Disclaimer

This is satire. No federal agencies were harmed in the making of this rant — unless you count their credibility, which was already hanging by a thread. Any resemblance to real-world events is because reality insists on being a bad comedy sketch.

So here’s where we are: the Department of Justice finally coughs up 33,000 pages of the so-called Epstein files. Thirty-three thousand! Sounds impressive, right? You picture a warehouse full of boxes, Raiders of the Lost Ark style. But when Congress cracks it open, what do they find? Mostly crap that was already public, cut-and-paste jobs, redactions so thick you could use them to pave I-95. They didn’t deliver answers. They delivered insulation.

And while all this was happening, we got the theater. Nancy Mace bolts out of the closed-door hearing in tears, and suddenly it’s the story of the hour. Except here’s the kicker: she’s never been a big advocate for the victims or for opening the files. But tears get you airtime, and survivors telling the truth? They get drowned out by military flyovers. I’m not kidding. Victims of sex trafficking, standing at a press conference on Capitol Hill, and the government decides to fly planes overhead. Because nothing says “we support survivors” like cranking the volume knob on authoritarian noise pollution.

And then there’s Massie, trying to do the unthinkable in this town: actually force a vote to release the files. Four Republicans signed on. Four. That’s not courage, that’s a trivia question. And what does the Trump White House say? If you support transparency, if you back the victims, you’re committing a “hostile act” against the President. Not against the party, not against the country, not against the process — against him. Like the truth is a personal insult. Like opening the files is some kind of mutiny.

You want to know why? I’ll tell you why. Because the FBI has already admitted they redacted Trump’s name. The DOJ already knows he’s in there. That’s not speculation, that’s the reason for the flood of fluff. That’s the reason for the threats. That’s the reason for the jets drowning out the voices. They are terrified that one name will cut through all the noise — and it’s his.

And the victims know it too. That’s why they’ve said screw the government, screw the redactions, screw the theatrics — we’ll make our own list. When the state won’t deliver justice, survivors will. That’s not just bravery, that’s an indictment.

So what do we have? A government staging meltdowns, doing flyovers, dumping useless paperwork, threatening its own members of Congress, all to protect one man from the truth. And that truth is so dangerous, so radioactive, that even the hint of it sends them scrambling like cockroaches when the light comes on.

This isn’t about files. It’s not about procedure. It’s not about privacy or process. It’s about fear. Fear of one name. Fear of one truth. Fear that the whole empire of lies comes crashing down when the victims finally speak louder than the flyovers.