The scene was a grim one: a closed-door meeting, the kind that makes the air dense with the stench of desperation and betrayal. There, in the depths of Washington’s inner sanctum, Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries and his cronies huddled, sweating in their suits, listening to complaints from the Steering and Policy Committee.
They were whining. Yes, whining about a bunch of grassroots activists flooding the switchboards, demanding action in the face of a goddamn coup. How dare we demand leadership that actually leads.
And what did the Dems do? Complain amongst themselves, behind closed doors. And this the party that supposedly represents the people.
What in the name of sanity did you expect, Hakeem? In the midst of an insurrection that threatens the very fabric of this nation, you want to gripe about phone calls? Phone calls? It’s as if the Democratic Party has fallen into a collective stupor, a paralysis that makes the dead look like they’re out for a jog.
You know what’s broken here? It’s not the rabble-rousing activists on the phone lines, shaking up your cushy little world. It’s the Democratic leadership that has become nothing more than a shadow of what it once was. Weak, spineless, incapable of taking the fight to the forces that are actively dismantling our democracy. No wonder the calls are coming in. The people are screaming for someone to stand up. They’re pushing because they see a vacuum where the leaders should be. And until that void is filled with some guts, some real fighters, we’ll keep dialing. And you’ll keep complaining. Welcome to the revolution, folks.