Here we are, folks—November 2024—and surprise! The rich are packing their bags, sipping Champagne on private jets, and peace-ing out while the rest of us are stuck here in a flaming dumpster fire called Trump’s America. If you’ve ever wondered what inequality looks like, it’s Ellen DeGeneres relocating to England while you’re Googling how to make “heat soup” because energy prices just doubled again.
Let’s break this down: Eva Longoria says she’s ready to “escape dystopia” by splitting her time between Spain and Mexico. How nice for her. Spain! The land of sangria, siestas, and zero MAGA rallies. Meanwhile, I’m out here wondering if I can afford gas to get to my next shift without selling a kidney. Ellen and Portia? They’ve apparently fled to England, where at least the chaos is served with a proper cup of tea. And guess what? They’re not alone.
Wealthy Americans are buying their way out of this mess, snatching up “golden visas” like they’re the last iPhones on Black Friday. You throw enough cash at Malta or Portugal, and voilà! You’re a resident of a country where the president doesn’t announce new wars on social media. Henley & Partners, the company behind these golden visas, reported a 392% increase in inquiries from Americans after Trump’s reelection. I wonder why. Could it be the looming hellscape of deregulated everything and skyrocketing rents? Or is it the casual erosion of democracy? Tough call.
Here’s the kicker: while the 1% are off learning how to pronounce “bonjour,” the rest of us are stuck with the consequences of every bad policy they don’t want to deal with. Economic instability? Climate disasters? Healthcare that’s somehow more expensive and less effective? Cool, thanks for leaving us here to duke it out, Ellen. Real generous.
This isn’t just a rich-people-gone-MIA thing. It’s a flashing neon sign that screams, “The system is broken!” The wealth gap is wider than my stress-induced caffeine intake, and it’s crystal clear that if you have money, you can dodge the fallout. The rest of us? We’re strapped in for the ride like it’s a malfunctioning rollercoaster, gripping the safety bar, and praying we make it through.
And don’t get me started on the optics. These people made their fortunes in America—off our labor, off our eyeballs glued to their shows and products—and now, when it’s time to stand and fight for the future of this country, they’re tapping out. It’s like watching someone eat the last slice of pizza, then leave before the bill arrives.
So, yeah, I’m frustrated. I’m angry. Because it’s not just about who gets to leave. It’s about who’s left behind. While they sip cocktails on European balconies, we’re here, fighting tooth and nail to keep our heads above water in a system designed to drown us. But hey, maybe we’ll finally get that one big tax break Trump promised. Spoiler alert: we won’t.
To Eva, Ellen, and the rest of the jet-set escape artists: enjoy your fresh croissants and stable democracies. We’ll be here, holding down the fort and dodging the next wave of chaos. Because unlike you, we don’t have the privilege of running.
