I look for hope and joy at every station of the sun. I look harder when I’m writing a post. Festivals should be festive, and laments make for poor holiday reading.
Since Samhain last, when flawed but still recognizable America fell to the oligarchs, I have done my best to avoid turning this blog into a “Greetings from Oceania” stream of depressing reportage. (Oceania a lá Orwell’s 1984, not real-world Oceania.) Updates on the destruction of American democracy and the rise of the MAGA authoritarian regime aren’t hard to come by, after all. It’s the story of the year, affecting everyone and everything on the planet.
But, alas, there’s only so long I can pretend to ignore the giant orange ignoramus in the room. Time’s up, so. Joining the 2025-in-retrospect pundits, here’s my take on the year that was.
In a word, it was apocalyptic.
The Four Horsemen are not my area of expertise. My concept of the Apocalypse Quartet is largely based on Vigil Games’ very fun hack-and-slash/action-adventure Darksiders video games.
Yet, unfamiliar as I am with the Book of Revelations, I can attest beyond doubt that between Samhain Eve/Election Day 2024 and the Orange Pimple-From-Hell’s inauguration on 20 January 2025, the First Horseman was mos def clocking the miles from Atlantic to Pacific and Canada to Mexico. Coast to coast, border to border, CONQUEST sat crowned and cocky on his high white horse, bow drawn, his arrow aiming for the heart of us, proclaiming victory. Unequivocal victory. Victory without mercy, morality, or sanity. Winner-take-all victory on a par with that the conquering Greeks inflicted on Troy (if you’ll pardon the allusion to one of my earlier posts: The Compleat Cassandra: Positive Negativity).
Like the abject Trojans stunned helpless by their tragic turn of fortune, the not-MAGA majority of this nation either went into denial or accepted defeat. With precious few exceptions, the Democrats in high offices cowered, crumpled, and collaborated. “We’re not in power,” they wailed. “There’s nothing we can do!” The media reported the incipient administration’s intentions with an incessant commentary chorus of, “Should we be worried?” (Yes, Virginia. You should be worried.) Safer (CIS, white-presenting) people wept. Marginalized people ached with fear and got their papers in order.
Didn’t help. The moment Trumpolean re-assumed the role of Commander-in-Chief, he summoned the next Horseman and declared WAR on every person, gender, race, religion, agency, country, city, gulf, idea, law, and value that had ever bruised his tender little ego or looked, to his jaundiced eye, like easy pickings. Riding a red horse and wielding a terrible sword, Horseman #2 swept across America’s amber fields of grain, majestic purple mountains, and fruited plains (aren’t the fields on the plains?) leaving ruin in his wake.
Right out the gate, our petty POTUS ruthlessly sealed the southern border, struck DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) from our workforce, government programs, and official websites, removed the legal shackles holding toxic industries in check, and un-protected our climate and environment. With personal vengeance (not a Horseman) as his North Star, he steamrolled his way through 2025 ordering strikes against the foundations of our society, the institutions of our democracy, our cities that didn’t vote for him, and those who declined to grovel before him.
Scratch that last bit. In fact, he randomly attacked grovelers, too. He’s a whimsical autocrat. (Whimsical a lá “acting or behaving in a capricious manner,” not “playfully quaint or fanciful in an amusing and endearing way” whimsical.)
Not content with attacking the Constitution, the people who threw him out of office in 2020, women, trans people, POC, and anything credited to a previous president, America’s doddering dictator pushed WAR out on the international stage as well. What started out as a spoiled kid’s Risk© game (annex Greenland, “take back” the Panama Canal, make Canada the 51st state), exploded into efforts to force Russia-authored “peace” deals down Ukraine’s and Europe’s throats, committing war crimes in the Caribbean, and, as this post hits the interwebs, parking the “largest armada ever seen in the history of South America” off the coast of Venezuela.
I keep attributing the heinous and/or illegal actions in the paragraphs above to #47, as if Presidementia had actually done something with his executive powers beside exploit his office for personal gain, begin turning the White House into Mar-a-Lago Norte (bet you anything that’s what he calls it), levy crude insults at people, and sign his wish-lists (Executive Orders). Bored by and entirely disinterested in governing this country or any of the countless countries he lusts to conquer, he’s left the business of being president to his abettors and appointees – men with more cohesive plans for establishing a totalitarian state and/or more conspiracy theories behind their policies and actions. Variously, and at various times, Elon Musk, Stephen Miller, Steve Bannon, Kash Patel, Pete Hegseth, and Project 2025’s Russ Voight have ruled (and are still ruling) this nation.
Oh, and surrogate Papa Putin. Can’t forget that power behind the golden showers throne.
