“They” keep saying it could have been so much worse, “it” being Wednesday, January 6, 2021, the day insurrectionists attempted a coup to overthrow the US Government at the instigation of a one-term, lame duck president. 

That’s what actually happened, and it was an inside job. 

Lotta not-patriots shouting “YOU-ESS-SAY!”

Also, Epstein didn’t kill himself. 

Funny thing—I suspect “they” don’t really have a clue.  Or if “they” do, the unspoken is so frightening that it must remain unsaid. 

We should understand, and be grateful, that GOD! saw fit to surround Trump with such lowlit intellect – total one-thought Trumpiots – as opposed to persons who can actually think, plan … and plot. 

A true Machiavelli could have taken that Nov. 3rd loss and turned it into an empire, and crowned Trump the American king. 

After total collapse of the economy.

In the midst of a race war.

That white separatists would have won.

Because white separatists represent the real crazy, the genuine insane … military-trained and entitled, brisant and angry, the only body politic who could effectively overthrow the US Government.  Because they are it.

And they are his.

Consider:

[Midnight, November 3, 2020 …]  Polls are closed, the news is bad, and the Man is pissed.  He stands before the screens and seethes.  He can’t lose to that geezer, that fossil, that dead end.  So what there’s only four years’ difference between them – the Man looks hale and hearty, virile and vital, married to a fkn supermodel, fa’cryssakes.  This … did not happen. 

From somewhere enters a diminutive man.  Small in size, his stature nevertheless fills the room.  He speaks. 

“Mr. P* – good news.  Appears the WH is gone for now but we’re keeping the Senate.  Gotta hit Georgia, secure those last couple of seats, your support should get us over the hump.  Pelosi’ll likely keep the House but we’re in an excellent position for ‘22.”

The Man stares at this pure fool with wonderment.  Then anger.  Then outrage. 

He explodes, tossing expensive crockery across the room, flinging full plates and glasses against walls and onto the floor, grinding food into the deep pile.  He actually stomps his feet. 

When this tantrum is spent, the small man purses his lips in a moue.  Without preamble he says: “This administration is inheriting a pandemic, a failed economy, and a simmering race war.”  He cocked his head like an inquisitive dog.  “Why would you want that?” 

Breathing hard, the Man is listening. 

“For the next four years, you will campaign.  You will fund raise, and you will agitate. You will cross one end of this great nation to the other, extolling your base, inspiring your donors … over and over and over again … insisting that administration has failed them, even before they’ve done a thing. 

“You will cajole, you will exhort, you will inflame, and you will declare – repeatedly, on loop – that our country is so much worse with the waiting dead and that … halfnot … destroying this great nation, occupying our House.

“We will watch every move, we will critique every step, we will fault every decision.  And we will do it on cable news, on conservative radio, and on social media, every day, and every night.  We will specifically malign that whatbreed second-in-command, and by the time we’re done, even she will doubt she’s American. 

“We will suppress every vote and purge every roll and redistrict every state governed by Republican legislatures, and even some ruled by the other side. 

“The Supreme Court is yours.  Mitch remains your bitch.  He will do your bidding in Washington while you’re on the links at Mar-A-Lago.  Think of it as a four-year break from those daily briefings.  You don’t have to know anything or do anything, or even particularly make sense.  You only need to criticize everything … loudly, and often.

The Man stands struck with wonder.  He thinks he’s in love. 

The small man continues. “Even if they solve every problem left at their doorstep, America won’t notice because she’ll be too busy listening to you. 

“You will tell your followers that this election was lost not because the other side won but because your base failed to fight hard enough … to save our shared heritage.” 

The small man hands the smaller a single sheet of paper.  He explains, “It’s not a concession speech.  It’s a call to arms.” 

He graces the Man with another pursed moue.  “We take the House in two years.  Right now, your base is waiting … and they’re all yours.”