Donald Trump’s continued grip on American politics isn’t resilience—it’s rot. Institutional rot. Cultural rot. The kind that lets a man dodge indictments like parking tickets and still headline rallies like a washed-up frontman clinging to his one hit.
He’s not a phoenix. He’s a rerun. A bloated brand of grievance and paranoia, repackaged as populism and sold to a base that mistakes volume for truth. Every time the legal system flinches, every time the media amplifies his circus without consequence, we’re reminded: spectacle now outranks substance.
This isn’t just bad news—it’s a warning flare. A nation that can’t retire its demagogues is a nation auditioning for its next act. And Trump? He’s not leading a movement. He’s dragging a corpse of credibility across the stage, daring us to pretend it’s still breathing.
We don’t need another season of this show. We need to cancel it—before the rerun becomes reality.