself. But that doesn’t make conversation impossible. It makes it honest.
In today’s climate, that kind of disagreement—sharp, funny, unapologetic, but not dehumanizing—is rare.
I’m Wayne—and that’s my world view. What’s yours?
