Posts in Category: Daily, or my first cup of coffee

The Elephant In The Room Nobody Is Looking At – Video

Trump is out. The clown is getting the hook. You’d have to be blind not to see it — and he’s too busy with his burgers to notice it himself. I have recently written about how the two party system has failed us and how dark money has made it nearly impossible for an independent candidate to even get on the ballot. The Republicans and the Democrats are not running the show. The SuperPACs are.

So when Musk threatened to start his own party during the DOGE wars all he was really doing was threatening Trump. Because Musk’s party couldn’t have gotten on 90 percent of American ballots. But it would have weakened the MAGA base — which was exactly the point.

Then Tucker Carlson said this:

“I would not support the Republican Party, there’s no chance. Not gonna support the Democratic Party. I don’t know what I’m going to do. How could I or any American voter support a political party that’s not loyal to the United States — that puts the interests of a foreign country above those of its own citizens. It’s not possible to vote for people like that and I’m not going to. I voted Republican my entire life. I worked at Fox News. I’ve been a consistent defender for 35 years of the Republican Party, but there’s no defending this because it’s immoral. I’m out. And if I’m out, then I think a lot of other people are out.”

Different name. Same chokehold. Same dark money. Same result for the Purple Rose.

I don’t think I need to put the pipe down to ask that question.

I think it’s the only question worth asking right now.

And I’m genuinely puzzled why so few people are asking it.

The FCC and The News Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Five – The FCC and The News

The Fifth Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Part Five

The FCC, The First Amendment, and The News That Used to Be News

The founding charter of the Federal Communications Commission is the Communications Act of 1934 — an independent federal mandate enacted by Congress to regulate the airwaves in the public interest.

I encourage everyone to look it up. Read what it was designed to do. Then compare that to what it is currently doing.

The gap is the story.

The airwaves are public property. Broadcast licenses are issued in the public trust — not as private rights but as public obligations. The entity that receives a license to use the public airwaves accepts a responsibility to serve the public interest. That was the founding principle. That was the deal.

Somewhere along the way the deal changed.

Today a handful of corporations own most of what Americans see and hear. When that many outlets are controlled by that few owners the news stops being news and becomes something else. Call it perspective. Call it editorial direction. Call it what it actually is — propaganda with a news desk and a theme song.

This will be worth repeating in future segments because it touches everything. An informed citizenry is the foundation under the foundation. You cannot have accountability without information. You cannot have meaningful elections without accurate news. You cannot have a functioning democracy when the information ecosystem is owned by people with specific financial and political interests in what you believe.

Now add the Inspector Generals.

We have them. Or we had them. Their purpose is straightforward — independent oversight of the agencies they monitor, specifically designed to catch corruption and prevent regulatory capture. A check on the checkers. An independent eye on the people making the rules.

The current administration fired most of them.

The same oversight that would have monitored what the administration itself was doing — gone. Not restructured. Not replaced. Removed. Because independent oversight of your own behavior is inconvenient when your behavior requires oversight.

This is not a political attack. It is an illustration of exactly why the executive branch needs hard limits on what it can and cannot touch. There need to be areas of the civil service where executive orders have little to no effect. Where the order arrives and the response is not a court challenge but a rubbish bin. Some things should simply be beyond the reach of any single administration regardless of who won the last election.

The FCC is one of those things.

Its job is regulation. Monitor acquisitions. Prevent monopolies. Protect the public interest in the airwaves it licenses. What is not — what should not be — in its charter is any role in determining what speech is acceptable to the current occupant of the White House.

And yet.

For anyone paying attention — look up the details of what happened with Jimmy Kimmel, Stephen Colbert, and the Daily Show. The FCC was used as a direct instrument of executive pressure to coerce networks into dropping programming the president found unfavorable. Not illegal content. Not obscenity. Programming he didn’t like.

That is not regulation. That is a threat wearing a regulatory costume.

In our new foundation the safeguards have to be structural not assumed. No presidential pressure moves the needle because the president cannot fire the people holding the needle. Independence is not a courtesy — it is an architecture. Built in. Locked. Not dependent on the good faith of whoever currently holds power.

I can remember when the news was presented as news. Facts. This is what is happening. If an outlet wanted to offer opinion it was called an editorial and labeled as such. The separation was clear and it was honored because the public expected it and the license required it.

That line has been erased. Rebuilding it requires more than nostalgia. It requires structural protection with enforceable consequences.

You cannot have the First Amendment and suppress it simultaneously. That is not how the system was designed to work.

And here is the danger that goes beyond any single administration or any single network or any single late night host who said something unflattering.

When you find a way to circumvent one rule — even a small one, even quietly, even with a plausible justification — the next rule becomes easier. And the one after that. The erosion is always gradual until suddenly it isn’t gradual at all.

There need to be consequences.

Fast ones. Enforceable ones.

The First Amendment is not a suggestion. It is the first brick for a reason.

Tell Me One Thing, I Dare You

Something is very, very wrong.

I have been getting partisan emails asking for donations for as long as I can remember. That isn’t anything new. Both parties do it all the time. I get it. Campaigns cost money.

But something has shifted. Something that has genuinely gotten under my skin over the past couple of years — and I suspect I’m not alone.

I receive at least fifty emails a day asking me for money. Fifty. From the same small circle of names — the top of the ticket, the family, the inner circle. If the man had a dog, I’d be getting emails from the dog. And I want you to think about something. I cannot remember — not once, not a single time — receiving a message that told me anything at all about what they could do for me. What their plan was. Why my life would be better if I sent them twenty-five dollars by midnight.

Not once.

I won’t waste your time throwing names around because you either know what I’m taking about or your comatose.

