The Gospel of Cruelty

April 12, 2025

The Sovereign Gaslighter and the Ghost in the Gulag

Kilmar Abrego Garcia is alive. That’s the latest line from the State Department. The information delivered like a hostage note scrawled in disappearing ink. No location, timeline or plan. Just “he's alive.” If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll tell us he’s “vibing.” What we do know is this: Garcia remains imprisoned in the Salvadoran dungeon known as CECOT, the international pet project of Nayib Bukele and the personal fantasy camp of American fascists who dream of exporting authoritarianism like corn syrup or drone warfare.

Garcia wasn’t supposed to be deported in the first place. A judge made that clear years ago. But he was disappeared anyway. Stripped from his family, dumped into a foreign hellhole, and held without explanation. The courts intervened. Then after some legal whack-a-mole the Supreme Court stepped in. And for once, even this deeply compromised bench found its spine long enough to say the words: bring him back.

That’s when Stephen Miller slithered in.

This is the part where the bile rises. Miller, smirking like he just farted in a FEMA tent, oozed onto social media to say the quiet part out loud and then say it again with fewer brain cells and more venom. “False,” he spat, in a tone that suggests he gets off on cruelty the way normal people enjoy a warm meal. SCOTUS didn’t order anything, he claimed. Garcia's not the administration's problem, he snarled, like a cartoon gargoyle reading from a cue card. “The illegal alien terrorist is in the custody of a sovereign foreign nation.”

Let’s pause on that. Miller, who spent his first term in the White House larping as Heinrich Himmler with a nervous tic, is now redefining sovereignty to dodge a unanimous Supreme Court order. A 9-0 ruling, for the record. The kind of ruling that usually only happens when someone tries to sue gravity or when a rogue administration accidentally admits it deported a man it wasn’t legally allowed to touch. Even this this Trump-boosted, Federalist-honeycombed Court told the administration: you broke it, you fix it. Facilitate his return. Get him out of the hell you threw him into.

But Miller, the crown prince of projection, doesn’t care about courts. He doesn’t even care about law. He cares about punishment. He mainlines it. He gets high on it like it’s a narcotic only he’s allowed to synthesize. Every time he tweets about “foreign nations” and “terrorists,” it’s reads like a sociopath journaling in public. You can hear the subtext whirring like a cursed little microfilm reel behind his sunken eyes: these people aren’t real to me. They're not citizens, they’re not human. They’re disposable scenery in the fascist theme park of his imagination. He scripts cruelty like it’s erotic fanfiction for the Fourth Reich.

And I have a good idea where this smut king is taking us.

Rolling Stone pulls the curtain all the way back: They aren't just trying to keep immigrants out. They are actively preparing to ship citizens away. The administration is feeling out 'denaturalization'. Not as a legal stretch or a theoretical white paper. As an active, high-level conversation inside Trump’s White House. They want to strip citizenship from Americans. Green card holders first. Then naturalized citizens. Then whoever else they can shoehorn into the definition of “fraudulent” or “subversive” or “too brown with too many opinions.”

The pitch? If you have the wrong tattoo, wrong politics, wrong history, off you go. To CECOT. To a prison so brutal it’s already under investigation by the UN for torture. We’re exporting punishment like it’s a commodity. It's Vacuum-sealed cruelty with a barcode and a shipping label. Austerity with a passport. Torture as foreign aid. They’re preparing to offload dissidents and undesirables the same way factories dump chemical runoff into a river and call it efficiency.

They aren’t even hiding it. Trump mused about it on Air Force One. The press secretary doubled down at the podium. Now the legal flunkies are scrambling to reverse-engineer some statutory Frankenstein to make it seem legitimate. All while the bodies pile up in secret cells thousands of miles away.

And where’s Stephen Miller? Still tweeting. Still smirking. Still cosplaying as some ghoul in a youth group blazer, one part snitch, one part failed propagandist, and three parts human mildew. A man so spiritually unwashed he makes middle managers look like revolutionaries. The guy who'd push the lever at the gulag and file it as a tax write-off. But let’s be clear: this man is not a policymaker. He’s a walking hate crime in a cheap suit. A bureaucratic butcher. A man so hollowed out by resentment that his every utterance sounds like it was written by Artificial Intelligence fed nothing but Mein Kampf, rejected anime scripts and dog food ingredient lists. Every time he speaks, it’s a signal flare from the deep pit of the American id: cruel, self-pitying and gleefully fascist.

