Look, I get it. I’ve been in this game a long time, okay? I managed political campaigns on both sides of the aisle, and very nearly won some of them. I get paid more than the combined salaries of an entire elementary school’s faculty to write a weekly diary entry for a nationally syndicated newspaper with minimal AI input. I’ve been on all the major nightly roundtable shows. One time I even found myself smoking cigars with Thomas Friedman, Tom Nichols, and the Krassenstein brothers—but that’s beside the point.
This is a fraught moment, one in which our very notions of objective reality hang by a rapidly fraying thread. I know you and your friends tried warning us the first time around about Nyarlathotep’s ascendency… then all through the Dread Lord President’s first Reign of Terror. And then you pleaded that we band together as a traumatized nation to collectively ensure His unholy alliance of cosmic nihilists, Nazis, and tech manbabies could never again return to power. Fool us once, and all that.
Maybe we could have heeded your anguished cries at least once over the past decade or so of Psychic Darkness. Who’s to say? But now it appears that we’ve entered the Elder God’s Endgame. His Death Cultist Vanguard is being dispatched across the desiccated country. Bone Battalions are marshaling under the direction of the Hobgoblin Rat King, Stephen Miller. Foundational institutions are kowtowing to some frat-bro imp named Big Balls, who apparently has top-secret clearance.
We stand corralled before the gates of a terrifying new world, a barren land that no one with a shred of compassion or sanity would dare venture. But there is still time to push back against the Dread Lord and His minions. We still possess the energy and tools to lock them behind those very same gates they seek to force wide open.
I agree that this, this is time to make our voices heard. But first, I beg you to hear me out here: Could you please try being a little more polite when fighting for the future of all that you love?
It might be seen as a bad look, is all I’m saying. Dread Lord Nyarlathotep is counting on us to defend ourselves against His deputized lich horde during this Orgy of Nullification. That possessed scrotum Tom Homan is practically giddy at the thought of someone doing everything they can to avoid being trampled, maimed, or arrested without cause. They’ve made mockeries out of the concepts of justice and freedom, but trying to hold them accountable for their actions will only prove them right. It would just confirm to our neighbors, loved ones, and those who need our help the most that you refuse these Death Cultists’ desperate attempt to warp our lives into grotesque facsimiles of human existence. It would only affirm you are willing to cloak yourselves in the only things that Nyarlathotep’s minions actually fear: righteous anger and abject ridicule.
Also, any form of protest that appears the slightest bit emphatic, aggressive, valiant, or physical will completely erase any support from the dozens of Americans still on the fence about the whole “Elder God Apocalypse” thing.
I may have never truly listened to you, and maybe I’ve never been on the frontlines of an antifascist insurgency. But I’m telling you to heed my warnings, or pay the ultimate price: further inconveniencing me and my colleagues trying to enjoy a nice post-brunch stogie over here.