Act I: Welcome to the Pig Pen
Every government shutdown has a mascot.
2013 had Ted Cruz reading Green Eggs and Ham on the Senate floor like a toddler forced to perform for dessert.
2018 had Trump holding the government hostage for his wall, proving once and for all that Mexico wasn’t paying for anything except maybe his ego therapy bills.
And now, in 2025, we have what Chris Stirewalt aptly dubs “the Rosie O’Donnell shutdown” — loud, theatrical, politically messy, and somehow still the least absurd part of this country’s political circus.
This one’s different, though. Not because Americans are suffering new hardships (spoiler: we always are), but because the Democrats decided to cosplay as Gingrich-era Republicans — except instead of trying to cut spending, they’re shutting down the government to spend more.
Yes, we’ve officially reached the stage of American politics where “fiscal responsibility” is just a vintage concept — like dial-up internet or bipartisan friendship. Republicans used to pride themselves on refusing to raise the deficit; now they’re too busy trying to remember if they’re supposed to be mad at government overreach or begging it to save their rural hospitals. Meanwhile, Democrats, historically allergic to shutdowns, looked at that GOP tactic and said, “Hold my kale smoothie.”
The result?
A four-week shutdown that feels less like political strategy and more like a reality show where both parties are locked in a room until they agree to bankrupt the country together.
Act II: Health Insurance, the $27,000 Participation Trophy
Let’s start with one of Stirewalt’s cheerful statistics: the average cost of a family health plan will hit $27,000 next year. That’s not insurance — that’s a down payment on a small house or a full year of college tuition at the University of Nowhere.
At this point, “health coverage” in America feels like a luxury subscription box that occasionally sends you a surprise bill for $1,800 just for walking past a hospital. And no, it doesn’t include dental, because this is America — we like our smiles optional and our premiums nonrefundable.
Politically, this should be the part where both parties scramble to fix the system. Instead, Democrats want to throw more subsidies at it (because nothing says reform like doubling down on dysfunction), and Republicans want to repeal ObamaCare for the eighth time while offering approximately zero alternatives beyond “let the market handle it” — as if the market hasn’t already handled it straight into the ICU.
But Stirewalt’s point is right: Democrats have already “won” this shutdown because they’ve successfully framed rising healthcare costs as a moral issue while making Republicans look like penny-pinching sociopaths who think insulin should be a GoFundMe goal. Republicans can whine about fiscal restraint all they want — voters don’t feel a $38 trillion debt, but they definitely feel a $27,000 insurance premium.
It’s political jiu-jitsu: use the pain of the people to fund the policies that sustain the pain.
Genius. Cruel, but genius.
Act III: Shutdown Theater — Now With Extra Drama
Here’s the fun part: this shutdown is historic not for its chaos, but for its direction of insanity.
In past decades, Republicans slammed on the brakes. Democrats, the eternal hall monitors, shouted, “You’ll hurt the economy!” But now, the Democrats are the ones pulling the emergency stop, demanding more spending for health subsidies, climate programs, and probably a few art grants so someone can sculpt the “Fiscal Cliff” out of taxpayer tears.
The GOP, meanwhile, is sitting in the corner trying to remember its brand. Fiscal hawks? Nationalists? Freedom lovers? At this point, they’re more of a political identity crisis in khakis.
The optics couldn’t be better for Democrats. Every day the shutdown continues, Republicans look like the party of obstruction while Biden — or rather, “President Who Definitely Knows What Year It Is” — gets to posture as the adult in the room. Never mind that his administration just presided over the fastest debt growth since the pandemic. The Democrats can point to Republicans and say, “They’re stopping us from helping families,” while quietly adding another zero to the deficit spreadsheet.
And the public buys it.
Because in America, empathy beats arithmetic.
Every. Single. Time.
Act IV: The $38 Trillion Elephant
Let’s talk about that other number Stirewalt dropped: the national debt crossing $38 trillion. That’s trillion with a “T,” as in “Too late to fix it.”
Both parties have treated the debt ceiling like a Tinder profile — swiping right on anything that looks fun in the short term and ghosting the consequences. Republicans used to campaign on balanced budgets; now they’re just balancing which lobbyists to call first. Democrats used to preach responsibility; now they’re writing trillion-dollar checks and praying interest rates stay friendly long enough to finish the term.
