The madness of it all, my friend. Imagine, if you will, the twisted irony of the aloof leftists—those smug bastards with their vegan lattes and unread copies of Marxist theory—who scoffed at the endless MSNBC chatter about fascism. Oh, they sneered and rolled their eyes, their ivory towers shielding them from the rancid stench of reality. But here’s the kicker: deep down in the dark recesses of their self-righteous minds, they always knew. They knew our democracy was teetering on the edge of a yawning abyss, like a deranged tightrope walker over a pit of ravenous alligators.

And then there are the centrists, those insufferable moderates who yammered on incessantly about the creeping specter of fascism, wielding the term like a dull machete in a dense jungle of political discourse. They made a grand show of their moral panic, yet secretly, in the quiet of their suburban homes, they harbored a twisted indifference. The idea of a second Trump term didn’t churn their guts or disturb their sleep. No, they shrugged it off as another four years of lunacy, a mere inconvenience in their meticulously planned lives, as if the republic itself could endure the battering and keep limping along.

This is the grotesque theatre of our time, a nightmarish farce where the actors have lost the script and the audience can’t tell if it’s comedy or tragedy. A nation of hypocrites, my friend, each wearing a mask to hide the existential dread gnawing at their bones. This is America, 2024, a place where belief and disbelief are twisted into an unholy pretzel of political schizophrenia. And the circus keeps rolling, on and on, into the gathering storm.