Alright, folks, let’s talk about the Republican Party. Or what’s left of it. Used to be a grand old institution, right? Stood for small government, fiscal responsibility, maybe a little light warmongering. You know, the classics. But now? Now it’s like someone took the party, threw it in a wood chipper, and glued the pieces back together with orange spray tan and blind loyalty.
And here’s the best part: the new guys—the MAGA brigade—are calling the old guys the impostors! You got Mitch McConnell, Liz Cheney, both Bushes, John McCain—posthumously, no less—Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan, the whole conservative dream team, and somehow they’re the fakes? That’s like waking up to find out The Rolling Stones got kicked out of rock and roll for not being punk enough.
I mean, Mitch McConnell! You remember this guy, right? He’s been playing political Jenga with the Constitution for decades. Blocked Supreme Court picks, reshaped the judiciary, basically turned obstructionism into a goddamn art form. And now MAGA’s treating him like some kind of communist spy. Why? Because he had the nerve—the nerve—to not fully endorse a coup attempt. Apparently, that was the bridge too far.
And then there’s Liz Cheney. Oh, poor Liz. Daughter of Darth Cheney himself. You think she ever imagined her Republican career would end like this? “Sorry, Liz, you’re just not Republican enough.” Not Republican enough! Her entire voting record is a right-wing fever dream, but she made the rookie mistake of saying, “Hey, maybe violently overthrowing an election is bad.” And boom—excommunicated.
That’s the game now. The new rule is: Fealty or get the fuck out. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been pushing conservative policies since Reagan was acting senile on the job. If you’re not ready to swear eternal, undying loyalty to the guy who spray-painted his name on a failed steak company, you’re toast.
And don’t even try the “but I’ve been loyal my whole career” argument. No one cares. You could’ve personally carried Ronald Reagan’s jockstrap and kissed Grover Norquist’s tax pledge every night before bed. If you so much as hesitate before groveling at the feet of the Great Pumpkin, you’re out.
The Republican Party isn’t a party anymore. It’s a reality show, and the only way to stay on is to keep kissing the ring. It’s a cult where the first commandment is Don’t question the leader. And the second commandment is Seriously, don’t question the leader, or we’ll call you a traitor and send Marjorie Taylor Greene to your house with a bullhorn.
And here’s the real kicker: This works. Yeah. Somehow, against all logic, it actually works. Not because these people have some grand plan for America—hell no! It works because they enforce discipline. Step out of line, and you are done.
Liz Cheney? Gone overnight. Mitt Romney? Too tired to even try for reelection. Even McConnell, the great political chess master, is getting pushed into irrelevance. The message is loud and clear: Bend the knee, or pack your bags.
Meanwhile, what are we doing? We’re over here having purity tests. “Oh, I’m sorry, you supported universal healthcare, but not in the exact way I wanted? Get the hell out.” We’re arguing over the tone of tweets while these guys are out there steamrolling democracy with a goddamn bulldozer.
Look, we can either win or we can keep patting ourselves on the back for being principled while we lose everything. Because the other side? They’re not worried about hypocrisy. They’re worried about power. And maybe it’s time we started worrying about that too.
