

I disagree. The Maga movement is the threat


I disagree. The Maga movement is the threat
Go a direction backed up with facts. I know this because of this this and this. Things you know. Doesn’t matter where, just what you know. Saying this as I struggled trying to get out of high school in 1995. Be proud of what you know and be humble about what you don’t. Facts are your friend. You make them work better than most.


To distract from the Epstein files… Just keep distracting…
That’s absolutely true


Of course he does because he’s stupider than most.


I can’t tell if they’re high, or just really, really stupid.


Expected from angry, spoiled children.


It’s like hosting the Muppet aliens. Yup, yup, yup!
Yeah, fuck all the Saudi Arabian performers
He’s fighting his own clogged arteries. That’s important.
As Spiderman I can confirm this


This is the reason.


Send in the national guard and the army! I’m sure there’s leaves to be raked and trash to be picked up!!!
It’s currently breaking the law. The Hatch Act is supposed to prevent federal employees from participating in politics like this. Not that they care. Someone else in the thread mentioned repairing violations of the Hatch Act.


They’re all wearing masks


Fuck the right completely. I’m going to have to be like my grandfather and be against fascists . Everyone else should too
Awesome so let’s just do that then?


Don’t end up in a headline… And definitely don’t leave in a position that people make a meme of you.
What is a king if his crown is worthless? Not a man of the people, but surrounded by cultists. Praised by the loudest, loved by the thoughtless. Crowned not by honor, but by lies that were endless.
His walls crumble as whispers grow louder, Causing once-shaking hands to grip blades ever prouder. The throne he once clutched, now colder than stone, His fate sealed by the seeds of ruin he’d sown.
He feasts while his kingdom is left to rot, Drunk on his power yet blind to the plot. A puppet on strings, now tangled and caught. If he ends up dead, then that is his lot.
The crown on his head, a mockery now, A hollow gold band on a sweat-ridden brow. No glory remains, no trumpets resound, Only silence and ash on the burning ground.
Betrayed not by foes but those he called his closest friends,
Their daggers ensuring his rule meets its end. No prayers are whispered, no mourners will weep, For kings who sow torment shall fall just as deep.
When he ends up dead, the people have spoken, A crown polished with falsehood is a crown that is broken. And a kingdom built on cruelty is one which ends with dread,
The crown on his corpse was always a crown of the dead.