Salvo 01.01.2021 9 minutes

New Year’s Revolutions


‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

2021 is here! We made it. Everything’s fine now, right?


I was just settling down at my desk for a long winter’s remote work session,

When what to my wondering eye did appear,

But a disheveled vagrant, his purpose unclear.

Oops, my bad. “Vagrant” is not the preferred nomenclature, Dude. The nudnik Los Angeles mayor calls the homeless “our unhoused neighbors,” but I prefer “hobo,” which conjures up wholesome images of adventurers with red kerchief sacks on sticks.

Anyway, this bum decided to make camp on the tranquil tree-lined sidewalk in front of our house. The kids and I watched as he sprawled out, munching on pumpkin seeds and spitting shells into the grass. For good measure he emptied his pockets and tossed his trash on the ground. Just when I was wondering if I’d have to end my day using a doggy doo doo bag to pick up whatever else he left behind, he got to his feet, swayed a little, and shuffled off.

The cops came long after he’d vanished.

Once 2020 has finally shuffled off, heaps of COVID-flecked detritus in its wake, its stench is sure to linger long into 2021. Luckily no one will have a sense of smell in a few months!

One more thing that’s going to stick around: a new and vigorous zest for ridding ourselves of things we despise. Call it a revolution if you like. I call it cleaning house. And I hate cleaning, but someone’s gotta do it.

New Year, New U.S.A.

I’ve watched enough hoarding shows to know that when you’re cleaning house, you make three piles: stuff to keep, stuff to sell, and stuff to toss. Let me get this list started for you, and feel free to add to it:

Keep America First and the Trump populist movement. This is the way. There is no other way. If it can be married to a charismatic candidate—someone quick-witted, physically magnetic, funny, and charming—we may win again, perhaps as soon as 2028.

Sell anything and everything that ties us to China. This includes half of our own compromised government, which apparently is stocked with honey pots and spies. China is no longer a country; it’s the ocean and we are a tiny raft adrift upon it. It’s time to fully divest ourselves. It may be too late. It probably is too late. I want to reopen a closed factory in Ohio and manufacture sneakers and toys and dog bowls so we have alternatives. Someone will do this; maybe you will.

Toss your TV remote. Influencers. The Nikki Haley candidacy that kicks off January 21st. Critical race theory and anti-racist truthers. OnlyFans and the sex work industry as “normal” parts of the gig economy. Take out this trash and leave it on the curb where it belongs.

Say Hello to My Little Friends

My 74 million new friends, that is. They can’t kill or cancel us all, but they’ll try. Make no mistake, if they could press a button and vaporize us to the last breeding pair, they would not hesitate. In my former corporate stooge day jobs, many a normie lib would confide their wish that flyover people would “just die already.” This is commonly discussed at their homes; you know, the houses with the “We believe in kindness” signs on the lawns. They absolutely hate you and do not want your unity, only your terrified silence. But our massive size is our strength.

They’re gonna need a bigger virus.

Welcome to the Resistance

A terrible cringe word, I know. What should we call it? Rebellion? Don’t mention the Tea Party, please. All I know is that our version of the resistance will not include pink hats knitted by barren cat ladies. We don’t adhere to their conformist, one-hat rules, do we? After all, diversity is our strength, not theirs!

But how to resist? Take up arms? My normiecon boomer mother, who is outraged at the stolen election, declared she was ready to “grab her musket” (she doesn’t have one) and “hit the streets” (she doesn’t know from streets).

Yet resistance is busting out all over. Restaurant owners with bullhorns and billboards are trolling the lockdowns. A college professor I know told me a student asked him for his pronouns and he told her to “take a guess.” Employees who participate in mandatory anti-racist Zoom struggle sessions where they are forced to confess their White privilege spend the hour secretly texting each other mocking the trainers.

Maybe these things are too tiny to matter. 74 million drops though. Eventually enough tiny drops can fill a bucket. Let’s see how many buckets we can fill in 2021.

And Now, Some Awards

It wouldn’t be an end-of-the-year article without awards. Here are just a few, just for fun.

Unintentional Man of the Year

Runners up: Pope Francis and the WHO’s Tedros Ghebreyesus. Thanks for nothing, you guys!

Winner: The face that launched a thousand riots, Helen of Floyd, peace be upon him.

Woman of the Year

Runner up: Kate Middleton.The fate of a fading empire now rests on those chic, narrow shoulders. Long live the Qween!

Winner: Karen, in all her incarnations. For all their flaws, at least the Karens are willing to speak up when confronted with a perceived injustice.  Are you? Be like Karen. She has shown the way!

Teen of the Year

Runner up: Champion cheerleader Mimi Brooks, whose life was ruined and lost her spot at U of Tennessee after a years-old video of her saying the n-word (with a soft r) was leaked by a despicable worm named Jimmy Galligan. If you don’t want White teenagers to talk like Cardi B, maybe rap should be banned for White kids. I don’t listen to much rap anymore, so I wanted to see how widespread n-words are these days. I opened Spotify, clicked on United States Top 50 and literally it was the first word I heard (on “Rockstar,” not a terrible song).

The Mimi Brooks story reminded me of something I saw a few weeks ago. Sasha Obama posted a TikTok video where she and some (White) friends are lip syncing a song called “Adderall” by 20-year old rapper Popp Hunna. The clip isn’t long enough to show the whole song, but did Sasha’s White pals also sing along to the seven instances of “n****z” in the song? Huh. I wonder if that video would get them all thrown out of U Mich. I don’t want censorship—I just want mercy for Mimi.

