Bernie Sanders Unwittingly Declared Emperor of Vermont by Protest Sign

Inside the coronation that fractured the “No Kings” movement and launched 14 subcommittees on imperial metaphor ethics.

BURLINGTON, VT — At precisely 1:47 p.m. last Saturday, during a regional “No Kings” solidarity march organized by the Vermont chapter of anti-authoritarian slacktivists, an enthusiastic protester hoisted a sign reading: “BERNIE IS OUR EMPEROR NOW!”

In that moment, everything fell apart.

What was meant to be a loosely choreographed rejection of militarism, hierarchy, and monarchy turned instantly into a philosophical meltdown so severe that it required four consensus-building workshops, a restorative zine, and the immediate banning of capes.

Witnesses say the sign — a homemade banner crafted from ethically sourced cardboard and painted with beet-based ink — was held proudly by 19-year-old vegan DJ and part-time mushroom cultivator Kale Blaster (they/them), who has since become the unwilling flashpoint of a leftist ideological civil war.

“I meant it metaphorically,” said Kale in an apology video posted to TikTok, filmed in front of their compost toilet. “Bernie isn’t a king. He’s, like… the anti-king. The people’s monarch. The woke czar of vibes.”

That, apparently, was not enough.

THE CROWN JEWEL OF IRONY

By Sunday morning, the No Kings National Working Circle on Symbolic Contradictions had issued a formal statement:

“While we deeply respect Senator Sanders’ contributions to the discourse of redistributive justice, the use of the word ‘emperor’—even in jest—is a violent echo of hegemonic structures and must be decolonized immediately. We reject hereditary, elected, accidental, or meme-based monarchy in all forms.”

Meanwhile, the image of the sign — complete with Bernie’s smiling face Photoshopped onto the body of Napoleon crossing the Alps — went viral. Within 24 hours, it was printed on protest posters, anarchist mugs, and a limited-run screen-printed hoodie that sold out in five minutes on Etsy.

Conservative pundits wasted no time. Fox News commentator Bret Holster exclaimed, “This is what we’ve been saying all along. These people claim to hate kings, yet they want Bernie in a robe shouting about dental care. It’s communist cosplay — with taxpayer-funded crowns!”

Holster then introduced a graphic reading “BERNIE THE BENEVOLENT? VT IN CHAOS.”

THE SENATOR RESPONDS

Reached for comment by Bohiney Magazine, Senator Sanders seemed confused but flattered. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, while standing beside a woodpile. “However, I believe in democratic socialism, not Game of Thrones cosplay. I don’t want a throne. I just want everyone to have a chair at the table. And a good dental plan. And soup.”

Asked directly if he would accept the title of Emperor of Vermont, Bernie replied, “If I become emperor, everyone gets dental. Even the rich. Especially the rich. Their gums are rotting from champagne and tax breaks.”

He paused before adding, “Also, I don’t wear robes. Too drafty.”

The senator then returned to chopping wood, presumably in solidarity with laborers.

A MOVEMENT SPLINTERS

By Monday, the fallout had spread nationwide. The Portland No Kings Chapter called for a 48-hour silent fast in protest of “accidental linguistic feudalism.” In Minneapolis, the chapter split in two — one side rebranding as “No Crowns Coalition,” the other as “Monarchy Is a Vibe, Actually.”

At a No Kings retreat in Big Sur, a group of self-described “monarchy survivors” burned effigies of thrones made of kale chips and reclaimed wood. The ceremony ended in confusion after someone lit a sage bundle too close to a compost pile, resulting in a three-acre “decentralized smoke event.”

Back in Vermont, the Burlington faction tried to clarify that their sign was not an endorsement of monarchy, but “an ironic post-structural celebration of democratic stability within a vibe-based ontology of mutual aid.” This explanation only made things worse.

Within hours, 14 subcommittees were formed to debate the ethics of metaphor. The “Bernie-as-King Accountability Pod” began hosting virtual roundtables with guest speakers including a retired Shakespeare professor, a Wiccan improv coach, and one guy who claimed to be the reincarnation of Thomas Paine’s parrot.

