The latest war of words from Cheeto Satan’s enemies is a full-blown meme battle. He reposted a heretical meme—faces slapped on dancing apes, set to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” tacked onto the end of an election-fraud rant video—and suddenly the sky is falling. Bipartisan pearl-clutching ensues, even from folks like Tim Scott calling it the “most racist thing” he’s seen from the White House. The post gets nuked, staffer takes the fall, Trump shrugs and says he didn’t watch the whole thing. And the outrage machine revs up like this is the final straw that demands… what? Another impeachment? Exile to Elba?
But seriously? It’s a meme. A crude, juvenile, troll-level joke pulled from the depths of conservative meme lords on X. In the grand parade of “apocalyptic sins” hurled at Trump over the years—Russia hoaxes, impeachments over phone calls, January 6 as insurrection, endless “threat to democracy” sermons—this rates as the hill to die on? After all the prior hysterics that turned out to be hot air?
The opposition is losing their rizz. They’ve cried wolf so many times that when something genuinely provocative drops, it just blends into the noise. It’s performative sanctimony—virtue-signaling pastors and politicians thundering about heresy while ignoring their own side’s excesses. Our god-king is holy and the other guy is a heretical existential threat to everything good. The people demand a strongman to smite their enemies, but when the other tribe’s guy ascends, suddenly “No Kings!” protests erupt (those massive 2025 rallies shouting down authoritarianism, conveniently forgetting the imperial aura around certain prior administrations).
Rizzed Up King
Imperator Caesar Divi Filius Augustus Pontifex Maximus Pater Patriae Princeps Senatus Optimus Maximus Invictus Semper Victoriosissimus Restitutor Orbis Mundi Dominus et Deus Noster Barack Hussein Obama was insulted by an AI mashup slapping a monkey face on his holy visage. Not to be outdone, Augusta Maxima Pia Felix Mater Patriae Mater Castrorum Domina Nostra Michelle My Belle Obama Caesonia Augusta got the same treatment.
Cue the outrage army: You can’t mock Caesar Obama and Caesonia My Bella like that—blasphemy against the divine imperial couple! Epic heresy! If Trump wasn’t president, guillotine! Somebody DO SOMETHING!
Even Clergy Joined the Outrage Choir
Even clergy joined the outrage choir My retired Senior Pastor Keith Hill and current pastor Josh Madrinski both shared Dan Scott‘s Facebook post: “It is in that spirit—not intended uncharitably, but with genuine concern—that I ask whether the white American evangelical embrace of Donald Trump represents not merely a political miscalculation, but a serious spiritual departure from the faith as we have received it.”
So… three pastors dutifully genuflecting before a shrine to a former seat warmer in the Oval Office. “No Kings” was a thing for a while. But the proud zealots protesting their fantasy Habañero Hitler project their hunger for a king onto Him Who Shall Not Be Named.
Scott asks if embracing the Orange Peel is a serious spiritual departure. Am I then supposed to nod that the Managers are the orthodox, acceptable clergy of Progressive USA? That worship before Caesar Augustus Obama’s shrine is my ticket to inclusion in the bubble?
Nah. I follow Jesus—full stop.
Death to THAT Heretical King!
This isn’t the first time our hunger for a king is overpowering. This king-hunger has bedeviled us for over 3,000 years—ever since ~1050 BCE when Israel begged Samuel for a visible strongman “like all the other nations.” Samuel warned them: “He will take… take… take…” They got Saul anyway. Uncle Sam is a hungry man who keeps asking more from and returning less.
Fast forward to 1620 or so and my ancestor’s frustration with the British crown was strong enough to motivate them to get on a boat and sail to the New World to get away from him. But the frustration ran deeper—back to Charles I in the 1630s, when Puritans boarded ships, risking near-certain death, because staying meant compromising their faith under a crown that demanded uniformity or else. They got on a boat and nearly died so they could worship God without a king’s permission slip. That’s the wager: freedom over security, conscience over coercion, grace over control. And we still forget it every time we crave a new strongman to “fix” things.
My ancestors were so frustrated with King George that they sailed to the New World to get away from him. They wanted no more Caesar, no more “take your sons for chariots,” no more distant throne deciding their worship, taxes, or future. They bet on a republic instead.
Our King is Good
And here we are. A country divided along tribal lines. You must be either Red or Blue. Your fealty to your tribe is under constant attack. Bought a Yeti Rambler on a whim from Cabella’s. You might be a MAGAt. Fill your life with talismans, shrines, flags, and colored hair to make sure other tribe members know you are one of the good people? You might belong to the Woke True Folk. Christian? Your tribal color is white? That’s so *ist.
For now. Don’t get caught laughing at the wrong meme or confessing that you like meat sticks from Cabellas. Blue Tribe membership is a tricky business. It’s so easy to backslide. Even reading this post or other pieces published in this space could risk shunning by the managers of the WTF. Do it. Take the risk. The Blue Managers were gonna be outraged anyway.
