Pew Pew (Sit Back Down)
When History Doesn't Even Need to Try Anymore
23 January 2025
I don't usually mess with alternate histories, but this one wrote itself.
Oh, What a Day: December 1, 1955
Picture it: Montgomery, Alabama. A woman refuses to give up her bus seat.
And somewhere in a parallel universe, a certain someone has access to social media...
(Not actually from 1955. But you had to check, didn't you? Because... yeah.)
And Now, The Real Thing (January 21, 2025)
Here's what actually happened this week.
A bishop stood in the National Cathedral and made a simple request for basic human kindness. That's it. No radical agenda. No political manifesto. Just "please show mercy to scared children and tired workers."
Picture the grand interior of the Washington National Cathedral, its towering stone columns and stained-glass windows filtering soft light over the assembled congregation. The atmosphere is heavy with expectation—Trump is seated in the front pew, flanked by his entourage, surrounded by the quiet grandeur of a space steeped in tradition and solemnity. This is not one of his rallies. There are no MAGA hats, no roaring crowds, no “lock her up” chants to drown out uncomfortable moments.
The Moment
Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde steps up to the pulpit, her voice calm but firm. (If this language seems a bit stilted, I’m paraphrasing some from ChatGPT - I just couldn’t EVEN).
Budde speaks directly to Trump—not in condemnation, but in a plea for mercy and compassion, invoking the moral weight of the faith he claims to embrace. 1
Budde’s words sorta dinged through the air, addressing the fears of the marginalized, the responsibilities of leadership, and the weight of truth.
Trump sits there, hands clasped, face frozen in a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Cameras catch him shifting in his seat, lips pursed, perhaps grinding his teeth. There’s nowhere to go. No teleprompter to steer him, no aide to whisper reassurances. Just the weight of words he cannot interrupt.
The Restraint?
For once, Trump is silent. He does not interrupt. He does not storm out. The grandeur of the moment demands restraint, forcing him to endure something he despises—criticism from a figure he can’t easily dismiss. Perhaps it’s the optics, or the hushed power of the cathedral itself, but he sits, absorbing each word with an almost unnatural stillness. I kept expecting his eyes to betray him (not that that makes a hill of beans’ difference to his supporters).2
The (Eventual) Eruption
Later, when he’s safely back in his comfort zone, the mini floodgates open. Not super BIGLY floodgates, because DEI was managing the water pressure or something.
On social media, the Trump returns. He lashes out in a familiar pattern—mocking, deflecting, calling Budde a “radical left hater,” accusing her of politicizing faith, and, as always, positioning himself as the victim.
The contrast is striking: the quiet defiance of the bishop, the forced composure in the moment, and then the inevitable, unhinged backlash once the cameras are off and the phones are back in his hands.
So, Yeah
The moment isn’t just about Trump vs. Budde—it’s about the power of conscience speaking truth to power in a setting he couldn’t control. It echoes moments in history where quiet defiance met furious resistance, from Rosa Parks to modern movements standing up to authoritarianism.
The President of the United States - the actual President, not some parallel universe fantasy - rage-tweeted at midnight about a religious leader who dared use that church platform to ask him to be kind. In front of people and stuff.
So. One of these bleats is satirical fiction. The other one is real. They're almost indistinguishable.
That's where we are in 2025.
The YankoBoop
Play it here. Right here. Click it. No need to go to all that streaming nonsense.
Here ‘Tis.
And follow along if you wanna. (Pew - pew - see what I did there?)
Why do I do this?
Because some moments demand a soundtrack. Even if that soundtrack is just the sound of history, rhyming a little too perfectly for comfort.
#SitBackDown #BasicDecency #WhatAreWeEvenDoing #WagTeam
Coming Soon: Our new song "Holy Smoke (Whatever, Jesus)" - because sometimes you need a gospel choir to process this level of absurdity.
Pew Pew (Sit Back Down)
Just another service In a sacred hall of stone Where the mighty gather On their gilded temp'rary throne They expected silence From the clergy down below But she rose and chose that moment Said "This far no more we'll go" Pew! Pew! (That's the sound of) Truth to power at their gate While the bigshots squirmed uncomfortable In seats they thought were safe Pew! Pew! (Watch them scatter!) As her words cut through their shield Like a laser through their armor Every falsehood was revealed Once there was a woman On a bus in sixty-five Said "My conscience tells me Here's where I must rise" Now another sister In a different sacred space Stood up in that pulpit Put some gospel in their face Some say "back of buses" Some say "back of pews" But when conscience rises There's no time to choose Each voice in its season Each stand in its time Till the mighty tumble From their thrones sublime Now he's rage-tweeting fury (Like he always tends to do) Calls her "so-called Bishop" Shows his words ring true But you can't stop conscience Can't cage mercy with your might Can't silence holy thunder When it's time to set things right Pew! Pew! (Keep it coming!) For the children locked in fear For the workers in the shadows And the strangers drawing near Pew! Pew! (Truth's amazing!) Watch them fidget, watch them squirm As she preaches love and mercy Makes them witnesses to learn That no throne Lasts forever When the truth comes out to play 'Cause the Bishop had a message And she would not look away! No she wouldn't look away! (Watch them pray to look away!)
See also
See also Mind of the MAGAt.
Right here. Play it.
This is a brilliant post, Jennifer. So we'll done. I loved your fantasy post from 1951 and even more the way you described the Cathedral scene. Nice writing.