Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Ah yes, Emperor Donald the First—self-anointed Mango Monarch, wielder of Sharpie decrees, and connoisseur of poorly spelled Twitter proclamations—has once again reshaped reality with the stroke of his stubby royal scepter. By divine fiat, he has declared antifa—a concept, an idea, an adjective with legs—into a fully fledged terrorist organization. One almost expects him next to outlaw “gravity” for pulling his poll numbers down, or “algebra” for being too complicated and elitist.

But here’s the obvious snag: antifa is not, never has been, and never will be an actual organization. It has no membership cards, no headquarters, no tax-exempt status, no matching polo shirts or golf tournaments. It is literally shorthand for “anti-fascist.” To designate “being against fascism” as terrorism is as absurd as declaring “being against cancer” to be a medical crime. Yet in Mango Moron logic, ideology is now a criminal conspiracy.

And this is where the irony kicks into overdrive. Does Emperor Donald the First not realize that the so-called “Greatest Generation” stormed the beaches of Normandy to fight fascism? That the blood spilled at Anzio, the lives lost in the Ardennes, the men and women who endured rationing, blackouts, and fear—they did all of that to stop Mussolini and Hitler? And yet here comes Trump, proudly branding anyone opposed to fascism as the enemy. It’s like watching someone declare, “Anyone against arson is now a fire hazard.”

If we’re being brutally honest, no Trump ever fought for anything but their own bank accounts, golf courses, or fragile egos. Fred Trump made his fortune on shady deals while others fought World War II. Donald dodged Vietnam with bone spurs so delicate they only acted up when service was mentioned, but not when a tennis racket was nearby. And if there had been a Trump in uniform during WWII? Let’s just say the odds of him goose-stepping next to Göring are higher than him crawling through mud next to Eisenhower’s men. One can picture him in Rome, sipping wine with Mussolini, complaining that the uniforms weren’t “classy” enough and that the Nazi swastika really needed more gold trim.

Declaring antifa terrorism is not just authoritarian creep—it’s an open admission of allegiance. Because to be against anti-fascists is, by definition, to side with fascists. Trump doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. He glorifies strongmen, flirts with dictatorship, and now criminalizes resistance to it. He’s not interested in accuracy, legality, or historical consistency. He’s interested in creating enemies, keeping his followers enraged, and branding dissent as treason.

But here’s the kicker: fascism doesn’t arrive in a single tank rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue. It creeps in through rhetoric. It paints opponents as “terrorists,” journalists as “enemies of the people,” and dissenters as “traitors.” It thrives on confusion, thrives on fear, thrives on the kind of weaponized ignorance Trump has mastered. When he declares antifa terrorism, he is not just spouting nonsense—he is rehearsing dictatorship.

The Greatest Generation would recognize this for exactly what it is. They lived through the propaganda, the scapegoating, the demagoguery. They risked everything to crush it abroad. And now, decades later, the Mango Moron in the Oval Office tries to normalize it at home. For all his flag-hugging and military parades, Trump shows nothing but contempt for the actual legacy of sacrifice. The truth is simple: the only side a Trump has ever fought for is the Trump side, and if history had aligned differently, you’d likely find the family fortune stamped with Reichsmarks instead of U.S. dollars.

The decree against antifa is not just unconstitutional—it’s a confession. Emperor Donald the First has finally said the quiet part loud: he is against anti-fascism because he is, at his core, a fascist. And like all would-be emperors, he demands loyalty not to country, not to principle, but to himself.