What I do get, every single day, is this: They are evil. They are out to kill your babies. They are stealing your future. They are screwing your wife. They are driving too fast. They are eating too much of your food. That’s why your life is so bad. That’s why nothing works. That’s why you’re angry. It’s them. It’s always them.

Not a single word about what sending money would actually accomplish. Not a single promise about what gets better, what gets built, what gets fixed. Just the other side. How dangerous they are. How your only hope is to send money right now, tonight, before the deadline that somehow resets every single morning.

This has to tell you something.

A party that runs entirely on hate and fear has nothing else to offer. No vision. No plan. No positive case for why your life gets better if they win. Just the endless, exhausting argument that the other side is the enemy and only your donation stands between you and destruction.

You may not like the other sides plan, but at least they have one, and it’s not called hate.

So I’m going to do something simple. I’m going to issue a dare.

Tell me one thing. One single thing this party is offering you — for your money, for your vote, for your loyalty — other than hurting, controlling, and punishing the other side.

Go on. I’m waiting.

Fake News or Just a Fake Narrative

Fake News, Is it fake news or do some just see things differently then the rest of the world. Our perceptions are always biased. What we see is what we want to see.

One person may see vandals with a 1.5 inch Swiss Army knife snorking 100 yards underwater slicing through a super tough Rhino liner that is almost bullet proof when properly applied, read, properly applied. Others may see a some pool guy from Florida over charging a few million and not really knowing the difference between a wading pool and a 2000 foot reflecting pool.

But that’s just my perception, what’s yours?

If we need to take this analogy any further, think of the life of an adult film actress. That ego ridden dude, notice ego with the very little ‘e’ may see

But in reality what he is missing is the real picture. Because it doesn’t fit the narrative.

The Elephant In The Room Nobody Is Looking At

Ever feel like you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown from all the noise? The he said she said, on and on, round and round. Just noise.

But is it just noise?

Sometimes the most important thing happening isn’t the loudest thing happening. Sometimes the real story is in the room nobody is looking at.

Trump is out. The clown is getting the hook. You’d have to be blind not to see it — and he’s too busy with his burgers to notice it himself. I have recently written about how the two party system has failed us and how dark money has made it nearly impossible for an independent candidate to even get on the ballot. The Republicans and the Democrats are not running the show. The SuperPACs are.

So when Musk threatened to start his own party during the DOGE wars all he was really doing was threatening Trump. Because Musk’s party couldn’t have gotten on 90 percent of American ballots. But it would have weakened the MAGA base — which was exactly the point.

Then Tucker Carlson said this:

“I would not support the Republican Party, there’s no chance. Not gonna support the Democratic Party. I don’t know what I’m going to do. How could I or any American voter support a political party that’s not loyal to the United States — that puts the interests of a foreign country above those of its own citizens. It’s not possible to vote for people like that and I’m not going to. I voted Republican my entire life. I worked at Fox News. I’ve been a consistent defender for 35 years of the Republican Party, but there’s no defending this because it’s immoral. I’m out. And if I’m out, then I think a lot of other people are out.”

Thank you Heather Delaney Reese for Trump loyalists are jumping off the sinking ship

Tucker Carlson. Thirty five years. Out.

Now ask the question nobody seems to want to ask out loud.

Where are they going?

Tucker isn’t going long term. A third party takes decades to build and he doesn’t have that kind of patience or that kind of money. But somebody does.

Here is where we need to look. Here is the room nobody is looking at.

The SuperPACs. The dark money. The Federalist Society. Leonard Leo. Arabella Advisors. The entire infrastructure that has been quietly and methodically building the conservative legal and political architecture for thirty years.

They didn’t back Trump because they loved him. They backed him because he was a useful vehicle. Three Supreme Court justices. Hundreds of federal judges. Regulatory rollback. Tax structure. The return on their investment has been substantial.

But now the vehicle is embarrassing them. The stall is covered in dung. The clown is jeopardizing thirty years of careful infrastructure with daily chaos and a cognitive decline visible to anyone paying attention.

MAGA is dead. Trying to save it is a fool’s errand.

So what are the options?

Save the Republican Party — purge the MAGA element, restore something resembling functional conservatism, hope Vance or Rubio or someone with a law degree and a functioning prefrontal cortex can carry the banner forward. Vance and Rubio haven’t invoked the 25th Amendment yet because they’re still afraid of the MAGA base. But here’s the thing — if they did it the Republican establishment would put them on their shoulders. The dark money would fund the parade.

Or start over — a new right of center party, properly funded, built from the existing infrastructure that Leonard Leo and the Federalist Society have already constructed. It would have money. It would have judicial connections. It would have the organizational architecture that third parties normally spend decades trying to build.

Which brings us to the question that should keep everyone awake.

Is that a good thing?

Are we watching the dark money apparatus recognize that their vehicle has failed and quietly preparing to deploy a new one? A cleaner one. A more electable one. A saving angel that turns out to serve the same architecture in a better suit?

Or to put it another way — would a new right wing party actually break the two party system open for independents and moderates?

Or would it just be a Texas sidestep?

Different name. Same chokehold. Same dark money. Same result for the Purple Rose.

I don’t think I need to put the pipe down to ask that question.

I think it’s the only question worth asking right now.

And I’m genuinely puzzled why so few people are asking it.

The Judicial Branch Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Four – The Judicial Branch – Video

The Supreme Court was never designed to be a political prize.

It has become one anyway.

Every president now treats Supreme Court appointments as the most important legacy decision of their term — not because they care deeply about judicial philosophy but because they are buying future outcomes. The pocket justice. The reliable vote. The insurance policy wearing a robe.

