SE Cupp is a CNN political commentator and the host of "SE Cupp Unfiltered." This piece has been adapted from her Saturday evening show monologue. The views expressed in this commentary are solely hers. View more opinion articles on CNN.

       (CNN)Anyone watching the machinations out of Washington over the past few months might think they had stepped into Doc Brown's DeLorean from "Back to the Future."

       Though they were talking about the myriad investigations and accusations against President Donald Trump circa now, Republican House members, right wing media and Trump looked and sounded like they were out of a bygone era.

       The year? 1955. The place? Anytown, USA. The culture? White and male.

       There was Pennsylvania Rep. Mike Kelly, calling the impeachment vote "another date that will live in infamy," likening this peacetime political act to the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

       And there was Old Man Higgins -- Congressman Clay Higgins of Louisiana, that is -- railing against the evil leftists. "I have descended into the belly of the beast," he bellowed. "I have witnessed the terror within and I rise committed to oppose the insidious forces, this unjust and weaponized impeachment brought upon us by the same socialists who threaten unborn life in the womb ... "

       And don't forget Rep. Barry Loudermilk of Georgia and Rep. Fred Keller of Pennsylvania who spoke in sermons, comparing Trump to Jesus at his Crucifixion.

       On impeachment, GOP and Democrats are on different planets

       On Wednesday, the evening of his impeachment, Trump was at a rally in Battle Creek, Michigan, waxing nostalgic for the good old days.

       "Remember the dishwasher? You'd press it, boom! There'd be like an explosion. Five minutes later you open it up, the steam pours out."

       But, lamenting the perils of progress and sounding every bit like a white male, he continued: "Now you press it 12 times. Women tell me ... you know, they give you four drops of water."

       This followed recent months in which he joked that Democratic Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi's "teeth were falling out of her mouth," and slut-shamed a former FBI lawyer in a live reenactment of texts with her lover, at a rally in front of thousands of people.

       It's easy to think of these buffoonish anachronisms as a fatal flaw of Trump's Republican party, the tells that will render the GOP extinct in a few short years. And they might, eventually. But for now, they are actually the point.

       The project of Donald Trump since descending that escalator in 2015 was to appeal to the aggrieved forgotten man whose life hadn't delivered on the American Dream he was promised in 1950. Immigrants had taken his job, he was told. Women no longer knew their place. The white man was being driven out by black and brown families. Socialists, atheists and hippies were taking the country to hell in a handbasket.

       Trump's wild tantrum shows his unfitness

       Trump reached out to those voters more explicitly and openly than any other presidential candidate had in decades, and he was rewarded for it. As Democrats moved to impeach him -- I suspect as much for that original sin as for the two articles of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress -- Trump leaned into his aggrieved forgotten man even more. And Republicans in the House went right along with him.

       They could do so convincingly because the demographics of Republican House members resemble the demographics of the 1950s. Of the 435 members of the House, there are only 13 Republican women, seven Hispanics and one African-American, and he is retiring.

       While Republican voters all over the country are certainly more diverse than this singular portrayal, this is the face the Republican party is presenting to the nation when the world is watching, at an historic time.

       Trump may be fine with that, but if the Republican Party wants to outlive him, they shouldn't be.

       Trump brought this upon himself

       Democrats may try to insist that this is who the GOP has been all along. Not true. I came into conservatism when the idea of "progress" wasn't a dirty word, when the party was proud to empower women, minorities and young voters. Young women like me -- well-educated, career-driven, independent-minded, "liberated" you could even say -- weren't anathema to conservatism but increasingly crucial to it.

       Minority and youth voters weren't a Democratic foregone conclusion, and certainly weren't a drag, but an opportunity for conservatism to make a case, a case we believed we could win on merits, not anger, fear or identity politics.

       At that time, movement conservatism for me was uplifting and compassionate, and the well-worn liberal stereotypes about us were growing stale. It's why I felt compelled to write a book dispelling those very stereotypes, called "Why You're Wrong About the Right," in 2008.

       In 2012 I believed then and now that Democrats severely overplayed their hand, leaning on all those old stereotypes to convince the country that Mitt Romney -- the successful, mild-mannered, Mormon family man who eschews cursing and name-calling -- was a racist and sexist monster better suited for a white-collar prison than the presidency. Boy were they in for a rude awakening of what was to come just a few years later.

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       Nonetheless, in 2012, we looked inward. Republicans were tasked with performing a sweeping and introspective autopsy to figure out how to expand the tent, both through policy and messaging.

       I looked specifically at winning more women, millennials and gay voters. In the months and years that followed I saw reason for hope. In 2014, Republicans added five women to the House, for a total of 22, and added two new women to the Senate. They retained three women-led state houses. Republicans also elected the first black woman to the House of Representatives, the youngest woman and the first female veteran to the Senate.

