⚠️ Satire Disclaimer ⚠️This is a parody rant in the voice of the late, great George Carlin. It’s social commentary dressed in profanity, sarcasm, and the smell of burning hypocrisy. Nothing here is a literal transcript of Carlin or a factual statement about any living individual. If you don’t like bad language or uncomfortable truths, you might want to pre-board your delicate sensibilities and exit the aircraft now.

You ever notice how every time the government shuts down, the people still working are the ones you wish weren’t?

 That’s right — the whole country’s grinding to a halt, but the clowns with the flamethrowers keep their paychecks. Meanwhile, the people who do the work — the ones who process your benefits, guard your parks, inspect your food, and keep the planes from playing bumper cars in the sky — get told, “We’ll see if you deserve back pay.”

And who’s in charge of this bright idea? The Office of Management and Budget, which sounds like a department that files receipts but is actually a Death Star made of spreadsheets. Russell Vought — Trump’s favorite paper-pusher and author of the “Project 2025: How to Privatize Civilization” cookbook — decided furloughed workers might not get paid this time.

That’s right, folks. They’re holding the mortgage and the grocery bill hostage for leverage. Leverage! Because nothing says “America First” like threatening to starve your own employees until Congress caves.

And the president? He’s treating the federal treasury like a casino slot machine. Pull the lever — cha-ching — money for my friends, nothing for the rest of you. He’s out here deciding which workers “deserve to be taken care of.” I’ll tell you who deserves to be taken care of — all of them, you orange-tinted coupon for chaos! You can’t build a government like it’s a reality show elimination round. “Tonight, on Survivor: Bureaucracy Island, EPA gets voted off the continent!”

Then we’ve got Stephen Miller — the guy who looks like Nosferatu after a TED Talk — going on live TV and glitching mid-sentence after he says “the President has plenary authority.” You know what “plenary authority” means? It’s Latin for “we can do whatever the fuck we want.” And he froze. You could see the gears in his head trying to find the off-ramp: “Oh no, I said the quiet part out loud!” The man blue-screened on live television!

Meanwhile, Trump’s declaring war on the cartels. Not metaphorically — literally. Sent a letter to Congress saying we’re now in an “armed conflict” with drug traffickers. Because that’s how you start a war now — not a vote, not a debate, just a memo. “Dear Congress, please note that I am now a wartime president. Send bombs, love DJT.”

This is the new frontier of fascism, folks — done by memo, justified by Latin, paid for with your money. He’s weaponizing federal funds like a toddler with scissors. “You voted blue? No bridge for you. Your state’s on fire? Should’ve worn red.”

And you gotta love how the unelected creeps — Vought, Miller, Kennedy Jr., the whole menagerie of mediocrity — are running the country like it’s a startup for cruelty. These aren’t public servants; they’re henchmen with letterhead.

They talk about “efficiency,” but what they mean is “obedience.” They talk about “draining the swamp,” but what they’re really doing is stockpiling snakes. They talk about “plenary authority,” “armed conflict,” “budget optimization,” and “constitutional exceptions” — all those pretty phrases that mean one thing: Sit down, shut up, and don’t expect your back pay.

They’ve taken democracy — this messy, loud, beautiful pain in the ass — and turned it into a loyalty program. Points for compliance, penalties for asking questions. You want your paycheck? Better salute the spreadsheet. You want your rights? Wait until the next memo.

Because that’s what this is, folks: a coup by paperwork. They don’t need tanks in the streets when they’ve got executive orders and “interpretations.”

You don’t lose a republic in a gunfight anymore — you lose it in a meeting.