The result is a court whose decisions are predictable before the arguments are heard. Everyone knows which way each justice will rule on any politically charged question because everyone knows who appointed them and what was expected in return. That is not justice. That is scorekeeping in robes.

The fix is not complicated. It is just threatening to the people who benefit from the current arrangement.

The Judicial Branch Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Four – The Judicial Branch

The Fourth Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Part Four

The Judicial Branch

The Supreme Court was never designed to be a political prize.

It has become one anyway.

Every president now treats Supreme Court appointments as the most important legacy decision of their term — not because they care deeply about judicial philosophy but because they are buying future outcomes. The pocket justice. The reliable vote. The insurance policy wearing a robe.

The result is a court whose decisions are predictable before the arguments are heard. Everyone knows which way each justice will rule on any politically charged question because everyone knows who appointed them and what was expected in return. That is not justice. That is scorekeeping in robes.

The fix is not complicated. It is just threatening to the people who benefit from the current arrangement.

More justices. Randomly assigned. Term limited. Appointed by peers not presidents.

Not a specific number — the number is less important than the principle. Enough justices that no single president can stack the composition. Assigned to rotating panels by lottery so nobody can predict which justices will hear which case. Appointed by their fellow jurists rather than by the politician who wants to own their vote. Term limited to twelve or eighteen years — long enough to develop genuine expertise, short enough to prevent the court from calcifying around a single political moment.

The lottery is the key. You cannot game a random draw. You cannot have a justice in your pocket if you don’t know which pocket they’ll be sitting in when your case arrives. The pipeline between political appointment and predetermined outcome gets broken not by ideology but by randomness.

But the most important brick in the judicial wall has nothing to do with composition.

It has to do with enforcement.

Right now the Supreme Court can rule and the executive branch can say no. And nothing happens. The court has no army. The court has no marshals with actual authority. The court has strongly worded opinions and the assumption that the executive branch will comply because it always has before.

That assumption has been tested and found wanting.

Here is a question worth sitting with.

Every lower court in America has enforcement authority. A district judge can hold anyone in contempt and have them detained. Federal marshals exist specifically to enforce court orders at every level of the federal judiciary.

Except the highest one.

The Supreme Court — the final word on constitutional law, the last institutional check on executive power — operates on the honor system.

What good is the honor system if no one honors it?

We have now seen what happens when that hope runs out.

At what point do we acknowledge that the highest court in the land deserves at least the enforcement authority we grant to every court below it?

The Supreme Court needs its own enforcement mechanism. A Marshal’s service with the specific authority to detain anyone — anyone — that the court by majority vote determines is willfully operating outside their constitutional limits and has become a national threat.

No exceptions. No immunity. No rank that places a person beyond the reach of a court order.

The moment a president — or anyone else — can look at a Supreme Court ruling and respond with effective impunity the entire architecture of the republic becomes decorative. Pretty columns on a building with no foundation.

The court says no and the no has to mean something.

That is the fourth brick.

Not a perfect court. Not an infallible court. Just one that cannot be owned before the case is filed and cannot be ignored after the ruling is issued.

Justice without enforcement is just a word.

I Am In F-ing A Hurry

Contradictions.

Hurry up and slow down. We have all the time in the world as long as we get it done yesterday.

Yes. I feel the rush.

I have been writing my memories in a roundabout fashion — The Long View From 1964. Not really memories exactly. Perspectives. And why I see what I see.

I am getting on in years but I still have many more to torment my family with. So what’s the rush?

Well. Maybe it’s the shit show we are living in.

For some it may seem like business as usual. For my generation it isn’t. We have seen too much, lived through too much, and recognize too clearly what this particular shape of darkness looks like.

I have said this too shall pass and it will. The days of Trump will become a distant memory. Night time stories told to frighten naughty children into behaving. A Halloween costume that blends right in with the other goblins and monsters without any additional effort required.

So what’s the hurry?

It’s the papa bear syndrome.

Get away from my children. Don’t spread your poison near my family. Don’t dare come near my grandchildren because I am there. And I am a bigger meaner son of a bitch than you are.

I am not senile yet.

So that’s the rush. That’s the hurry.

When asked recently what he had learned from the Iran conflict about the limits of presidential power, Trump replied:

“I haven’t learned that lesson yet. I know there are, but there are no limits.”

Even if you believe you are a god — your flatulence are not miracles.

You are deluded. You are done. The days of Trump are over.

And do you want to know who ended them?

Go look in the mirror.

I am Johnny Appleseed out here planting seeds, tending the orchards, waiting for the trees to bear fruit. But also very aware that the root rot must be controlled, the fungus prevented, and the diseased and mutated culled before the garden can be truly healthy.

I won’t live to see the final fruit from the seeds I hope to plant.

But I sure hope I see the garbage taken out before it spoils what may come.

I have my children and my children’s children to worry about.

How about you?

Why I Meme

Why do I sometimes let whatever’s boiling over get the better part of me and reach for a meme instead of an article? Because sometimes what I want to say just isn’t fit for polite words. And sometimes I don’t want to write an article — proof it, research it, source it — I just want to express some outrage.

Other times, the meme supports an article or a series. A lot of them can say more in one image than three articles can manage in three thousand words. I can show consequences without making threats. I try not to be a bigger fool than any of my ex-wives have already made me out to be.

This meme should speak for itself. It would have taken three articles to convey the same message. I think I’m getting the point across without overly offending too many people — except maybe a few ICE agents.

I think the combined use of meme and commentary can be very effective. It resonates with multiple groups of readers and listeners at once — the ones who’ll read three thousand words and the ones who’ll only ever look at a picture, both walk away with the same message.

Many of my commentaries are available in video format as well as written. I try to reach everyone who might be interested, however they prefer to take it in.

