The Peep Scream: A Portrait of America, April 2025
Dear friends, foes, and fellow screamers,
Today’s mood is brought to you by “The Scream”, but reimagined with marshmallow Peeps, which somehow feels… just right. Because nothing says “existential dread in pastel form” quite like a bunny-shaped sugar bomb silently howling into the abyss. If Edvard Munch had lived through JD Vance trending on X while the stock market plummeted like a Tesla on autopilot, this would’ve been his medium too.
Let’s start with the stock market. Down. Again. Because of course it is. Apparently “economic patriotism” now means slapping tariffs on literally everything that moves (or doesn’t), tanking investor confidence, and then blaming Taylor Swift for not writing a new anthem fast enough to save the GDP. I checked my retirement account and it just showed me a meme of a dumpster fire eating ramen.
And speaking of flaming hot nonsense, JD Vance is trending on X. I’m not saying anything definitive, I’m just not not saying that when a guy who once called Trump “America’s Hitler” suddenly becomes his biggest fanboy, strange things tend to follow. Why is he trending? I dunno. Maybe he declared war on Oxford commas. Maybe he introduced a bill to replace PBS with reruns of “The Apprentice.” Maybe he accidentally revealed Project 2025 is actually a nationwide plan to replace all libraries with Chick-fil-A drive-thrus. The possibilities are endless, and none of them are good. Maybe Google "Did JD Vance kill the Pope?”
And now, the pièce de résistance: this picture. A carefully crafted, sugary nightmare of anxiety. It’s “The Scream” made entirely of marshmallow Peeps—each one representing a different version of me trying to make it through this American fever dream. The yellow ones are my optimism (fading fast). The pinks are my sanity (barely holding on). The blue ones are me every time JD Vance opens his mouth. And the lone yellow Peep with its little marshmallow hands on its cheeks? That’s me, reading headlines, watching my portfolio hemorrhage, and screaming into the void while wearing sweatpants and sipping expired oat milk.
Anyway, if you’re still standing, bless your sturdy soul. Me? I’ll be over here reenacting this marshmallow masterpiece while wondering how many Peeps it takes to absorb economic collapse and cultural decay. (Answer: not enough.)
Until next time, stay sweet, stay salty, and remember: even when the world’s on fire, at least we still have edible art therapy.
Yours in marshmallow mayhem,
Julie Bolejack, MBA
Proud Peep of the Resistance
