There's a uniquely American talent for repeating catastrophic foreign policy mistakes domestically—like fast-tracking imperial collapse just to see if the record can be broken. And here's the latest achievement: recreating the Mujahideen disaster, but with better Wi-Fi and worse hygiene.
Welcome to Blowback II: Domestic Boogaloo—a sequel nobody requested, featuring militants whose battlefield is Discord, whose uniform is a Cheeto-stained hoodie, and whose ideology combines fascism with youth pastor rage, served on a bed of permanent adolescence.
The Groypers are the new Mujahideen. Minus the Kalashnikovs, plus bone-softening vitamin D deficiency.
And just like the Mujahideen, they're being weaponized by political arsonists who believe—with all the wisdom of a drunk raccoon joyriding a backhoe—that they can control them.
They can't.
They won't.
Watching them try is the closest thing America has to modern tragicomedy.
Shall we?
Act I: America's Greatest Hobby—Arming People Who Will Eventually Hate Them
Remember the 1980s. Hair was architectural. The Cold War was frigid. And American foreign policy was run by people who believed "long-term consequences" were communist propaganda.
The Soviets roll into Afghanistan. Washington faces a choice:
Diplomacy? Or hand religious extremists high-tech weapons and see what happens?
If you guessed diplomacy, you're adorable.
If you guessed weapons, congratulations—you're qualified for Langley.
Washington funded the Mujahideen like Kickstarter backers discovering a promising fascist prototype. Stingers for everyone! Get 'em, freedom fighters! Liberty™ needs defending!
It worked. For maybe twelve minutes.
Then the Soviets withdrew, and all those fighters, missiles, and freshly minted global jihadist networks stuck around like a hangover that lasted two decades. The Taliban. Al-Qaeda. Bin Laden. 9/11. The whole "oopsie-daisy" of modern geopolitics.
Turns out, when you build an army of zealots, they don't retire quietly to Florida. They franchise.
You'd think this might have been educational.
But America surveyed the smoking crater and apparently concluded: "Fascinating. What if the same strategy got deployed at home—but stupider?"
Act II: Meet the Groypers—The Mujahideen for People Who Fear Sunlight
Today's extremists aren't hiding in mountain caves. They're hiding in Discord servers, basement rec rooms, and whatever dark pocket of the internet smells faintly of Mountain Dew and emotional neglect.
They call themselves Groypers—a white nationalist amphibian cult orbiting around influencers who look like they were rejected from a vape shop hiring fair but speak with the delusional confidence of YouTube prophets.
The ideology? A buffet of everything rancid:
· America must become a Christian ethnostate.
· Democracy was a cute experiment—let's not get carried away.
· Women should be barefoot, silent, and preferably fictional.
· Jews control everything.
· And every slur is a joke unless typed in caps lock, at which point it becomes theology.
These aren't fringe weirdos. They're not harmless trolls collecting anime reaction images. They're driven, networked, and absolutely high on the fumes of their own online martyrdom.
And mainstream right-wing politicians? They're not fighting them. They're dog-whistling for their affection like middle-aged men flirting awkwardly with fascism at a goth bar they shouldn't have entered.
Not out of ideological conviction—don't be silly.
Most Republican politicians couldn't survive dinner with their own base without sobbing in the bathroom and calling their therapist.
They court extremists for one reason: utility. And because they genuinely believe they're the ones steering.
Adorable.
Act III: Emotional Outsourcing—The Politics of Cowardice
Politicians crave plausible deniability the way chain smokers crave Marlboros. They want the rage, the virality, the "own the libs" dopamine hits—minus the accountability.
Enter the Groypers.
They're the political equivalent of hiring a motorcycle gang as wedding security: loud, violent, totally guaranteed to stab someone when the band plays the Rolling Stones.
Politicians never say the quiet part out loud.
That's what extremists are for.
Politician: "I'm not saying there's an invasion…"
Groyper: "THE GREAT REPLACEMENT IS REAL AND I HAVE THE DOCUMENTS!"
Politician: "Not like that! Well…maybe keep saying it. Just not next to me."
This is emotional outsourcing—subcontracting the hate while pretending your hands are clean.
It's effective, like using arsonists as part-time firefighters.
Except for, you know, the fascism.
Act IV: The Radical Flank—When the Fringe Hijacks the Wheel
Political psychology calls it the radical flank effect.
Translation: When extremists scream loud enough, the "moderates" sprint toward them—not from agreement, but from fear, cowardice, and sheer political Darwinism.
Groypers call mainstream conservatives "weak," "globalist," "frauds," "traitors," "cucks." Suddenly, every Republican with ambition is auditioning for The Handmaid's Tale: The Reality Show.
More conspiracies. More demonization. More unhinged culture war theatre. Less shame, less restraint, less tethering to observable reality.
The tail isn't wagging the dog anymore. The tail has strapped the dog to a rocket and is screaming "BASED!" as they fly off a cliff together.
Act V: Blowback—The Franchise Continues
The Mujahideen blowback delivered decades of global terrorism.
The Groyper blowback won't involve hijacked planes—these guys don't board those. It'll be worse: democratic erosion from the inside out.
The evidence is already mounting:
· Republican politicians too terrified to condemn open fascists.
· "Mainstream" conservative voices laundering white nationalist talking points as "edgy discourse."
· Political violence creeping into the everyday.
· Young men radicalized by livestreams like they're digital training camps.
· Lone wolves executing the movement's wishlist without ever being formally asked.
And just like the Mujahideen, Groypers don't stay loyal.
They don't want tax cuts.
They don't care about deregulation.
They do not give a single shrivelled damn about the Chamber of Commerce or your donor class.
They want ideological purity. They want holy war. They want an America designed by the world's angriest Reddit thread.
And the politicians nurturing them? They're not allies.
They're appetizers.
Act VI: The Part Where Nobody Learns Anything
You cannot control extremists. You cannot appease them. You cannot feed them without eventually becoming the entrée.
They're not pawns. Not tools. Not a "base" that can be managed with the right messaging and a few campaign-season winks.
They're proto authoritarians waiting for the moment you slip, the second you reveal yourself as insufficiently pure.
The GOP thinks it's raising an army. It's actually raising the people who will put them against the wall for being too soft, too compromised, too tainted by the old world they promised to burn down.
Because if history has taught us anything—and America has decided it hasn't—it's this:
When you ride the tiger long enough, you don't get to choose whether it eats you. Only how dignified you look when the chewing begins.
And right now, the American right is marching into the tiger's mouth wearing a shit-eating grin and a "Don't Tread on Me" sticker—blissfully oblivious that they're not the boot. They're the neck.
