In a turn of events fit for a Shakespearean comedy, the recent transition of presidential power unfolded in a manner that could only be described as tragically hilarious. Former Vice President Kamala Harris, faced with the task of certifying Donald Trump’s election victory, became the first woman in history to officially admit she had lost an argument. This milestone was celebrated with the same enthusiasm one might reserve for receiving a bill from the dentist—certainly significant, but not particularly joyful.
The date itself is now immortalized in our collective memory: January 6th. It is a day that some would have you believe rivals the blood-soaked horrors of World War II or the Holocaust. Yet, instead of a battlefield littered with the wreckage of civilization, we saw an insurrection characterized by a Viking-hat-wearing man wandering the Capitol like he just stumbled off the bus at an ungodly hour. For a moment, the nation collectively gasped, not at the scenes of chaos, but rather at the sheer absurdity of it all.
In a moment that might have been plucked from a surreal comedy routine, the author encountered a random young man near the seat of government and posed the timeless question: “Do you remember where you were on January 6th?” The young man’s reply was as witty as it was revealing: “That was like four years ago; why the hell would I remember that?” And there it was—the painful truth that perhaps the trauma of January 6th has become less memorable than running out of snacks during a marathon binge-watching session.
As America navigates through its collective trauma—that “horrible moment” when democracy was nearly upset by a Donald Trump-driven uprising—there exists a simultaneous reverence and irreverence for history. The ongoing saga of President Biden’s career came to a close amid a flurry of foreign funding and questionable platitudes. A reportedly meditative interview, during which he mistook a potted spider plant for a podcast co-host, revealed his profound thoughts on the state of the nation. One might assume a man of his experience would share sagacious insights. Instead, he lamented his fall from political grace, likening himself to an aging pugilist, past his prime, who only wishes he’d been able to “take Trump apart.”
Biden’s nostalgic recollections of a bygone era, where girls “like that” would have been serving coffee rather than plotting their political futures, brought forth the astounding realization that time does indeed blur our memory. Could it be that the old guard is merely stuck in a loop, replaying the same outdated narrative without any awareness of the shifting dynamics around them? His comments would make one wonder if he might be better off in a history museum—less as a curator, and more as an exhibit.
To wrap up the day, Biden held a ceremony to award the Presidential Medal of Freedom—our nation’s highest civilian accolade—to an interesting assortment of characters, including George Soros and a “cave troll” that apparently declined to mingle with the political elite, deeming it beneath his dignity. The presentation laid bare the absurdity of our political climate: a universally recognizable casting of oddballs, each representing a splinter of the American experience, ensconced in a world where bravery gets upside down and sensibility is left at the door.
As the transfer of power to President Trump neared completion, the theatrics continued. In a bizarre show of brinkmanship, Trump’s engagement with the Chinese president resembled a middle school prank—a flick in the back of the head, then an uproarious laugh. In the end, the spectacle of January 6th and its aftershocks set the stage for an ongoing political farce. The American people are left to wonder: when did politics transform into a circus, and where do we, the audience, draw the line between comedy and tragedy? Rest assured, if we’re talking about government today, it’s a fine line that remains beautifully blurred.
