America is now governed by a dehydrated narcissist in bronzer and adult diapers — a man whose legal vocabulary begins and ends with “I hereby declare” and whose understanding of power is a cartoon tyrant drawn in crayon by a child who eats paste. The Trump administration of 2025 is not a government. It’s a tantrum with a press office. It’s a state-sponsored personality cult for people who think reading is elitist and cruelty is a policy platform.
The regime screams about “law and order” while it pisses on the Constitution like a drunk frat boy marking territory on the quad. It weaponizes agencies against critics, demands loyalty oaths from bureaucrats, and treats dissent like treason because the tiny egos in charge cannot survive oxygen, sunlight, or humor. They want a nation of cowed followers, terrified neighbors, and silent bystanders. They want obedience, reverence, and fear. But do you know what unsettles an authoritarian more than anything?
Laughter.
Not fear. Not anger. Mockery.
That’s why this tiny act — this stupid, beautiful, suburban middle finger — works. Rename your Wi-Fi network ANTIFA. Let the word float through your neighborhood like an unfiltered, unvaccinated truth bomb that the state can’t regulate, censor, or reroute through some oaf in mirrored sunglasses reading off a teleprompter he can’t pronounce.
Somewhere, a loyal Trump voter in cargo shorts and patriotic socks will open their phone, scan for a network, and see ANTIFA glowing back at them through the 5G haze. Their brain will glitch. Their patriotism will malfunction. They will stare into the void and see three syllables that represent everything they fear: not violence, not chaos, but defiance. Ordinary people refusing to kneel.
And here’s the delicious part: there is not a goddamn thing the regime can do about it. They can jail whistleblowers, raid journalists, blacklist protestors, and outlaw whatever books make their donors uncomfortable. But they cannot stop a single homeowner from renaming a router. Trump can rage on whatever poorly lit platform he uses to brain-melt his base, but he does not control your SSID. He cannot executive-order your Wi-Fi into submission. He cannot deputize your modem. He cannot “send in the troops” to your living room because your network made him sad.
Rename it. ANTIFA. One word. One message. One perfectly legal act of dissent that forces the boot to remember it can’t crush every neck.
Then come back and type one word in the comments:
DONE.
That’s our roll call. That’s the signal. Not of surrender — but of refusal. Of disrespect. Of resistance through ridicule. Every DONE is one more American who refuses to bow to a clown-king and his parade of dead-eyed loyalists pretending to be patriots.
This regime thrives on intimidation. So we answer with mockery. It feeds on fear. So we answer with laughter. It wants silence. So we answer with a glowing router name that whispers in its ear:
You don’t control all of us.
Rename your Wi-Fi. ANTIFA. Then say it:
DONE.
And may Trump’s fragile ego feel every one of them like a rash he can’t stop scratching.
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The fascists have propaganda. We have receipts, rage, and Wi-Fi.
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.