video: Nuke the Filibuster?? It’s Do OR DIE Time

Ladies and gentlemen, gather ’round the campfire of constitutional chaos, because tonight we’re talking filibuster—the Senate’s favorite speed bump, that glorious gum in the gears of government designed to stop one party from turning the whole damn machine into a runaway clown car.
In a sane world, I’d defend Mr Fillubuster like a mama bear with a PhD in civics: “Slow down, you speed demons! No dramatic overhauls without 60 votes, or we’ll end up with laws written on napkins at a frat party!”
But folks, we ain’t in Kansas anymore. Or even West Virginia. We’re in the fever swamp where the Democrats have traded their straightjackets for sequined capes and declared war on sanity itself.

Picture this: the filibuster’s like that polite uncle at Thanksgiving who insists we eat the turkey before the pumpkin pie.
In Washington terms, it prevents the extremists from force-feeding us kale smoothies laced with Marxism. But now? The opposition party’s gone full feral. These aren’t your grandpa’s Democrats—handshakes and backroom deals?
Ha! They wanted to nuke the filibuster under Joe Biden bad, real bad. Only Kristen Sinema and Joe Manchin, the moderates in the party kept it from happening. And guess what, both of them are GONZO today.
And what would they have done with unfettered power that would have brought? The list is longer than a CVS receipt written out by Joe Stalin himself: DC and Puerto become states—because nothing says “representative democracy” like gerrymandering the map with urban blue strongholds.
Supreme Court packing? Stack it like a Jenga tower of activist judges until it topples into a rainbow-flag waterfall.
Minimum wage, $50 an hour, no wait, $1,000 an hour. IE- Destroy small business for virtue signaling points.
And don’t get me started on the “communistic fantasies”—that’s code for turning every cul-de-sac into a collective farm where your HOA enforces pronoun patrols and your recycling bin reports to the Politburo.

Right now, Republicans hold the keys to the kingdom—the trifecta of both houses plus the Presidency!
We’ve got the power to slam the door on this snarling, rabid pitbull that’s been frothing at the mouth since the last moderates—God bless ’em—Sinema and Manchin played human shields.
Those two were like the last sane flight attendants on a hijacked plane, yelling, “Sir, you can’t storm the cockpit with your manifesto, man-bun, and copy of Das Kapital!” But the pitbull’s off the leash now, gnashing and growling just outside the door for a permanent one-party state, a Stalinistic utopia where the only checks and balances are the ones on your Venmo for reparations and pronouns.
These are the same folks who cheer—yes, cheer—the death of Charlie Kirk, then Elect an AG in Virginia who daydreams about turning political debates into a Game of Thrones bloodbaths, complete with kids as collateral damage?
“Oh, it’ll change hearts and minds!” they say, as if Portland’s a utopia and not a post-apocalyptic hipster apocalypse full of homeless drug addicts and Antifa policeman deploying anarchy-tyranny on the population.
Chicago? Forget it—that’s where “defund the police” means handing out participation trophies to carjackers. Sarcasm? You bet your rainbow pronouns I am.

And mark my words: the second these Bolshevik Barkers get the trifecta back—House, Senate, Oval Office with a side of executive orders—they’ll fling open the floodgates. Amnesty for every illegal alien they Ubered across the border? Boom! Instant vassal voters, beholden forever like feudal serfs with EBT cards. Two new blue states? Check. Court-packing up and including the ghost of Ruth Bader Ginsburg? Double check. Permanent power shift? Ka-ching! It’s not governance; it’s a commie mob heist with better branding.

So Republicans, listen up: this ain’t a handshake with gentlemen; it’s a cage match with Smaug the dragon who will torch you the moment you open the door.
The filibuster’s a gentlemanly relic when your foe plays with decency, but against these apocalypse pitbulls—who’ve already voted to yeet it like yesterday’s beef stew at a vegan potluck—they’ll shred it the minute they sniff power.
Why wait for the bite, to get torched by Smaug?
Lock the door now. Eliminate the filibuster, ram through the reforms, and build a moat around the Republic with the leftist tears that will flow when you tell them body mutilation of confused teens is an imprisonable offense. they call it compassion, what it is is sadism.
It’s not dirty pool; it’s survival of the fittest in a zoo gone mad. Because if we don’t, we’ll wake up in their “Stalinistic utopia”—and trust me, the only gears moving will be the ones grinding our freedoms into gluten-free confetti.

Thank you, and God bless America—before they rename it “The People’s United Socialist Sorority,” where straight white men are get shackled in chains, but trans women are the belle of the ball.