       In contrast, in 2018, Republican women in the House dropped to its lowest number in 25 years.

       With older white men increasingly the face of the Republican party in Congress, and with the kinds of backwards, misogynistic, racist and out of touch messages they are presenting, the GOP is becoming that old Democratic stereotype. And intentionally, even giddily, it would seem.

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       That might please Trump and his aggrieved white male cohorts. But for the rest of us, it's a very bad look -- and one that doesn't make me want to stick around.

       And don't forget Rep. Barry Loudermilk of Georgia and Rep. Fred Keller of Pennsylvania who spoke in sermons, comparing Trump to Jesus at his Crucifixion.

       On Wednesday, the evening of his impeachment, Trump was at a rally in Battle Creek, Michigan, waxing nostalgic for the good old days.

       "Remember the dishwasher? You'd press it, boom! There'd be like an explosion. Five minutes later you open it up, the steam pours out."

       But, lamenting the perils of progress and sounding every bit like a white male, he continued: "Now you press it 12 times. Women tell me ... you know, they give you four drops of water."

       This followed recent months in which he joked that Democratic Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi's "teeth were falling out of her mouth," and slut-shamed a former FBI lawyer in a live reenactment of texts with her lover, at a rally in front of thousands of people.

       It's easy to think of these buffoonish anachronisms as a fatal flaw of Trump's Republican party, the tells that will render the GOP extinct in a few short years. And they might, eventually. But for now, they are actually the point.

       The project of Donald Trump since descending that escalator in 2015 was to appeal to the aggrieved forgotten man whose life hadn't delivered on the American Dream he was promised in 1950. Immigrants had taken his job, he was told. Women no longer knew their place. The white man was being driven out by black and brown families. Socialists, atheists and hippies were taking the country to hell in a handbasket.

       Trump reached out to those voters more explicitly and openly than any other presidential candidate had in decades, and he was rewarded for it. As Democrats moved to impeach him -- I suspect as much for that original sin as for the two articles of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress -- Trump leaned into his aggrieved forgotten man even more. And Republicans in the House went right along with him.

       They could do so convincingly because the demographics of Republican House members resemble the demographics of the 1950s. Of the 435 members of the House, there are only 13 Republican women, seven Hispanics and one African-American, and he is retiring.

       While Republican voters all over the country are certainly more diverse than this singular portrayal, this is the face the Republican party is presenting to the nation when the world is watching, at an historic time.

       Trump may be fine with that, but if the Republican Party wants to outlive him, they shouldn't be.

       Democrats may try to insist that this is who the GOP has been all along. Not true. I came into conservatism when the idea of "progress" wasn't a dirty word, when the party was proud to empower women, minorities and young voters. Young women like me -- well-educated, career-driven, independent-minded, "liberated" you could even say -- weren't anathema to conservatism but increasingly crucial to it.

       Minority and youth voters weren't a Democratic foregone conclusion, and certainly weren't a drag, but an opportunity for conservatism to make a case, a case we believed we could win on merits, not anger, fear or identity politics.

       At that time, movement conservatism for me was uplifting and compassionate, and the well-worn liberal stereotypes about us were growing stale. It's why I felt compelled to write a book dispelling those very stereotypes, called "Why You're Wrong About the Right," in 2008.

       In 2012 I believed then and now that Democrats severely overplayed their hand, leaning on all those old stereotypes to convince the country that Mitt Romney -- the successful, mild-mannered, Mormon family man who eschews cursing and name-calling -- was a racist and sexist monster better suited for a white-collar prison than the presidency. Boy were they in for a rude awakening of what was to come just a few years later.

       Nonetheless, in 2012, we looked inward. Republicans were tasked with performing a sweeping and introspective autopsy to figure out how to expand the tent, both through policy and messaging.

       I looked specifically at winning more women, millennials and gay voters. In the months and years that followed I saw reason for hope. In 2014, Republicans added five women to the House, for a total of 22, and added two new women to the Senate. They retained three women-led state houses. Republicans also elected the first black woman to the House of Representatives, the youngest woman and the first female veteran to the Senate.

       In contrast, in 2018, Republican women in the House dropped to its lowest number in 25 years.

       With older white men increasingly the face of the Republican party in Congress, and with the kinds of backwards, misogynistic, racist and out of touch messages they are presenting, the GOP is becoming that old Democratic stereotype. And intentionally, even giddily, it would seem.

       That might please Trump and his aggrieved white male cohorts. But for the rest of us, it's a very bad look -- and one that doesn't make me want to stick around.