"Don't Rain On My Parade"

Today, while the Trump parade slogs through puddles of narcissism, over 1,800 protests are erupting across the country under the banner of “No Kings.”

Today is Donald J. Trump’s 79th birthday; pause for groans, and in true Trumpian fashion, he’s marking the occasion not with cake and candles, but with tanks on tarmac, soldiers marching under the threat of lightning, and the shadow of authoritarianism cast long across America’s streets.

You heard that right. It’s not just Trump’s birthday. It’s also the 250th anniversary of the United States Army; an institution worthy of honor, pride, and reverence. But instead of solemn respect, what we’re getting is a bloated, made-for-Fox-News parade for an insecure-man birthday bash. And while the weather service issued severe storm warnings across the DC area, the man-child in chief is stomping his foot, shouting “Don’t rain on my parade!” as if even Mother Nature should bow to his whims.

And let’s talk about that phrase; don’t rain on my parade. It’s the ultimate Trumpian tantrum, isn’t it? The delusion that the world owes him perfect optics, perfect adulation, and a perfectly dry sky. But what’s brewing overhead isn’t just weather. It’s a storm of rage, resistance, and reality. Because today, while the Trump parade slogs through puddles of narcissism, over 1,800 protests are erupting across the country under the banner of “No Kings.”

That’s right. America is remembering what we were founded on: No monarchs. No tyrants. No one man above the law. Today, regular people are putting their bodies on the line to remind this faux-emperor that we don’t kneel. We protest.

And here’s the sick twist: as protestors flood the streets; students, veterans, mothers, teachers, Trump has activated not just the National Guard, but the United States Marines to assist ICE in its mass deportation operations. You read that correctly. Marines, once defenders of liberty abroad, now being repurposed as foot soldiers in a xenophobic fantasy orchestrated by none other than that ghoulish white-nationalist whisperer, Stephen Miller.

So, let me whisper, no shout something into your ear Stephen, this isn’t military celebration. It’s military exploitation.

Let me be clear: I love this country. I respect the hell out of our armed forces. I’ve sat across from families who’ve buried sons and daughters in uniform. That kind of sacrifice is sacred. It deserves our admiration every day, not just when it suits the political agenda of a man desperate for applause. But this? This grotesque fusion of personal birthday bash and state military display isn’t about honoring soldiers. It’s about propping up an emperor who demands loyalty above law.

You want to celebrate the Army’s 250th birthday? Then respect its values. Respect the Constitution it defends. Respect the rights of those protesting peacefully today. Don’t hijack a sacred institution to feed your ego, Mr. President.

Meanwhile, as he grins from behind the bulletproof glass, immigrants are being rounded up like fugitives, separated from their children, and deported to countries they barely know. This is the America Trump wants to show off with tanks and thunderous flyovers? This is what we're asked to clap for as "strong leadership"?

Over half the country, more than 68% by some polls, disagrees with these mass deportations. They call them un-American, cruel, and inhumane; and they’re right. Because this administration isn’t solving a crisis. It’s creating one to distract from real problems: stagnant wages, climate disasters, international embarrassment, and the unraveling of democracy.

But here’s the kicker. Even if every protestor were silent, even if every deportation went unreported, the sky itself is refusing to cooperate. There’s something poetic in that. A President so obsessed with control, who wants every frame, every flag, every rifle drill to be perfect; and yet the clouds are rolling in. Thunder is rumbling. Winds are howling. As if the heavens themselves are saying: “No more.”

Don’t rain on your parade? Sorry, Sir. It’s already pouring.

And behind the spectacle, behind the golden epaulettes and choreographed salutes, there’s fear. Not strength. Fear that this nation no longer buys what you’re selling. Fear that people see through the made-for-TV dictator cosplay. Fear that on your big day, the world sees not a hero; but a hollow man with a dwindling base and a desperate grip on power.

So, while Trump huffs and puffs beneath the gray skies, America is rising. Not in lockstep, not in parade formation; but in protest, in defiance, and in solidarity.

Because this country was never meant to worship its leaders. It was meant to hold them accountable.

Either way, from your former friend and fixer, Happy birthday, Mr. President.

You wanted a parade.

You got a storm.

THIS IS A CRITICAL PERSONAL APPEAL. JOIN ME. STAND WITH THIS COMMUNITY. WE CANNOT DO THIS ALONE.

Trump and his goons are now coming for me; just like they promised. This fight is real, personal, and far too big for one person to take on alone. If you’re reading this, you’re already part of the resistance. You believe in truth, justice, and dragging corruption into the light. But I need you to do more than believe, I need you to act. This isn’t just a newsletter; it’s a war cry. Restack. Share with family and friends. Become a subscriber or a paid subscriber today. If you can, become a Founding Member and claim your free signed copy of Revenge. Let’s be relentless. Let’s be unbreakable. Let’s fight back; together.