Good day, America—though “good” might be a stretch.
Yesterday, we witnessed the Republican Party’s idea of leadership: a bloated orange carnival barker and his second-string frat boy lapdog trying to tell the U.S. military what their jobs are. Imagine a pair of drunks in a bar corner lecturing brain surgeons on how to hold a scalpel, and you’re halfway there.
Trump followed Pete Hegseth—yes, spelled correctly, though frankly his name should be downgraded to “Hey, Dumbass.” Together, this unholy duo thought the best way to spend everyone’s time was giving America’s top generals a lecture on patriotism. That’s right, a draft-dodger and a Fox News bobblehead explaining military duty to men and women who’ve bled for the flag. It’s like having Hannibal Lecter teach a vegan cooking class.
Now, every officer in that room has taken the same oath—to defend this country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. And let’s be crystal clear: the domestic enemy ain’t the American people. It’s Trump, his goose-stepping cheerleaders, and every Republican too cowardly to admit they’re standing on the wrong side of history.
About Hegseth’s “speech.” Honestly, calling it a speech is generous—it was more like a hate-fueled Yelp review of democracy. Racist, misogynistic, completely detached from military norms, and delivered with all the charisma of a malfunctioning Roomba. He stood there, vomiting bad takes like a broken Pez dispenser, waiting for applause that never came. What he got instead was the sound of pure rejection: dead silence. Not polite silence, not awkward silence—soul-crushing, pin-drop silence. You could almost see his ego curl up and die on stage. The man slunk away like a whipped dog who just realized the mailman is packing pepper spray.
And then, Trump. Sweet merciful chaos. Watching him speak is like enduring a two-hour stroke in real time. He babbled, he rambled, he stitched together half-baked lies and incoherent boasts into a word salad so rancid even Olive Garden wouldn’t serve it. His “big idea”? Turning American cities into military training grounds. Yes, he wants to use our homes, our neighborhoods, as props for his little fascist cosplay war games. Illegal? Yes. Dangerous? Absolutely. Treasonous? Without question. In a country that hadn’t lost its damn mind, his speech would have ended with handcuffs, not applause.
But here we are—in MAGA’s funhouse America, where treason is “tough love,” racism is “traditional values,” and mediocrities like Pete Hegseth get treated like intellectuals instead of what they really are: barstool philosophers whose ideas are only tolerable after six shots of whiskey.
I’ll get to the GOP’s bedtime lies about the government shutdown another time. Honestly, my gag reflex can only handle so much in one day.
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Julie Bolejack, MBA
julies-journal.ghost.io
