I have to confess: On September 30, 2025, I was legit sweating bullets for Black folks. Not because of some existential threat like systemic racism or killer cops—no, this was the big one. The government shutdown.

According to the Democratic echo chamber, that's when we hit peak vulnerability; like gazelles sensing a lion pride on the savanna.

We're talking furloughs, frozen paychecks, and food stamps flickering out like a bad rom-com ending. And don't get me started on how they'd convinced the Black Left that a cackling madman was piloting the White House, twirling his mustache while plotting our demise.

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