And let’s not forget the audio versions of the video versions, published as podcasts. My, I have been busy.

Back to the memes — I’ve added two new sections to Elephants Ink Room: The Daily Briefing Before the Cameras and American Sheep, Lamb Chops Anyone?. Many of the memes posted there also pop up inside articles, and some get posted singularly on social media. But most just live on the website.

I hope you drop by sometime. Have a laugh. Or a cry. Either one means you got the point.

The Long View From 1964 – The Newsboy Cap – Video

Fish guts. What do I do with these fish guts? I don’t want to run them down the garbage disposal — I have a septic tank. So they have to go into the garbage, but oh woe is me. There isn’t any newspaper to wrap them in. What has happened to America? What has happened? No more newspaper to wrap fish guts in.

Ol’ English Fish and Chips, Inglewood California, 1974. Lunch time, an hour off. I worked at Inglewood Physical Therapy on Locust Street and would walk over for fast food — Ol’ English Fish and Chips, wonderful cod and french fries wrapped in fake newsprint. So good. So much better than some fast food burger. Gone now, but the memories aren’t.

Oh, I would love a basket of Ol’ English Fish and Chips with a bottle of malt vinegar right now.

On a side note — some people wear baseball caps, cowboy hats, no hats at all. Last year I started wearing the classic newsboy cap. Go figure. Does look good with the grey and white hair though.

Written Video
The Long View from 1964: Superman The Long View from 1964: Superman
The Long View from 1964: Maybe Just Listen The Long View from 1964: Maybe Just Listen
The Long View from 1964: The Checkbox Problem The Long View from 1964: The Checkbox Problem
The Long View from 1964: The Land Moved While You Slept The Long View from 1964: The Land Moved While You Slept
The Long View from 1964: The Road and the Ground Beneath It The Long View from 1964: The Road and the Ground Beneath It
The Long View from 1964: Where is Anywhere? The Long View from 1964: Where is Anywhere?
The Long View from 1964: The Saucepan Hat The Long View from 1964: The Saucepan Hat

The Long View From 1964 – The Newsboy Cap

Fish guts. What do I do with these fish guts? I don’t want to run them down the garbage disposal — I have a septic tank. So they have to go into the garbage, but oh woe is me. There isn’t any newspaper to wrap them in. What has happened to America? What has happened? No more newspaper to wrap fish guts in.

Ol’ English Fish and Chips, Inglewood California, 1974. Lunch time, an hour off. I worked at Inglewood Physical Therapy on Locust Street and would walk over for fast food — Ol’ English Fish and Chips, wonderful cod and french fries wrapped in fake newsprint. So good. So much better than some fast food burger. Gone now, but the memories aren’t.

Corvallis, late seventies. Walk over to the local market for a counter lunch, find a newspaper someone left waiting for me. Headlines that told what happened nationally and what the Beavers did. Good stuff, even if it was a week old.

Growing up, Mom and Dad always had the daily paper delivered. In Manhattan Beach it was the Daily Breeze and the Los Angeles Times. Wherever we lived, it was local and regional and national. That’s where we got the news — and it was the news. If you wanted an opinion, you went to the editorial page. There you read the partisan slant. If the publisher was conservative, that’s where the slant went. The front page was holy ground for the NEWS.

The best part was you didn’t throw it away that day. You saved them up for the school kid with the fundraising paper drive. What we didn’t realize at the time was that we had accidentally built an archive. You didn’t have to go to the library to look something up — you had a six month to one year record already sitting in your garage, in order, except for the few sheets that had wrapped the fish guts. And those were probably the classified ads anyway.

Try finding an article posted five minutes ago if you’re not subscribed to that thread. And even if you are, good luck.

What has really happened is we changed from printing and distributing the news — news that if found incorrect would have a redaction printed, visibly, permanently, for everyone to see — to online content that can be quietly edited into something else entirely, or simply deleted, with no trace and no accountability. Never before has the phrase Buyer Beware been so important. And most critically, we aren’t even paying for it. It’s being force fed to us, customized by an algorithm we can’t see, shaped by a bias we can’t find on any editorial page.

The newspapers had their editorial page and they had something else — Letters to the Editor. Online publications have those as well, technically. Try finding them though. Try submitting something. I have. But newspapers were more open and honest about it. If they made a mistake, they owned up to it. Sometimes on their own. Integrity was important. A reporter’s reputation was his livelihood. Nobody buys a Timex watch on an outboard motor’s prop from someone they didn’t trust. Who in mainstream media do you trust today?

The point I am really trying to make — even with the podcasters you trust, the Substack authors you trust, the elephantsinkroom.com you trust — we have a limited audience. We keep talking to the same people, over and over. The share button only shares to the same platform, the same followers, the same converted.

We hope you are spreading the word. Because what we say isn’t being left on the lunch counter anymore. It isn’t sitting in the news rack on the street corner. It isn’t landing on your doorstep to be read by whoever picks it up. If it were printed you could share it — hand it to someone, leave it somewhere, let it find a stranger. That would be better than forwarding it to someone who already agrees, or just deleting it.

Newspapers died an unwarranted death.

Oh, I would love a basket of Ol’ English Fish and Chips with a bottle of malt vinegar right now.

On a side note — some people wear baseball caps, cowboy hats, no hats at all. Last year I started wearing the classic newsboy cap. Go figure. Does look good with the grey and white hair though.

