The Inner Monologue

A Roast Beef of Rhetoric

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to America’s favorite fast-food arena of public intellect:
The Tweet Drive-Thru.

No need for IQ tests today. No scantrons. No sharpened No. 2 pencils.
Here in the United Tweets of America, merit is measured the modern way:

Not by achievements… but by how you clap back online.

Forget Harvard. Forget Wharton. Forget the MoCA exam where identifying elephants apparently counts as genius.

We have the tweets.

Menu Item #1: AOC — The Policy Panini with Extra Sass Sauce

If Arby’s served a sandwich with kale, a footnote, and a meme citation, it would be AOC Deluxe.

Crisp vocabulary.
Farm-to-table facts.
A thick layer of “here’s why your economics are wrong, Chad.”

Served warm, occasionally wrapped in a paragraph longer than your mortgage contract.
Pairs nicely with a Student Debt Relief Shake and a side of Meme-Infused Fries.

Verdict:

Sharp, spicy, statistically significant.

When she tweets, Wall Street analysts briefly look up from their Bloomberg terminals and whisper,

“Oh… she brought charts.”

Menu Item #2: Jasmine Crockett — The Texas Toast Smackdown Melt

Bold. Sizzling.
A sandwich that tastes like it just objected in court and the judge sustained it.

Crockett tweets like someone who writes closing arguments for breakfast and slaps nonsense like it’s a gavel.

No thread needed.
No dissertation required.
Just “Here’s the truth and here’s the smoke.”

A sandwich with heat—but not the kind that gets served at church picnics.
This one arrives with spicy contempt and legal precedent garnish.

Verdict:

A brick-house of brevity and barbecue energy.
Y’all wanted the beef? She brought the whole brisket.

Menu Item #3: Donald J. Trump — The Caps-Lock Combo Meal

Here it comes: the Make Mayonnaise Great Again Melt.

Served with:

ALL CAPS

Questionable punctuation

Ketchup packets labeled “TRUTH!!!!”

A sandwich so free-form that grammar resigned mid-shift.
Some bites are confusing.
Some are spicy.
Some somehow insult windmills.

And yet… no one can look away.
It’s like watching a raccoon type Yelp reviews at 3AM.
You shouldn’t be entertained, but here we are.

Verdict:

A jazz solo performed by a baboon.

Extra crispy spelling optional.
Covfefe available upon request.

And Who Wins This Feast of Tweets?

According to our very scientific, totally peer-reviewed American method:

Who needs IQ tests? The internet already voted.

🥇 AOC — Academic spice with meme precision
🥈 Crockett — Legal heat and Southern efficiency
🥉 Trump — Caps Lock performed as interpretive dance

Here, at democracy’s drive-thru, the scoreboard is simple:

We don’t have the meats.
We have the tweets.™

And in this golden age of public discourse, remember:

Great nations don’t fall because of policy…
They fall because someone hit “tweet” with unwashed hands.

Would you like facts with that?
No thanks — I’ll supersize the drama.