Authored by David Manney via PJMedia.com,

They call it leadership; we call it theater...

While the federal shutdown grinds on, Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) and Rep. Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) have clearly perfected a strange new art form: performative politics, where each word is a cue, every accusation a prop, and every tweet an audition for those who can look the most indignant while working the least.

In the meantime, President Donald Trump isn't playing along; he's rewriting the script in real time, walking over Schumer and Jeffries online, each dropping posts and videos that make Democrats look like out-of-work actors fumbling through a forgotten scene.

The Optics of Outrage

There's only one person who loves a podium more than a union boss loves a microphone: Sen. Schumer, who talks of compassion and compromise, but whose Senate has turned into a stalled parade float: lots of color, with no movement.

Each day, Schumer and Jeffries hold press conferences blaming Republicans for "holding America hostage," yet their "solutions" amount to more spending, conditions, and delays.

When Schumer says, "We're fighting for the people," you hear scuffling and the sound of human flesh smacking onto the floor because the irony practically trips over itself.

The only people who benefited from this shutdown are those who earn money collecting views on social media. Government workers miss paychecks, national parks close, and families lose confidence. But Democrats? They work hard to find new lighting angles that fit their outrage. 

Hakeem Jeffries, Master of Misfire

If one existed, the perfect understudy for a shutdown would be Hakeem Jeffries, whose speeches sound like they were written for a student rally, not the House of Representatives.

Jeffries readily accused Republicans of chaos, insisting that Trump "marched the nation into darkness." A little while later, Jeffries walked off-stage to check how the clip performed online.

One thing he mastered was the political selfie: always framed and never candid. Jeffries would smoothly deliver a monologue about compassion while standing in a building he helped close — one that was now locked.

As the White House negotiates, Jeffries demands that "Republicans get back to work!"

Given that his party helped shut it all down, they used the same tactics they used with the border, crime, and inflation — causing the fire, then blaming the firefighter for showing up with a hose.

Shutdown by Design

We're not watching an example of gridlock; we're seeing extravagant choreography from a Democratic Party that knew it was coming.

President Trump canceled a meeting with Schumer and Jeffries weeks before the deadline, signaling that the days of performative pleating were finally over. When the shutdown hit, the online team for the White House decided to turn the situation into an absolute spectacle, flooding feeds with edited clips and punchy quips that made Democrats look like punchlines.

Like Sylvester the Cat(s) going up against the mice, Schumer and Jeffries took the bait, condemning "digital bullying" and then doing precisely what the administration wanted: prolonging the argument, extending airtime, and making themselves the story.

President Trump didn't simply outmaneuver them; he outproduced them.

When Democrats thought they were simply hosting a press conference, Trump turned it into a roast.

The Party of Panic

Panic became the currency of the Democrats, who found themselves addicted to crisis because it's the only time anybody listens.

Democrats discovered that drama pays better than progress, that when the lights dimmed in the Capitol, the cameras brightened in their offices.  Not just a little bit, either.

Senator Chuck "I love a slice of cheese on my raw hamburger patty" Schumer warns of economic damage while his caucus blocks spending votes. Jeffries laments the pain for working families while refusing to drop policy riders that have nothing to do with keeping the lights on, while claiming moral clarity, a perfect picture of performance dressed like principle.

Now, even the mainstream networks are starting to tire of the show; reporters whisper that the Senate has transformed into more like a film set than a governing body. Every line uttered from Jeffries' office is tested for "shareability," and every Schumer pause is scripted, becoming its own Saturday Night Live sketch, minus the legit laughs.

The Real Leader in the Room

No matter what you want to say about President Donald Trump, the man knows timing.

As Schumer and Jeffries practice their next press release, Trump lays out posts that reach tens of millions, setting the national narrative before breakfast has been served. 

Speaking directly to voters who remember what Washington looked like before becoming a hub for acting classes, Trump created a difference by governing to achieve results. At the same time, Schumer and Jeffries simply committed to creating performance art solely to be remembered.

Nowhere else does this hold. In politics, competence remains quiet, while chaos is loud, leading to one single fact: the Party of Panic has only one skill left — knowing how to yell.

Final Thoughts

Each time a government grinds to a halt because of a shutdown, budgets aren't the only thing tested: It tests who stays calm when the cameras roll.

Right now, President Trump owns the calm and isn't sweating after reading the script. Schumber and Jeffries, however, find themselves stuck in a repeated cycle of rehearsal, where they're forever searching for applause in a play that not a single soul wants to see twice.

Schumer and Jeffries, along with minor actors, have confused leadership with lightning cues, mistaking politics for performance art. Unfortunately for them, the curtain has already started to fall because the audience simply moved on.

Luckily for conservatives, the Party of Panic can't stop acting long enough to realize the "show" ended hours ago.