September 23, 2025
“Everybody wanna be Black but don’t nobody wanna be Black”
—Paul Mooney
Preface
There is nothing remarkable about the mouth itself. It has no vision, no music, no discipline. Only noise—repackaged as courage, repeated until mistaken for principle. Yet in its absurdity lies a national signature: the talent for making theft appear as tradition, for turning emptiness into spectacle. The examination that follows is not of the individual alone, but of the country that built a stage for her noise.
The Mouth as Career
Laura Loomer has built a career on exile. Platform after platform, room after room—she mistakes each eviction for elevation. But being thrown out is not the same as being invited in. Hers is a mouth that confuses noise with necessity, volume with vision. Every ban becomes a badge, every suspension a stigmata. What she cannot admit: martyrdom requires meaning. All she offers is sound.
This is the mouth.
Thin-Lipped, Thin-Minded
She is thin-lipped and thin-minded, swollen only in the place she confuses with power: her mouth. Fillers included. The symmetry is brutal—made thin at birth, stretched wider by artifice, yet never able to widen her vision. She is a Xerox of a Xerox of a Xerox—each generation further from the original, each copy degrading until all that’s left is static wearing skin.
