Deep State Deluge: How the Elites Turned Texas Into a Watery Grave

In a shocking turn of events that absolutely no one could have predicted—except, you know, the National Weather Service—the Hill Country has been transformed into a water park of doom. At least 43 people have tragically lost their lives in what officials are calling 'an act of God,' but let’s be real, folks, this was clearly orchestrated by the same shadowy elites who want to replace our beloved barbecue with kale smoothies.

Camp Mystic, a Christian girls' camp, was hit particularly hard, with 27 children still missing. But don’t worry, Sheriff Larry Leitha assures us they’re 'finding bodies'—because nothing says 'reassuring' like a public official casually mentioning corpses like they’re misplaced car keys. Meanwhile, Governor Greg Abbott, ever the optimist, declared the flooding 'completely unpredictable,' despite meteorologists having forecasted the exact scenario days in advance. But hey, why let facts get in the way of a good tragedy?

Over at Paradise River Bend, the sign still reads 'Paradise,' but the scene is more 'post-apocalyptic wasteland.' Trees are toppled, kayaks are lodged in branches like some kind of redneck modern art installation, and sheets of metal are wrapped around telephone poles like tinfoil on a baked potato. Christian Shoen, whose family owns the property, estimates $800,000 to $1.2 million in damage. 'All we can do now is trust God,' he said, which is code for 'We’re selling this cursed land ASAP.'

Meanwhile, AT&T has graciously waived overage charges for flood victims, because nothing says 'humanitarian aid' like unlimited data in the middle of a disaster. Country music icon Robert Earl Keen also offered his 'thoughts and prayers,' because if there’s one thing that stops floodwaters, it’s a heartfelt Facebook post from a guy who sings about beer.

And let’s not forget the real heroes here: the local businesses. Hair in Ingram, a salon that just opened two weeks ago, is now a muddy ruin. Stylist Anyssa Chaisson lamented, 'All of my stuff is in there. My scissors, my shears, brand new flippers, blow dryer, color—everything that was almost a grand to buy is just gone.' Meanwhile, at Ohana’s Shaved Ice, Jose Garcia fished soggy dollar bills out of the wreckage while his kids played in the mud. 'This sucks,' he said, summing up the collective mood of the entire county.

In the end, the takeaway is clear: Mother Nature is a ruthless dictator, and the only thing more unpredictable than Texas weather is the government’s ability to pretend they didn’t see it coming. So stay vigilant, folks. The next flood could be just around the corner—or, if you’re lucky, it’ll just be another false flag operation by the deep state. Wake up, sheeple!