I Thought There Would Be More Singing In This Fascist Government Takeover

Look, I don’t want to seem naïve. I knew things would be hard when fascists took over our government. Taking away our rights is not great. Free speech is so, so important. Getting fired from my government job sucks. I guess I was just surprised it hasn’t been so easy to run off to the mountains to sing about the beauty around me. Twirling around the streets with the helicopter’s spotlights tracking me and the rotor downwash whipping my dress was not as picturesque as I imagined.

 

I was also under the impression I might learn to sew my own clothes and whip together whimsical frocks from my Ikea curtains. Upon further reflection, I realize learning to sew is a skillset that might not correlate with the rise of a fascist regime.

With the inflation in gas prices, I thought I would start riding my bike more. Maybe get a cute basket and cycle through the countryside. At least I was able to get a job nannying some motherless children. Unfortunately instead of improvising a catchy tune about solfège to teach them how to sing, I just chauffeur them around to their rifle drill training and Junior ROTC.

None of this explains the blatant lack of puppet shows. Is it too much to expect that when an autocrat takes increasing power we could at least have some yodeling?

I’ve asked my friends if they might want to regale each other with charming theatre about a Lonely Goatherd, but they keep telling me to get serious and then go back to doomscrolling their phones. No one seems to be in the mood for marionettes when they’re worried about puppet governments.

 

Joy is resistance I always say, and nothing helps pass the time when you’re suturing a bullet wound for a fellow protestor like a little Yodel-Lay-Hee-Hoo. In other news, thanks to my fellow wounded comrade, I did pick up some useful sewing skills and am getting closer to my seamstress aspirations.

 

Again, not to beleaguer my situation, but dating is so hard. It’s just one MAGA fanatic after another, no matter what I do to screen for them. I mean, I sometimes swipe right. What can I say? I know it’s wrong, but I still have a low key hope it might lead to a flirtatious rainy rendezvous in a gazebo.

It’s not particularly romantic when they tell me how incompetent I am to manage the world without a man and call me a “little girl,” especially since they don’t do it with love song. There’s something about a beautiful melody that really takes the edge off fascism.

 

Of course, when I secured a date with someone progressive, it didn’t go much better. It was kind of awkward when he pulled out his guitar and tried to sing me Edelweiss in front of his fiancé. I prefer to know ahead of time if I’m being asked into a threesome. Then again, I ended up saying yes when I learned there were marionettes involved.

 

I’m not saying I want a man who can dance the Ländler, has the upper body strength to rip a Nazi flag in half, and the survival skills to lead us to freedom at nightfall while we’re being chased by police. But I am saying I don’t want a boyfriend whose only act of resistance is reposting memes on Instagram.

 

Somehow I figured no matter how fascist my government got, I could find one party where there was a tender goodnight song. I guess chanting in the streets is the closest I’ll get, but the teargas is ruining my vocal cords, and ICE brings a much more aggressive So Long, Farewell than I was hoping for.

Back when I was forced out of my job, I had hoped my former colleagues would reminisce about me with a fun song. How would I solve that problem? Something clever, if not annoying.

 

Instead, I was escorted out by active-duty Marines. Those fascists couldn’t stop me from frolicking past the barricades singing The Hill is Alive with the Sound of Tyranny.

Until they tased me, threw me on the ground, and arrested me.

So much for safely escaping to the mountains. As I wait in our newly formed detention centers, at least I can remember a few of My Favorite Things – raindrops on roses, “I Voted” stickers, light from a window, and being able to pee alone – and then I don’t feel so bad.