At $38 trillion, the U.S. government now spends nearly $1 trillion just on interest. That means before we build a single bridge, fund a single school, or even pay a senator to pretend to read a bill, we’re already sending a trillion dollars to people who did nothing but lend us money.
Imagine being a landlord and realizing your tenant is the United States — always late, always over budget, but somehow still managing to buy another tank.
Yet, despite this looming disaster, no one in Washington cares. Why? Because the debt crisis is like the apocalypse — everyone knows it’s coming, but they’re all pretty sure they’ll be retired before it hits.
Act V: The Logic of the Illogical
So here’s where things get almost poetic. Democrats are shutting down the government to demand more government spending — a paradox so perfect it could hang in the Louvre. It’s like setting your house on fire to protest high electricity bills.
The old shutdown model was simple: Republicans demanded spending cuts, Democrats demanded compassion, and both sides pretended to hate the game while secretly loving the press coverage.
But this time? Democrats flipped the playbook. They’re saying, “We won’t reopen the government until you agree to make it bigger.”
And the GOP, predictably, is flailing.
Because how do you argue against more spending when your party’s last president added $7 trillion to the debt?
They can’t call it “fiscal insanity” when they were literally out here signing stimulus checks with Trump’s name on them like personalized debt souvenirs.
This, right here, is the final act of American political theater: both sides pretending they’re not addicted to the same sugar high of deficit spending.
It’s like watching two alcoholics argue over who’s better at quitting — while pouring another round.
Act VI: Obamacare, the Eternal Zombie
Remember when the GOP promised to “repeal and replace” Obamacare?
Yeah, that was eight election cycles ago. The Affordable Care Act has survived more assassination attempts than Rasputin. Every time Republicans kill it, Democrats resurrect it stronger, shinier, and more bureaucratically confusing than ever.
Now, in 2025, Republicans are forced to extend Obamacare subsidies — the very thing they swore to dismantle — because shutting down the government has backed them into a corner.
Stirewalt’s right: Democrats don’t even need to win the policy fight. They’ve already won the narrative. The longer the shutdown drags on, the more it becomes a referendum on healthcare, not spending.
By the time open enrollment begins in November, Democrats will ride in like heroes saying, “We fought for your coverage,” while Republicans get framed as the villains who wanted to make your doctor appointments optional.
It’s a masterclass in narrative manipulation — and a reminder that whoever controls the storyline controls the scoreboard.
Act VII: The Irony Olympics
Let’s pause and appreciate the sheer absurdity of it all.
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The party of “fiscal restraint” spent years ballooning the deficit.
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The party of “big government” is now using shutdowns to expand it.
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The American voter, allegedly angry about government dysfunction, continues to reelect everyone involved.
This isn’t politics; it’s performance art.
Both parties are trapped in a kind of toxic codependency — each enabling the other’s worst habits while pretending to be shocked at the outcome. Republicans decry “reckless spending,” then vote for corporate subsidies. Democrats preach “equity,” then hand billions to defense contractors under “climate resilience programs.”
It’s the political equivalent of two drunk uncles at Thanksgiving arguing about who started the fire — while the turkey burns.
Act VIII: Media Spin and the Illusion of Control
Of course, the media loves a good shutdown.
It’s the political Super Bowl — endless speculation, countdown clocks, and breathless anchors asking, “Will they reach a deal?” as if this were The Bachelor: Capitol Hill Edition.
Every side gets its talking points:
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Democrats: “We’re fighting for working families.”
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Republicans: “We’re protecting taxpayers.”
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Journalists: “We’re deeply concerned, but here’s another eight-hour panel about it.”
The truth? Nobody’s fighting for anyone.
Shutdowns are about leverage, not leadership. They’re not solutions; they’re publicity stunts with collateral damage.
And yet, the press rewards them because they generate clicks. The political machine rewards them because they rally donors.
Meanwhile, the only people who lose are the ones waiting on paychecks, benefits, or — heaven forbid — a passport renewal.
In short: everyone’s winning except the citizens.