Stephen Miller is the moral equivalent of a rusted meat hook. Everything he touches becomes uglier. Every system he operates in becomes more violent. He is not an ideologue. He is not a genius. He is not even a true believer. He’s just a vicious little man who discovered that pain is a form of power and then built a career out of selling it wholesale.

Unfortunately, my insults no matter how cutting won't do shit to stop him. And He’s not done yet.

Executive Orderpalooza

There’s a certain smell to empire when it rots from the inside. It’s not the acrid stench of fire and ruin.. yet. But something subtler, quieter. Like dust settling in the lungs, or rot in the beams of a house too proud to fall. These new executive orders? They smell like that. The ink's still wet, but you can already hear the groan of a nation turning brittle.

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1. Military Mission for Sealing the Southern Border of the United States and Repelling Invasions

This one reads like a drunken dispatch from a sheriff with a God complex and a loaded rifle. Fitting, really, considering our who our SECDEF is. Trump didn’t write it, of course. He hasn’t written anything since the 1980s except his name on hats and hush money checks. This came from the junior fascists who think calling it an “invasion” makes it noble instead of nauseating.

In plain terms: the U.S. military has been told to treat the southern border like a war front. Troops, not Guard, not reserves, but boots fresh off overseas duty are being repositioned to greet asylum seekers like it’s D-Day in reverse. The order gives them license to "neutralize threats," which is bureaucrat for do whatever the hell you want and don’t bother with the paperwork.

And where does that road lead? Take a long look at Gaza. Now imagine it lined with vending machines and branded watchtowers, where every checkpoint runs on facial scans and fear, and the only shade comes from drones circling like buzzards with sponsorship deals. That’s where we’re headed. Not just militarized crossings, but a permanent zone of exception. An open-air prison with branding. No courts for redress or clarity. Just miles of concertina wire, algorithms and enough camo to make a surplus store blush. The border won’t be a line anymore; it will be a theater, with every refugee forced to audition for humanity while a machine gun watches from the wings.

No definitions or constraints. Just the brittle pride of an empire desperate to protect its illusion of control.

And with troops already staged, the Insurrection Act looms in the background like Chekov's Gun. Once the military’s at the border, it’s a short drive to the interior. A flick of the pen and they’re not just stopping migrants, they’re quelling protests, rounding up the accused, reminding the rest of us who holds the leash. The deployment map becomes a flowchart for repression.

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2. President Donald J. Trump Directs Repeal of Regulations That Are Unlawful Under 10 Recent Supreme Court Decisions

This one’s quieter, but more poisonous. If the border order is the loaded gun, this one is a gas leak. It tells every federal agency to gut their own rules. But not based on current law, rather on what they think the Court might say later.

The legal equivalent of burning your house down because the wind changed direction, and you heard a rumor that lightning might strike next week. Environmental protections are gone. Labor standards are already ash. The last thirty years of public safeguards reduced to a bad faith reading of Alito’s diary and a whisper campaign in the Federalist Society.

And what’s the pitch on this stinking turd? "Efficiency," of course. As if there's anything efficient about torching the scaffolding of public law so corporations can swing their wrecking balls with impunity. It's arson, rebranded as streamlining.

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3. Protecting American Energy From State Overreach

This one is all bark and fracking rigs. The federal government is telling states they are no longer allowed to regulate fossil fuel production if it gets in the way of the administration’s oil-stained definition of “independence.”

It’s galling and appalling. These are the same men from the same party who’ve howled for half a century about the evils of Big Government. Who brandished “state’s rights” like a crucifix any time Washington tried to feed a hungry kid or desegregate a school. And yet, the second a state dares to slow a pipeline or question a refinery’s runoff into their drinking water, the feds show up with a boot and a briefcase. Apparently, small government ends the moment Exxon’s quarterly report feels a draft.

Make no mistake: This is about dominion. This is what authoritarianism looks like when it wears a tie and smiles for the Chamber of Commerce. IOW; we are so fucked. so very, very fucked.

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So What’s the Play?

Put them side by side and the shape emerges. Militarized domestic policy. Deregulated power for the donor class. Federal supremacy weaponized against dissent. It’s a grim little triptych of control, all framed in the language of national strength.

