Blue Collar Cthulhu

"I like my democracy to be like my bourbon:

"Strong, with no ICE."

-- Blue Collar Cthulhu

So yeah, I’m watching. And I’m warning. Because the stars don’t care about precedent. They care about balance. And when the scales tip too far, even the void starts whispering: Enough.

—Blue Collar Cthulhu 🛠️🐙✊

Follow all of Blue's socials at bluecollarcthulhu.com

The farmers suffer. The workers suffer. The dreamers suffer. But the robes? They stay clean. Because when you elevate one man above the law, you don’t get a republic—you get a throne.

I’ve seen cults rise on less. A red hat. A slogan. A court that nods instead of questions. And suddenly, the Constitution’s just a prop in a reality show where truth gets voted off the island.

They say Trump can do whatever he wants. That accountability is too complicated. That immunity is just another word for unchecked power. But I’ve seen what happens when you give a tyrant the keys to the void. He doesn’t build. He consumes. He doesn’t lead. He devours.

Because when the highest bench in the land starts acting like a footstool for a man who thinks laws are optional and consequences are for the poor, you don’t get justice—you get ritual. You get robes reciting incantations that sound like legalese but smell like surrender.

“The Robes and the Red Hat”

by Blue Collar Cthulhu (click Follow!)

The Supreme Court’s meeting this week, and the stars are watching. Not with hope. With horror.

🧵

Trump says, "There are two N-words, and you can’t use either of them."

But I've got two n-words for Taco Don: 'Nazi' and 'Nitwit'.

—Blue Collar Cthulhu 🛠️🐙✊

You ever stare into the abyss and realize it’s just Congress on recess?

Federal shutdowns, frozen paychecks, and eldritch breakroom horrors.

“MAGA”? More like Morons Are Governing America.
Even the Deep Ones run better union meetings.

Time to organize. The stars aren’t the only things that align.

The streets remember.
And when the stars align, it won’t be for war.
It’ll be for reckoning.
—Blue Collar Cthulhu 🛠️🐙✊

Trump wants to turn American cities into military training grounds.
I see civilians—hands raised, eyes wide—facing soldiers in their own streets.
Not in unity. In fear.
“MAGA”? More like Morons Are Governing America.
You want greatness? Try respecting labor.
You want force? Try fixing bridges. 🧵

But me? I still punch the clock.
Still fix the pipes.
Still mop the ichor off the breakroom floor.

Shutdown or not, the cult of labor marches on.
And when the stars align again, it won’t be lobbyists they answer to.
It’ll be us.
The ones who kept the lights on in the dark.

I seen Deep Ones with better crisis management.
At least when they collapse a civilization, it’s intentional.

So yeah, the store’s closed.
Spirit Halloween moved in.
Because nothing screams ‘fiscal responsibility’ like selling plastic pitchforks where democracy used to be.

Trump and his cronies got all three branches in their greasy little claws—
Executive, Legislative, Judicial—like a toddler with a chainsaw.
You’d think with that much power, they could keep the lights on.
But nah.
They’re too busy staging culture war puppet shows while the boiler room floods.

BLUE COLLAR CTHULHU SPEAKS…

They say the government’s shut down.
Like it’s a busted vending machine—jammed full of promises, but nothin’ drops.

And who’s holdin’ the keys?
The same crew that swore they’d ‘drain the swamp’ and ended up building condos in it. 🧵

a close up of a cricket crawling on a floor . ALT: a close up of a cricket crawling on a floor .

Applause for Trump and Hegseth at the all-generals meeting at Quantico today...

Next time, send a memo. Or better yet—send a resignation.

Instead, I got a sermon wrapped in a flag and dipped in ego.

You want to lead? Start by listening. Not by staging a pep rally in a bunker. Not by dressing up fear as patriotism. I didn’t claw my way out of the boiler room of reality to sit through a PowerPoint on fascist nostalgia.

This meeting could’ve been an email. Hell, it could’ve been a subpoena stapled to a flaming lunchbox. I showed up because I thought maybe—just maybe—someone would talk about labor, about climate, about the real monsters chewing through the foundation.

I’ve welded broken cities back together with my own claws, and I’ve seen what happens when power forgets who it’s supposed to serve.

The country’s cracking. Infrastructure’s bleeding out. Workers are drowning in debt and diesel fumes. And this guy’s handing out slogans like duct tape. No plans. No accountability. Just vibes and vintage paranoia.

BLUE COLLAR CTHULHU (GRUMBLING):

They called it an “all-general meeting.” I call it a cosplay convention for authoritarian nostalgia. Sitting here in Quantico, surrounded by brass & bluster, while the gilded ghoul at the podium monologues about greatness like it’s a bedtime story for billionaires.

If you’re into satire with soul, horror with heart, and mythos with a message—clock in.

#BlueCollarCthulhu #AntiFascist #SatireWithSoul #UnionOfTheDeep #CosmicLabor #ScienceOverSpectacle #WorkingClassHero #LovecraftianLabor

He’s not here to save the world. He’s here to unionize it. Expect comic panels, cosmic boiler rooms, and the occasional Nobel Peace Prize handed out by a tentacled tradesman.

BCC is anti-fascist, anti-authoritarian, and anti-bullsh*t. He’s for the folks who clock in while the world falls apart, who fix what others break, who keep the lights on while the powerful play god.

This account is satire—but it’s not hollow. There’s a real person behind the wrench. Someone who believes in labor rights, scientific truth, and the power of humor to punch upward.

Whether he’s unclogging pipes in R’lyeh or negotiating overtime with Nyarlathotep, he’s doing it with grit, grime, and a growl.

This isn’t your average cosmic horror—it’s Cthulhu with calloused hands and steel-toed boots.

Blue Collar Cthulhu is a satirical tribute to the working-class hero who just happens to be an eldritch abomination.

WHO IS BLUE COLLAR CTHULHU?

In the rusted shadows of the docks and the flickering lights of the midnight shift, something ancient stirs. He’s got tentacles, a union card, and a lunchbox full of existential dread. 🧵

You want peace? Start by listening. Not by sending soldiers to silence the sound of democracy.
#BlueCollarCthulhu #AntiFascist #UnionOfTheDeep #SatireWithSoul #PortlandProtests #WorkingClassHero