There’s a peculiar feeling one gets watching world leaders shuffle chairs like it’s an intergalactic game of musical thrones. Recently, in what feels like the fever dream of a political satirist, President Trump decided to clean house by firing not one, not two, but several senior U.S. military officers, including none other than the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Charles Q. Brown Jr. Because, you know, stability is overrated when you can instead recreate an episode of The Apprentice — Pentagon Edition.
You might ask: “How does one justify dismissing key military figures like they’re failed contestants on a reality show?” But that question assumes the universe plays by coherent rules — and here, my dear reader, is where Abiscordism leans in, lights a cigarette, and starts laughing.
The Great Cosmic Joke: Who’s Actually in Charge?
In a world where the people who hold nuclear codes can’t even hold a press conference without veering into chaos, Abiscordism reminds us of an essential truth: the Golden Apple of Eris rolls freely, sowing discord wherever it pleases.
This recent political shake-up? Classic Erisian mischief. Power structures, no matter how fortified, are still subject to the whims of absurdity. It’s as if the gods are tossing golden apples into the Oval Office, each one inscribed not with “to the fairest” but “to the most unpredictable.”
The Dull Lemon of Absurdity: Our Response to Madness
But while the Golden Apple brings chaos and disruption, Abiscordism also introduces the Dull Lemon — the flavorless, drab acceptance of absurdity without question. And that’s what many of us have done. We sit, wide-eyed, watching the news, and shrug: “Well, that’s just the way things are now.”
It’s the Dull Lemon that convinces us we’re powerless spectators in this cosmic circus. It whispers, “Don’t question it. Don’t laugh. Just accept the absurdity and move on.” But Abiscordism flips that narrative.
We don’t accept absurdity. We dance with it.
Laughing at the Abyss (and Maybe Throwing a Pie Into It)
So, what’s the Abiscordian response to watching high-ranking officials escorted out of the Pentagon like they lost a round of Survivor? We laugh. Not because it’s funny in a traditional sense (though, admit it, there’s some dark comedy here), but because laughter is rebellion against the abyss.
Abiscordism teaches us that when systems built on control and order crumble in spectacularly ridiculous ways, that’s not a sign of the end — it’s an invitation. An invitation to question, to mock, and to carve out space for genuine, chaotic freedom.
The Takeaway: Be the Trickster, Not the Pawn
This latest episode in the ongoing saga of “American Politics: The Soap Opera” isn’t just another headline — it’s a perfect storm of Abiscordian themes. Power crumbling under its own absurd weight. Institutions revealing their inherent fragility. And the world, once again, spinning on its tilted axis.
In times like these, don’t be the pawn staring in disbelief. Be the trickster. Laugh loudly. Throw your own Golden Apple into the fray. And when life hands you a Dull Lemon? Don’t make lemonade. Toss it back and demand something with a little more chaos.
Because in the end, when the void stares back, the most powerful thing we can do is flip it the bird — and then invite it to a dance party.
Eris would be proud.
