When Chickens Come Home to Roost: A Hans Wilder-esque Rant on Bird Flu, Politics, and Pets

Well, folks, buckle up because it’s about to get weirder than a gerbil at a pride parade! Imagine this: just when you thought 2020 was a one-hit-wonder with its global pandemonium, along comes bird flu 2.0—this time it’s personal. And by personal, I mean your beloved Fluffy and Fido might just drop dead in the living room, leaving you wondering whether to mourn or to start an Instagram memorial with cute but somber hashtags.

But here’s where it gets spicy. The government—oh, those sneaky, sneaky folks—sees this avian Armageddon as the perfect excuse to shut everything down again. Why? Because nothing says “effective governance” like making sure no one can leave their house, especially when it’s election season. That’s right, it’s November, and Uncle Sam decides it’s time for another nationwide “time-out.”

Why the lockdown, you ask? Well, according to the voices that the deep state doesn’t want you to listen to, it’s all a ploy to mess with the election. Because if you can’t walk your dog without a full hazmat suit, how the hell are you supposed to vote the old-fashioned way—by showing up and scribbling on a piece of paper that no one really checks?

And speaking of checking, let’s talk about our new voters—the freshly minted, card-carrying members of the American Dream. Or should I say, the American Scheme? Yep, millions of “illegal aliens,” fresh off the boat, or the fence, or however they’re getting here these days, are apparently getting Social Security numbers like party favors at a billionaire’s birthday bash. And with those numbers, they can vote. Or so they think, because who’s gonna tell them otherwise when the whole point is to add a little extra chaos to the voting process?

So here we are, the greatest democracy in the world, where every vote counts—even the ones that technically shouldn’t. The deep state’s grand plan? Throw so much confusion into the system that by the time we figure out what’s up and what’s down, the only winner is the house—always the house, never the gambler.

And at the end of the day, after all the birds have fallen out of the sky and all the pets have shuffled off their mortal coils, what are we left with? A locked-down, stirred-up, mixed-up mess of a nation where the only thing we know for sure is that we’re all being played.

Democracy? More like “Demo-crazy,” if you ask me. And as for Trump? Well, whether he’s the dealer or just another player at the table, one thing’s for sure: in the great casino of American politics, the house always wins.

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