There is a certain charming absurdity in the current state of American politics that rivals any plot from a soap opera. One might think the nation has taken a tumble down Alice’s rabbit hole, plugging their ears to the discordant symphony playing out in Washington. President Trump’s approval ratings have dropped significantly, though not quite to levels akin to the population of a small town like Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Democrats are hurtling towards what seems like a communist utopia gone wrong, driving the country to the brink of disaster with visions of future cereal boxes featuring Fido, Rover, and a side of civil chaos.
On the Republican side, the plot thickens over the controversy surrounding the unpopular war in Iran. President Trump claims that a peace deal with Iran’s Supreme Leader—their own version of a modern-day Dr. Doom—is in the works. However, the supposed ‘partner’ in this peace tango insists he’s been having chats with a different dance partner entirely—a Democratic candidate for Congress, whose catchphrase, incidentally, mirrors his own: death to America. An easy mistake, given how Islamic slogans and campaign slogans seem to mesh these days.
Back on the home front, supplies of missiles are not currently reported as dwindling, akin to a discount sale on Black Friday. Secretary of War Pete Hexath’s attempts to toughen up the troops have hit a bump. When a testosterone test ended in a soldier-turned-one-man-army demonstrating patriotism with an unnecessary show of machismo, it seemed maybe the formula needed tweaking.
Meanwhile, the Republican Senate leader John Thun, left without much direction, has become an entertainer-in-chief among his peers by revamping charades. His twist: The answer is always a potted plant. So, Thun mimics a leafy friend while colleagues guess, only for him to reveal the clever twist—it’s Thun in disguise. With such riveting development in civic duty, it’s a wonder they manage to govern at all.
Amidst this pandemonium, the Democrats defy expectation by presenting socialism as an enticing middle ground, steadfastly claiming it’s not the pathway to a communist dystopia. Their lack of bushy mustaches seems to be their primary differentiator from history’s more infamous communists. Aligning with voices like Tucker Carlson, now an odd sort of fellow traveler with communism-curious celebrities, there’s a mingling of satire and reality TV culture that has resulted in an increase in fame, if not clarity.
So, while the nation teeters on a razor’s edge of sanity, optimism might lie in simply zooming so far into the details that reality blurs into comforting oblivion. Forget panic—perhaps all that’s left is a good dose of humor, a touch of skepticism, and maybe a strong cup of coffee. Or, as the jest goes, perhaps something a bit stronger—just enough to numb the bewilderment until the next electoral rollercoaster.