Re-assuming the role of president released the Lyin’ King’s inner bully and fueled a bloodthirsty mania in his narcissistic psyche that he clearly mistakes for masculinity. Released from all consequences of his actions by Justice Roberts’ incredibly corrupt Supreme Court, he has used American troops against American citizens and ICE agents (Immigration and Customs Enforcement, now the largest, least-ethical private army in the world) like the Nazi SS. Rather than alarming the members of his party, his vindictiveness, brutality, and greed prompted an extraordinary number of morally-destitute, self-aggrandizing, mostly-GOP power-seekers to spend the year going full throttle fluffer on their beloved Mr. Cankles.
Bad as the collaborators and sycophants have been for the US of A, to my mind, the pathetic response of the opposition party has been far worse. With the exception of a few Democratic Socialists – whom the Democratic Party refuses to support – the people we “Libs” elected to protect us and our way of life, our representatives who swore oaths to defend the Constitution that enshrines our rights, the g’ddam wimpy Dems have displayed a supreme lack of focus, unity, and backbone. Their inability to grasp why they spent 2025 with a lower approval rating than a pedophile-adjacent incompetent meant they were constantly ceding without a fight, retreating when they had the opportunity to advance, and turning their rare victories into humiliating defeats.
Throughout the year, as the Felon-in-Chief showed flagrant contempt for the law, replaced policy, diplomacy, and congressional action with transactional deals and profiteering, and usurped or ignored the constitutionally-endowed powers of Congress, states’ rights, and the will of the People, the deer-in-headlights, oh-so serious news and opinion casters kept posing the question, “Are we the bad guys?”
Omg yes. Yes, Virginia. Yes, indeed we are.
In summation, 2025 bore witness to two of the Four Horsemen running rampant over our land. Under their dread influence, America became a less-than functional oligarchic autocracy bereft of the laws, protections, services, and rights that were once her hallmark.
With 2026 cresting on the horizon, WAR is still at it, and FAMINE’s black horse is galloping into view. Thanks to Deadweight Don willfully disregarding court orders to continue funding food assistance programs, undermining American farmers and ranchers, and targeting the people who labor to feed us, Horseman #3 is good-to-go. Insane tariffs are not only wreaking havoc on international trade. Here at home, they’re jacking up prices, and food costs are skyrocketing. America is heading for hunger on a 1930s Depression Era scale.
We’ll be starved for information in 2026 as well. No more weather warnings, our public health agencies are kaput, and scientific research is no longer funded. Our universities keep bending the knee, as if kow-towing to the coercion of Trumped-up accusations will appease a rabid, antisemitic racist; as if keeping a school’s funds flowing while stemming the flow of free speech in the classroom is somehow a boon to higher education. Meanwhile National Public Radio (NPR) and the Public Broadcasting Network (PBS) are cancelled. The “free” press isn’t likely to stop self-censoring any time soon. All manner of books are being banned … are book burnings far behind?
The shadow of the Fourth Horseman on his pale horse already looms over the year ahead. DEATH from preventable and previously eradicated diseases, from starvation, foods or materials produced by newly deregulated industries, collapsing infrastructure, war, pollution, out-of-control climate disasters, and, for some unfortunates, from being directly targeted by the new regime.
But hang on. It’s Midwinter! We’re still in the Yuletide, Hanukkah is just behind us, and Kwanzaa has just begun! Fa-la-la-la-la, here’s what gives me hope.
Our new overseers can’t make the Epstein Files go away.
The video of the vicious double-tap murder of two survivors of one of our many illegal attacks on alleged drug boats has had a galvanizing effect on our See-No-Evil Congress.
We’ve finally got some attrition in the ranks of the Republicans.
The Pope appointed a staunch defender of immigrants’ rights, the Rev. Manuel de Jesús Rodríguez, as the bishop of Palm Beach, Florida … Mar-a-Lago’s diocese.
Trumpety-Dumpety’s tirades about how the failing economy is a hoax, fake news, everything is hunky-dory and it’s all Biden’s fault – his insane rants are failing mightily. Apparently, as he’s never personally paid a bill in his life, he can’t wrap his senile brain around the fact that We the People have an amazing ability to know whether or not our bills are higher this month than last. Fer feck’s sake.
And finally, the brutally crashing economy has dropped Cheetoh Charlie’s favorability ratings into the proverbial toilet.
Will any of this make a difference at the midterms? In 2028? Well, the plan all along has been to put the kibosh on free and fair elections, so probably not. Then again, nations don’t often get the chance to end autocracies at the ballot box or vote dictators out of office. I’m not expecting these exciting developments will produce immediate results. I’m praying they instill a modicum of courage in our wussy Congress.
And I’m counting on them big time to rekindle hope in all of us who have to keep showing up at that ballot box, even when ICE agents are standing there, ready to beat us back. Who need to keep holding joyful protests in the streets and parks, keep painting witty banners and hanging them from freeway overpasses, keep yelling at our reps at Town Hall Meetings, and keep daring to run for office. My hope is that these tidings inspire us to keep showing up to protect the most vulnerable among us when the regime sends armed troops to take them away.
