The Duck’s bite is worse than his quack.*
Having lost both an election and a insurrection, the Duck’s wrath came swiftly — carried out without shame, without hesitation.
After January 6, much was done to clip his wings and keep him from morphing into the avenging eagle he now pretends not to be. But it was never enough. What remained of him slithered through cracks in the marble, undermining every check that stood between his will and the nation’s laws.
So slick and snake-like are his ways that perhaps a griffin lurked beneath — not the gilded sentinel of legend, but a misshapen fusion of talon and claw, beak and fang, stitched together from the arrogance of both.
Today, in a bitter twist, the National Guard takes command from the DC police — the very force that stood in the breach on that infamous day.
Those who opposed him have been flattened into pale caricatures of their former selves, their names reduced to footnotes in the long list of “also-rans” who dared to challenge the Duck.
He must, of course, be credited for his persistence. From day one, he learned there were powers greater than his — and then set about hollowing them from within. With each appointment, he replaced independence with obedience, installing nodding heads into roles least suited to their holders, yet perfectly suited to his designs.
The GOP, in name only, has become a headless parade — a marching band for a leader who craves the spotlight more than the good of those he governs. And like any seasoned ringmaster, he incites his followers to perform the same circus tricks that made him famous.
Fear still ferments among the many who do not yet understand that bullies only fall when the crowd turns together. And so, in the early days of his second great rain, he hurries to chisel his likeness into the walls of power, that history might remember the Duck as he wishes — not as he was — and that the world might live forever under the shadow of his 'Duckdom'.
No comments:
Post a Comment