MAGA'S Anthem of Joy: The Lord’s Laughter Breaks the Enemy - The Professor's Record 10/26/2025

28 Oct 2025
Episode 11: A New Series with David K. Clements
MAGA'S ANTHEM OF JOY: THE LORD'S LAUGHTER BREAKS THE ENEMY.
The roll Call of Victory!

The man in the White House saw the “No Kings” protests, the NGO engineered “millions” with their signs, and grinned. On Truth Social, he fired off videos—AI-crafted, sharp as steel: him in a jet, dumping sludge, or something worse, on marchers to “Danger Zone”; him in a crown, sword raised, Democrats bowing to “Hail to the King.” A meme joked he’d rule till year 9,000, and the faithful roared.

Joking aside, Trump would say “I’m not a king,” voice rough from battle. “I work my ass off to make this country great.” The people nod, knowing the sweat, the fight against the tide.

After fake reporters tried to make a point about Trump having dissenters in the streets, they were undone by two words. “Who cares?” said the White House’s Abigail Jackson, her words a rifle crack.

The White House X account posted Trump and Vance in crowns, Jeffries and Schumer in sombreros: “We’re built different.” Karoline Leavitt calls marchers “Hamas terrorists, illegal aliens, violent criminals,” her words fists, unyielding. The faithful smile, free from fear’s grip. The White House is following the lead of The Lord.

The God who laughs at His enemies. So, now the man they call king joins the chorus.

Psalm 37:13 states:

“The Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming.”

The faithful see it—the critics’ time is short, their noise fading like a spent storm.

Matthew 5:11-12 shines bright, declaring:

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you… Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.”

Insults have come MAGA’s way, but our joy is our shield, laughter our sword.

Because now the laughter is swelling to an all-time high, a great rolling wave crashing through the halls of justice, echoing off the marble and the bars, a divine roll call of the fallen. The indictments, the arrests—they pile up like spent shells on a battlefield, each one a peal of triumph, each name a note in the symphony of the wicked’s downfall. The faithful gather, heads thrown back, and we let it out, a pure unbridled joy given by the Lord Himself, as the enemy’s champions topple one by one.

JUAN O SAVIN 107

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n89aIsOMQ_I