For the Woke, Birnham Wood is coming to Dunsinane.

I was thinking, while driving around today, that the ship of Wokeness has come to wreck on the rocks of reality.  All the imaginings of Disparate Impact, and Intersectionality, and Identity, and Microagressions, and Stereotype Threat, etc. have come to nothing.  Dust in the wind.

Later in the day, something makes me think of MacBeth.

MACBETH Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:

Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?

Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know

All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:

'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman

Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,

false thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures:

The mind I sway by and the heart I bear

Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

The Woke are Macbeth, misunderstanding reality as he misunderstands Malcolm.  Birnham Wood is coming to Dunsinane.