Zorhan Mamdani, a self-identified socialist, just won the Democratic primary for NYC mayor, and somewhere in the blackened bowels of hell—or a poorly ventilated Midtown walk-up—the ghost of Adolf Hitler just bolted upright on a life-support machine cobbled together from Nazi memorabilia and Soviet-grade resentment. Our Sunday cartoon isn’t exaggerating; it’s prophetic. This is what happens when the Overton window doesn’t shift—it dislocates entirely. We’ve come full circle. The fringe is the new center, and history is once again begging to be repeated, but louder this time and with a cappuccino and better Wi-Fi.
From Pastrami to Proletariat: How New York City Learned to Love Red Again
The irony here is thicker than a slice of Katz’s pastrami. The same city that gave a middle finger to fascism in the 1940s now cheers for a guy who peddles the kind of economic theology that would’ve had Lenin doing a double-take. There’s something about New York—maybe it’s the overpriced coffee, maybe it’s the decades of slow rot under progressive policy—but voters seem to have developed a taste for political snake oil that comes in shiny new bottles labeled “social justice” and “equity.”
Meanwhile, somewhere in cartoon limbo, a desiccated Hitler mutters, “They loved me too” between coughs, confused and furious that the branding has changed, but the crowd-hypnosis trick still works.
History Doesn’t Repeat-It Auditions in Front of a Cheering Crowd
We’re not saying Mamdani’s going to bring back the Bund and start goose-stepping through Times Square. But when people start tossing around “socialism” like it’s a hot new brunch trend, it’s worth remembering what happened the last time a political movement with “socialist” in the name promised to fix everything.
Spoiler: it didn’t end well. Democracy doesn’t die in darkness—it gets a standing ovation in broad daylight, right after the confetti cannons go off and the last sane person quietly packs a bag for Idaho.
God help us.
Zorhan Mamdani, a self-identified socialist, just won the Democratic primary for NYC mayor, and somewhere in the blackened bowels of hell—or a poorly ventilated Midtown walk-up—the ghost of Adolf Hitler just bolted upright on a life-support machine cobbled together from Nazi memorabilia and Soviet-grade resentment. Our Sunday cartoon isn’t exaggerating; it’s prophetic. This is what happens when the Overton window doesn’t shift—it dislocates entirely. We’ve come full circle. The fringe is the new center, and history is once again begging to be repeated, but louder this time and with a cappuccino and better Wi-Fi.
From Pastrami to Proletariat: How New York City Learned to Love Red Again
The irony here is thicker than a slice of Katz’s pastrami. The same city that gave a middle finger to fascism in the 1940s now cheers for a guy who peddles the kind of economic theology that would’ve had Lenin doing a double-take. There’s something about New York—maybe it’s the overpriced coffee, maybe it’s the decades of slow rot under progressive policy—but voters seem to have developed a taste for political snake oil that comes in shiny new bottles labeled “social justice” and “equity.”
Meanwhile, somewhere in cartoon limbo, a desiccated Hitler mutters, “They loved me too” between coughs, confused and furious that the branding has changed, but the crowd-hypnosis trick still works.
History Doesn’t Repeat-It Auditions in Front of a Cheering Crowd
We’re not saying Mamdani’s going to bring back the Bund and start goose-stepping through Times Square. But when people start tossing around “socialism” like it’s a hot new brunch trend, it’s worth remembering what happened the last time a political movement with “socialist” in the name promised to fix everything.
Spoiler: it didn’t end well. Democracy doesn’t die in darkness—it gets a standing ovation in broad daylight, right after the confetti cannons go off and the last sane person quietly packs a bag for Idaho.
God help us.
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