Main Street Madness

Somewhere between a street fair and a mid-summer night’s fever dream, America’s political theater has spilled into the open like an overfilled beer at a bad carnival. Furries with rifles, socialists with banners, and resistance fighters in Mardi Gras beads march together as if this is the logical next step in civic discourse. Meanwhile, the rest of us stand on the curb like confused tourists, wondering if we’ve stumbled into a costume contest or the opening skirmish of a second civil war.

When the Circus Comes to Town

It’s a strange new age where political activism wears fur suits and plastic fangs, yelling about fascists while clutching signs that look like they were made by a stoned 20-year-old in a college dorm at 3 a.m. The absurdity isn’t in the grievances the

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