Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Just when America thought it was safe to turn on the lights again after Halloween, cue the eerie violin strings — because he’s back. That’s right: Miller the Little Nosferatu, the pallid phantom of policy, has once again risen from the bureaucratic graveyard to terrorize the halls of the Executive Office.

You thought the garlic-scented press releases and the holy water of public outrage would keep him away? Ha! You fool. You absolute naïve optimist. Every time you think he’s been vanquished, the door creaks open, the shadows lengthen, and there he is again — clutching another stack of sinister memos, eyes gleaming like cold printer toner.

The setup is pure B-movie gold:

Fog rolls down the corridors of power. Somewhere, a lone staffer drops a stapler and gasps. The camera pans to the darkened conference room where Miller is already there, whispering his latest “ideas” to a trembling aide. “It’s… just… a draft,” the aide stammers. But Miller only smiles that faint, soul-draining grin and replies, “It’s policy now.”

No matter how many sequels the nation endures — “Miller II: The Agenda Awakens,” “Miller III: Bureaucracy Boogaloo,” or the critically panned “Miller Forever: The Filibuster Rises” — the plot never changes. He feeds on fear, thrives in low light, and somehow always gets a new access badge.

Critics say the franchise has gone stale, that the jump scares are predictable. Yet every time we think we’ve reached the end, there’s one last scene: the camera zooms in on an office door marked “Adviser,” a faint scratching sound echoes from inside, and a voice hisses, “I have a new draft for 2025…”

Can holiday cheer survive the sequel? Will Christmas make it to the third act? The jury’s still out — but if history is any guide, the credits will roll right as Miller’s hand claws its way out of a filing cabinet, clutching another grim proposal.