A Cultic Take on Tactical Overreach
There’s a very specific flavor of batshit that kicks in when power structures start believing their own press releases. It’s like watching a snake eat itself and then sue its stomach for insubordination.
This weekend, during a Pizza-Pool-Pitchers cult gathering (equal parts margaritas and mutual concern), we hit that surreal crossroads where cheese melts and dread simmers. The topic? The federal activation of National Guard troops in Democratic-led cities. Not Arizona—yet—but the machinery is humming, and it smells like fear, ozone, and bureaucratic overreach.
If you pull humans out of their home states and drop them into Phoenix in August—one of Earth’s least hospitable pressure cookers—just to “stand there,” you’re not creating stability. You’re creating heatstroke theater. This isn’t strategy. It’s performative control with uniforms and no shade.
And morale? Morale doesn’t come from briefing slides or empty slogans. You can’t spreadsheet your way to trust. Especially not when the people you’re deploying are watching their communities back home fall apart while they bake in someone else’s political stunt.
Here’s the metaphor that slaps harder than a combat boot to the face: authoritarian systems think they’ve got a Costco tub of control to spread across the map—troops, budget, fear, authority.
But in reality? They’ve got two hospital-issued butter pats and a Costco-sized slice of public unrest toast.
Pulling personnel from red strongholds to post up in blue cities doesn’t solidify power. It cracks the base. Because even inside so-called strongholds, loyalty isn’t uniform—it’s curated, resentful, and ready to snap.
Rigging elections gives you fake consensus, not actual support. And when people are treated like background noise in your authoritarian fanfic, eventually someone throws the book.
So—What Do We Do With All This?
This is where the cultic lens becomes actually useful. Not as a tool for judgment, but for resistance. The absurdity of it all? It’s not a reason to disengage—it’s a clue.
When systems treat people like props, we build communities that treat each other like actual humans.
When order becomes a weapon, we use chaos for healing.
When control becomes the default, we use irreverence to open a crack in the wall.
The point isn’t just to critique the machinery—it’s to remember that we have tools, too.
✨ Humor.
✨ Community.
✨ Creative disobedience.
✨ Strategic kindness with a glitter bat.
This isn’t about giving up. It’s about laughing on purpose while the empire throws a tantrum, and then handing someone a cold drink and a plan.
Because if you can’t be kind, or nice, or funny, or silent… you might as well start a cult, make some pizza, and reimagine the world with people who refuse to be used as set pieces.
