Oh, Pam. You didn’t think you’d be hearing from Bikini Bottom, did you?
And yet… here they come — not because they want to, but because you’ve brought the entire nation to the brink of a constitutional crisis over seashells.
Even underwater, this story doesn’t hold water.
Let’s set the scene: former FBI Director James Comey posts a photo of seashells arranged as “86 47” with a caption so aggressively innocent it practically smells like Coppertone.
Trump immediately declares it a coded assassination attempt. Homeland Security launches an investigation like Comey smuggled a harpoon onto Air Force One. And you, Pam Bondi — you were handed the gavel.
Trump said so himself: “It’s up to Pam.”
Not the courts. Not the law. Not logic. Not Merriam-Webster. Just… Pam. The woman who once defended Trump’s impeachment with the legal depth of a BuzzFeed quiz. The same Pam now tasked with deciding if seashells count as felonies.
And you wonder why Bikini Bottom is worried…
SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS:
“Hi Pam!! I made a sandcastle once that looked like a number! Then Mr. Krabs yelled at me and said I was summoning the IRS! Hahaha! Isn’t that funny, Pam? Wait—are you gonna arrest me too?”
PATRICK STAR:
“Pam, I don’t even know how to count. But if I did, I’d definitely get arrested. Just to be safe, I only use the number 3. Over and over. Three. Three. Three.”
SQUIDWARD TENTACLES:
“Oh great. Now we’re issuing subpoenas for decorative sand arrangements. What’s next, Pam? A congressional hearing on whether barnacle graffiti violates the Espionage Act?”
MR. KRABS:
“Arresting a man over some seashells? Pam, ye’d lock up half the sailors in the seven seas if they posted what they saw on shore leave. This ain’t law — it’s looney tunes with a badge!”
SANDY CHEEKS:
“Well shoot, Pam. I’ve heard a lotta dumb things in my time, but makin’ ‘86’ into a death threat? That’s dumber than tryin’ to microwave barbecue. Y’all need a constitutional intervention.”
PLANKTON:
“I fully support Pam! I’ve been trying to frame Mr. Krabs with shell-based terrorism since Season 3. Finally, the system works!”
GARY THE SNAIL:
“Meow.” (Translation: “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen and I live in a house shaped like fruit.”)
Pam, we know you’re in a tough spot, so here’s our advice:
Do it.
Arrest and prosecute James Comey for posting his photo on Instagram.
March into court and tell the judge, with dead-eyed sincerity, that “86 47” wasn’t just a beach moment—it was an assassination plot. Make your case with the same confidence SpongeBob brings to jellyfishing, but with none of the self-awareness. Let the courtroom echo with your brilliance as you attempt to prove that sand is now a weapon of mass destruction.
Do it for Trump. He’s basically Mr. Krabs if Mr. Krabs had a personal vendetta against the alphabet and thought empathy was communist propaganda. He doesn’t want justice—he wants someone to suffer loudly and in primetime. He wants to hear you say “the shells made him do it” while he eats a Filet-O-Fish and calls it strategy. You’re not the Attorney General, Pam. You’re the fry cook of fascism, flipping nonsense into indictments while America slips on a grease puddle and sues itself.
Lean in. Arrest a man for a beach walk. Subpoena the tide. Let the DOJ become the Krusty Krab on Opposite Day, where truth is fake, loyalty is law, and jellyfish have security clearance. Call Patrick Star to the stand and ask if he’s seen any “subversive barnacles.” Reconstruct the crime scene using kelp, paranoia, and whatever’s left of your reputation. Turn the legal system into a SpongeBob episode written by a QAnon message board and funded by a Facebook ad for brain supplements.
And when it all unravels—and it will, Pam—you won’t be a patriot. You won’t be a defender of justice. You’ll be a punchline told between SpongeBob reruns and actual trials that matter. You’ll be the Attorney General who mistook a beach post for a death threat, and got humiliated in open court by a man with sand in his shoes and zero interest in your loyalty. And you’ll deserve every meme that follows.
— Closer to the Edge
(Reporting live from the bottom of the ocean, because reality on land has completely collapsed)
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.