I want to leave you with something that has brought me peace this season. Thing is, I’m not sure reproducing it here entirely respects the author’s copyright. So please click on this title – WINTER MORNING – to read a poem by James Crews, reprinted with permission at The Poetry Foundation. May it give your hearts ease, and may all the blessings of the season be yours.
Thank you for the Poem. It was a much needed reminder that no much I complain, I am still blessed by the power that keeps the Sun and Moon on their appointed rounds.
When asking a friend who recently retired from the U. S. Navy with a fairly high grade in rank how he and his fellow officers could not step forward and uphold their pledge to uphold the Constitution of the United States he immediately replied “What would we have left to retire on?”
I replied “My self respect”.
He asked ” What would you do?”
My response was “I did, I refused an order that violated the UCMJ.” (Uniform Code of Military Justice) I am also 30 years older than my friend. (I was discharged from the USAF 60 years ago stripped of rank with no privileges and my only written proof of service was my discharge certificate with no enlistment date.) I then told my friend that I spent the next 40 years self employed with a clear conscience. In all fairness I believe I had (and have) the unfair advantage of being born in an era of different values. To be even more fair, we didn’t want our comfortable lives disturbed and yawned thru the Nixon, Regan, Bush disintegration even after suffering the DTs. So here I am spouting off while my indignation melts into Shame.
Thank you for your blog Risa.
The poem made me feel exactly the same way. We’re still the lucky ones, eh? Our bellies full enough, bodies warm enough, lives safe enough that we can ruminate on existential matters. Too many now are utterly consumed by the challenge of continuing to exist.
The real shame, my dear, would be for the fascinating, illuminating, intriguing stories of your life to go untold. The brief tidbits you share in your occasional comments are clearly the tip of the iceberg. What order did you refuse, I wonder? GOOD on ya! I’m sure starting over post-discharge wasn’t easy; your indignation is warranted, I’d say.
True, values have changed since we were young, but also the economy was growing and there was a thriving middle class. Since then the population has doubled, and our current economy relies on tariff-taxing us like serfs, making us pay for Don the Con’s ballroom and vacays, and absconding with the funds for our health and retirement. Your friend’s fear of losing what little he has may be rooted in financial reality, methinks.
Thanks for the read <3, my friend.
Ok, but how do you REALLY feel about the Drumpf?
Sorry, I needed to start with a laugh
Just as the post-WWII collapse of the Empire-On-Which-The -Sun-Never-Set ushered in a worldwide release from European colonial bondage, the imminent collapse of American world hegemony that Trump has kickstarted might have some unforeseen positive results. But of course, bloodbaths in Algeria, Angola, Indochina, etc accompanied the birth of the new world order, and the American hegemon wasn’t above abetting oppression from Chile to the Philippines or jumping into disastrous military adventures like Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq. The two things that worry me most about the world’s future are (1) the replacement of the Euro-American hegemony that at least paid lip service to the ideals of democracy with the Chinese model of crushing authoritarianism, and (2) the vast nuclear arsenal in the hands of a demented and deeply ignorant narcissist who could resort to any desperate measure as he realizes that his power in the world is rapidly sliding away.
Happy New Year1
We ALL needed that chuckle ;) I’m also grateful for your lead-in sentence; there speaks a true optimist! (Though I’m not saying you’re wrong. Cynobacteria signaled the end of anaerobic life on this planet, but paved the way for oxygen-breathers like ourselves.)
As for your dual worries, you’ve nailed it. Before I was 20, my perception of the population/pollution/politics problem gelled into a personal vision of humankind’s most probable future: instead of making the socio-economic changes needed to save ourselves and our planet, greedy oligarchs would hasten our ugly end by throwing tantrums and fighting like Kilkenny cats over the world’s resources. Chalk up another dire prediction I wish I’d be wrong about …
I also had a moment at the beginning of Prima Donald’s 1st term where I imagined the rest of the free world would have to come save us from ourselves. Then I realized, the way WE ended WWII made it impossible for the cavalry to ride to our rescue. The biggest nuclear arsenal on the planet is in the tiny hands of the person most likely to deploy it.
PS. Loved the poem.
My dear, dear friend,
From the moment I read the title, my heart was filled with dread. As I continued, you did nothing to alleviate that unease. Not that I’m blaming YOU. You’re just the messenger delivering explicitly graphic, apocalyptic prose, and clearly, we should all take heed. You paint the big picture with all the various details you have gathered throughout the year. And the metaphor is flawlessly apt. Thanks for the reminder.
Your faithful servant,
-Janet
My darling soul-sister, you are being enormously kind about me dumping a ton of doom and gloom into the season of merry and bright. For me, Winter’s Morning holds the real message: nobody ever promised life would be easy, or fair, or comfy, or sweet – but let us take pleasure from and comfort in even the smallest beauties, graces, and kindnesses when we can, while we can, yeah?
And if it comes in the form of a clementine, I’ll be all the more grateful!
(This time for reals) thank you, my darling.