In 2016 the American election apparatus was in such shambles that Vladimir Putin’s drinking buddy hackers could bumble right into the cyber-citizenry with a beer and a borscht and elect Orange Elmer Fudd. Any Bolshevik with a ballot could topple this democracy.
Today, our election process, like everything else American, is the gold standard, stainless steeled, art decoed NYC skyscraper of democracy. To mangle Mark Twain, “I was amazed at how much electoral integrity the old boy learned in four years.” Well, never mind. The right candidate was elected no matter who put him there. That’s all that counts. If the sausage tastes delicious this time, don’t ask how it was made.
So the color revolution is complete. The puppet show is over, and the fat elector has sung. 70 million Americans were told to, “Shut up. You’re racist,” and dismissed back to the farm/bible/rust belt to drink PBR and wait for their free government cheese. Check your first two amendments at the door.
All campaign rhetoric is cancelled, black lives will resume not mattering, police will be refunded, the Global War on Everyone will resume, the Swamp will bubble angrily, and self-righteous believers in Great Reset fascism for the proletariat will hop back onto the Lolita express to their private island hookeries. The poor get poorer and the rich get whatever they want.
But then there are those pesky polls, the Pews and Gallops. Over half the country thinks the election was a fraud, including a sizable number of the good guys! How do we shout them down?
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