In the flat, rain-soaked purgatory known as the Netherlands, something mildly consequential has occurred, though you wouldn’t know it from the apocalyptic wailing emanating from the Hague. Geert Wilders—a man whose primary contribution to global culture is a hairstyle that suggests he’s been perpetually startled by a Van de Graaff generator—is having what he calls a 'Black Day.' It seems seven of his parliamentary lackeys have finally realized that being a background extra in the 'Geert Show' offers roughly the same career longevity as a fruit fly in a vinegar factory. They’ve quit. They’ve mutinied. And in doing so, they’ve stripped Wilders of his favorite toy: the title of 'Largest Opposition Force.'

Let’s be clear: calling this a 'mutiny' is an insult to pirates everywhere. Pirates have codes, goals, and occasionally, cool hats. These seven MPs are merely rats who noticed the ship was taking on water and decided the pier looked significantly more stable than the deck. For years, they sat behind Wilders, nodding like caffeinated bobbleheads while he spewed his brand of designer xenophobia, presumably while they calculated their state pensions and wondered if they could expense their bitterballen. To imagine they’ve suddenly developed a conscience is to imagine that a shark has suddenly developed an interest in veganism. They left because the political math changed, not because their hearts grew three sizes. They realized that shouting into the void is less profitable when the void starts shouting back.

The PVV—Wilders’ 'Party for Freedom'—is a fascinating study in authoritarian narcissism. In a feat of legal gymnastics that would make a contortionist weep, Wilders is the only actual member of the party. Everyone else is just a 'representative.' It is a political party with the membership structure of a lonely man’s Discord server. This 'One-Member' rule allowed Geert to maintain absolute control, ensuring that no one could ever challenge his leadership or, heaven forbid, introduce a nuanced thought into the party platform. But the downside of being a cult leader is that when the tithes stop coming in and the charismatic glow begins to flicker, you find yourself very alone, very quickly. You can’t have a mutiny in a party of one, but you can certainly have a mass resignation of the help.

The fallout of this exodus is that the PVV is no longer the biggest dog in the opposition kennel. This is a devastating blow to Wilders' ego, which requires the constant nourishment of being 'the biggest' or 'the most' of something. Now, he’s just another loud man in a suit, screaming at the clouds while the clouds ignore him in favor of raining on someone more important. The 'Black Day' he describes isn't a tragedy for the Dutch people; it’s a personal brand crisis for a man who has spent twenty years selling a product that is 90% peroxide and 10% grievance. The theater is still there, but the supporting cast has walked out, leaving the lead actor to recite his lines to an empty house.

Of course, the Dutch political establishment is reacting with its trademark blend of faux-horror and secret glee. The Left is busy polishing their halos, pretending that this internal collapse is a victory for 'democratic values' rather than what it actually is: a group of mediocre people failing to get along. They believe that because Wilders is bleeding, they are winning. They aren't. They are still the same collection of performative moralists who couldn’t navigate their way out of a paper bag if the directions were written in simple Dutch. They will use this 'Black Day' to fundraise, to tweet, and to feel superior, all while the underlying rot of European governance continues unabated. They aren't the solution; they're just the other side of the same debased coin.

Meanwhile, the Right is in a tailspin, wondering if they should double down on the crazy or try to pivot back to a version of conservatism that doesn’t involve shouting at windmills. They are terrified that the 'populist wave' might be more of a 'populist puddle,' and they are desperately trying to find a way to make themselves relevant without having to actually propose a policy that doesn't fit on a bumper sticker. It’s a pathetic spectacle, a circular firing squad where everyone is using blanks but still manages to claim they’re being assassinated. They mourned the loss of the 'largest opposition' status not because they care about policy, but because they lost their place at the top of the grievance pile.

The truth is that this 'historic' event is just another chapter in the long, dull book of human stupidity. A man who built a career on exclusion has been excluded by his own people. A party that claimed to represent 'the people' has proven it can’t even represent its own office staff. And the Dutch public, caught between a xenophobic blowhard and a gallery of ineffective bureaucrats, continues to wait for a leader who isn't a walking caricature. They’ll be waiting for a long time. In the meantime, we can all enjoy the sight of Geert Wilders staring into his mirror, wondering why the only person left in his party is the one person he’s starting to hate the most: himself. It’s not a black day. It’s a transparent one. We can finally see through the theater, and there’s nothing behind the curtain but a very expensive bottle of hair bleach and a pile of broken promises.