Open on a tidy suburban street rendered melancholic by snowfall. Bouncy yet melancholic jazz piano plays. Charlie Brown and Linus rest their arms on a sturdy yet melancholic brick wall.
CHARLIE BROWN: I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. The election is over and the wrong people won, but I don’t feel the way I think I’m supposed to feel.
Charlie Brown and Linus start walking. Snowflakes fall, gently yet also somehow . . . not melancholically, exactly—more like with a certain ineffable poignance.
CHARLIE BROWN: Maybe I just don’t understand politics. I mean, of course I hate Donald Trump, and I’d prefer not to have Kash Patel as head of the F.B.I. I don’t want people getting bird flu from raw milk because of R.F.K., Jr., or polio. But I don’t think we’re all going to end up in camps, either. And, if I’m being honest, I do think a few D.E.I. programs, though well intentioned, probably have gone too far in their implementation. All in all, I don’t feel angry or terrified. I’m more just kind of meh.
LINUS: Charlie Brown, you’re the only person I know who could be wishy-washy about the end of democracy. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you’re not simply the Charlie Browniest, you’re also the David Brooksiest.
Charlie Brown sighs and continues walking, alone. He comes upon Snoopy decorating his doghouse with Trump paraphernalia. The piano soundtrack gets a little bouncier, and a little less melancholic.
CHARLIE BROWN: What’s going on here?
Snoopy hands him a flyer.
CHARLIE BROWN: [Reading] “Pre-inaugural neighborhood decorating contest? Win a trip to Mar-a-Lago?†[Crumples flier.] My own dog, gone MAGA! I can’t stand it. . . . Or maybe I can? If that’s what America really wants? [Observes Snoopy putting up a weirdly eroticized poster of Trump as a bare-chested Rambo figure.] Maybe at this point I’m just inured to the idiocy of it all? But is that a form of privilege? I think I need to see a specialist.
Charlie Brown continues walking. He comes upon Lucy sitting at her “PSYCHIATRIC HELP†booth.
LUCY: Yes?
CHARLIE BROWN: [Sits down.] My problem is the election. I just don’t know how to feel about it. I mean, of course I hate Trump but—
LUCY: Before we begin, that will be five Lucycoins, please.
CHARLIE BROWN: Lucycoins?! Good grief. [Reluctantly pays, using the crypto wallet on his phone.] Anyway, I know I’m supposed to be outraged that we elected a felon with a narcissistic personality disorder, but mostly I just feel numb.
LUCY: Any specific symptoms?
CHARLIE BROWN: I can’t watch Rachel Maddow anymore—just hearing her voice gives me a stomach ache. Especially when she does that faux-incredulous thing. John Oliver, too.
LUCY: Anything else?
CHARLIE BROWN: [Looks around to see if anyone is within earshot, then whispers.] I secretly hope that Tulsi Gabbard is confirmed as director of National Intelligence, because even though it would be awful for the country it would also be kind of funny.
LUCY: Charlie Brown, what you need is to reëngage with progressive politics! I know—why don’t you write for our Resistance 2.0 Substack?
CHARLIE BROWN: [Flattered] Me? Write a Substack?
LUCY: You need a forward-thinking project, and we need a hot take on who Democrats should throw under the bus to be competitive in 2028. Transgender athletes? Party leaders unwilling to stand up to Netanyahu? Your choice!
CHARLIE BROWN: Wow, maybe I can have a firm opinion about the political landscape!
Dissolve to Charlie Brown’s bedroom. He’s hard at work at his desk, in front of his laptop.
CHARLIE BROWN: Matthew Yglesias offers a reasoned, center-left analysis of Bill Clinton’s 1996 reëlection campaign. If I can find a way to rebrand triangulation with a pod-bro spin—
Lucy and the rest of the “Peanuts†gang barge in.
LUCY: Reasoned? Center-left? Matt Yglesias?! You blockhead! We wanted something meme-able!
VIOLET: Can’t you do anything right? I thought last year’s scrawny Christmas tree was bad, but this neoliberal drivel takes the cake.
CHARLIE BROWN: AAUGH! Isn’t there anyone who can explain the true meaning of the election?
LINUS: Sure, Charlie Brown. I can explain the true meaning of the election.
Linus steps forward into an inexplicable spotlight, as if he’s about to deliver a monologue—simple, clarifying, a child’s wisdom . . .
LINUS: [Yelling offscreen] He’s in here!
Snoopy and a bunch of cute little birds in riot gear burst into the room. Snoopy slaps a zip tie on Charlie Brown’s wrists.
SNOOPY: [Thought bubble] Here’s the loyal captain of the Praetorian Guard, subduing the notorious radical-left lunatic . . .
CHARLIE BROWN: Rats! A setup! Linus and Lucy, how could you?
LINUS: Sorry, Charlie Brown. We had to give them someone. They’re still mad about our last special, “Just Because the New York Times Won’t Call It Fascism Doesn’t Mean You Can’t, Charlie Brown!†But things aren’t all bad. You should see my 401(k).
LUCY: And in just the last thirty seconds, since Elon Musk retweeted me calling you a blockhead, Lucycoin has gone up four thousand per cent!
THE WHOLE GANG: [In unison] TRUMP WON—GET OVER IT, CHARLIE BROWN!
CHARLIE BROWN: [Having a sudden realization] That’s my problem! I am over it! I’ve given up! I’ve resigned myself to living under a white-nationalist, oligarchic, kleptocratic, authoritarian regime! I may be weak and contemptible, but at least I’m at peace!
Charlie Brown breaks into a grin as Snoopy and the cute little birds lead him away.
LUCY: [Watching him leave] For someone who thinks too much, that Charlie Brown sure is a dope.
VIOLET: Anyone want to go see if Pig-Pen has a green card?
Bouncy yet melancholic jazz piano segues into something less catered to coastal élites—maybe a Kid Rock song. Roll credits. ♦
