Empty Seats and Hurricane Histrionics

Last week, we highlighted the coming spectacle of Indivisible’s climate-themed dramatics in Theater of the Absurd: Indivisible’s Storm Show Rolls into Red Florida. As predicted, the show did go on—and it flopped harder than a soggy protest sign in a rainstorm.

If a protest flops in the middle of Miami and nobody’s there to hear it, does it still make a soundbite? Thanks to CBS Miami, we now know the answer: yes—but just barely.

This past Sunday, the fear-mongering roadshow known as Riders on the Storm rolled into Maurice A. Ferré Park with all the thunder of a wet match. Indivisible staged what they called a rally against NOAA budget cuts. It was the political equivalent of shouting into an empty parking lot. Less than a dozen attendees managed to assemble—a turnout so small, one might wonder whether even the protestors believed their own hype.

The only media coverage of this exercise in dramatic futility came from CBS Miami, which generously pointed its cameras at what looked more like a PTA gathering than a movement. In what can only be described as an editorial mercy mission, the network squeezed together the few scattered individuals holding signs in an attempt to simulate a crowd. Spoiler: it didn’t work.

The CBS segment, delivered in hushed tones befitting a eulogy, centered on two former NOAA employees turned political stage props: Andy Hazelton and John Cortinas. Hazelton, who joined NOAA in October 2024 and was let go by February 2025, solemnly declared, “It’s not political”—a statement immediately followed by political slogans, chants, and appeals for more federal money. Cortinas, meanwhile, announced he had retired rather than participate in what he ominously described as a “direction” he didn’t like. Brave.

Both men emphasized how NOAA’s work “pays for itself,” a classic bureaucratic euphemism which, when translated, means “we’re entitled to your money indefinitely and without scrutiny.” The network dutifully repeated claims that NOAA’s budget cuts—part of a federal workforce streamlining effort—could make people “more vulnerable” during hurricane season. Apparently, decentralizing disaster preparedness to states like Florida, which actually has a robust emergency response system, is now seen as reckless endangerment.

Meanwhile, National Hurricane Center Director Mike Brennan calmly reminded the audience that, despite all this melodrama, the agency remains “fully operational” and will issue forecasts “as they always do”. So much for the “No Forecast. No Warning. No Escape!” tagline plastered on Indivisible’s flyers.

And then there’s the capstone quote from Miami Indivisible’s Raquel Pacheco, who decried the budget adjustments as “an attack on science,” claiming they jeopardize “life-saving” research for millions along Florida’s coastline. Again, this protest took place in Florida—home of arguably the most prepared state-level emergency management agency in the country. The irony is not just rich, it’s downright decadent.

Let’s not forget the visuals. The CBS video, as well as screenshots captured from the park, show more palm trees than people. No tidal wave of outrage. No energized grassroots uprising. Just a sad assembly of taxpayer-funded sign-wavers, lamenting the loss of their federal sinecures.

This entire performance smacks of the usual pattern: create a false crisis, blame a political opponent, demand more centralized control. In this case, the script wore thin. The “storm” Indivisible hoped to ride into Miami turned out to be little more than a fart in a breeze—audible only because the media leaned in close and turned up the mic.

This wasn’t a rally. It was a requiem—for credibility, for momentum, and for the illusion that anyone outside of activist circles actually believes these protest theatrics represent public opinion.

So here’s to Riders on the Storm, the sequel nobody asked for and even fewer attended. Next time, they may want to try a new strategy—like renting an audience.

H/T again to Mumbles McGuirck