Swearing Oaths, Defending the Constitution, and Other Fun Weekend Activities

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Ah, the sweet scent of democracy! It smells like old parchment, existential dread, and that one guy at the DMV who always seems slightly confused about how lines work. But despite all that, some of us have taken an oath—sometimes multiple times—to defend this grand, messy, absurd, and occasionally functional thing we call the United States Constitution.

Personally, I’ve done it four times. That’s right. More than I’ve been married, less than the number of times I’ve started a diet I didn’t finish. Each time, the words were the same:

“I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic…”

The Constitution is a fickle beast, beloved and misunderstood, protected and exploited, cited reverently by people who have never read past the Second Amendment. And yet, there it is—still holding everything together with metaphorical duct tape and the sheer willpower of generations who thought, “Yeah, we can probably make this work.”

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What Does It Mean to “Defend the Constitution” Anyway?

Once upon a time, when I wore a uniform, the answer was simple: shoot the people in different uniforms. The National Guard also had a side quest—keeping the peace at home, which meant being very aware of what not to do (thanks, Kent State).

But now? No uniform. No chain of command. Just a world full of politicians with no spine, voters with no sense, and a government that sometimes feels held together by a collective act of procrastination.

And yet, I took those oaths without mental reservation, so help me God. So even though I don’t have to defend the Constitution anymore, I kind of feel like maybe someone should.

The problem is that unlike the Cold War era, where we could just point to the big scary Soviet Union and say, “That’s the bad guy,” things are murkier now.

Who’s an enemy of the Constitution today?

Oh, buddy. You might not like the answer.


Enemies of the Constitution: The Home Edition

Gather round, kids, because it’s time to play “Who’s Undermining the Republic?”

The contestants:

  • People who ignore checks and balances.
  • Politicians who think “Presidential immunity” means “Get Out of Jail Free” for crimes committed in office.
  • Members of Congress who put re-election before reality.
  • Voters who look at a convicted criminal and think, “Well, at least he makes the other side mad.”

That’s a lot of contestants. If this were a game show, the prize would be democratic collapse and maybe a free T-shirt.

So, how do we defend the Constitution when half the country seems like it’s on a break from reality?

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How to Defend the Constitution Without Getting Arrested (Hopefully)

Step 1: Challenge Misinformation

The Constitution’s biggest enemy isn’t some foreign power—it’s bullshit.

  • No, immigrants don’t commit more crime than citizens.
  • No, tariffs don’t help you—they make your stuff more expensive.
  • No, birthright citizenship isn’t a suggestion.
  • No, the President isn’t a king.

When someone tries to tell you otherwise, just hit ‘em with a polite, “That turns out not to be the case.” It’s the nice way of saying, “Wow, that’s dumb.”

Step 2: Vote, Damn It

Yes, every election. Even the boring ones. Even for dogcatcher. Even in the primaries.

“But both sides are bad!” Yes, but one side is objectively worse. If you sit it out, you let other people choose for you—including the ones who think democracy is optional.

Step 3: Consider Running for Office

If an ex-reality TV host with the aesthetic taste of a mobster’s fever dream can become President, you can at least run for city council.

Right now, our politicians are spineless and scared of their own voters. You know what would be refreshing? A candidate who isn’t actively allergic to reality.

Could that be you? Maybe. Probably. At this point, we’re desperate.


Final Thoughts from Your Regional Step-Pope of Northeast Wyoming and the Great Plains

Look, I’m not your dad. I’m not even your weird uncle who shows up at Thanksgiving to argue about tax policy. I’m just a Step-Pope, here to remind you that:

  • Failure is mandatory. You will fail. You will fail again.
  • You miss all the shots you don’t take. (And sometimes the ones you do, but hey, at least you tried.)
  • Even when you fail, you don’t get to wallow. You learn, laugh, and get back up.
  • Failure is not an option, and neither is surrender. We learn from failing, not from giving up.

The Constitution doesn’t defend itself. That’s our job.

And if we screw this up, future historians will have so many jokes at our expense.

Let’s not give them the satisfaction.


Richard I, Regional Step-Pope of Northeast Wyoming and the Great Plains
(Defender of the Constitution, Reluctant Adult, Occasional Blogger)

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