This is structure and groundwork being laid. You don’t need laws to last forever when you can use them to build precedent. Once the military’s on the border, the logic for keeping them there metastasizes. Once you void regulations by prediction, you never need to justify anything again. Once you gut state autonomy, all dissent becomes defiance. Then defiance becomes criminal.

And they’re counting on you to tune out. They’re counting on the noise to bury the harm. That’s how authoritarianism works in a country with Netflix, stadiums, Taylor Swift and a million other distractions. It doesn’t kick down your door. It changes the locks and tells you the hinges were defective.

So yeah, it’s a palooza. But the music isn’t what matters. It’s who’s writing the lyrics. And if you read closely, you’ll see it's not only power they are after, but permanence.

Keep reading the fine print. That's where the teeth are hidden. And they’re starting to bite down.

Then They Came for Everyone

If all of this feels coordinated, it’s because it is. The executive orders. The military deployments. The legal revocations and sudden purges. One might hope there’d be some firewall between law and logistics. Between who writes the orders and who feels their weight. But there isn’t. There’s only convergence.

One such convergence comes with a likely AI generated list of people, including US Citizens who should be deported. Emails were sent to an unknown (but likely) large number of people informing them that their time was up and they had to leave. Now. Pure confusion, but not just for confusion’s sake.

The parole terminations aren’t an isolated glitch. They’re a stress test. A dress rehearsal. If they can strip thousands of people of legal presence with a form letter, they can do it to millions with a memo. If the public shrugs, or better yet doesn’t notice, they've greenlit the next round.

We’ve seen this movie before. The script always starts with the vulnerable. Refugees, parolees, homosexuals, the folks without a lawyer on speed dial. But the longer it runs, the broader the cast list becomes. Denaturalization. Citizenship revocation. Expanded surveillance justified by imaginary threats. One by one, the labels blur, and the targets grow.

If you're waiting for some grand tipping point, stop. It doesn’t arrive with fireworks. It comes through the mail. It shows up in your inbox. It sounds like paperwork and smells like normal. Until the knock on the door.

Whatsoever you allow to happen to the least among you, by silence, by fatigue, or by distraction; you carve into the future what will someday be permitted to happen to you.

Loyalty Tests and the Christian Surveillance State

Right on cue, the administration’s next move didn’t whisper its way in, it marched in like a holy order on crusade, clipboard in one hand, sword of righteousness in the other, ready to sanctify suspicion and purge the heathens from the org chart. This week, State Department employees received a cable instructing them to report each other for displays of "anti-Christian bias." Not discrimination or harassment. Bias. A term that can mean anything and therefore means everything.

Sound familiar? It should. Because we’ve already watched it play out. Simply being horrified by the genocide in Gaza makes you a criminal now. Are you offended by the incineration of hospitals, the slaughter of children, the calculated starvation of civilians—does the wholesale, commercialized slaughter of innocents turn your stomach? Welp, now you hate Jews! You’re not grieving or protesting or retching from the ruthless spectacle of it all. You’re an 'anti-semite' with a hate complex.

It’s like watching someone scream at a smoke alarm for being anti-fire. "Oh, you don't like mass murder? Must be personal!" It's cartoon logic layered over atrocity. Somewhere in this backwards Rube Goldberg of moral collapse, the act of not wanting children to be bombed is now grounds for termination. Literally.

And the sick part is how quickly this logic hardens into law. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense. It matters that it can be enforced. That it can be used. That it gives cover to the already powerful to silence the moral reflexes of the decent. One day you're just heartbroken; the next, you're on a watchlist.

You post a ceasefire petition and suddenly you're a terrorist sympathizer. You say Palestinian lives matter and get flagged by HR or picked up by ICE. The message is clear: morality, when inconvenient, is criminal. Empathy is now contraband.

And now here come the Christian loyalty tests. It starts with Rubio’s witch hunt for bias in the breakroom, but we know where it goes. The template's been uploaded. And they’re not subtle about it. Cabinet members have been swapping out their American flag lapel pins for golden busts of Trump’s head. That's poetry in motion akin to idolatry. That’s branding your obedience.

We are watching theology replace governance. And the altar they’re building? It runs on silence, on fear, on the neighbor you once trusted turning in your name because you didn’t close your email fast enough.

This kind of performative loyalty has precedent. North Korea requires citizens to wear Kim pins over their hearts. Maoist China had Chairman Mao buttons. A symbol you wore not because you believed, but because someone was watching.

