The Great American Unity Parade

A Satirical Saga of Democracy, Division, and Diagnostic Delight

By Theodora Filis

Once upon a time in the Land of the Free, a peculiar wisdom flourished: “Never let a good crisis go to waste.” As trouble brewed, Americans from every walk of life banded together—not to heal divisions, but to seize their slice of the opportunity pie.

Entrepreneurs peddled llama-print face masks and artisanal hand sanitizer (with a hint of gin), while doctors, now TV celebrities, praised the miracle of CT scans for every cough, twitch, or existential crisis.

The airwaves buzzed with pollsters’ doom, revealing that nearly everyone—left, right, and somewhere-in-between—believed democracy was teetering on the edge. Politically motivated violence was as American as apple pie, said three-quarters of respondents, topping the charts alongside baseball and blaming California for everything.

As lawmakers found themselves the targets of violence and threats, Americans tuned in for the regular tragedy updates: shootings in Minnesota, hammer-wielding home invaders, and the occasional arson at a governor’s house—all conveniently bookended by pharmaceutical ads on cable news.

Approval ratings for leaders became a sport of their own. President Trump’s numbers rose and fell with the tides of tariff talk, layoffs, and immigration crackdowns. Congress, both red and blue, managed to underwhelm almost everyone. Democrats grumbled about Democrats. Republicans cheered for Republicans. And independents generally disapproved of everyone—including themselves.

Meanwhile, the great immigration debate raged on. The Administration, in a bold quest to outdo all predecessors, prepared the “largest deportation” in history. Most Americans favored “openness”—except when it involved violent crime, nonviolent crime, or the crime of picking apples. The definition of “American identity” was stretched, pulled, and occasionally ironed into campaign slogans.

Amid all this, Americans broadly agreed that presidents must obey court rulings. Eighty-three percent affirmed it—even as legal orders zigzagged through headlines and government officials played musical chairs with deportees.

As the story built to its climax, a new villain emerged: the CT scan. Once a medical darling, it was now cast as a silent threat. Those who’d spent more time in scanners than in grocery stores began reconsidering their life choices.

But worry not! Cancer societies offered pamphlets. Insurance companies unveiled “exciting premiums.” And lawyers gleefully prepped class actions. In hospital break rooms, nurses pulled up their pink N95s and giggled over the latest expansion plans.

So marched the Great American Unity Parade, confetti made from shredded medical bills swirling through the streets. “We’re all in this together,” the banners proclaimed, while a suspiciously catchy jingle echoed in the background.

And the ironic twist? In their frantic quest for unity, profit, and purpose, Americans discovered that crises—and their cures—came with perpetual renewal. Today’s threat was tomorrow’s selling point. Hope, like democracy, proved impossible to nail down—especially when there was money to be made on both sides of the aisle.