Impeachment as Performance Art:

Starring April McClain Delaney in Much Ado About Venezuela

Welcome back to Political Party Animals, the only political desk where the curtain never quite closes and every constitutional crisis comes with a matinee.

This week’s headliner: April McClain Delaney, who burst onto the national stage to declare that President Donald Trump must be impeached—immediately—over the Venezuela operation.

Not hearings.
Not briefings.
Not facts.

Straight to impeachment.

Ladies and gentlemen, the orchestra hadn’t even tuned.


Act I: The Empty Stage

The script opens dramatically. Over the weekend, U.S. forces removed Venezuelan strongman Nicolás Maduro, who then appeared in a Manhattan courtroom. Before Congress could locate its War Powers binder—or even confirm who brought the snacks—Rep. McClain Delaney sprinted to the microphones.

“Impeachable,” she cried, pointing at the Constitution like a prop sword.

The audience gasped. The ushers looked confused. The Capitol’s briefing rooms were still locked.


Act II: The Method Actor’s Monologue

In this scene, our protagonist delivers a heartfelt soliloquy about checks and balances, executive overreach, and the sacred role of Congress—while skipping the parts where Congress actually checks or balances anything.

Oversight?
Subpoenas?
A formal vote?

Please. Those are for understudies.

Real stars go straight to impeachment. Preferably before lunch.


Act III: The War Powers Ballet (Performed Offstage)

Somewhere in the background—far from the spotlight—exists the War Powers Resolution, a dusty old script that requires presidents to notify Congress and, gasp, lets Congress respond with votes and funding controls.

But that doesn’t test well with focus groups.

Why wrestle with process when you can shout “constitutional crisis” and exit stage left to applause from the orchestra section?


Intermission: Audience Fatigue Sets In

By now, even the most loyal theatergoers are restless. Impeachment has become the political equivalent of a jump scare—effective the first time, confusing the fifth, and comedic by the twelfth.

Voters squint at the playbill:

“Another impeachment?”
“Didn’t we see this one already?”
“Is this a revival or a parody?”

Yes.


Act IV: The Selective Memory Chorus

The chorus enters, waving old programs from previous productions:

  • Libya
  • Syria
  • Yemen
  • Iraq

All performed without declarations of war. All received polite applause—or standing ovations—depending on the president’s party affiliation.

But tonight’s show is different. This time, the critics assure us, it’s really impeachable.

Trust them.


Final Act: Curtain Call Without a Vote

As the lights dim, Rep. McClain Delaney announces she won’t actually file articles of impeachment—just encourage “discussion.”

The crowd blinks.

So the show ends not with a bang, but with a press release.

No hearings.
No articles.
No votes.

Just vibes.


Critic’s Review

⭐️⭐️☆☆☆
Strong performance. Weak plot. No resolution.

If impeachment is Congress’s nuclear option, maybe stop using it as a prop in community theater.

Until then, Political Party Animals will be here—front row, binoculars in hand—watching Washington confuse governance with improv.

Next week’s preview:
“Congress Demands Accountability, Immediately Forgets Where It Left It.”

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