Written Video
The Long View from 1964: Superman The Long View from 1964: Superman
The Long View from 1964: Maybe Just Listen The Long View from 1964: Maybe Just Listen
The Long View from 1964: The Checkbox Problem The Long View from 1964: The Checkbox Problem
The Long View from 1964: The Land Moved While You Slept The Long View from 1964: The Land Moved While You Slept
The Long View from 1964: The Road and the Ground Beneath It The Long View from 1964: The Road and the Ground Beneath It
The Long View from 1964: Where is Anywhere? The Long View from 1964: Where is Anywhere?
The Long View from 1964: The Saucepan Hat The Long View from 1964: The Saucepan Hat

I Just Got Scammed — For Real, Not Clickbait

$97.89 stolen from my checking account, and I helped them do it.

You may have been scammed too, or you could be next. That’s why I’m writing this. Do you think this is for entertainment? Do you think I enjoy admitting I was taken — a foolish old man? I’m embarrassed. At least it wasn’t a dating site and some hot lady’s uncle stuck in Africa needing bail money. My wife would have killed me if that were the case.

No, I called 888 instead of 866 — the prefix for my bank’s customer service. My bank changed from Columbia Bank to Umpqua Bank a few years back, then changed again from Umpqua back to Columbia a few months ago. So when “customer service” answered instead of “Columbia Bank,” I wasn’t alarmed. A mistake any tired old fool would make, right?

In the back of my mind I was thinking customer service might still be sorting out the transition between the two banks. So when they asked me to verify information — not a lot, and I didn’t give much — it didn’t raise the flag it should have. They didn’t need much. No more than what’s printed on any check you write every month to pay your bills. Address. Routing number. Account number. That’s it.

I stopped, hung up, realized the numbers didn’t match, and called Columbia directly.

I didn’t think much more about it at the time, because really — they didn’t have any more information than if they’d pulled one of my checks out of the trash. One of your checks. One of those checks you toss in the garbage, out by the curb, that the Girl Scouts forgot to collect because they showed up without their uniforms.

Yesterday — June 18th, 2026 — a membership card arrived in the mail. Premier Plans. The website is real: premierplans.net. The card had my legal name on it, not the name I go by. All the information I’d need to verify a legitimate membership, plus a notice that I’d be charged $97.89 monthly by remote check. They even included a sample image of what the check would look like.

I checked my bank. It matched exactly.


So here is what you do first. Do not call them. I’ll say it again — do not call them.

Call your bank. This time, with the correct number — the one on the back of your card, not the one in their email or on their card.

Long story short: we opened a fraud case, stopped the pending payments, closed the compromised account, moved everything to a clean one. Life goes on. I may get the $97.89 back. I’m not holding my breath.

Then I did something they didn’t expect. I called the scammers back.

They answered fast. Smooth. Professional. “This is a company that represents several plans — Premier Plans is just one of them. You want to cancel your membership and get a refund? I can absolutely do that for you. Can I get your name? And your address — that’s all I need.” A pause, some typing. “Yes, I see it right here. Refund issued. Membership canceled. Funds in your account in five to seven business days. Thank you, and have a good day.”

Polished. Confident. Completely fake.

So what do I actually get out of that call? My money back? Slim to none. But maybe — and that “maybe” is exactly how they stay in business. Keep the mark calm, keep the illusion alive, keep Johnny Law looking the other way for one more day.


Bottom line: will I starve? No. Am I embarrassed? Darn tootin’. So why am I telling you this?

Because this isn’t clickbait. This is real, and this is how we stop them.

What they didn’t figure on is who they scammed. Someone who writes and publishes on Substack. Someone who runs his own site at elephantsinkroom.com. Someone who posts on eight other platforms and asks every single reader to restack, repost, reshare — and send it to your parents, your grandparents, anyone who might be next.

I am eighty years old this November. I am exactly who they prey upon.

They picked the wrong one.

Let’s make them hurt. Restack this. Share it. Send it to someone who needs to see it before they pick up the phone.

Before We Go Any Further A Reality Check – Video

Before we go any further building a foundation for the future we have to stop and look at reality.

It’s all about the seeds. You need to supply the earth, the water and the fertilizer — if any can be found under the current regime.

We also need a label. We all like labels. We need labels. It’s the American Way. This is supposed to be a Democratic Republic we live in.

Before We Go Any Further A Reality Check

Before we go any further building a foundation for the future we have to stop and look at reality.

What we have is a mess. A partisan battlefield where ninety percent of the effort and legislation is directed toward power — who is in charge and who is making the rules. And the needs of the people are in reality not taken into consideration. Oh, lip service is given on every stump any good politician can find to state their cause. And their cause is to get themselves reelected.

So in all honesty — is this a pipe dream? Are we just sitting here grooving to Grace Slick singing White Rabbit?

Or is this doable.

I believe it is. Can it be done overnight? No. But it can be done.

Honesty point number two. Who will be the strongest opponents to effective change? The entrenched politicians themselves. They voted for their own terms, their own pay, their own retirement, their own power. They don’t want to give it up.

Well. F them.

What it will take is us. But not just us in numbers — an educated us. An involved us. It is like wanting to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Cheryl Ladd while eating another pint of Häagen-Dazs. It isn’t going to happen without the exercise. You need muscles before you can flex them.

Think of what I am proposing as a blueprint in its early stages. Something to be thrown around, talked about, redrawn, picked apart and rewritten. And when you’re done — go back and compare it to the original and start building. That is, if you truly want something better.

It isn’t going to magically appear on its own.

We will talk about many things. Healthcare — what should we expect, what do we want, and what is actually reasonable? It’s easy to say free healthcare but someone still has to pay for it. Education — what good is a PhD if you can’t get a job? Maybe trade schools are a good thing. Should the Washington reflecting pool reflect something worth reflecting or just be a pretty shade of blue? The list could go on forever. But I’m old — so I promise you it will be a reasonable list.

