The Lickspittles Are Lining Up: A Depressing Display of Shameless Devotion to Trump

Kadizzle woke up today, coffee in hand, to the New York Times—a once reliable refuge of journalism that now often feels like a grim reality show recap. The lead stories were littered with accounts of sycophants flocking to Mar-a-Lago, eager to bend the knee and kiss Trump’s ring. The lickspittles, as Kadizzle calls them, are out in full force, their faces slick with shamelessness, driven by greed and an insatiable hunger for power. Dogs after fresh meat.

This isn’t a new phenomenon, but it feels more grotesque by the day. The sight of billionaires and would-be powerbrokers scrambling for Trump’s favor reeks of something worse than desperation—it’s complicity. These people have wealth beyond imagination, but wealth isn’t enough. Once you have all the money, the next fix is power. Helping the biggest parasite in American politics allows these sycophants to imagine themselves as mini-parasites, feeding off whatever scraps of influence he hands down. They aren’t trying to solve problems, take risks, or build anything meaningful. No—they are lining up like beggars to secure their own slice of corruption.

Yesterday, as Kadizzle roamed the aisles of the local grocery store, there it was: the Trump hat. Sitting proudly atop the head of an old Hooplehead who clearly wanted everyone to know where he stood. “If you are stupid,” Kadizzle thought, “why not make sure everyone knows?” That’s the power of symbolism, after all.

Once upon a time, the American flag represented unity, a shared ideal of freedom and hope. Now, seeing the flag pasted on a truck or flying high in a yard often means something entirely different. It’s code for guns, paranoia, and Trumpism. A symbol that’s been twisted into a weapon of culture war rather than a badge of shared values. It’s not about patriotism anymore—it’s about tribalism.

The question that gnaws at Kadizzle’s mind is this: why can’t any of these people, billionaires and ordinary folks alike, try something difficult for once? Something noble. Something principled. Why does the path of least resistance—the one that leads straight to Mar-a-Lago—always look so tempting to those who should know better? Why do they seek approval from a man who embodies greed, deceit, and the utter absence of moral courage?

Perhaps it’s because standing up for principles takes strength. It takes real risk. And risk, as it turns out, is a bridge too far for the lickspittles of this world. The billionaires could use their influence to build, to heal, to address some of the problems that plague this country—but no. Instead, they crave the approval of a charlatan who makes them feel powerful simply by association. For the average Trump loyalist, it’s the fantasy of belonging to something bigger, of being seen and heard by a man who’s built his empire on illusion.

As Kadizzle drained his coffee, the reality of it all settled like a weight. The lickspittles will keep lining up, the parasites will keep feeding, and the Hoopleheads will keep wearing their hats. The question is, how much further will we let this farce go before standing up—truly standing up—for something better?