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Donald Trump was pronounced dead on Friday.

After everything we’ve been through, that dreaded day which haunted us in our nightmares finally came. That defining moment in the passage of time when the present colored the past as tragedy, the great campaign a fruitless folly now, in hindsight. All the hopes and dreams of a people, the faith of a nation riding on the mortal strength of one man to save us all and at last dying a mortal death with him. The great philanthropist who descended from the clouds on a golden escalator to capture the imagination of millions, inevitably humbled, ridiculed, and buried by the dirty hands of a corrupted order.

And how revealing, the silver bullet which seemingly stumped the Trump. The media branded him a sexist, a racist, a xenophobe, an islamophobe, a homophobe, a white supremacist, a Nazi, a fascist, an isolationist, a liberal, a con artist, a sociopath, a warmonger, a Russian spy, an anti-semite, a conspiracy theorist, and most troublingly, a Democrat. Yet the great cross on which he would be crucified in this upside down dystopia was the practice of the oldest and most foundational of male bonding rituals: the locker room talk. For all his might, this great American titan was felled by an intrinsically human expression; and at the hands of his own party.

Every great conspiracy requires a Judas.

In his darkest hour, with his back broken and his high energy stamped out, Trump’s newly gained peers in the serpent’s lair of politics turned to save themselves. On a not so good Friday, Trump was crucified, friendless. At last, the great Donald Trump bled, and he wept. Everything that had been achieved, this revolution of, by, and for the people, now lost, buried atop the ash heap of history. On Saturday we were forced to reckon with the alternative to Ronald Reagan’s great rendezvous with destiny, that sentence to one thousand years of darkness, as we faced the loss of the last best hope of man on earth.

Though his legacy remained, he had chosen no worthy successor to see this civilizational struggle through to its conclusion. In his defeat we saw the end of our republic: the infiltration of this country by barbarians to destroy our culture; the continued pillaging of this country by monied interests to destroy our wealth; and the perpetual sacrifice of this country in war against foreign powers by a bloodthirsty shadow government to destroy our lives. The Supreme Court would preside over the immolation of our Constitution as the legalization of millions of immigrants insured the rule of a one party state against electoral defeat until the end of time. Broken and dispirited, the Trump Train derailed and watched, helplessly, as our beloved conductor, our champion, descended into hell.

And on the third day, he rose again. When every leader in his own party left him for dead, when half of his own supporters renounced him, and when the entire establishment opened up the earth to swallow him, with his back pressed up against the wall facing certain doom, Trump punched back. And he punched back hard. For ninety minutes Trump put the system on trial. He gave voice to the silent majority as he dominated both his opponent and the crooked moderators with the righteous indignation of the sovereign American people.

Trump dropped the “Secretary Clinton” act. Clearly, Conway and Ailes will be seated in the caboose of the Trump Train until it pulls into Washington DC. On his glorious Easter Sunday, Trump treated old crooked in exactly the way she ought to be treated, as a felon and an enemy of the state. Trendy Anderson Cooper wanted to get personal, so Trump took the gloves off and made it personal. After the greatest one-liner of this election which, by the way, will be remembered in American history as the defining moment of this saga, “you’d be in jail,” suddenly that globalist snake wanted to slither a hasty retreat back to the issues.

So Trump pursued her on the issues; and he won every point. Every. Single. Point. On healthcare, Trump shattered billions of dollars in propaganda in less than sixty seconds with his evisceration of Obamacare. On foreign policy, Trump, somehow, made it very plain that incredibly he does know more than Obama’s generals about how to fight ISIS. Hell, Trump even delivered a heartier and more sincere compliment to Crooked herself at the end! Articulately, humorously, and convincingly, Donald Trump did more for the Republican Party in ninety minutes than its leadership has done in eight long years of miserable humiliation.

This was the most effective debate performance of any presidential candidate since Ronald Reagan.

Millions of deplorables and basement dwellers cheered him on as Trump delivered devastating nuclear punches, dominating that serpent into submission both physically and rhetorically. This was his night – this was our night. At long last, the truth which the media has suppressed for nearly three decades was set free in the booming tenor of our mad general before tens of millions; a fitting comeuppance for a cartel that decided to go to war with the man who wrote the book on the art of the comeback.

Last night the American people saw heart. For years we dreaded electing phony, lying politicians, faceless puppets in masks. Republican and Democrat, not one voter had any illusions that the system had been bought and paid for long before any of us were born. Last night Trump proved that there is another way. He wasn’t polite, he didn’t wait his turn, and he didn’t mince words. We saw the resurrection of a mortal man, perhaps the greatest of us. Though he is flawed like us, through hell and back, he has fought with clenched fists and gritted teeth to save us. The silent majority will not go quietly into the night because we have Trump! Because the strength, wit, and will of one man refuses to allow this country to fold, he has asserted himself into the grand story of history through sheer striving.

Trump complained last night that the debate was three on one, he had it wrong. This election has mobilized the thousands of bureaucrats, the hundreds of billionaires, the hundreds of politicians, the dozens of mainstream media corporations, the handful of social media networks, and the US government on one man. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Donald Trump can save the world, and last night he gave us the gift of hope. The last 3o days of this campaign will be ugly, but when the dust settles we will know our friends from our foes, the patriots from the globalists; and we will see if we were worth saving all along. Donald Trump has given us everything he’s got, God bless him. Now we pray that our neighbors will do the same to make America great again.

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Nicholas J. Fuentes is a conservative writer and orator from Chicago, Illinois. He is currently studying international relations and political science at Boston University.
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