THE ACCIDENTAL ZINE THAT STARTED A REVOLUTION

Out of the chaos emerged a zine titled Emperor Bernie and the Socialist Throne of Mutual Aid, featuring interviews, watercolor fan art, and a timeline of the coronation scandal. Page 3 included a centerfold-style fold-out of Bernie atop a stack of Medicare-for-All pamphlets, wearing a mitre made of maple leaves and muttering “Tax the rich” like a Gregorian chant.

The zine sparked yet another round of interpretive conflict.

Some hailed it as satirical genius. Others called it “monarchist propaganda disguised as whimsy.” One protestor in Santa Fe wept while reading it, later telling reporters, “It reminded me of when I believed in things… like brunch and utopia.”

In response, the zine’s editor, River Quinoa-Lowe, issued a clarification: “We do not endorse monarchy in any form, including sexy, old socialist monarchs who look like they chop wood in Vermont and smell faintly of lentils and justice.”

CONSERVATIVES DECLARE VICTORY

Republicans, meanwhile, took the opportunity to declare the left “officially out of ideas.”

“The No Kings crowd literally crowned someone,” said Rep. Blake Gunner (R–Texas). “They can’t even protest without monarchy sneaking in the back door in a wool sweater and orthopedic shoes.”

The National Republican Committee began selling shirts reading “BERNIE 2025: EMPEROR OF THE ELITE,” with a graphic of Sanders sitting on a throne made of canceled student loan debt. They raised $4 million in 48 hours.

Tucker Carlson called the incident “proof that the left has the self-awareness of a drunk mime.”

THE BERNIE LOYALISTS STRIKE BACK

But not all responses were critical. A new splinter group called “Red Throne Rising” formed online, embracing the Emperor Bernie meme as a vehicle for radical joy.

They host weekly “regal reading circles” in abandoned parking lots, where participants wear bathrobes and recite Sanders speeches in the style of royal decrees. Their slogan? “Long live the redistribution!”

One member, Sunflower G., explained, “We know he doesn’t want to be emperor. But that’s why he deserves it. He’s like Aragorn, if Aragorn had a Brooklyn accent and refused to slay orcs without Medicare coverage.”

BERNIE’S FINAL DECREE

As the meme spiraled out of control, Sanders addressed supporters during a town hall at the Burlington Community Grange.

“I do not wish to be emperor,” he said, pounding the lectern. “I do not wish to rule. I wish for you — the working people — to take back the power from the billionaires, the corporate overlords, and the landlords charging $1,700 for a basement with no windows.”

The crowd roared.

“And if I must sit on a throne,” he added, “it will be made of unpaid medical bills, broken campaign promises, and the shattered dreams of lobbyists. And it will not be comfortable.”

Attendees wept. A goat bleated in approval.

THE MOVEMENT MOVES ON

Ultimately, the “No Kings” coalition issued a final, collectively-drafted 11,000-word statement declaring that “metaphorical monarchy must be met with metaphysical resistance.”

They banned all regal language from future protests. “King,” “queen,” “czar,” “lord,” and “sheriff” are all forbidden. Even the phrase “crowned achievement” is now considered triggering.

New chants have emerged, including:

• “NO CROWNS, JUST DOWNS WITH CAPITALISM!”

• “ALL HAIL, NO HAIL!”

• “DETHRONE YOUR INNER DICTATOR!”

The only acceptable figure of reverence now is a raccoon named Churro who lives behind the Burlington food co-op and was elected “Nonbinary Rodent of the People” by silent acclamation.

A LASTING LEGACY

The Bernie coronation scandal will be remembered not just as a flashpoint for the “No Kings” movement, but as a metaphor for everything wrong with modern progressive politics: well-intentioned, badly executed, ironically regal, deeply memeable.

It proved that even in the most aggressively horizontal, leaderless spaces, someone always ends up on top — even if it’s an 83-year-old socialist just trying to get home before dark to finish his lentil stew.

And as one protestor scrawled on a chalkboard outside a Vermont cafe:

“WE DON’T WANT KINGS.
WE DON’T WANT GODS.
WE WANT BERNIE, BUT WITH LIMITS.”

IMAGE GALLERY

Bernie Sanders Unwittingly Declared Emperor of Vermont by Protest Sign