At least once while watching “The Great American Road Trip,” I found myself wondering what the Founding Fathers would make of all this. It happened in the Philadelphia episode, after Transportation Secretary and “Real World: Boston” alumnus Sean Duffy herded his family past the Liberty Bell, but just before he took them into the National Constitution Center.

Before going inside, Duffy pauses to hype up his brood by sharing that none other than Ken Griffin bought one of the original copies of the Constitution to put on public display. “And I think it’s so cool because we have American patriots who love the country, who love history, that are willing to invest their money to buy these copies and not hide them away,” he said.

Duffy’s wife, Fox News personality Rachel Campos-Duffy, along with a few of his nine kids who fit into the shot, listen attentively as he says this, ostensibly appreciating the sacrificial solemnity of a billionaire financier’s highly publicized $43.2 million transaction.

As for me, I had to wonder why Duffy felt the need to drop the name of a man whose net worth exceeds $52 billion in proximity to those of the Continental Congress members who walked the floorboards of Independence Hall.

Our Founders were not poor men, but they weren’t Griffin-rich by a long shot – that’s British monarchy levels of money. What would they have thought about an American government official being hailing a hedge fund manager as a “patriot,” simply for buying one of the few remaining copies of the foundational document they painstakingly crafted and generously making it available for the Great Unwashed to gawk at? Didn’t they circulate scores of drafts for everyone to see?

And just as importantly – how many people, let alone children, know or care who Ken Griffin is? Who, exactly, is “The Great American Road Trip” for?

Asking that means I’m overthinking it, which is the opposite of what it takes to appreciate this . . . whatever this is.

“The Great American Road Trip” was conceived as a travelogue, after a fashion, celebrating the 250th anniversary of America’s founding. The six-episode series caught flak from the moment its first trailer was released in May, more than two months after President Donald Trump launched his wildly unpopular war with Iran. By then, a gallon of gas averaged around $4.50, according to AAA.

Now that I’ve seen the show – me, and the few thousand other unfortunates rubbernecking at this terrible accident – I’m here to assure you that this was never about us. It’s about the Duffys fulfilling their prescribed content creation roles in Trump’s reality TV cabinet.

Wring your hands, if you must, over the impropriety of the U.S. Department of Transportation attaching itself to a series paid for by companies it regulates, including United Airlines, Chase Travel, Toyota, Boeing and Royal Caribbean.

Not to worry, though, since those corporations and others funneled their contributions into Great American Road Trip, Inc, a nonprofit 501(c)(4) organization that hasn’t yet appeared in the usual IRS search engine people employ to find information on such entities.

In May, Politico obtained the GART pitch deck listing proposed sponsorship levels for the series ranging from $100,000 to $1 million. But that’s all totally fine, America. “No taxpayer dollars were spent for the participation of Secretary Duffy’s family,” an opening title card assures us. Except for Duffy’s paycheck, but it’s not as if that’s worth mentioning.

Another widely discussed subplot is tied to where Paloma Duffy should attend college. She wants to go to Harvard University, about which Duffy claims, “[T]hey have professionalized figuring out how they can take good young girls like you and, I think, corrupt their minds.” He also voices his fear that Harvard perverts and contorts young minds.

If this administration weren’t chockablock with ethical violations and other morally repugnant horrors, the thought of a government official claiming that a private Ivy League university older than the country, in a series sponsored by a governmental department, should be horrifying.

Then again, look around.  

“The Great American Road Trip” is what happens when a president is more concerned with creating memes and spinning a version of America that is free of conflict, devoutly Christian, and cheerily patriarchal, rather than traveling with its historical complexity in all its fullness.

The Duffys may line dance through Texas, but you will learn more about that state’s history and culture by watching “Landman” or “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure.”

They spend plenty of time visiting the “Real World: Boston” house where Duffy reconnects with his erstwhile housemate, Montana McGlynn, and next to none discussing Boston’s pivotal role in igniting the American Revolution.

The great state of Arizona is home to the Grand Canyon and hundreds of Waymo autonomous cars (made by Google, another proud sponsor of this American adventure!), but it’s also where Grandpa lives.  Charlotte, S.C., is home to the restaurant of one of Campos-Duffy’s oldest friends, who happens to be the kind of smoke show Trump would wife if she only had an Eastern European accent. 

The Duffys also visit the Free States of Taylor Sheridania, aka Wyoming and Montana, in an episode where their young son, Patrick, is taken to the hospital after suffering abdominal pain. What appears to be appendicitis turns out to be severe constipation, a public announcement I’m sure his schoolmates will handle with grace and maturity. And since things take a turn for the medical, Duffy’s oldest daughter, Evita, and her husband, Wisconsin Republican congressional candidate Michael Alfonso, enlist an ultrasound tech to reveal their unborn child’s gender.  

In addition to their Grand Canyon visit, the Duffys swing by Yellowstone National Park, rounding out their looks at two of the most photographed destinations in existence. There is no mention of the Trump administration’s defunding of our National Parks system, including siphoning some $90 million from visitor entry fees to places like, hello, Yellowstone, toward preparations for the nation’s semiquincentennial celebrations, including relining the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Money well spent!

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Even if you don’t try to wrap your brain around the moral dissonance of this project, there’s no getting around the disservice it does to our national image.  “The Great American Road Trip” is Acceptably American Content, promoting America as an ahistorical nation full of fun stops for the kids and nice hotels. The Duffys would like us to believe that America belongs to wealthy white people who outfit their lives in neutral colors and pray that their daughters will be spared from liberal perversion. Worst of all, it makes the United States look boring.

The fact that it came out following scores of delightful social media posts made by awestruck international visitors who crisscrossed the country to enjoy the World Cup doesn’t help. On YouTube, the very same platform hosting Duffy’s vapid post-vacation slideshow, content abounds showing soccer lovers’ appreciation for our fast-food joints, rowdy dance clubs and ranch dressing. These videos depict a fun-loving land that welcomes foreigners and embraces friends at 250 years old despite all the advertised assaults on its social fabric. Those are the stories sustaining our joy during America’s anniversary. The rest, we can dump at one of our many overflowing roadside rest stops.