The "No King" Protesters: The March of the Jobless Saints

 

They shouted “No King,” yet worshiped one—attention. The crowd became Trump’s mirror, feeding the monarchy they claimed to fear while real democracy starved in silence. Forgive me, but do these people truly have nothing more important to do? Don’t they have bills, children, or deadlines? Or is outrage now the new full-time job in America? Haba!

I watched the crowd swell like a sea of restless saints across American cities today, chanting “No King!” as if democracy itself were under divine siege. Millions have apparently taken the day off work—assuming many of them have work on Saturdays—to protest what they call Trump’s “authoritarian agenda.” Forgive me, but do these people truly have nothing more important to do? Don’t they have bills, children, or deadlines? Or is outrage now the new full-time job in America? Haba!

The irony is rich. For a movement built on the fear of monarchy, these protestors looked more like loyal subjects awaiting orders from a higher moral throne—the altar of self-righteousness. They raise placards denouncing tyranny, yet they march under the banners of the same tech elites and media pundits who have been shaping their opinions since before breakfast. “No King,” they cry, but who are they really serving? Because if you spend more time fighting the image of a king than fixing your own castle, perhaps you’re the one wearing the invisible crown.

Let’s be clear: dissent is not a sin. It’s the heartbeat of democracy. But protest without purpose is just performance art in sneakers. America’s streets have become a stage where everyone wants to be seen, where shouting is mistaken for thinking, and where selfies have replaced solutions. Today’s “No King” rallies are not about restoring democracy—they’re about broadcasting discontent for digital applause. These are not citizens rising up; they are influencers clocking in.

History gives us lessons written in sweat, not hashtags. When Martin Luther King Jr. marched, he had a legislative goal—voting rights, desegregation, the end of systemic cruelty. When today’s protestors march, their goal seems to be trending on social media before the lunch break. Their signs read “No King,” but their phones are out, live-streaming the rebellion like a reality show. The revolution, it seems, will be monetized.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The fear of “authoritarianism” isn’t entirely unfounded. Every strong leader walks a fine line between order and overreach. But to call Trump a “king” is not only exaggerated—it’s lazy politics. America’s founders built enough guardrails to keep any one man from crowning himself. If the protesters believe Trump’s power is unchecked, they should visit a civics class instead of a parade. After all, Congress still exists, courts still rule, and elections still happen. The same Constitution they claim to defend still stands firm while they spend their Saturday shouting into microphones that it’s crumbling.

Meanwhile, the everyday worker who didn’t join the rally—the nurse on a double shift, the truck driver hauling groceries, the single mother juggling two jobs—those are the true defenders of democracy. They don’t have the luxury of marching for the cameras because they’re too busy keeping the country running. It’s easy to wave a sign that says “No King”; it’s harder to pay rent on time. The sad truth is that the people who shout the loudest about tyranny are often the ones with the least skin in the game.

But here’s where it gets darker—and funnier, if you enjoy the tragicomedy of American politics. The very movement that claims to hate kings is unwittingly crowning new ones. In their fury, they’ve enthroned the very platforms and billionaires they accuse of destroying democracy. They feed the same algorithmic beasts that manipulate emotions, amplify division, and turn genuine grievances into monetized chaos. They are peasants in revolt against a monarchy of their own making. The new king isn’t Trump—it’s the attention economy, and it demands constant worship.

If the protesters had stayed home today and poured that passion into community projects, local elections, or mentoring the next generation, America might be stronger tomorrow. Instead, they chose spectacle over substance. They traded civic duty for emotional therapy, mistaking catharsis for change. History will remember this as the age when democracy became a drama and outrage became the national pastime. When the noise gets louder than the cause, even justice starts sounding like a broken record.

Still, I can’t entirely blame them. There’s something addictive about outrage—it makes people feel alive in an age of apathy. Maybe marching gives meaning to lives trapped in the dull routine of modern survival. Maybe shouting “No King” is just a way of shouting, “Notice me!” But revolutions powered by vanity don’t build nations; they burn them. When anger becomes theater, it loses its moral power.

If Trump is truly the tyrant they claim, then why do they treat him like the sun—revolving endlessly around his every move? It’s almost comical. Their hatred fuels his relevance. They are his unpaid marketing team, chanting his name louder than his supporters. He doesn’t need to wear a crown when his critics polish it for him daily. When the enemy becomes your obsession, you end up building his statue yourself.

So, yes, I ask again: do these millions really have nothing better to do? They do—but outrage is easier than effort. Governing oneself, one’s family, one’s community—that’s the real war for democracy. It doesn’t come with microphones or media coverage. It comes with sacrifice, discipline, and patience—qualities that can’t fit on a protest sign.

When the dust settles and the chants fade, the true question will remain: after screaming “No King,” did anyone actually build a republic worth living in? Or did America just trade one form of worship for another? The protesters think they’re saving democracy. In truth, they may just be distracting themselves from its slow decay. Because the problem isn’t that Trump acts like a king—it’s that too many Americans would rather play court jester than citizen.