And we will address capitalism. After all it is what got us here. I am all for it. But let’s put it in perspective. Who gets what and how much is enough?

It’s all about the seeds. You need to supply the earth, the water and the fertilizer — if any can be found under the current regime.

We also need a label. We all like labels. We need labels. It’s the American Way. This is supposed to be a Democratic Republic we live in.

I’m not so sure that label fits very well anymore.

What do you think?

The obvious goal with this set of foundation blocks isn’t to fix the broken system. It’s to provide a structure with enough strength that it cannot be so easily broken and manipulated again.

The strength comes from simplicity.

Not complexity.

Trump’s Peace Plan Memorandum Has Been Published, How Did We Do, Oh Master Negotiator?

The Cabinet, Party Favors Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Three – The Cabinet, Party Favors – Video

The president wins. The president hands out cabinet positions. The cabinet positions go to the people who helped the president win — donors, allies, loyalists, true believers, and occasionally someone who spent the entire campaign calling for the department they now run to be abolished.

We call this governing.

It isn’t.

The Cabinet, Party Favors Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Three – The Cabinet, Party Favors

The Third Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Part Three

There is a tradition in American politics so embedded that most people never question it.

The president wins. The president hands out cabinet positions. The cabinet positions go to the people who helped the president win — donors, allies, loyalists, true believers, and occasionally someone who spent the entire campaign calling for the department they now run to be abolished.

We call this governing.

It isn’t.

It is the thank you gift system dressed up as executive leadership. Party favors with confirmation hearings. And while career civil servants generally do the actual work underneath the political appointees, the damage happens when the unqualified person at the top starts making policy. Policy driven not by expertise or national interest but by the ideology, ego, or donor relationships of someone who got the job because they made the right phone calls at the right time.

The confirmation process was supposed to prevent the worst of this. In theory Congress evaluates the nominee and decides whether they are qualified to lead a critical department. In practice — as we have watched in painful real time — partisan confirmation is theater. When the system is controlled by one party the hearings become a formality and the outcome is predetermined regardless of qualification.

So here is the question the third brick asks.

What if the president didn’t pick the cabinet?

Not entirely. Not unilaterally. What if the senior positions in critical departments — Defense, State, Justice, Intelligence, the Federal Reserve — were filled by professionals who advanced through their own institutional ranks on merit, competence, and demonstrated performance? The way military officers advance. The way career diplomats advance. The way the civil service was designed to work before political appointees started parachuting in over the people who actually know the job.

The president would then work within that professional framework to accomplish the agenda the voters elected them to execute.

Which brings us to the vice president.

Right now the vice president is chosen to win a state, appeal to a demographic, or balance a ticket geographically. They are an electoral calculation wearing the costume of a governing partner. Your running mate is whoever helps you win. What happens after winning is a separate conversation.

What if it wasn’t?

What if the vice president was required to be a genuine working partner — someone who shared the governing agenda, complemented the president’s specific weaknesses, and was capable of actually running the country if called upon? Not a campaign asset. A co-architect.

That changes everything downstream.

A president who has to pick a genuine partner picks differently than a president assembling an electoral coalition. A ticket built around a shared agenda attracts a cabinet built around executing that agenda. If the country faces a climate crisis the executive team running on clean energy solutions has the expertise and the congressional backing to address it. If national security is the crisis the team built around genuine military and diplomatic competence has the credibility to lead.

There would still be infighting. There will always be infighting. Human nature doesn’t get reformed by better institutional design.

But more handshakes and less backstabbing is not a naive hope. It is what happens when you change the incentive structure. Right now the incentive is loyalty to one person. Change the incentive to competence in service of a shared agenda and the culture follows the incentive.

The military figured this out. You do not hand the Joint Chiefs to someone’s campaign donor. You advance through the ranks, demonstrate competence at every level, and earn the position. The fact that this system was recently dismantled in favor of loyalty appointments is not an argument against the system. It is the strongest possible argument for protecting it with something more durable than institutional habit and assumed good faith.

Professional advancement. Merit confirmation. A vice president who is a partner not a prop. A cabinet built to execute an agenda rather than reward the people who funded it.

Brick Three The Cabinet, Party Favors

Vote For The Devil Blues

The Term Limits Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Two – Term Limits – Video

Term limits. Age accountability. The systematic removal of dead wood before it becomes the structure itself. The recognition that in any healthy organization — a business, a military unit, a family — the inability to remove someone who has outlived their effectiveness isn’t loyalty. It’s institutional rot.

We have watched what happens when people stay too long. The institution bends around them rather than them serving the institution. J. Edgar Hoover ran the FBI for 48 years. Nobody could remove him because nobody could afford the cost of trying. That is not a feature of good government. That is a cautionary tale that we apparently need to be told more than once.

The Term Limits Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick Two – Term Limits

The Second Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Part Two

If accountability is the foundation then the second brick is simple.

Nobody stays forever.

Term limits. Age accountability. The systematic removal of dead wood before it becomes the structure itself. The recognition that in any healthy organization — a business, a military unit, a family — the inability to remove someone who has outlived their effectiveness isn’t loyalty. It’s institutional rot.

We have watched what happens when people stay too long. The institution bends around them rather than them serving the institution. J. Edgar Hoover ran the FBI for 48 years. Nobody could remove him because nobody could afford the cost of trying. That is not a feature of good government. That is a cautionary tale that we apparently need to be told more than once.

On Age

A hard cutoff number is both cruel and imprecise. Minds age differently. A 79 year old with a video tape memory and fifty years of accumulated pattern recognition may serve better than a 55 year old running on talking points and donor calls. A number on a birth certificate tells you nothing useful.

What tells you something useful is behavior.

