The Right Resistance: Joe Biden’s Establishment Re-Occurring Groundhog Day
Anyone in the mood for a little humor?
It’s safe to say a lot of people woke up this morning not realizing it was Groundhog Day, or if they did, they most likely just hoped the calendar date meant there’s only four more weeks of winter (or six depending on whether the groundhog sees his shadow) left to bear. Groundhog Day is a uniquely North American (established by the Pennsylvania Dutch) tradition made even more endearing by the 1993 film Groundhog Day, starring the always hilarious and inimitable Bill Murray. The premise of the film has the main character, Phil Connors, waking up each morning surprised to discover it’s February 2nd all over again -- complete with its frigid temperatures, silly ceremonies and overly enthusiastic observants. The movie is about as fictitious as it gets, though lately, many of us feel like every day is the same. In our semi-locked down world that is COVID-19 reality, there just isn’t much to do that hasn’t been impacted by the authorities ordering us to distance from each other and cloak ourselves in PPE or possibly face the prospect of a premature death. But what if time actually did warp and Joe Biden and Kamala Harris woke up (not together, obviously) every day and it was Inauguration Day, 2025, and… Donald Trump was set to take the oath of office again? Talk about a Democrat derangement redux! For now, the liberal establishment is living with its own very real version of Trump comeback anxiety. Patrick J. Buchanan wrote at CNS News,
“Why … are the Democrats continuing with this exercise in vengeance? They want Trump convicted so that he will be prohibited from ever again holding public office. The establishment fears that Trump could make a comeback, win the Republican primaries in 2024, become the nominee, and return in triumph as president. “They are determined to abort that possibility. Many openly admit it. “What does that say about the liberal establishment's love of democracy when they would disqualify, in advance, the largest vote-getter their opposition party ever had, out of fear he might come back to win the presidency as he did in 2016?”
It's a legitimate question, one that needs to be asked. For what it’s worth, Buchanan further wrote that it’s unlikely Trump would or could make the ultimate political regeneration, his age and poor current standing among the ruling class probably precluding any kind of miraculous reappearance. I share his view. But even the possibility of Trump part II sends shivers up the spines of Democrats and Trump’s Republican elitist enemies alike to the point they’re throwing caution to the wind and pursuing another impeachment farce that’s doomed to fail before the first official word is uttered.
But since it’s February 2nd today, and anything’s possible, why not speculate? Due to spatial concerns, we can only present one segment in Joe Biden’s personal Groundhog Day-the-movie like sequence. Just imagine every 24-hour period begins and ends the same way for him.
--The scene is upstairs in the White House living quarters on January 20, 2025. Joe Biden is enjoying his final few hours of residence, compelled by law and tradition to vacate the historic mansion after his four disastrous years of governance as president. The Democrat chief executive did his darndest to change America into the colorless politically correct utopia of his handlers’ wildest fantasies, but he failed miserably. The previous November, voters turned him out in a fraud-proof landslide rivaling Richard Nixon’s in 1972, a near impossible feat in 21st century America.
African-Americans finally got fed up with the Democrat Party’s unkept promises and obnoxious pandering; they cast over fifty percent of their ballots for Joe’s Republican opponent. Without the liberals’ main lock-step support group, Democrat candidates flamed out practically everywhere. It was an epic calamity -- like 2020 but with a genuine presidential race result.
Making matters even worse for wimpy Grampa Joe, the electorate chose to return the hated Donald Trump to his former stomping grounds, which he will assume today at 12 of the clock EST, just a few hours hence. It turns out Americans felt Trump’s “Make America Great Again” slogan was a catchier theme than Biden’s “Build Back More Better,” which was just something a highly priced liberal establishment political consultant conjured up anyway.
Let the day commence! Just like the previous morning, Biden’s phone alarm was programmed to awaken him at 6 a.m. to his favorite song, “Tomorrow” from the Broadway musical Annie:
“The sun will come out tomorrow,
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun…
So you gotta hang on ‘til tomorrow, come what may!
Grampa Joe lifted his 82-year-old frame out of bed and did as he was instructed to do by the song’s lyrics. Glancing out the window, he noticed the sun was shining brightly, the dawning of a new era in America. ‘It almost looks like the earth is happy again,’ Joe thought to himself, like the gloomy storm clouds of the previous four years had somehow moved east and it was time to be optimistic again.
Then it dawned on him that it was DonaldTrump’s second inauguration day and Biden’s cheery mood vanished in an instant. “What am I gonna wear today?” Joe barked at his personal attendant who’d also heard the alarm’s familiar refrain. “The same thing you wore yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that,” the beaming helper replied in a sing-song-y voice, feeling joy she couldn’t conceal.
“Why are you so gleeful. I’m leaving today,” Joe asked, confused as always.
Not receiving an answer, Joe hastily threw on his favorite blue suit that he’d warn to his own January 20th ceremony in 2021 and skipped like a child downstairs to the East Room. There he noticed Vice President Kamala Harris seated at a huge table in the big empty space, appearing as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. Big bags dwelled underneath her eyes and they were red as Hunter’s were after one of his crack binges. Kamala obviously had been sobbing uncontrollably. Over what? he wondered.
“Oh hello, Joe. Great to see you. Hard to believe this will be our last breakfast snack together. I’d always hoped you wouldn’t decide to run again and I would get the nomination and this would be my inauguration day,” Kamala said candidly, finally suppressing the urge to sugarcoat her real feelings about her longtime political partner’s pathetic decision-making ability. “I’ve always thought you were two jokers short of a full deck, but this is ridiculous.”
