Wi-Fi, Woke, and Wild: Why Jasmine Crockett Is America’s Loudest Liability

Jasmine Crockett isn’t a lawmaker—she’s a loudmouth with Wi-Fi, turning Congress into a comedy club where outrage is scripted and intellect left backstage. She curses at the Constitution, lectures on laws she’s never read, and believes Congress is her stage—she is indeed  performance politics on permanent loop.

Looks like Congress just got another dose of Crockett—loud, lawless, and laughable. Every time Jasmine Crockett opens her mouth, the IQ of the room drops ten points. This time, she decided to crown herself the Commander-in-Chief of Cluelessness. Her latest tirade? A foul-mouthed, Constitution-illiterate meltdown claiming President Trump declared war and that she—yes, she—should have been the one to make the “blanking” decision. I didn’t know TikTok ran the military now.

It all started with yet another dead-on-arrival impeachment stunt from Al Green. He swung and missed—again. Only 79 Democrats, the fringe few still living in a fantasyland, backed the latest political circus. 128 others joined Republicans to shut it down like a busted carnival. But Crockett? Oh, she wasn’t missing the camera time. She latched on to Green’s stunt like a mosquito to bare skin, using the chaos to launch into a bizarre, profanity-packed social media meltdown that made zero sense and even less impact. A foghorn may be loud, but it still can't steer a ship.

She ranted about how the “fk in the White House” had declared war—without her permission, apparently. As if the U.S. military needs approval from a social media starlet disguised as a Congresswoman. Her follow-up was even more pathetic: she insisted that she’s the one *supposed to make the fking decision.” Crockett clearly thinks government works like Instagram Live—whoever shouts the loudest gets to lead.

President Trump, never one to dodge a punch, clapped back on Truth Social. His response was simple, savage, and classic: Make my day. That’s the difference. While Crockett’s yelling into a phone hoping for likes, the President’s handling national security and challenging the radicals to do their worst. She’s fighting for retweets. He’s fighting for America.

Meghan McCain nailed it: Crockett is deeply unserious. And she is. She's not even pretending to legislate. She’s not trying to draft policy. She’s not focused on jobs, inflation, healthcare, education, or anything resembling leadership. Her only bill is her phone bill—and even that’s probably set to auto-pay. Her entire presence in Congress seems like a poorly written skit with no punchline. You can wrap a donkey in silk, but it’s still a jackass.

Let’s be real—Crockett didn’t get elected to lead. She got elected to trend. Her whole brand is performance. She’s addicted to the camera like a moth to a ring light. And unfortunately, the Democrats have given her a stage. Chuck Schumer? Silent. Hakeem Jeffries? Hiding. The so-called party leadership is terrified of confronting the radical left because Crockett and her fellow chaos agents run the asylum now. When the children start making the rules, even the playground turns into a war zone.

Her videos are pure histrionics. No depth. No substance. Just outrage, profanity, and raw ignorance. And for what? Not to pass a law. Not to help her district. Just to get on a show like this one, get talked about, and keep her social media buzzing. She’s not “fighting the system.” She is the problem. She’s the face of a party that’s abandoned adults and handed the wheel to digital drama queens.

She has no business talking about Iran, military strikes, or anything involving national defense. No background. No experience. No clue. She couldn’t find Tehran on a map with GPS, a flashlight, and a tour guide. But there she is, ranting about foreign policy as if Congress were a beauty pageant and she just nailed the swimsuit round.

Even her so-called “constitutional knowledge” is a joke. Crockett seems to think being one of 435 representatives gives her executive power. If she’d read the document she claims to love, she’d know the President—yes, President Trump—is the one who handles military decisions. She’s not the boss. She’s barely the intern.

McCain called her patient zero in a new wave of attention-hungry Democrats. She’s not wrong. Crockett is a symptom of a party that traded working-class voters for woke celebrities, union support for unhinged soundbites. This isn’t your grandfather’s Democratic Party. This is the Snapchat caucus. And Crockett? She’s the face on the poster—loud, lawless, and lost.

She isn’t going to pass a bill. She’s not here to govern. She’s here to go viral. And the scariest part? She’s good at it. She knows exactly how to rile up her base, get featured on friendly shows, and make herself look like a hero to people who confuse drama for duty. A parrot may mimic words, but it never understands their meaning.

If Crockett ever runs for president—and let’s face it, that’s the trajectory she’s fantasizing about—we’ll need a national psychiatrist, not a national security advisor. She’s the result of what happens when social media fame becomes a stepping stone to federal power. The Founding Fathers never imagined someone would treat Congress like a content creator hub. But here we are—a government of the clowns, by the clowns, and for the clout.

She’s not just unserious. She’s a national distraction. While real problems rage—at the border, overseas, in our economy—Crockett is busy filming the next installment of her unhinged reality show. And if the Democrats keep propping her up as the face of their future, they may want to start preparing for a long walk in the political wilderness. Because the only thing Jasmine Crockett is leading... is the march into madness.