A Whisper of Dissent in MAGA Country
Crook County bleeds red. In the blood-type-for-fascism sense, not the rustic patriotism sense. We’re talking one of the reddest counties in the reddest state in America. MAGA hats are practically part of the school uniform, and Trump flags flutter like sanctified relics in front yards year-round.
So when one of those flags quietly disappeared from a house on Main Street, I noticed.
A Flag Comes Down, A Question Goes Up
When my wife and I moved here four years ago, the house in question flew the U.S. flag—on top, as protocol demands—and just beneath it, the banner of the man who believes protocols are for suckers: Donald J. Trump. That flag was there every day, through four seasons of Wyoming weather, standing proud like a middle finger to democracy.
Until about a month ago.
I drove by on my usual run to the post office, glanced at the pole out of habit—and blinked. No Trump. Just the U.S. flag and, beneath it, the state flag of Wyoming. It looked… normal. Startlingly normal.
No Confrontation, Just Speculation
Now, I’ve never spoken to the homeowners. I don’t know them, and I don’t pretend to. All I know is what they flew. But the last time I saw the Trump flag, it didn’t look worn or tattered. It wasn’t shredded by time—it was pristine. And given my weekly internal monologue involving box cutters and hypothetical acts of petty rebellion, I would’ve noticed if it were falling apart.
So why swap it out? Why now?
Was it a simple fabric rotation? A moment of introspection? Regret? Boredom? Did someone finally Google “indictment” and realize what it means?
I don’t know. But I can’t help wondering.
The Empire’s Cracks Don’t Start With Earthquakes
In a sane world, the fall of a dictator-in-waiting wouldn’t rely on reading Wyoming flagpoles like political tarot cards. But when Congress is too afraid to speak the Emperor’s name, and the Supreme Court keeps handing him new god-tier powers like they’re loot drops in an authoritarian RPG, we take our hope where we can get it.
Because here’s the brutal truth: if change is going to come, it’s not coming from DC. It’s not coming from white-shoe law firms or think tanks that confuse “cowardice” with “strategic silence.” It’s coming from us—the regular people watching flags rise and fall on our streets.
Even here. Even now.
A Quiet Maybe
So maybe, just maybe, a household in Crook County lowered their Trump flag not because it was faded or torn, but because they’d had enough. Maybe they wanted to say, in the smallest way possible: “We’re still Americans. Just… not that kind.”
And if that’s the case?
That’s a hell of a start.