Biden couldn’t understand why Harris would say such a thing at this emotionally charged moment, but this all seemed weirdly familiar, like he’d heard it before. Was it yesterday? Or last week? Or last month? Déjà vu on steroids?
“Gimme a break, Kamala. Here’s the deal. We eat this slop one more time, then get in the limo waiting outside the door and ride down the street to that big white building on the hill. Then they say presto-change-o or something like that, then I get on AMTRAK and head back to Delaware for the last time and you… well, I dunno. Doesn’t matter where they dump you off, does it? Your political career is history like the 1619 Project.”
Kamala no longer hid her tears and it was as though someone turned on the spigots in her eye ducts and couldn’t close them again. Wailing as if she were at a funeral, Biden couldn’t take Harris’s screeching liberal feminist rage any longer and made a mad dash for the front door, only to be halted by the sudden sunlight blocking presence of Barack Obama.
“Not so fast, Joe,” the Big O mumbled impatiently, his own Secret Service detail hovering in the background. “This occasion is like a reoccurring nightmare for me, one I’ve had for years. In the dream sequence, I have to come over here every day to talk to you about what Trump is going to do to my legacy. You trashed me for four years now and your doddering incompetence couldn’t get anything passed in Congress. ‘Biden-care’? Are you serious? Now when everyone thinks of us, they’ll remember what an idiot you were. I can’t live with it. Me n’ Michelle are goin’ with you in the limo, dang-it. I don’t care if someone’s gonna have to stick their rear out the window to make room. Get used to it, bud.”
Ever compliant with the anointed one’s wishes, Biden simply nodded, stared at the ground and handed his former boss the keys to the car. Obama playfully flipped them to the on duty Secret Service driver, then the assembled and waiting group (which included Kamala’s husband, Michelle Obama, Dr. Jill, Dr. Jill’s first husband, Hillary and Bill Clinton, a couple big Democrat donors, presidential brothers Jim and Frank Biden and prodigal son Hunter Biden) piled into the back of the limo like a rugby team groping for a loose ball.
True to Obama’s premonition, Hunter volunteered to let his thong-speedo barely covered hindquarters hang out the partially cracked window. What’s there to be ashamed of? He’d just been sprung from prison by a last-minute presidential pardon!
Conversation lagged on the way to Trump’s ceremony because the car’s occupants were squished together like shrimps in a tuna can, the group laying practically on top of each other as each person grappled for more open airspace. Joe wondered to himself, ‘What is this, a game of Twister?’ Biden griped that Michelle Obama’s foot was too close to his face, and someone shrieked when Bill Clinton nibbled on their ankle, but what can you do? It’s not like they had to endure this hardship every day -- or did they?
After a few torturous minutes, Nancy Pelosi greeted the limo as it drove into the capitol parking turnout. Having failed -- twice -- to impeach Trump, her wrinkled brow looked graver than ever. San Fran Nan managed to hold onto the speakership for ten years total, but now she was reduced to a soon-to-be private citizen facing impeachment herself, the House’s new speaker -- Colorado’s Lauren Boebert -- already having introduced and passed a half dozen articles accusing the 84-year-old Bay Area elitist of inciting a riot, corruption, and downright nastiness. Pelosi prayed that the capitol police wouldn’t know her.
Biden waved to the crinkled old crone as the car passed her, the president thinking he recognized the old lady in handcuffs surrounded by a personal protection detail, but he wasn’t certain.
Upon exiting the car, Grampa Joe bumbled his way through the building, greeting well-wishers he encountered, the whole ritual seeming like something he’d done many days before -- like a rehearsal. It took 459 times repeating the scenario for him to finally learn everyone’s name. There were a lot fewer Democrat faces than there were at his own inauguration, which felt like a long, long time ago. He spotted Trump -- or someone who looked like him -- out of the corner of his eye. Could this really be happening?
His aides had counseled Joe not go at all, figuring if Trump had skipped his big day four years ago, there was no reason to embarrass himself by showing up at his successor’s swearing-in. But some eighth grader had scribbled a handwritten note to him talking about unity or something -- he hadn’t really paid attention to the kid’s words -- so here he was, seated on the dais with lots of people around waiting for the moment when Donald Trump would become America’s 47th president.
Kamala Harris was there along with Hillary and Bill Clinton, the Obamas, George W. and Laura Bush and the who’s who of Washington establishment society. Hunter occupied his chair but was constantly peeking around, searching for the nearest escape route. All wore glum faces as Donald Trump stepped forward to receive the oath from still Chief Justice John Roberts. When Roberts wished the new president congratulations, Trump launched into a short speech about restoring America’s greatness by working for every American and putting them first above the privileged class. Like everything else on this day, the themes sounded hauntingly familiar to Joe.
Just as he was about to get up and leave, the mentally slipping former president nodded off. Unable to postpone sleep until he was sure that his nightmare was over, Biden practically slipped off his chair leaning forward, his forehead lodged against a plexiglass shield and spittle dripping from one corner of his mouth.
No matter, Donald Trump was president again. America rejoiced. And at long last, the nation’s days of wandering in the wilderness were over.
The next day, Joe Biden’s alarm rang and the day repeated itself. It was Donald Trump’s Inauguration Day all over again, and would last into Grampa Joe’s mortal eternity.