Staff Reports
If there’s one thing that never goes out of style in American politics, it’s the art of contradiction—especially among those who claim to champion the working class while living like the one percent. Take Senator Bernie Sanders, the self-proclaimed voice of the downtrodden, who’s currently raking in massive speaking fees and headlining rallies with all the trappings of a rock concert. While he rails against “oligarchs” and “corporate greed,” one can’t help but notice that the revolution he’s selling comes with a pretty steep price tag—and, ironically, a VIP section.
Sanders’ “Fighting Oligarchy” tour, joined by Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, has drawn tens of thousands in cities like Los Angeles and Folsom, with crowds cheering on calls to “take back democracy” from billionaires. But let’s be honest: these events are less about grassroots struggle and more about spectacle. The crowds, far from being the salt of the earth, are often treated to performances by music legends and enjoy amenities that would make any country club blush. It’s hard to take the message of hardship seriously when the audience is sipping $20 lemonades and munching on $30 cheeseburgers, all while nodding along to tales of economic injustice.
And let’s not ignore the elephant in the room: the hefty speaking fees and fundraising hauls that Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez pocket along the way. While they decry the influence of money in politics, their campaigns are flush with cash—Ocasio-Cortez alone pulled in nearly $10 million in the first quarter of 2025. The irony is rich: the very system they claim to fight is the one funding their crusade. Meanwhile, the average American is left wondering how much of that money goes toward helping the “struggling masses” and how much ends up padding the comfort of those at the top of the progressive pyramid.
The disconnect between the message and the reality is glaring. Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez may consult their cue cards and deliver impassioned speeches about the plight of the working class, but the real hardship seems to be the wait for valet parking after the event. It’s a far cry from the breadlines and factory floors they so often invoke. Instead, it’s a gathering of the well-heeled, congratulating themselves for caring about the poor from a safe and comfortable distance.
In the end, the spectacle is almost comedic. The revolution, it seems, is best enjoyed with a side of overpriced concessions and a selfie in front of the stage. For all the talk of fighting oligarchy, the only thing being toppled is common sense. As the crowds disperse and the speakers retreat to their well-appointed homes, one can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. The real struggle isn’t against billionaires—it’s against the brand of hypocrisy that expects to be taken seriously while living large on the dime of those they claim to represent.