Act IX: Trump, the Ghost at the Feast
Even when he’s not the focus, Trump looms over every conversation like a ghost in a bad reality show.
His approval rating — a chilly 41% — sits there like the nation’s emotional weather forecast: permanently overcast with scattered delusion.
He’s still managing to influence shutdown politics, too. His loyalists in Congress are treating fiscal cliffs like amusement park rides — the scarier the drop, the better the adrenaline rush. Trump himself keeps tweeting about “fighting the Deep State” while golfing with billionaires who are the Deep State.
The irony is that Democrats don’t even have to attack him anymore.
Every policy fight turns into a Trump loyalty test, and Republicans keep failing it spectacularly. Meanwhile, Democrats just sip their lattes, whisper “thanks, Donnie,” and watch the polls tilt in their favor.
Act X: Crocodiles, Bears, and Other Political Animals
Stirewalt’s column ends with a delightful anecdote about a polite wild bear sneaking into a zoo to hang with the captive bears — a metaphor so perfect it hurts. Washington, D.C. is that zoo.
Every now and then, an outsider wanders in — a populist, a reformer, an idealist — and thinks, “I can fix this.” But within weeks, they’re sharing enrichment toys with the rest of the political fauna, content to snack on taxpayer-funded fish.
The system doesn’t change people because it’s broken; it changes them because it’s designed not to work.
A dysfunctional government is a profitable one. Chaos creates headlines, headlines create donations, and donations create… well, more chaos.
We are, quite literally, the crocodiles basking in the radioactive warmth of Turkey Point — adapting to survive in a world we built to destroy ourselves.
Act XI: The Democrats’ Win — and the Price Tag
So yes, Democrats have “won” the shutdown.
They’ve shifted the national conversation from debt panic to healthcare empathy. They’ve forced Republicans to concede policy ground while looking like the grown-ups in the room. They’ll probably reopen the government soon, declare victory, and head into election season with shiny “we fought for you” ads.
But that victory isn’t free.
Every subsidy extended, every spending bill sweetened, every compromise struck — it all adds another layer to the national debt lasagna.
And when the bill comes due, nobody will take responsibility. The next generation will.
Your kids will pay for today’s political theater — probably with 9% interest.
Act XII: A Country Addicted to Kicking Cans
At some point, we should admit that America doesn’t have a fiscal policy; it has a national habit of procrastination.
Every crisis — debt ceiling, shutdown, healthcare collapse — gets “solved” by kicking the can so far down the road it’s now part of the landscape.
And why not? Kicking the can works.
It keeps donors happy, voters distracted, and politicians reelected.
It’s the most bipartisan tradition left in Washington.
So while pundits frame this shutdown as “historic,” it’s really just another chapter in America’s endless loop of self-inflicted dysfunction. We don’t solve problems here — we lease them.
Act XIII: The Curtain Call
When Stirewalt signs off with “Holy croakano!” he’s not exaggerating. This is the sound of a democracy croaking under the weight of its own contradictions.
Democrats want to spend us into utopia.
Republicans want to cut taxes into oblivion.
And the rest of us just want a government that can pass a budget before Netflix cancels another show.
The truth is, no one wins shutdowns. Democrats may claim victory, but it’s pyrrhic — a triumph that costs more than it’s worth. They’ll reopen the government, declare a moral high ground, and in a few months, we’ll be right back where we started: broke, polarized, and arguing about who gets to hold the match next time.
Because in the end, Washington doesn’t fix problems — it monetizes them.
Epilogue: Whole Hog, Half Brain
Stirewalt’s “Whole Hog Politics” couldn’t be a better metaphor.
Everyone in D.C. is at the trough, snout-deep in pork, pretending it’s principle. The Democrats may have won this round, but the victory is as hollow as a campaign promise. The only real constant in American politics is debt — moral, fiscal, and intellectual.
And so, the show goes on.
The zoo gates stay open.
The crocodiles keep multiplying.
The polite bear wanders off, wondering why he ever thought joining this enclosure was a good idea.
Welcome to Whole Hog Politics — where everyone’s winning, nobody’s paying, and the American taxpayer is always the main course.