One Flew Over The Coup Coup Nest

Penny Nickels of the Bemidji Bugle, reporting on the New American Democracy

Hey! Don’t throw this on the burn-it pile! Guess who’s going to be 47? Not kidding.

with Penny Nickels, editor of the Bemidji Bugle

What a week it has been! Never in my life would I have imagined that the heart and soul of the New American Democracy would emanate from Bemidji, Minnesota, and that WOMEN would be the ones spearheading the entire endeavor. Turns out, all of this was brewing while I was distracted and lamenting the demise of my beloved publication, the Bemidji Bugle, after the hostile takeover by Dotty and Zacharias Nachtnebel of Eternal Word Publications. Sometimes, you really do need to take a breath and let the universe do its thing. Holy shit. As my great-grandmother Matilda used to say, “Things have a way of working out for the best. You just don’t know it at the time.”

Only two days ago, we were anticipating the downfall of the entire Free World. I could see the flames from my kitchen window on the second floor of my apartment complex. Thick clouds of black smoke figuratively obliterated the entire political landscape. We were looking at the GOP trifecta (executive, legislative, and judicial branches) pretty much doing whatever they pleased, with no consideration for the Constitution of the United States, ignoring all checks and balances and the welfare of the American citizens that elected their sorry asses.

The oligarchs were moving in, closing ranks, and collectively rallying monopolies in every industry that had made them billionaires… satellites, the space program, retail sales, energy, AI and other critical technology, natural resources, the healthcare industry, media, and much more. Soon-to-be Chief of Staff Susie Wiles had passed on to all of them the Venmo username “King’s Coffers,” and once their charitable dollars began flowing into the designated checking account, these oligarchs were getting assigned to high positions in the government that normally would have overseen and regulated their industry of interest. The thought of this makes my mind spin, but clearly, it didn’t set off any alarms for the general population, or at least the 51% who voted for this clown show. The MAGA people had been going about their holiday preparations as if nothing horrific were on the horizon, weaving Trump victory paraphernalia into their décor and gifting their loved ones $399 Trump shoes. This, while complaining incessantly about the high cost of things.

Butt ugly sneakers. May they bury the Proud Boys in these.

So here’s what went down. Fucking amazing, I’m telling you. So amazing, I can’t believe this happened to me, in Bemidji, and to the Bugle.

Yesterday I was up at the crack of dawn trying to pull together the style and sports sections, the police blotter, the opinion page, and the women’s column. Writing for 17 people is a bitch, not going to lie. Pretending to be that many people… it’s way worse than Sybil. She only had 16 personalities, and as far as I can remember, no deadlines.

So there I was, cranking out content, trying to work in a few ads (finally had to let that go), and listening to the police scanner, all while plowing through every news feed known to man. My head was spinning from all the information coming in. Then I heard some weird shit coming through on the police scanner — something about a convoy of armored vehicles making their way to Camp Ripley up in Little Falls. Sounded nefarious to me, so I started calling my usual contacts, and that’s when things got weird. Someone suggested that the convoy had traveled all the way from Camp Grayling in Michigan and that it had been escorted by a bevy of Apache helicopters. WTAF?

So what exactly had been going on in the Great Lake State? And what was headed our way? Time to connect with my journalism buds from Michigan State: Mary Ann Shelby and Big Gretch, my two best friends back in the day.

I knew Gretchen was a busy gal, what with being the governor and all, but we were tight, and if anyone knew what was going down, it would be her. I started texting, emailing, calling, and connecting via direct message on FB, X, Bluesky, and every other social media platform known to man. And then I caught her — there she was on Facebook, posting some holiday schlock, the perfect cover for what she would soon hand off to me, a small-town editor: an international EXCLUSIVE.

Gretchen knew exactly what was going down, as did Dana Nessel, because the two of them had just escorted PRESIDENT Kamala Harris to Camp Grayling, where they were mobilizing the National Guard. And for what?!?!?! Holy shit.

Gretchen spilled the beans… she couldn’t hold it in any longer. I was the perfect conduit for this earth-shattering news. No one knew who the hell I was.

The Bemidji Bugle, yes, that 6-page weekly publication scooped the story. THE STORY. Of the century. Fuck me.