Now it’s Trump’s golden bust, catching light on the jacket of every cabinet official who wants to keep their job, replacing the American Flag for some. It’s less a uniform and more a branding iron. A declaration that your allegiance is not to a nation, but to a man. Or in this case, a giant golden cow.

I'm doing my best to NOT hyperbolize. The procession of tyranny doesn’t stomp in jackboots, it glides in on polished shoes, grinning for the cameras. And though it parades itself in broad daylight, it moves with the sleight of hand of a pickpocket, robbing rights before most can even notice they are gone. We’re already descending, and the men at the helm aren’t cloaked in shadows. They are right out front, waving flags, tossing confetti, and daring you to pretend it’s not a celebration of control, dominance and total destruction. The Devil's on the dancefloor.

Greenland UBI

Let’s do some quick maths. Trump’s floating this idea: offer every citizen of Greenland ten grand a year in UBI. That’s $10,000 per person, every year, in perpetuity! Greenland’s got about 56,000 people. That’s $560 million a year—just shy of what Denmark already provides in subsidies. Only now it’s our turn to cough it up, not because we give a damn about the people, but because someone’s got oil-lust and a colonial hard-on for polar real estate.

Meanwhile, back in the country they’re allegedly leading? Flint still doesn’t have clean water. Our trains still derail like it’s a sport. Hospitals are turning away women in labor because the ER’s been replaced with a Redbox and prayer. Teachers are crowdfunding chalk. And don’t even bring up insulin unless you want to see a grown adult cry.

But sure, let’s send half a billion a year to a population that doesn’t want us, for land we don’t need, under a plan we can’t afford. This is imperial cosplay with your paycheck.

This is stupid evil wrapped in tinfoil and stuffed in a clown car. It’s like watching a guy pawn his kids’ shoes to buy crypto, only dumber and with more flag pins... sorry, tiny golden trump face pins. These are the same bastards who tell you universal healthcare is “too expensive,” but suddenly we’ve got blank checks for geopolitical ice shopping.

This is theft. It’s the ruling class funneling your future into a sideshow because they think you’re too exhausted, too overworked, or too hypnotized by culture war theater to notice.

They won’t pay for bridges, but they’ll pay to colonize glaciers? They won’t fund schools, but they’ll bankroll Arctic manifest destiny with a corporate grin and a bullshit PowerPoint?

They’re doing it right in front of us. Grinning, winking and daring us to flinch. Because they’ve figure the nation has been trained to cheer for its own humiliation. To watch billion-dollar bribes go overseas while kids here grow up thinking busted teeth and chronic pain are just part of being American. And somehow, the outrage gets spun into patriotism. The scam turns into spectacle.

And if you’re not clapping or laughing along like that hyena Lutnick? Well, then you are like me. And I feel like the scarecrow in the field long after the harvest, arms outstretched, hollow-eyed, watching the grain cart roll past empty. I was never meant to stop it, just to see it for what it is, and still stand there, rooted, when the sky goes dark and the ground forgets my name.

Final Thoughts

We aren't in a 'phase' or on a 'detour'. We are at the destination. We are living amongst the shards of our broken inheritance. A republic passed down with frayed stitching and blood still drying at the seams. Men with soft hands and dead eyes now steer the wheel, mistaking their emptiness for order and their appetite for vision. They do not build. They do not grow. They only reap. And they reap everything.

There was a time in this country when a man could still smell the seasons change and know he belonged to something bigger than steel and slogans. Now that smell has been replaced by burnt wires and formaldehyde patriotism. Everything has a barcode. Everyone has a dossier. The land doesn’t whisper anymore. It just sighs.

These orders. These slow, bureaucratic, devouring orders. They come dressed as policy, but they are rot. They wear the language of law, but they hollow it out like termites in old wood. And we, the people, are expected to pretend it still stands, even as the roof caves in over our children’s heads.

It’s a harvest. And we are the field.

The machinery is clearly visible. The gears are turning. What they’re doing is not subtle, not clever, not hidden. It’s direct. It’s deliberate. It’s real. And it’s happening.

And when it arrives, you won’t be told you’re a criminal. You’ll be told you were never really a citizen. Never really American. Never really here.

So plant your feet. Speak when you are told to be silent. Remember the names they want you to forget. And keep your hand on the plow, even if they salt the earth.

Because if the story ends in silence, let it not be ours.