We've avoided the planeloads of black-clad Antifa anarchists descending on our towns and suburbs, and so far the Proud Boys and Boogaloos have stood back. Voting was not disrupted as some feared. But calamity looms like a cloud of locusts on the horizon.
Catching a whiff of defeat, our ruler has proclaimed: Cry havoc and let slip the lawyers of war! And the valiant paladins of pettifoggery gird their loins for battle. Valiant Sir Rudy, defender of the realm, strides to the front, flanked by the royal princes. They know the field of legal battle has been well prepared by the addition of fresh-faced, loyal black robes on the Supreme Council of Nine.
Like Europe at the approach of the Golden Horde, all tremble as our leader summons legions of litigators. Neither assault rifles, N-95 masks, nor bear spray can protect us from the briefcases- and laptops-wielding attorneys. Anyone going near a courthouse in the Upper Midwest, the West or even the South must wear steel-toed boots as protection from stampeding Gucci loafers as lawyers hurl briefs and counter briefs.
Can our nation survive the march of the lawyers? For they will valiantly defend their client and down to the last billable hour. Woe unto America. For the greatest leader ever in history has vowed to rule this realm another four years or leave it a smoking ruin of toxic lawsuits.