Winner: Kyle Rittenhouse, for extreme calm under fire while being chased by armed and horny pedophiles.

Trend of the Year

Runners up: Among Us, TikTok nurse dances, mild alcoholism.

Winner: Moving.

Catchphrase of the Year

Runners up: “Say His Name,” “Do the Work,” “I’m Speaking”

Winner: “We’re all in this together”

Ask the owner of the Pineapple Grill. The people who killed themselves in despair. The waitresses and bartenders and valet parkers and Airbnb owners who saw their life savings vaporized. The kids imprisoned in their homes. The divide between rich and non-rich, elite and nonelite, politician and civilian, is stark. They want you to focus on color so you don’t focus on the real privilege, which is a government paycheck that will never stop coming, that will never get reduced, that will never bounce.

Politician of the Year

Xi. He took a big risk, letting that new bat AIDS virus out of the Level 4 Lab down in Wuhan, but it was the only way to stop the existential threat of Trump. Historically, the country with the biggest concentration camps will start, and then lose, a war. Fingers crossed!

Business of the Year

Plate glass manufacturers and installers, who had the best year of their lives, thanks to the youthful exuberance of the peaceful BLM protests.

Word of the Year

Boomerwaffen. These are the people in the armada of vans and trucks who organized the impromptu Trump car parades all over this summer. Laugh at them all you wish but you may want them coming through your town soon.

Lie of the Year

“No evidence of fraud.” The Democrats were shocked—shocked!—that anyone would accuse them of fraud, when I’ve been told for decades that cheating is common in Democrat machine cities. Amazing, isn’t it, that after decades of fraud Donald Trump ran the first clean election in American history. What a guy!

Artist of the Year

Hunter Biden. His paintings, have you seen them? What a talent. His technique involves using something called “alcohol ink,” which he “blows with a metal straw.” Huh, wonder where he came up with that idea?

2020’s Most Comically Incompetent Villains

Poll workers and their suitcases full of ballots. Don’t make it quite so obvious next time, ladies.

2020’s Most Dangerously Competent Villains

BLM activists. They got everything they wanted for Christmas, including the new L.A. District Attorney, who is firmly in their pocket.

Biggest Winner of the Year

Runner up: President Trump, duh.

Winner: The tiny daycare inmates who were liberated from toddler prison and got to spend lockdown in the bosom of their families, napping in their own damn cribs. Please, parents, I beg you, don’t make them go back. Defund daycares! Abolish minimum-wage “caregivers”!

You Say You Want a Revolution?

Well, you know, we all want to change the world. What are you prepared to do? Me, not much, at least overtly. I don’t like cleaning blood off clothes and I have zero interest in losing a street battle to fat government employees farting up the insides of their Dept. of Homeland Security armored vehicles. 

So what are the strings we can yank that will make the Biden grandpa sweater administration unravel?

We have powerful ideas on our side. We have the best ideas, don’t we, folks? These ideas hit the big time under Trump, and they’re not going to just vanish when his presidency ends. Drain the swamp! Build the wall! Jobs not mobs! Law and order! Bring our troops home! Many more.

Yes, this is the last year of the Trump presidency, that first magical term. Withdrawal will be tough. What’s methadone for a Trump addiction? More Twitter? Pence? Let me know what I can try. I will never stop cherishing the euphoria of election night 2016, and I am extremely bitter I didn’t get to taste it one last time. No matter what else happens, he changed everything, for the better, and there is no going back. Thank God.

Donald Trump punched a giant Cheeto-shaped hole in the flimsy wall of our crumbling post-Obama corporate dystopia. Through it, we hear birds chirping and we can glimpse the rolling hills and fragrant meadows of a lost ancestral past we saw in a dream once, and a future we feel drawn to claim. We must claim it. And so here we come, pouring through the hole, all 74 million of us, b*tch! (Sorry, been listening to Cardi.)

We are heading into a promising but incredibly dangerous new realm. We are exposed and don’t have sufficient cover. Don’t be distracted by shiny objects—you must keep going through. Don’t listen to the respecta-cons of the right calling you back inside with promises of a fun party and warm stew. The stew is a thin gruel and the party will involve you in a dunk tank. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Go into the light, children! All are welcome!

Link arms with the normiecons, the MAGA moms, the boomers, the Karens, the zoomers, the Q people, the Alex Jones people, the Trump rally people, the My Pillow guy, the trads, the Twitter weirdos, the based Latinos, the cops, the TERFS, the last guy at your firm who hasn’t put his pronouns in his email signature, the folx who still know what gender they are, and all the other wonderful Americans out there who don’t hate this country yet.

It’s not even about protecting “America” anymore. Might be too late for that. It’s about protecting each other.

With “one equal temper of heroic hearts,” go. For that way lies a newer world.

It just might take a minute to get there.

The American Mind presents a range of perspectives. Views are writers’ own and do not necessarily represent those of The Claremont Institute.

The American Mind is a publication of the Claremont Institute, a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization, dedicated to restoring the principles of the American Founding to their rightful, preeminent authority in our national life. Interested in supporting our work? Gifts to the Claremont Institute are tax-deductible.

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