Tomorrow, same time, same channel: we’ll be back with more funnier horror, more biting truth, and more reminders that the real terror isn’t in the haunted house—it’s at your family reunion.

Let me explain.

I have a relative—let’s call them “The Trend Whisperer.” Decades ago, they marched proudly with Hands Across America, draped in tie-dye and cosmic optimism. Back then, their enemies were greed, pollution, and Reagan’s hair. They radiated “peace and love” like it was solar-powered.

Fast-forward to now, and they’re clapping like a groupie every time Trump says we’ve been abused by the EU. Now don’t get me wrong—sometimes that critique isn’t wrong. But they don’t think that. They feel it. Like it’s the new Fleetwood Mac reunion tour. This isn’t politics for them—it’s Top 40 radio. They’re still chasing the vibe, not the facts.

And then there’s the other one. You know the type. Rural Oklahoma. Flag in the yard. Deep suspicion of coastal coffee shops and every brown person with an opinion. Here’s the kicker: they’re part Mexican. You’d think that might complicate their anti-identity politics streak, but nope. They say BLM “made it all about race” and white privilege “is just a way to guilt people.” They’re not entirely wrong—some folks botched the messaging. But now they’re knee-deep in Republican talking points like they’re working for the RNC’s meme department.

I catch them every time. Every. Time. It’s like mental whack-a-mole. They say something they heard on AM radio, I give them the history and context, and they glare like I just insulted Jesus and Dolly Parton. They despise being proven wrong—but not enough to stop being wrong.

And that’s the problem.

It’s not that people disagree with us. It’s that they’ve stopped thinking altogether. They’ve turned politics into sports, or worse—pop culture. They don’t vote for policy, they cheer for personalities. And when your side becomes a brand, you don’t need truth. You just need vibes.

So tomorrow night, come back to Occupy25.com. We’ll be here again, peeling back the masks—not of ghouls and goblins, but of your neighbors and relatives who went from sharing granola to sharing Breitbart links. The horror is real.

End transmission. Same bat time. Same cursed channel.