We are miserable because we care.
The Pitty Party is a progressive political action committee for the emotionally exhausted. A place where broken-hearted idealists gather not to give up—but to regroup, rearm (with memes and policy), and go back out swinging.
Apathy is easy. We choose pain—on purpose. Because someone has to.
We are the spiritual opposite of "Hope and Change." We are Despair and Action.
We’re not a think tank. We’re a feel tank.
Misery loves company. Join the Pitty Party today.
It didn’t start with Trump. Or Biden. Or Gaza. Or Greenland.
It started with a Supreme Court ruling so catastrophically stupid that even C-SPAN viewers blinked in disbelief.
Citizens United v. FEC, 2010.
That was the moment the veil dropped. When the powers-that-be declared, with a straight face, that money is speech and corporations are people. And just like that, the American people became background noise in their own democracy.
For years, we waited for someone—anyone—to fix it. But no one came.
And the problems multiplied.
That’s when it happened.
Somewhere in Texas, a mild-mannered musician sat doomscrolling with his dog Sugar farting in his lap, nose burning from the gaseous emissions. A bad omen it was. The news was bleak. Again. Supreme Court immunity. Gaza in ruins. Greenland next on the real estate wishlist.
And he thought:
“This country doesn’t deserve another party... at least not the kind with balloons and cake. It needs a Pitty Party.”
William Pitty is the face of the disillusioned masses. Born in a strip mall and raised on expired coupons, he’s just a guy who’s had enough. He carries a dry erase protest sign and drinks gas station coffee like it’s a sacred ritual. He is not a politician. He’s you. He’s me. He’s the reason we cry at city council meetings.
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