What a bizarre spectacle this has become. The Democratic Party, putting on a show for the ages, turning up to the State of the Union Address dressed like they’re auditioning for a second-rate high school play, complete with their silly color-coded costumes and absurd "you're a meanie face" paddles. It’s almost too perfect. This, right here, is cowardice wrapped in theatrics. They have managed to turn our national crises into a joke.
For years, they screamed, flailing their arms and clutching
their pearls, casting Donald Trump as the grand fascist, the evil
tyrant-in-waiting. He was the boogeyman, the man who would bring about the
downfall of everything we’ve ever fought for. The New Republic slapped his face
on the cover with a Hitler mustache, warning us that Trump’s rise would be the
existential threat to the Republic. It was a panic-driven campaign of fear,
paranoia, and moral posturing. Every prediction screamed that the United States
as we knew it would be destroyed.
And now, here we are. Standing on the edge of that very
precipice. The evidence is in front of us, undeniable. The warnings weren’t
just the rantings of the paranoid—they were prescient. So, what’s their
response? A farce. A pitiful charade designed to distract us from the
unraveling of everything they claimed to fight for. It's a sad spectacle—empty
gestures that serve only to underline their impotence.
Now, the big question we all have to ask: How did fascism
creep into the heart of America, despite the so-called opposition party’s might
and supposed resources? How did this happen when they were supposed to be our
bulwark against such forces? What were they doing? Collecting their paychecks,
watching the train wreck from the sidelines?
In the future, political scientists will look at this with
stunned disbelief, their minds racing to explain how this was allowed to
happen. Of course, this will all be discussed in some other country, because by
then, any inquiry into such matters will likely be illegal here. God help us.
