Yesterday, June 14, 2025 marked a day of reckoning for the Orange Turd and a day of celebration for the Republic. Caesar Disgustus finally got that military parade, the grand spectacle that had alluded him for so long. It was a complete humiliation.
Billed as a celebration of our armed forces, specifically marking the 250th anniversary of the United States Army, the event just happened to, coincidentally, fall upon the birthday of our celebrated simpleton.
But it didn't go as hoped; but perhaps, certainly as planned. If planning it can be called.
It went as well as just about everything else our erstwhile potentate has administered.
Reminiscent of the Tulsa Oklahoma fiasco in the 2020 campaign, the much ballyhooed event proved a colossal under-performance.
You knew it was in trouble when reports surfaced that the “organizers” were offering $1,000.00 in return for one's attendance if one agreed to wear red, white and blue apparel and perform with appropriate enthusiasm. Payment, however was in crypto coin which everyone knows is worthless. It's like being paid, if at all, with old mining script or S&H Green Stamps. There were few takers.
Repeating the fiasco in Tulsa, the public began to troll the tRUMPists by reserving their seats with no intention of attending the event. The result: a repeat of Tulsa where half the auditorium was empty.
And so, before the world, our would-be Tin Horn Dictator stood on a podium facing “risers”, that is bleacher seats, nearly empty as the tanks, accompanied only by the squeaking sounds of unlubricated wheels and the grinding of treads upon pavement, rolled ever drearily by.
To compound the spectacle the Army looked anything but the precision fighting machine it prides itself in being. Soldiers, who know how to march, simply shuffled past the draft dodging coward now posturing as Commander-In-Chief. The salutes were not crisp. The performance a demonstrable passive aggressiveness stemming from resentment for being treated so shabbily.
Further humiliations awaited the armed forces as corporate sponsors, principally Defense Contractors and sham crypto coin operations were announced to the audience. The Army retaliated by playing Credence Clearwater Revival's “Fortunate Son” through the public address system, a Vietnam anti-war classic, the import of which, I'm sure was lost upon the dullards in attendance:
“Some folks are born made to wave the flag
They're red, white and blue
And when the band plays “Hail to the Chief”
They point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son
it ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
...It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one” (1)
Take that, General Bone Spurs.
No one wanted to be there. Not Little Marco Rubio, late of the Senate now our neutered Secretary of State; not Peter Hegseth, our erstwhile Secretary of Defense under whose auspices this embarrassment was “organized”: certainly not the First Lady. Rubio yawned and looked like he wanted to find a place to nap, Hegseth appeared to be seeking an exit, and Melania looked upon our self-appointed Monarch with complete disdain with a countenance that betrayed a wish to be in the company of a real gentleman. Hegseth may well be shown the exit he seeks before the month is out.
And tRUMP? He looked like he was about to cry.
The White House, predictably, tried to “spin” the event with photo-shopped pictures of imaginary hordes in attendance, photos cropped so as to not show the crowd, or photos with backgrounds blurred so as to not reveal the truth. Spokesman quickly claimed a quarter million in attendance and the Wrong-wing echo chamber quickly picked up the chant. But it was to no avail. The truth was out: the “crowd” wasn't a tenth the size of White House reporting. tRUMP indeed cannot organize a two-car funeral.
Meanwhile the nation was having none of it. With this long-awaited event approaching organizers went into action. A coalition of about 150 civic groups an community organizations went into action” announcing a “NO KINGS” protest to occur across the nation everywhere except Washington D.C.
I first got wind of it about 3 weeks ago watching a podcast on YouTube in which Malcome Nance, the intelligence officer turned author, announced the event. I'm sure there were others doing the same. Within weeks it had grown from the major cities to include protests and marches in over two thousand cities, villages and crossroads all over the country as well as several foreign capitals and locations. When the sun set upon the day and estimated 5 million had participated with some estimates as high as triple that number. It was, by all accounts, the largest demonstration in the history of the republic.
The day proved the predictable humiliation it promised to be, perhaps a turning point. As the tariff nonsense unsettles world markets and makes a pig's breakfast of global supply chains; as inflation creeps up along with unemployment; as agricultural markets dry up, and as the labor force is unsettled by his ignorant and malicious immigration policies; Disgustus, his maladministration now in total disarray, looked longingly to a demonstration of power and grandeur. Instead, he produced the predictable fiasco.
Impeach and Imprison
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1. “Fortunate Son” by Credence Clearwater Revival, see lyrics.com
