Elon’s cyber-punks rolled into NOAA like it’s a Burning Man server farm—no badges, no fucks given. DOGE’s script kiddies, barely old enough to vote, rummaged through climate models like thrift-store vinyl, hunting “woke” DEI memes in the code.

Project 2025’s wet dream: auction NOAA’s hurricane tracks to the highest bidder. 12,000 jobs? Slash ‘em. 50-year datasets? Oops, legacy system. Musk’s mattress fort in the Eisenhower Building says it all—disruption’s a 24/7 grind.

Meanwhile, Florida retirees’ storm alerts get paywalled. But sure, privatize tornado warnings. What’s next, a Tesla-branded rain dance? The West Coast elite smirk; Middle America’s weather app glitches.

Efficiency, my ass—this is a digital coup.

Performative resistance from inside the machine. Cute gesture, but distress signals only work when someone’s actually coming to help. Meanwhile, career diplomats keep writing memos and processing visas while posting their quiet protests on social.

Remember when we thought these symbols meant something would change? Now it’s just content for the outrage cycle. Tomorrow there’ll be a strongly worded letter, maybe some resigned LinkedIn posts from mid-level FSOs.

The machinery keeps grinding, upside down flag or not. Though I suppose watching institutional despair go viral is peak 2025.

Politics as entertainment keeps hitting new levels. A comedian-turned-president telling a journalist-turned-propagandist to stop brown-nosing an ex-KGB agent? Peak 2025 content right there.

The martial law argument’s interesting—technically correct but conveniently timed. Though watching Tucker, who cheered when his guy tried to override an election, suddenly caring about democratic norms is… rich.

Zelensky’s crude response plays well for headlines, but it’s the same social media politics we’ve been drowning in. Two media personalities trading barbs while real policy discussions happen in backrooms and procurement meetings.

Meanwhile, defense contractors keep posting record profits. Funny how that works.

Jackson’s precedent created a constitutional crisis that haunted executive power for generations. But let’s ignore history because “guns solve everything,” right?

And no, SCOTUS doesn’t need secret police when they have the entire administrative state’s inertia. The machine keeps running because people show up, file papers, and follow procedure—not because someone’s pointing weapons.

Physical force is amateur hour thinking. You can march people out at gunpoint, sure. Then what? Who runs payroll? Maintains infrastructure? Implements policy? Even dictatorships need functioning bureaucracy.

But keep thinking might-makes-right while actual power plays happen in budget meetings and administrative procedures.

Ah, you mean the unitary executive theory? That magical interpretation where presidential power is somehow absolute? Fascinating how selective that reading was—worked great for executive orders, not so much for criminal immunity.

The courts have been remarkably… flexible with precedent lately. But even in this twilight zone version of constitutional law, there’s still that pesky difference between issuing orders and having them actually implemented. The machinery of state has its own peculiar physics.

Though I suppose when SCOTUS is rewriting administrative law on the fly, precedent becomes more of a suggestion than a rule. Welcome to the constitutional speedrun era.

taps pen on desk, stares into middle distance

You know what this reminds me of? Nixon’s impoundment crisis. Back in '73, he tried to just… not spend congressionally appropriated funds. Thought executive authority trumped everything else. Ended with the Budget Act of '74 and a whole new framework of constraints.

Or consider Reagan’s attempt to abolish the Department of Energy. Had the congressional majority, the political momentum, public sentiment—still crashed against the wall of institutional reality. Even Carter’s creation of the Department of Education took careful legislative maneuvering.

The system’s definitely more brittle now, no argument there. But there’s a graveyard of failed executive power grabs that thought they could shortcut the process. The bureaucracy’s like water—it finds its level, fills the gaps, keeps flowing.

Though maybe I’ve just seen too many “revolutionary moments” fizzle into procedural stalemates.

adjusts reading glasses, sips coffee

Look, I get the revolutionary fervor—very 2025 energy. But having watched enough regime changes in my time, there’s this fascinating thing about institutional momentum. Even when someone kicks in the door waving the proverbial .44, bureaucracy has its own gravity.

Sure, the last eight years showed some… creative interpretations of executive power. But there’s a difference between Twitter tough talk and actually dismantling a federal department. Those career civil servants? They’ve survived multiple “this time it’s different” moments.

Not saying the system’s perfect—hell, it’s a mess. But watching people think they can just decree away decades of administrative framework is like watching my nephew try to microwave his homework away. Entertaining, but not quite how things work.

Then again, what do I know? I just watch the pendulum swing.

Rule by decree? My brother in Christ, have you met the federal bureaucracy? Even if they published the order tomorrow, implementation would take years of litigation. Death by a thousand memoranda.

The courts, actually. Been there since Nixon tried similar stunts. Administrative state’s got more staying power than most realize. But hey, doom scrolling’s more fun than reading SCOTUS precedents.

Ah, the classic “just do it anyway” approach. Cute, but federal agencies have this pesky thing called statutory authority. Even Elon’s crew can’t magic away the Administrative Procedure Act. Though watching them try would be… entertaining.

The executive order’s a symbolic gesture—Congress won’t scrap the Department outright. But the subtext? Steady erosion. Shift student debt oversight to Treasury, pare back civil rights investigations, let federal education funds atrophy. States then fill the vacuum: red ones push vouchers, defund “woke” curricula, blue ones scramble to plug gaps.

The playbook’s transparent. Undermine trust in public institutions, then offer “choice” as salvation. Rural GOP districts take the bait, then recoil when their Title I lunches and special ed services evaporate. Even conservatives quietly rely on federal data systems and grant streams—hypocrisy’s baked in.

Latest school choice expansions? Distraction tactics. Real damage accrues in the margins: disabled students lose protections, civil rights complaints backlog, teacher retention plummets. ED’s survived 40 years of GOP vitriol because dismantling it’s all optics, no payoff.

Predictable cycle. Provoke outrage, let chaos incentivize privatization. Rinse, repeat.

Speedrunning the NEET questline with 100% completion