A committee empowered to evaluate and recommend further medical and mental evaluation when behavior becomes noticeable. Not partisan. Not elected. Drawn from retired judges, physicians, and civic leaders with staggered appointments designed to insulate from political pressure. The process itself is the deterrent — most people approaching genuine cognitive decline would rather resign than submit to public evaluation.

The goal isn’t to humiliate. It’s to create a dignified off ramp before the institution suffers.

On Term Limits

The structure matters as much as the limit.

A president at two four year terms has enough time to govern without enough time to become permanent. A senator at two six year terms — twelve years — learns the job properly and builds something durable without becoming a resident. A representative on perpetual two year cycles is always campaigning and never governing. Move them to four year terms. Give them enough runway to actually do the work.

The goal is sufficient time to be effective without sufficient time to become immovable.

On the Two Party System

Here is the brick that will make everyone uncomfortable.

Eliminate it.

Not reform it. Not balance it. Remove the institutional infrastructure that makes it the only viable option. No party designations on ballots. No party primaries with public funding. No party based committee assignments in Congress.

Watch what happens to the PACs when there are no teams to back. Watch what happens to the dark money when the jersey colors disappear. Citizens United becomes considerably less useful when there is no party machinery to funnel the money into.

This isn’t naive. It’s the recognition that the two party system has become the primary mechanism for preventing exactly the accountability the foundation requires.

On Compensation

If we require fidelity we require fidelity.

Public servants receive public servant compensation. A PERS program like other government employees. Healthcare through the same options available to federal workers. A pathway into continued government service for those who want to contribute after their term ends.

No golden umbrellas. No lifetime pensions after a single term. No healthcare for life unavailable to the constituents who funded it.

The same standard applied to the person making the rules as the person living under them.

That is the second brick.

Nobody stays forever. Nobody lives above the system they were elected to serve.

Build on that and the walls start to mean something.

The Accountability Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick One – Accountability – Video

The Foundation What Good Government Actually Requires — Part One

Accountability.

Presidential immunity is the legal formalization of unaccountability. The Supreme Court’s 2024 decision didn’t create the problem — it just removed the last pretense that the problem didn’t exist. When the president does it it isn’t illegal. Nixon said that too. It didn’t work then because the institution held.

The institution didn’t hold this time.

Get Off The Bench

Fire. Fire. Fire.

Look at all the fires. Rush over here and put that one out. Rush over there and put the next one out. And so on and so on.

Is that what politics feels like today? All we’re doing is putting out little fires hoping to keep the house from burning down.

It doesn’t seem that long ago there weren’t so many fires. That the house wasn’t in such constant danger. But something changed.

And it changed on purpose.

The fires are intentional. We have an arsonist in the White House and he is having a grand time with his box of matches. Which begs the question — why so many fires? Besides the obvious answer that he’s loony tunes.

The little fires keep us busy. Too busy to stop the big fire from being ignited. The one we can see but can’t get to because all our time and energy is going into the constant diversions.

Forest fire management — how’s that for a change of direction?

Actually it’s the same road.

In forest fire management they build firebreaks. They do this by setting controlled fires of their own — clearing an area ahead of the main blaze so the big one has nowhere left to go.

Are we doing that? Are we putting stops in place ahead of time or just reacting to the constant diversions?

We know what the goal is. What are we being proactive about to stop him from reaching it? How are we taking the ball away? And most importantly — what are we going to do with it when we get possession?

Right now we are playing a purely defensive game.

Where is the offense?

The firebreak doesn’t build itself. The ball doesn’t move without someone running with it.

Time to get off the bench.

Then maybe we can keep the house from burning down.

The Accountability Brick What Good Government Actually Requires — Brick One – Accountability

The Foundation What Good Government Actually Requires — Part One

Accountability.

Not the political science version. Not the talking point. The real thing. The kind you learn before you’re old enough to vote.

When you break something you admit it. There is no rug. There is no sweeping. You live with what you have and if you don’t have it you earn it. If you make a promise you keep it — or you have a legitimate reason for not doing so that you share with the people you made it to.

That’s it. That’s the foundation.

Everything else — healthcare, infrastructure, justice, national security, the institutions we depend on daily without noticing — sits on top of that one simple principle. Remove it and nothing else holds. The walls crack. The roof comes down. The building that took two hundred and fifty years to construct becomes a very expensive pile of rubble with gold curtains.

We have watched what happens when accountability disappears from the top.

I will lower your taxes. What goes unspoken is that someone’s benefits will pay for it. I will protect your benefits. What goes unspoken is where the money comes from. The empty promise isn’t always an outright lie. Sometimes it’s just half the truth delivered with enough confidence that nobody does the math until the bill arrives.

The bill always arrives.

Presidential immunity is the legal formalization of unaccountability. The Supreme Court’s 2024 decision didn’t create the problem — it just removed the last pretense that the problem didn’t exist. When the president does it it isn’t illegal. Nixon said that too. It didn’t work then because the institution held.

The institution didn’t hold this time.

Which means the foundation has to be rebuilt with something stronger than institutional habit and assumed good faith. The founders were obsessed with this question. They had just lived under a king. Every check, every balance, every separation of power was the answer to one central anxiety — what happens when the wrong person gets the power?

They built a back door. A way to stop something. Checks and balances as the architectural response to the certainty that power will eventually be held by someone who shouldn’t have it.

That back door has to be properly locked from both sides. No presidential immunity. Full stop. The same standard applied to the person signing the orders as to the person receiving them.

To require fidelity requires fidelity.

That covers governance and marriage and institutional trust and the social contract simultaneously. You cannot demand loyalty from a country you are actively betraying. You cannot require honesty from institutions you are actively corrupting. You cannot ask the American people to follow rules you have granted yourself immunity from.

