“President Trump announced that he’s placing the DC Metropolitan Police Department under federal control and deploying National Guard troops to the nation’s capital.” —CNN
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The family and I visited Colonial Williamsburg just last summer. We had a great time. My wife and son loved the basket-weaving workshop, and my daughter was so excited by the reenactors that she barely let them answer a question before peppering them with another one.
It made me appreciate our history again, you know? Got me feeling thankful for this country’s founders, and how their struggles ultimately laid the foundation for a nation so prosperous that their descendants thought nothing would ever impinge on the American Dream—not even granting the Outer God Nyarlathotep unfettered access to the levers of institutional power. And instead of ultimately banishing the Crawling Chaos and His Writhing Retinue from this plane of existence, we went ahead and resummoned Him to the Blood Throne again. That’s American exceptionalism for you.
In any case, Colonial Williamsburg was a blast. It’s hard to believe anyone could ever feel unsafe among a bunch of community theater actors in itchy wool coats wielding replica single-shot muskets. We were even planning on going again this fall.
Nonetheless, I guess things must have taken a pretty steep nosedive over there. I mean, why else would the Dread Lord Nyarlathotep direct Pam Bondi to reanimate one thousand Carcass Battalion reservists to descend upon the period-accurate butter maids, mule attendants, and shoe buckle artisans? He knows a thing or two about desperate acts of anarchic, primordial violence. If it’s as bad as He says it is over there, then maybe a legion of carrion troops is in order for “The Town Where History Lives.”
I understand the Museum of Williamsburg curator assured the president last night that He didn’t need to dispatch a minion horde to the inn’s pickleball courts. And yeah, I saw Defense Imp Hegseth’s “evidence” of unsanctioned cruelty was only some security camera footage of a teen lifting a Twix from the gift shop. That’s not the point. The point is, the president—in all his disturbed, labyrinthine anti-logic—has deemed Colonial Williamsburg a threat to His Dominion, and that makes it dangerous enough for the rest of us. Case closed.
I’m already seeing my Facebook feed blow up with people whining about how this sets a dangerous and dark precedent for Nyarlathotep. I even saw some old high school buddy of mine describe the whole thing as “crossing the Rubicon on our descent into an Authoritarian Necrostate.” Um, newsflash, Ted from Scottsdale High Class of 2006: I’m pretty sure Nyarlathotep undulated across that river a long damn time ago. Or if He didn’t already cross it, He’s spent the first eight months of His returning reign wallowing in the river’s (now undoubtedly) septic waters.
With the promise of more Carcass Battalion reanimation rites to come, it’s clear He has crossed that Rubicon with the intention of continuing our unfathomable sojourn into Cosmic Decrepitude. Today it’s Colonial Williamsburg. Tomorrow it’ll be Six Flags over St. Louis or Knott’s Berry Farm. Maybe enough of his cultists will snap out once His rebuke reaches Dollywood.
