The Psychotics are Running the Hospital
The State of the Republican Party
By Dino Alonso
Imagine, if you will, a grand hospital. Once, it was a place where tradition stitched wounds and principles delivered care. Today, the asylum doors hang broken on their hinges, and the orderlies have surrendered their clipboards to the inmates. Welcome to America, 2025, where the psychotics are not just running the hospital—they’ve burned the medical journals, fired the last remaining doctors, and renamed the place "Trumpcare for Patriots."
Meet the Chief Patient: Donald Trump
At the heart of this madhouse, rolling through the halls in a gold-plated wheelchair he doesn’t need, is Donald Trump himself. Not a conservative. Not a Republican. Not even a coherent ideology masquerading as a man. Trump is a cult leader built from grievance, fatherly cruelty, and a hunger for domination so primal it might be classified as a basic life function.
He does not believe in "small government." He does not believe in "fiscal responsibility." He believes in Donald Trump—and if the building collapses around him, so much the better. He will stand atop the rubble, declare it the "most beautiful ruins anyone has ever seen," and demand applause.
The Inner Ward: True Believers, Opportunists, and Executors
Circling him are the chosen: the sadists, the sycophants, the bureaucratic necromancers.
Stephen Miller, the goblin architect of cruelty, dreams of America as a walled fortress patrolled by heartless functionaries and moral bankruptcy agents.
Kash Patel, who treats the law not as a guardrail but as a cudgel, sees enemies everywhere—especially in institutions not named after Trump.
Ric Grenell, the human embodiment of a Twitter flame war, believes diplomacy is for the weak and loyalty is owed only upward.
Elise Stefanik, once a moderate, now the plasticized echo of MAGA fervor, perfectly preserved in her glass display case of ambition.
J.D. Vance, who intellectualizes authoritarianism with the greasy earnestness of a used car salesman hawking a "populist" lemon.
Pam Bondi, America's Attorney General of Revenge, who views justice not as blind but as an Instagram model gazing adoringly at Mar-a-Lago.
Kristi Noem, once a Valkyrie-in-training, now a Homeland Security secretary whose loyalty is matched only by her knack for PR disasters involving firearms and small animals.
These figures are not conservatives. They are not republicans. They are soldiers of power, marching to the drumbeat of Trump’s fragile ego, loyal not to principle but to dominance—and their own starring roles in this long, bloody sitcom.
The Outer Ward: Useful Idiots and Infrastructure Builders
Further out, but no less dangerous, are the ones laying the bricks and shouting into the void:
Russell Vought, carving government into a weapon for Christian nationalism, is not limited to governance.
Johnny McEntee, proof that loyalty tests matter more than competence in staffing the new American bureaucracy.
The Heritage Foundation and Project 2025 are engineering the plans to dismantle the federal government like a clearance sale.
Candace Owens and Charlie Kirk are grievance salespeople peddling resentment as gospel.
Vivek Ramaswamy, who packages nihilism and corporate dominance as “anti-wokeness.”
Steve Bannon, the dungeon master of chaos, still whispering into ears from his exile.
None of these figures would know a "conservative" idea if it crawled up their leg and bit them.
The Broader Republican Party: Lesser Creatures
And what of the "respectable" Republicans? What of the old guard who once wrapped themselves in the Constitution and spoke solemnly about duty, restraint, and virtue?
They are worse.
Because they know.
They know Trump is no conservative. They know the inner circle is composed of maniacs with wrecking balls. And still, they bow. They call him "our nominee." They mutter about "party unity" and "judicial appointments" as if whispering enough cliches will exorcise the demons they've invited.
What is left of the Mitt Romneys, the Mitch McConnells, the Susan Collinses but a few loose vertebrae rattling around in empty suits? They are not principled opponents trying to salvage a ship in stormy seas. They are deckhands polishing the brass while the iceberg peeks through the mist.
They have chosen complicity.
And by choosing it, they have abandoned any claim to being Republicans in the tradition of Lincoln, Eisenhower, Reagan, or even Bush. They are creatures of the new regime—pathetic, disposable, nameless in the long ledger of failed collaborators.
The Sad Electorate: Lost in the Fog
And then, there are the voters—the millions who cheered the circus, mistaking the fire for light.
We should pity them.
Not because they are villains, but because they are the tragic casualties of a con.
They looked at Trump’s neon promises and saw a road back to an imagined 1950s—a time of American glory that, truth be told, never existed as they remember it. They mistook cruelty for strength. They mistook bravado for competence. They mistook their fear for patriotism.
They were not equipped to see the hollow man for what he was. When they heard "Make America Great Again," they thought it meant dignity and prosperity. Instead, they got chaos, betrayal, and the slow siphoning of their dreams by the hands they applauded.
And still, many cling to the fantasy because admitting the con is harder than surviving it.
The Philosophy of the New Order: Dominate or Die
In the end, the psychotics running the hospital share one governing philosophy:
There is no truth but power.
There is no loyalty but to the Leader.
There is no conservatism, republicanism, or Constitution—only survival and conquest.
They do not plan to "reform" America. They plan to own it.
What’s left of the Republican Party is like the name on an abandoned hospital—"Hope County General"—still visible above the shattered doors, still pretending it means something, even as the screams echo down the halls.
A Final Warning
We laugh because it is absurd. Because it is necessary. Because in the face of such lunacy, gallows humor is the only sane response.
But make no mistake: the lunatics are not content to merely run the asylum.
They want to wall it off. Populate it. Declare it the only legitimate America.
And you, citizen, you will either kneel to the madness or find yourself labeled a "threat" to the new order.
The hospital doors are closing fast. And if we do not oppose them now, we will not be visitors.
We will be patients.
Forever.
If this piece helped clarify things for you, if you hate fascism, send it to one person. Just one. That’s how we grow—one conscience at a time.
Further Reading:
1. This Is Not a Campaign. This Is a Constitutional Emergency