From: Mark McInerney from Smoke
Date: Tue, Sep 23, 2025 at 8:07 AM
Subject: The Power of Refusal
"When the well's dry, we know the worth of water." - Benjamin Franklin After Jimmy Kimmel was reinstated at ABC, let's be clear: this was no act of grace, no awakening of conscience. It was the result of us—ordinary citizens—flexing the only power that cannot be bought, bullied, or censored: refusal. We canceled subscriptions. We shut off ESPN. We turned our backs on their empire of distraction. And when Bob Iger and his board of cowards realized silence carried a price tag, they caved. Not for Trump. Not for the state. But for us. The people. This was not Normandy. Not Selma. Not a draft card set aflame. It was simpler: a click, a cancellation, a refusal to feed the beast. A small act, multiplied a million times, until silence became thunder. What broke their will was not monuments or oratory. It was the stubborn weight of refusal, millions strong, striking all at once. We said "No." And the walls shook. If we can rise for a late-night host—and we should—then we can rise higher still for liberty itself. Trump doesn't advance like a strategist but like a street bully with a badge—testing, shoving, taking one step further each time he isn't stopped. Every concession feeds his appetite; every silence is mistaken for consent. But when we refuse—when we stand upright—his march toward authoritarianism slams into the barricade of collective defiance. Each "No" turns that stumble into a wall. And on October 18, we march again. Louder than June 14. We gather, we join, and we say it plain: no more. No more masked agents in our towns. Until silence stings in power's ears. Until tyrants bend. We will stand together—faithful to the oldest promise of democracy: that power belongs not to the throne, not to the boardroom, not to the party, but to the people. And when the people stand together—dust on their boots, fire in their voices—no government fiat, no corporate cowardice, no authoritarian impulse can withstand them. As we did before, and as we will on October 18, we hold the line—and we will not let it break. CODA  Written after a conversation with activists, Lennon called it a "newspaper song"—fast, direct, meant to be shouted like a headline in the street. Its power was simplicity: a phrase, a melody, a chant made musical. It was meant to be lived, not just listened to.
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© 2025 Mark McInerney
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