Springtime for MAGA?

Where's Mel Brooks when you really need him?

My phone buzzes constantly with friends texting me, “Did you see … “

The simple answer is - no I didn’t see, I’m actually working. Then I go see. “Trump announces he’s going to blow up the world. Trump announces he’s shipping people to the Moon. Trump announces he’s taking a star off the flag. Trump announces he’s sold Canada to France.” (Or some other idiotic announcement of the like. Thankfully, these aren’t real headlines - yet.)

It’s Springtime for MAGA to be sure.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m not actually living in some whacked-out Leo Bloom & Max Bialystock production.

Seriously.

If you’ve never seen The Producers, the plot is hilarious in the way only Mel Brooks could conceive it—deeply satirical, wildly offensive, and absolutely on point. Early in his career, Brooks worked for a Broadway producer, and he saw firsthand how the economics of theater worked. You get investors to back a show; if it’s a hit, those investors get their money back (and then some) from the profits. But if the show flops, the money is gone.

This is where Leo Bloom and Max Bialystock come in. They realize that, in theory, they could make more money from a flop than a hit—if they raised way more than needed, produced an absolute disaster, and ran off with the extra cash when the whole thing tanked. Their scheme? Create the most offensive, awful play possible. Enter Springtime for Hitler, a Nazi-themed musical so outrageous it couldn’t possibly succeed.

Except, of course, it does. Audiences mistake it for genius satire. The thing is a smash hit. And Leo and Max, instead of making off with a fortune, are suddenly on the hook for something they never intended to succeed.

Sound familiar?

For years, Trump and his inner circle have been running their version of the Leo and Max con. Except instead of Broadway investors, they’ve been bilking the MAGA base for every last dime, selling them a vision that was always more scam than strategy. The idea was to keep the rage high, keep the cash flowing, and—most importantly—keep losing. Losing meant never having to govern. Losing meant never having to make good on impossible promises. Losing meant the grift could go on forever.

But now?

Just like Springtime for Hitler, the movement has taken on a life of its own. The ridiculous has become the reality. The con men who engineered this political spectacle—Trump, his enablers, the media personalities who built their brands on MAGA outrage—are now trapped by their own creation.

And this time, the show isn’t closing.

The entire premise of Trumpism was supposed to be performative. Draining the swamp was never about governance; it was about grievance. Building the wall was never about policy; it was about identity politics. Locking her up was never about justice; it was about the spectacle.

But then something unexpected happened: Trump won reelection. And suddenly, the stakes changed.

The fantasies they sold—mass deportations, dismantling government agencies, jailing political opponents—were meant to be applause lines, not actionable plans. But the people who bought into them are expecting delivery. They don't just want the con; they want the promised authoritarian utopia.

And now, Trump, once the master showman, is struggling to control the performance. His administration, stacked with loyalists who believe the nonsense, is pushing full steam ahead. Policies that were once just red meat for the base—drastic tariffs, purges of the federal government, extreme executive orders—are no longer theoretical.

They’re happening.

And it’s not just domestic policy. On the world stage, the chaos is escalating. Moves that were once just MAGA fever dreams—seizing control of foreign infrastructure, threatening NATO allies, rewriting international agreements—are now at the center of U.S. foreign policy.

In The Producers, Leo and Max go from gleeful con artists to frantic victims of their success. At first, they try to control the damage—convincing themselves that audiences will turn on them any minute. But as the show grows in popularity, the sheer absurdity of its success becomes undeniable. Max panics. Leo spirals. They try to sabotage their production, going so far as to plant a bomb in the theater to shut the whole thing down. But even that plan backfires spectacularly, leading to their inevitable arrest, trial, and imprisonment.

Trump and his inner circle are in the same predicament. The MAGA movement was supposed to be a long-running scam. But now, it’s an unstoppable force. They’re completely out of control. Shutting down agencies at will? Firing people without cause?

Outing non-official cover CIA agents?

At least in The Producers, Leo & Max ended up behind bars. In this version, they’re still running the show.

And if Congress doesn’t step in—if the institutions meant to check executive power don’t act—the consequences will be catastrophic. People are going to get killed.

Because this isn’t a Broadway farce.

The real-world cost of this out-of-control production is measured in lives, ruined futures, destroyed finances, career destruction, and the unraveling of a republic that, for all its flaws, has endured for nearly 250 years.

And if no one calls ‘curtain’ on this insanity soon, the final act won’t just be chaos—it’ll be collapse. And this time, there’s no comedic finale.

No curtain call.

Just disaster.

Don’t be stupid, be a smarty, stop enjoying the MAGA party!