Broomsticks, Billionaires, and Bullsh*t: A Cautionary Tale”
No One Mourns the Wicked
A Special Dispatch from the Emerald City of Sanity - co-written with Glinda the Reasonable
Dear Citizens of Oz (a.k.a. America),
The curtain has lifted, the fog has cleared, and the spell of delusion has finally cracked—yet somehow, the Wicked still wander among us, draped in red hats and misinformation, tweeting from spaceships, selling snake oil, and plotting to turn our Constitution into a coaster for their Big Gulps of grievance.
And so, we gather—like any good musical ensemble—to sing out one truth in perfect harmony:
No one mourns the wicked.
Let’s begin with Act One: Donald “The Wizard of Fraud” Trump.
He floated in on a golden escalator (no bubble for this guy) and quickly bewitched millions with a songbook full of blame, victimhood, and “I alone can fix it.” Four years, 30,000 lies, and a failed coup later, he’s somehow still auditioning for the role of Victim-in-Chief, flanked by lawyers who seem to disappear faster than munchkins when Glinda drops in.
And yet, despite 91 indictments, civil fraud trials, hush money payments, and enough golf course tantrums to fill a Broadway chorus pit, the Trump cult still sings his praises. But remember: when Elphaba was hunted, at least she flew. Trump just pouts, scowls, and sells $99 NFT trading cards of himself dressed as a superhero. A true icon of dignity.
No one mourns the wicked.
Enter Act Two: Elon “Techbro of Oz” Musk.
Ah yes, the man who conquered electric cars, space travel, and—tragically—Twitter. We once thought he was a visionary. Now we realize he’s just another billionaire in a midlife crisis with a Wi-Fi connection. Elon bought Twitter, renamed it X (for no reason anyone understands), and proceeded to turn it into a garage sale of conspiracy theories and badly spelled rage posts.
He’s the Wizard of Weird Libertarianism—big on free speech until someone criticizes him. Then he blocks them. One minute he’s quoting Voltaire, the next he’s amplifying Nazis. And while our bridges crumble and public schools beg for pencils, Elon shoots another Tesla Roadster into space—because that’s what the working class really needs: a car that’s further from Earth than affordable healthcare.
No one mourns the wicked.
Now a round of applause for our ensemble: The Republican Party (a.k.a. the Flying Monkeys).
Once upon a time, they stood for something—small government, family values, budgets that added up. Now? They stand for book bans, banning women’s bodily autonomy, banning history, banning facts, and banning empathy.
Led by characters like Jim “I Don’t Recall” Jordan and Marjorie “Space Lasers” Greene, the GOP now functions less like a political party and more like a chaotic improv troupe whose only rule is “Yes, And… the Deep State Did It.” They no longer legislate—they just tweet, rage, and yell “Hunter Biden” into microphones like it’s a safe word.
Their Project 2025 platform? Let’s just say it makes Elphaba’s castle look like a retirement home for kittens. Authoritarianism wrapped in a flag with a Bible duct-taped to the front. Adorable.
No one mourns the wicked.
And then we have the chorus: Trump supporters—the MAGA munchkins.
Bless their hearts, they believe they’re the heroes of this story. They attend rallies like revival meetings, wear flags like capes, and somehow still think Trump is “for the little guy”—despite his track record of bankruptcies, grifts, and unpaid contractors. They believe COVID was a hoax, climate change is a conspiracy, and that Trump’s bathroom documents were just patriotic décor.
They claim to love the Constitution but get suspiciously quiet when asked to read it. They scream “Freedom!” while banning books, drag queens, and vaccines. And they demand “respect for all opinions”—as long as you agree with theirs.
No one mourns the wicked.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just politics. It’s theater. But it’s the kind of theater where the actors are armed, the orchestra is on fire, and the ushers are screaming “Fake News!” at anyone who questions the script.
So what’s next, my fellow citizens of common sense?
We keep showing up. We keep voting. We keep reminding people that empathy isn’t weakness, facts aren’t negotiable, and democracy doesn’t survive on autopilot (looking at you, Elon).
We don’t need flying monkeys or crystal balls. We just need clarity—and maybe a few well-placed ballots.
Because in the end, when the Wicked fall—and they will—there won’t be a tear shed in the land.
No one mourns the wicked.
Until next time,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Glinda (with a side of rage),
Julie Bolejack, MBA
