Folks, I’m madder than an 8-Track at a Spotify streaming party over Neil Young’s latest meltdown. This guy’s more paranoid than my mother-in-law after her third glass of boxed wine, and let me tell you—that’s saying something.
So here’s the deal: Neil Young—yes, the same guy who tried to cancel Joe Rogan because the podcast host dared to think about COVID differently—is now convinced that since Trump has been re-elected, he’ll be tossed in the slammer faster than you can say “Four dead in Ohio.”
In a rambling post on his TDS website (which probably gets less traffic than my nephew’s Minecraft blog), Neil spun a yarn about how performing in Europe could land him back in the U.S. with nothing but an “aluminum blanket” and a cement floor for company.
An aluminum blanket, Neil? Really? What is this, a bad sci-fi movie? Are you worried about 5G and Trump’s secret police? Next, you’ll be telling us the Illuminati are tuning your guitar.
Streaming Nuts!
Now, let’s get one thing straight—Neil’s not fleeing like Ellen or Rosie O’Donnell, those delicate dyke daisies who couldn’t handle four more years of mean tweets. Oh no, Neil wants back in the States, but only if he can cash in on tour money while still playing the martyr. “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World (Unless Trump Wins, Then I’m Outta Here).”
And get this—he’s not just worried about himself. No sir, he’s carrying the torch for all of us folk (pun intended). “If you voted for Kamala Harris over Trump, that makes it possible for you to go to jail or be detained,” the crazy old plucker warbles.
Oh, Neil. Buddy. Pal. Fellow Boomer. If Trump was locking up political opponents, Hillary Clinton would be knitting orange jumpsuits in a federal pen, not sipping chardonnay in the Hamptons. But sure, Neil, you—a 79-year-old folk singer who hasn’t had a hit since Welcome Back Kotter—are definitely at the top of Trump’s Most Wanted list.
Making a Woke Splash
Meanwhile, his wife, Daryl Hannah, is out here doom-scrolling like it’s her job. Her Instagram looks like a conspiracy theory mood board—equal parts “the end is nigh,” and “buy my organic lavender oil.” Someone get this woman a Xanax and a Golden Girls marathon, stat.
Look, Neil, I get it. You’re a legend. You wrote “Heart of Gold.” You survived the drug-fueled ‘70s with your brain only mostly scrambled. But at this point, you’re not fighting the power—you’re just amplifying your own feedback. If you’re that scared of Trump, maybe just stick to Canada, eh? Play some Tim Hortons parking lots, eat some poutine, and leave the aluminum blanket drama to Alex Jones.
Final Thought: Neil, if Trump does come for you, just play “Old Man” at your trial. The jury will be too busy crying to convict.
🎸 Keep on whinin’ in the free world, Neil. 🎸
God bless America, and God bless common sense. #1776
