Dear Democratic Party, We’re Done

I should’ve seen it coming. The signs were always there. You said all the right things, promised you were different, that you gave a damn about the people struggling to survive in this country. And for a while, I believed you. Not because I was naive, but because I genuinely wanted to believe you.

I wanted to believe you were capable of standing for something. That maybe, just maybe, you actually meant the shit you said in your speeches. That you were sincere about the things you shared about our relationship and how you wanted things to be. That you actually gave a fuck about us—the people who put you in office. The people who trusted that you’d do what was in the best interests of them and not for selfish or misguided reasons. We trusted you, hell, I trusted you. I was hopeful that you’d help us get out of this mess. I hoped that you had learned your lesson about how to govern and how to listen to us when we were trying to tell you what we truly wanted and needed.

But here we are, almost 60 days into Trump’s second term, and whatever hope was left that you might’ve learned something, changed something, fought for something, is dead and buried. You did this. And no amount of gaslighting, blame-shifting, or “lesser evil” bullshit is going to change that.

This isn’t just about what you did. It’s about what we did too. I gave you my vote. My time. My energy. I defended you when you barely even tried to defend yourselves. Despite all the things I was going through, and against my gut feeling, I stumped for you. Hell, the reason why I chose to blog again was because of you and the energy that carried over from the failed election season. I watched you stumble through crises, compromise away your so-called principles, and beg for support while giving us the absolute bare minimum in return. And every time, I convinced myself that maybe—just maybe—this time would be different.

But it never was.

You didn’t lose because Trump was some unstoppable force. You didn’t lose because of “the polls,” “the media,” or whatever excuse the engine is spinning this time. You lost because you were too scared to fight, too arrogant to listen, and because you got complacent. You thought everyone EXCEPT the people who actually voted for you would rally to your side when it mattered.

But we all saw it coming. You saw it coming. Hell, the GOP saw it coming. We just didn’t want to admit it publicly. A dissonance of our own making so to speak. You knew Biden was slipping—shit, we knew it too. You knew his approval ratings were in the toilet. You knew he wasn’t the guy he used to be. But instead of acknowledging reality, instead of opening the field to a real primary challenge, you locked it down and chose to close ranks. You slammed the door shut, told us to get in line, and acted like we were the problem for even suggesting that maybe—just maybe—running an 82-year-old against a man who thrives on chaos wasn’t the best fucking idea.

And when you finally realized—way too late—that you had backed yourself into a corner, you scrambled. You shoved Kamala into the spotlight at the last minute, not because you had spent four years preparing her for leadership, not because you believed in her, but because you ran out of options. You thought “Look, history!” would be enough to fix your fuck-up. Now that I think about it, it feels like y’all were trying to recreate the “audacity of hope” messaging that worked, to a degree, back in 2008. But it turns out people weren’t interested in yet another last-second, Hail Mary political stunt.

You didn’t just fumble the ball a la Mark Sanchez, you let the GOP recover the ball and mount a drive that led to the power going directly into Trump’s (and Elon’s and other aspirational billionaire’s) hands.

And even after all that—even after you fumbled every major opportunity, miscalculated every political move, and practically begged for this outcome—you still had one last moment to prove you had a spine. Just one. And what did you do?

Schumer bent the knee along with ten other so-called Democratic senators who didn’t just roll over for Trump’s power grab—they handed him the keys and told him to take a victory lap. The Continuing Resolution was supposed to be the final line in the sand, the last stand against complete and total GOP control. And instead of fighting, instead of pushing back, you tucked your tails and let them walk all over you like they always do.

And you want to act surprised? Like you didn’t pave the road for this? Like you didn’t spend decades enabling these assholes while begging us to keep voting blue just one more time so you could really make a difference?

I hate to say it, but maybe the Tangerine Tyrant was right about you. Not because he’s some kind of political mastermind—he’s a grifting, narcissistic sociopath who couldn’t articulate a coherent policy if his life depended on it. Everything he does, everything he says is supposedly unprecedented and great and the biggest and the best. It’s just the same old corrupt shit, dressed up in the gaudiest packaging imaginable. But when he called out Biden, Pelosi, and Schumer for being weak, spineless, predictable? He wasn’t wrong. And it feels so fucking gross to admit that.

And that’s what really stings. You weren’t supposed to be like them. You were supposed to be better. You spent years telling us democracy was on the line. That we were the last defense against authoritarianism. That we had to do our part, had to keep the faith, had to trust that you were in the trenches with us.

But nah. You weren’t fighting for us. You were just making sure you never had to fight at all.

You warned us about monsters, then slowly, shamelessly, became the very thing you told us to fear. And now? Now you want to show up at my door again, wagging your finger, telling me how dangerous the other side is?

Miss me with all that.

I won’t pretend I don’t bear some responsibility for how this all played out. I voted. I donated. I participated in fundraisers and virtual events. I shared my thoughts and feelings all over social media, trying to convince everyone, including myself, that this time would be different. I played my part. But let’s be clear—I didn’t, or WE didn’t fail us. You, the elected representatives and leadership at the top of the party failed us. Miserably might I add.

Over and over again, when it mattered most, you had a choice. You could’ve fought for us, for labor, for the working class, for real progressive change. Instead, you chose your donors. You chose your power. You chose to pretend you were the good guys while slowly morphing into the very thing you told us to fear.

So no, I’m not coming back. I’m not holding out hope that maybe this time you’ll finally mean what you say. I’m not waiting for the next betrayal, the next disappointment, the next “Well, what choice do you have?”

I have a choice. And it sure as hell isn’t you.

This time, when you come knocking, begging for my vote, asking for money, reminding me how dangerous the other side is—I’m going to remember. I’m going to remember every broken promise, every compromise, every time you told me to “be patient” while people suffered. And I’m going to tell you exactly what you deserve to hear:

Go fuck yourself.

Sincerely,

Jimmy