What Are We So Afraid Of?
By Lady LiberTea, Editor-in-Chief
Welcome back, darlings—
So glad you’re here, still standing, still sipping the truth, still staring down the chaos with grit and grace.
Now let’s get to the heart of it.
As our economy continues to sour like week-old milk and the chilling shadow of the Odious Orange drapes over the machinery of government—stalling, choking, corroding—it’s high time we start talking about the big, scary I-word: Impeachment.
Yes, I said it. Loud and clear. The word that sends pundits scurrying, pollsters twitching, and even some progressive Democrats pretending not to hear it over their latest bipartisan brunch.
Why so quiet, folks? Is it because impeachment is messy? Because it’s hard? Because it risks setting off a constitutional landslide with no precedent in our nation’s history? Yes. All true. But here’s the thing: that’s the price of accountability. And I, for one, am ready to hear more leaders like Georgia’s own Jon Ossoff say the word out loud.
Let’s not forget what impeachment actually is. It’s not a coup. It’s not a tantrum. It’s not the willful undoing of an election. It is the constitutional tool designed to hold a sitting president accountable for being unfit to serve. Nothing more, nothing less. And let’s be real—impeachment won’t magically save us. If Trump is removed, we’re still left with the wet cardboard cutout that is J.D. Vance. But that is not a reason to stay silent. That’s a reason to get louder.
Now, let's lay out what’s already happened—and it's only been a few months.
The Secretary of Defense has been caught sharing sensitive national security intel on unsecured platforms with zero shame or oversight.
Independent agencies, the kind meant to keep government honest, are being gutted and repurposed into partisan playthings.
The economy is in freefall—no, not a market correction—a historic collapse not seen since the Great Depression.
U.S. citizen children have been forcibly deported—ripped from their homes, stripped of their rights, and sent out of this country without legal due process.
Judges are being harassed by the Attorney General for doing their jobs, and the administration stands not just idly by—but actively cheers it on.
And yet, they look us dead in the eye, unzip their pants, piss on our civil liberties and call it “rain.” They smirk, they lie, and they tell us it’s for our own good.
Well, I say we’ve had enough.
Donald Trump swore an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. But instead, he wages war on it every single day. The First Amendment? Mocked. The Fourth? Trampled. The Fourteenth? Shredded. He’s attacking birthright citizenship, criminalizing dissent, and turning federal power against private citizens. That’s not governing. That’s tyranny with a spray tan.
Now, let’s get real for a moment.
Say you run a business. You’ve got an employee who’s rude, lazy, disruptive. They blow off responsibilities, sabotage coworkers, and alienate clients. You call them in for a review, and they say, “This is your fault, not mine.” How long do you keep them on payroll? At what point do you say: pack your things, you’re done here?
Exactly.
We live in a country of laws, not just elections. Winning a vote doesn’t entitle someone to break the law with impunity. The power we lend our leaders is conditional—based on their willingness to uphold the rule of law. You break that deal, you break your mandate. Period.
And yet, far too many Republicans would have us believe that this is the price of victory—that lawlessness is okay as long as their guy is winning. That’s not democracy. That’s Caesarism. That’s how republics fall.
We all know what happened in Rome, don’t we?
The people cheered while Caesar crossed the Rubicon. They applauded his rise while the Senate lost its backbone. But tyranny doesn’t come all at once—it slips in while you’re clapping, until one day, there’s no republic left.
Trump made his choice the moment he decided the law didn’t apply to him. It’s time for us to make ours.
Impeachment isn’t about revenge. It’s about drawing a line. It’s about saying: this far, no further. It’s about defending what’s left of this fragile experiment we call a democracy.
So I’ll ask again—what are we so afraid of?
Until our next bold move,
Lady LiberTea
Editor-in-Chief