After nearly a decade of Donald Trump dominating America’s frontal lobe, most of us have developed the survival skill of rolling our eyes and moving on. Ten years of Trump noise will do that to a body. We’ve watched reality TV bleed straight into the Oval Office until the lines blurred—and everyone’s half-sedated, doom-scrolling through…
What if the collapse of a democracy doesn’t come with sirens or boots in the street, but with slogans, executive orders, and billionaires in boardrooms? A quiet drift toward something unrecognizable: a system where mythology replaces accountability, unelected tech moguls shape public policy, and fear becomes the new filter for free speech. The warning signs are easy to ignore—until the ground gives way.
Civil discourse didn’t die with a bang—it bled out quietly, while most of us were busy yelling at each other online. I felt it this past summer on a family trip to Port Aransas, walking along the beach with my 11-year-old daughter. She pointed to a line of pickup trucks flying political flags, most of them…
the chaos section 