A Political Graveyard Tale
In a time not too far from now, in the increasingly bizarre land of Capitol Hill, a peculiar group of Republicans had split from the main party to form a new ultra-exclusive, ultra-confused faction known as The Scrotes — short for Strategic Conservative Republicans Opposing Thought, Empathy, and Sanity.
Their motto? “Dig Deeper, Think Less.”
At their inaugural meeting (held in a Cracker Barrel parking lot, naturally), each member was handed a gleaming, handcrafted shovel with their name engraved in gold. The inscription on the handle read: “For Exceptional Service in Self-Sabotage.”
“Gentlemen,” said their self-appointed Chairman, Chuck McFlatulence, “these aren’t just any shovels. These are symbolic instruments of destiny! They’ll help us bury wokeism, taxes, critical thinking, and possibly our own credibility!”
The Scrotes cheered wildly, most of them using their shovels to smack campaign signs or attempt to dig holes in the asphalt.
But over time, strange things began to happen.
Every policy idea they dug up — banning books and vowels, replacing healthcare with coupons for essential oils, and passing a bill that declared beef “a vegetable” — was met with national laughter and plummeting poll numbers.
Still, the Scrotes remained undeterred.
“We’re just misunderstood!” barked Senator Cletus “Two Scoops” Crank, while live-streaming a 45-minute speech from inside a literal hole he’d dug behind an Arby’s. “This is what freedom looks like!”
By year’s end, The Scrotes had successfully alienated women, minorities, young people, old people, and several confused alpacas. Their fundraising emails began to include phrases like:
- “Give $10 or we’ll ban gravity.”
- “Help us reach our goal of 1,000 grave shovels by next Tuesday.”
- “Make America Dig Again.”
Eventually, the RNC sent them a polite note: “Please stop. You’re embarrassing the rest of us.”
Undeterred, The Scrotes released a new strategy document titled “Digging Our Way to the Top (By Starting at the Bottom).”
Meanwhile, their beautiful shovels — once pristine and gold — were now caked in mud, failure, and melted American flags. One by one, they began using them to build increasingly elaborate holes of denial, some installing Wi-Fi, others hanging portraits of Ronald Reagan giving a thumbs-up from a ditch.
And somewhere, on a quiet hill in Washington, a tombstone appeared.
R.I.P. The Scrotes Party
2025–2025
Died As They Lived: Loud, Proud, and Confused.
