Congress has turned “protect the children” into a traveling circus act, complete with red-faced speeches, pounding fists, and overblown warnings about pizza-parlor dungeons, haunted IKEA furniture, and elites guzzling adrenochrome. The performances are loud, absurd, and carefully staged for cameras and donors, casting lawmakers as fearless warriors battling phantoms that pose no real threat. Their crusade is nothing more than theater, a morality play designed to entertain and distract.

But when reality intrudes—when survivors present sworn testimony, when financial records and flight logs land on the table—these same roaring lions transform into meek bureaucrats. They fumble for excuses, stall for time, and retreat into the safety of committees and donor approval. Their war cry isn’t about justice, it’s about branding. The truth is that their righteous fury is reserved for imaginary demons, while their cowardice ensures the real monsters remain untouched.


to contact me:

[email protected]