Panic has a sound. It’s not screaming. It’s coordination. It’s the sudden harmony of people who allegedly never rehearsed singing the exact same song at the exact same pitch, within hours of each other. Panic is when everybody insists nothing happened, but they insist it with matching bullet points, identical buzzwords, and the emotional range of a hostage video filmed in landscape mode.

Democrats panic the way bad magicians panic. They don’t disappear. They throw smoke, trip over the curtain, and yell “misdirection” while pointing at the audience like that’s how illusions work. And right now, the smoke is coming out of Georgia, thick enough to choke every late-night “nothing to see here” narrative they’ve been dining out on since 2020.

You don’t need a search warrant to detect panic. You just need pattern recognition and a memory longer than a TikTok loop. Every time Democrats are about to be exposed, they stage something emotional, symbolic, or theatrical. Something that changes the conversation from facts to feelings. From ledgers to lenses. From questions to accusations. Enter Ilhan Omar, stage left, pretending to be assaulted in a way that just happens to coincide with the FBI rolling trucks into Fulton County like they’re finally collecting the receipts nobody was ever supposed to see.

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