“It’s a long night in the White House and a long night in America.
It’s a folded newspaper on a silver tray, and the headline screams: WAR, AND AMERICA IS LOSING.
You’re the president and you read it. You can’t not read it.
It’s 3AM and the moon is sitting in the sky. Lopsided. A blood moon.
The enemy hasn’t just landed on our shore. He’s in every community in the country. He’s inside the inside:
Every mom and pop store, every small and medium business in the nation is signaling frantically to you: WRECKAGE. WRECKAGE. WRECKAGE. WRECKAGE.
Is no one hearing those voices? Is it a silent movie? Just because the traitorous press refuses to cover it?
Mr. Trump, when are you going to fight the enemy? When are you going to declare the real state of emergency?
Millions of people who voted for you are on hold. They’re waiting.
They’re waiting for the cavalry to come over the hill.
In a state of war with the country fully invaded, with the economic devastation that has been visited on the land…
You’re surrendering to the likes of those two-bit vampires, De Blasio and Cuomo, to that blown-dry idiot, Newsom. The governors and mayors are taking you out.
That’s your destiny?
Who are you?
What’s the watchword and the battle cry in this crisis?
Is it Tom Paine? “THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.”
Or is it, “Order a contactless pizza from Domino’s”?
That once great city, New York, your city, lies in ruins.
Who, Mr. Trump, is the enemy? Who has stormed the beaches and swarmed into the cities and towns of this country? Who has taken down the engines of business?
Do you know?”