The Very Angry Frog Celebrates the Midterm Meltdown
I am not normally a political frog.
I am a simple amphibian. I sit in puddles. I eat flies. I glare disapprovingly at people who don’t indicate at roundabouts. These are my priorities. These are the ancient traditions of my species.
Yet even from my lily pad, thousands of miles away, I could not ignore the distant sound that echoed across the Atlantic this week.
It was the sound of political panic.
And, dear reader, it was magnificent.
For months I have watched certain individuals strut about with the confidence of a seagull stealing chips. The sort of confidence normally found in people who think they are ten points ahead when they are actually standing on a rake.
Then came the midterms.
Suddenly the boasting stopped.
The predictions vanished.
The victory speeches became noticeably shorter.
From my pond in Cumbria, I observed a remarkable migration pattern. Commentators who had spent months declaring inevitable triumph were now scrambling backwards through the undergrowth like startled newts.
Nature is beautiful.
Now, let me be clear. Froggy does not celebrate division. Froggy does not enjoy seeing ordinary people angry with one another.
What Froggy does enjoy is the occasional reminder that democracy is not a wrestling match, a reality television show, or a competition to see who can shout the loudest on the internet.
It is supposed to be about governing.
A revolutionary concept, I know.
So today I raise my tiny amphibian fist in celebration. Not because one side won and another lost, but because voters reminded everyone that no politician is invincible, no movement is inevitable, and no leader gets to own democracy.
That belongs to the people.
And if politicians forget that, they should spend a few hours sitting quietly beside a pond with an angry frog.
I promise you, I have notes.
And unlike certain political strategists, my notes are excellent. 🐸
