Lipstick, Promises, and a Power Trip.
The Democratic National Committee used to claim the mantle of the working class — the party of unions, lunchpails, and civil rights. But somewhere between Wall Street donations and Silicon Valley echo chambers, they lost the plot.
Today, the DNC is a polished machine — full of consultants, curated narratives, and identity politics used like poker chips. They sell “equity” but live elite. They cry for democracy, then rig the primary deck against their own. And while they wag fingers at the rich, they rake in cash from billionaires faster than a hedge fund fundraiser.
They say they stand for the people — but try asking a rancher, factory worker, or single mom how much the DNC understands their daily grind. Spoiler: they don’t. They’ve buried common sense under layers of think-tank slogans and Ivy League arrogance.
Verdict: Not SphstRDnck.
Big promises. Bigger egos. A party that once fought for the underdog now throws them under the bus to keep the donors happy and the narrative clean.