Dems Weld Capitol Doors Shut, Hold Tearful Vigil Demanding GOP “Let Us In”

WASHINGTON, D.C.—In a maneuver that scholars are already hailing as “the most literal filibuster in American history,” Senate Democrats yesterday welded shut every exterior door of the U.S. Capitol, padlocked the rotunda skylight, and began a candlelight vigil on the west lawn, plaintively chanting “Let us in!” while clutching laminated copies of the House-passed continuing resolution they have now rejected fourteen consecutive times.

Eyewitnesses described Senator Elizabeth Warren perched atop a rented scissor lift, personally supervising the application of marine-grade epoxy to the bronze Columbus Doors. “We simply cannot reopen government,” she explained through a megaphone fashioned from a rolled-up parchment of the Affordable Care Act, “until Republicans agree to reopen government on our terms.”

Historical parallels abound. Dr. Marigold Pence-Thistlewaite, visiting fellow at the Hoover Institution’s Center for Performative Governance, likened the spectacle to the Children’s Crusade—only with better signage and complimentary oat-milk lattes. “Medieval pilgrims at least had the decency to march toward Jerusalem,” she noted. “These pilgrims marched 400 feet, sat down, and demanded the city come to them.”

On the marble plaza below, Senator Chuck Schumer led a rotating roster of colleagues in a mournful a cappella rendition of “We Shall Not Be Moved (Until You Move First).” Staffers distributed color-coded placards: teal for Medicaid restoration, mauve for ACA subsidies, and a tasteful burnt sienna for “general moral superiority.”

Inside the sealed Capitol, Republican lawmakers reportedly discovered the Democrats had also super-glued every light switch to the OFF position, replaced the Senate cloakroom coffee with decaf, and—most diabolically—reprogrammed the C-SPAN cameras to display only a continuous loop of the 1998 shutdown starring Newt Gingrich. “It’s psychological warfare,” one GOP aide whispered, declining to be named for fear of being assigned the burnt-sienna placard.

By dusk, the vigil had swollen to include 3,000 federal employees on furlough, 47 therapy llamas, and one confused barista who thought the oat-milk line was for a pop-up matcha festival. Participants linked arms in a human chain spelling “COMPROMISE” in aerial drone footage—except the “M” was missing because its holder had wandered off in search of gluten-free communion wafers.

Political scientists are scrambling to update textbooks. “Previous research explored topics such as veto threats and debt-ceiling brinkmanship,” said Professor Lowell K. Bridgeforth of Georgetown. “No peer-reviewed study, however, anticipated the ‘Weld-and-Weep Strategy.’ Future dissertations will require entire chapters on the structural integrity of historic hinges.”

As night fell, Warren descended the scissor lift, wiped a single tear, and addressed the throng: “We will stay here—outside the building we have barricaded—until every American feels the precise weight of our principled exclusion.” She then produced a titanium thermos, took a measured sip of room-temperature kombucha, and resumed welding.

Former white House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre praised the Democrats’ “innovative use of industrial adhesives” and promised the President would sign any bill that reaches his desk—provided someone can locate a door that still opens.

At press time, House Republicans were reportedly counter-welding the Capitol’s steam tunnels and considering a moat. Historians have scheduled an emergency symposium titled “When Metaphors Attack: Governance in the Age of Literal Irony.”