Merch Table Under the Dome
Merch Table Under the Dome Two hours beneath the dome of the United States Capitol, and the air felt less like governance, more like a merch table. He held the podium the way a bartender palms a lighter— not to illuminate, but to spark. The People’s House turned funhouse, mirrors bending fact into applause lines. The economy sat outside like an unpaid tab. Groceries climbing like ivy through a cracked foundation. Jobs thinning. Tariffs swatted down by the Supreme Court of the United States like an Ace on a bad bluff. Instead: hockey anecdotes, medal shine, Democrats arranged as living cutaways. Bait cast into blue suits. Clips marinating for social feeds. He spoke of citizens as if citizenship were a decibel level— Stand, he said, prove your loyalty with your knees. No mention of Renee Good. No mention of Alex Pretti. Names folded into silence like unused flags. Fourteen shot since September, and the word “affordability” never crossed the stage. Outside, the polls sag like wet cardboar...
