When the world is thrown into chaos, and the grappling hooks of Hollywood elites cling tighter to their precious progressive ideologies, one brave star dares to stand up against the tidal wave of virtue signaling. Yes, folks, Grit Underwood will be serenading us with “America the Beautiful” at Donald Trump’s inauguration. Can you see the liberal heads exploding like popcorn in a microwave? Just five days away, and the left is already in a tizzy, lamenting the audacity of an artist not bowing to their woke whims. So much for unity, right?
Ah, the old battle cry of the A-list celebrity: “We won’t normalize this!” What’s being normalized, you ask? Well, try calling the new President of the United States—who, by the way, once again proved that the public loves a good comeback—by his title rather than as a “convicted felon.” Sure, let’s not forget that former President Trump skyrocketed back into the spotlight while the whiny faces on The View continue to spew nonsensical rants. You can almost hear them screaming as they clutch their pearls and squint at the news like someone just spat out a conspiracy theory on the set.
Even TikTok, the playground for mildly coordinated dance moves and mildly educated opinions, is trembling in fear over Underwood’s performance. The digital patriots have found a remedy: block her on Spotify! Because nothing says “I have a well-reasoned argument” quite like creating an echo chamber where only those singers who acknowledge their overlords are invited to sing. Seriously, if a celebrity aligns with their values, they cheer louder than kids on the last day of school, but someone like Grit Underwood? Cancel, cancel, CANCEL!
And if you thought that was the pinnacle of absurdity, hold onto your hats for the circus that unfolded during Pete Heth’s confirmation hearing for Secretary of Defense. A heated questioning brought things down to basics—“How many genders are there?” Imagine being a grown adult sitting in front of a bunch of politicians and being asked that question. We are hurtling through the cosmos, and Senator Heth is trapped in a middle school debate! But we’ve all been there, right? It’s like being forced to participate in a game of “Is this a real question?”
As tensions rise, so do the petty squabbles in Congress. When you throw a couple of Democrats into the mix, you can expect nothing short of a reality show in progress. Congresswoman Jasmine Crockett turned a serious debate about banning trans girls from competing in women’s sports into a chaotic mess reminiscent of cafeteria lunch hour drama. Nancy Mace brought a fresh twist to the proceedings, challenging Crockett to take it outside if she wanted to keep up her campaigning antics. Just another day when we remember that our lawmakers are basically middle schoolers wearing suits and wielding debate cards like they’re all lined up in front of the playground.
And in the midst of all this, let’s not overlook dear Elizabeth Warren, busy ensuring that every general washes their hands before heading straight to the defense industry. The spectacle would be laughable if not for the fact that these antics directly impact lives. But hey, why hold anyone accountable when you can just be the star of your own tragedy! Talk about a cast of characters that could make a Shakespearean play look boring.
And when it seems that everything is brewing into a perfect storm of political insanity, we are reminded that firefighters, police forces, and every other uniformed service member are being vetted based on quirky social narratives instead of on their competency. Ah, progress! Sorting people by race and gender rather than capability is definitely a solid plan—if we were interested in setting our communities on fire, literally or figuratively! Honestly, nothing screams “We need qualified personnel” like diversity bonuses calculated during hiring rounds.
So while the Left furiously types their righteous outrage on Twitter, America is left wondering just how far the theatrical nonsense can go. From Grit Underwood’s star-studded performance to the Congress brawlers trading barbs over serious issues, it’s turning into a show no one agrees to leave early. As the curtain rises on the inauguration, one can only grab their popcorn and watch this tragicomedy unfold, hoping that, miraculously, a smidge of sanity returns to the stage. After all, what’s the point of all this drama if you can’t laugh at it a little?