Three millennia after Samuel’s warning. Two and a half centuries after the Revolution. And we still want a king so bad it hurts. Trump reposts a dumb meme → national blasphemy crisis. Clergy genuflect before the Obama shrine. Both sides project their coronation hunger onto the other guy. The empire of managers keeps growing, still large and ineffective, inching toward oppressive. Samuel, the Founders, and your ancestors are all face-palming in unison.
Hot Cross Takes
My comment on Facebook under Josh’s repost of the Don Scott post, “I follow Jesus. The word wars between our President and his opposition aren’t top of mind for me. Post like this run through a lens: does engaging with the words build me up in Christ or pull me away? Here, an unfortunate joke about Obama, wants to pull me into outrage at Cheetoh Satan. Which . . . doesn’t help me stay on track with “give grace first.” So . . . . what’s my take: everybody exhale, myself included.”
Well that’s heresy. How dare I reply with, “meh.” Nothing short of a full throated tantrum at the existential attack on all that is good and holy is sufficient. I need to understand what’s understood, that the Managers are wise an beneficient. Also that I owe them lit incense and genuflection at the shrine to Holy Augustus Obama. Yeah . . . so . . . I’ve been a heritic for decades. No reason to stop being heretical now.
If you read enough of this space you’ll know the back story. All my adjectives make me existentially bad to the Managers. White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, Convicted Wife Beater and general No-Account Bum. I am so shunned it’s beyond comical. A word from this heretic: don’t let the outrage capture you.
An Appetite for Imperialism
Three millennia after Samuel’s warning. Two and a half centuries after the Revolution. And we still want a king so bad it hurts. Trump reposts a dumb meme → national blasphemy crisis. Clergy genuflect before the Obama shrine. Both sides project their coronation hunger onto the other guy. The empire of managers keeps growing, still large and ineffective, inching toward oppressive. Samuel, the Founders, and your ancestors are all face-palming in unison.
Jesus was more anarchist than anything else. His peers wanted a warrior-king to smash Rome. He said the kingdom is in your midst—not a new throne, but God’s rule breaking in right here, right now, without coercion. He became the resurrected temple we now are—no more centralized shrines or strongmen. My ancestors sailed and nearly died to escape one crown. We still chase new ones. Jesus says: follow me instead. Full stop.
Even clergy aren’t immune to tantrums about the heretical words of that despicable dictator and Mangled Apricot Hellbeast. He laughed at a meme and for that he must be erased from our visage. tbh . . . don’t care. It was a meme—a joke. A funny joke at that. Yet the reaction is to dog pile on a fantasy of the evilist evil evil beast ever to exhale his poisin on the rest of us. It’s still funny, tho. My pastor’s words are forgiveable.
No Kings
This is what’s funny to me about the “No Kings” protests: millions hit the streets in 2025—June on Trump’s birthday parade day, October with over 7 million at 2,700+ events—chanting “America has no kings,” “no thrones, no crowns,” defending democracy against one man’s power grabs. Noble on paper. But what it really boiled down to was “we want our kings and no other.” All hail Caesar Augustus Obama! All hail the managerial clerisy guarding the sacred order! Jesus is my God and my King. Full stop. The rest is just another round of the same old hunger Samuel warned about 3,000 years ago.
Look around: the outrage isn’t about memes or policy—it’s about whose king gets mocked. The Blue Tribe demands perfect fealty to their imperial couple and managerial clerisy; cross one line (a joke, a purchase, a doubt), and you’re excommunicated. The Red Tribe does the same with their avenging lion—question the Orange Peel, and you’re a RINO traitor. Both sides scream “No Kings!” while building altars to their own.
Meanwhile, the empire of managers bloats on, taking more (taxes, sons for endless wars, daughters for compliance theater, fields for corporate cronies) and delivering less (real freedom, real community, real grace). It’s Saul’s chariot corps in modern HR form—large, ineffective, creeping toward oppressive.
Samuel Said
Three thousand years after Samuel’s warning. Four hundred years after Puritans risked death on leaky boats to escape one crown. Two hundred fifty years after the Revolution said “no more kings.” And we’re still begging for visible strongmen to “fix” it all—because self-governance under grace feels too hard, too slow, too vulnerable. But here’s the quiet heresy: the kingdom isn’t won by thrones or protests or purity spirals. It’s already here, in the midst of us, non-coercive, servant-shaped, resurrected in broken people like you and me. No permission slip from Caesar required.
It’s been a minute since I asked this question: “Who is your king?” Who do you worship and pray to? The meme wars, the outrage choir, the Managers or the Mango Mussolini? I follow Jesus—full stop. He’s the only one who doesn’t take, take, take. He gave and gives. He died for heretics like us. And He rose so we could live free from every false throne.
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