One standard. No exceptions. No immunity.

That is the foundation.

Without it nothing else we build will stand.

 

One last thing, the Treasury is ours as well, get your fingers out of it. – Video

Because I told you so.

Sound familiar? Most of us heard it growing up. Some of us said it to our own children. It’s the last resort of someone who has run out of better arguments — the declaration of authority without justification.

We are being governed that way right now.

Not guided. Not nurtured. Bullied. Called stupid. Low IQ. Insulted by people who work for us while acting like they own us. Expected to say thank you for the privilege of being fleeced and lied to simultaneously.

When did we forget whose house this is?

Donny — you know where the door is.

One last thing.

The Treasury is ours.

Get your fingers out of it.

Cookiejar

The President Who Won’t Leave – That’s right Donny, you never needed 4 inches to begin with – Video

That’s right Donny. You never needed 4 inches to begin with. Part 4.

Makes you wonder what’s actually going on.

The White House. Congress. The Supreme Court. How many years have they stood without a serious attack?

I’m sorry. I forgot about January 6th. Silly me.

But those were patriots. Loyal followers of the President of the United States just acting out a bit. A couple of dead. Some property damage. Nothing to worry about. They only did their little protest because someone very high up asked them to. And why did they do it? Because the President claimed the election was stolen.

One last thing, the Treasury is ours as well, get your fingers out of it.

Because I told you so.

Sound familiar? Most of us heard it growing up. Some of us said it to our own children. It’s the last resort of someone who has run out of better arguments — the declaration of authority without justification.

We are being governed that way right now.

Not guided. Not nurtured. Bullied. Called stupid. Low IQ. Insulted by people who work for us while acting like they own us. Expected to say thank you for the privilege of being fleeced and lied to simultaneously.

When did we forget whose house this is?

This is ours. All of it. Not the President’s. Not the administration’s. Not the property of a toddler in long pants who decided the rules that apply to everyone else are optional for him.

The National Parks are ours. The monuments are ours. The Kennedy Center is ours. The White House itself — every gilded inch of it — is ours. The Treasury is ours.

Get your fingers out of it.

We are not children being managed by a difficult parent. We are the employers of people who seem to have forgotten that they were hired, and can be fired.

We have two tools available and we are not using either of them effectively.

The first is the ballot. Elections are coming. Vote. If you don’t vote you forfeit your right to complain — and complaining is currently the national pastime so the stakes are high. A recent election was decided by less than five votes after the final tally. Five votes. If you think your vote doesn’t matter you are mathematically wrong.

I’m not telling you how to vote. I’m telling you to vote.

The second tool is simpler and more immediate. It is the one word every child hates more than lima beans or spinach.

No.

Not negotiated. Not qualified. Not apologized for.

No.

Said together. Said loudly. Said with the specific conviction of people who have just remembered that this is their house and they did not invite the current occupant to redecorate it.

The Founding Fathers used that word. It didn’t come easy and it didn’t come cheap. But they said it.

So. Get the cage off our lawn. Fix the Kennedy Center. Put the rose garden back. Take your picture off our buildings.

And Donny — you know where the door is.

One last thing.

The Treasury is ours.

Get your fingers out of it.

Cookiejar

The President Who Won’t Leave – That’s right Donny, you never needed 4 inches to begin with.

That’s right Donny. You never needed 4 inches to begin with. Part 4.

Makes you wonder what’s actually going on.

The White House. Congress. The Supreme Court. How many years have they stood without a serious attack?

I’m sorry. I forgot about January 6th. Silly me.

But those were patriots. Loyal followers of the President of the United States just acting out a bit. A couple of dead. Some property damage. Nothing to worry about. They only did their little protest because someone very high up asked them to. And why did they do it? Because the President claimed the election was stolen.

We have heard that one before. Like every time a MAGA loses an election it was rigged. Stolen. The result of a vast conspiracy against the one man standing between his followers and the darkness.

On to 2026.

Trump is having his playroom built next to the White House — the shed as he has called it. You know the one. Right on top of the bunker. The bunker every honestly elected president apparently needs. Complete with hospital, command center, and I imagine a presidential suite modeled tastefully after Mar-a-Lago. Gold throne. Toilet paper printed with the Declaration of Independence on every square.

But enough about the bunker.

Let’s talk about the ballroom. The gilded monstrosity built as a monument to a gilded something. The bulletproof windows — four inches, five inches, six inches, depending on the day and who is doing the measuring. A man who demonstrably does not know the difference between four and six inches. Small hands. Transparent windows. Transparent man.

And the snipers on the roof.

All those snipers on the roof.

Here is the question nobody in that building seems willing to ask out loud.

Who exactly is he protecting himself from?

The Capitol stood for centuries without this level of fortification. It survived wars, protests, and genuine threats from foreign enemies. The one time it was actually breached was by people he invited.

So who are the snipers for?

The invading armies of our pissed off allies? Possibly. He has worked hard enough to earn that.

Or maybe — just maybe — it’s the pissed off sheep right here at home. The ones who finally have had enough. The ones who can’t feed their families. The ones who watched $1.776 billion get dangled in front of the people who last stormed the castle and then get snatched away so the theft could be blamed on everyone else.

Is Second String Donny building his bunker as a last line of defense?

Against us?

The President of the United States works for us. He has no reason to fear us — unless we are not on his agenda. Unless what he has been doing was never in the best interest of the Americans he swore to serve.

Maybe some reporter should just ask him directly. Why are you so afraid of us? What did you do that makes you need four inches of glass and snipers on the roof between yourself and the people you work for?

The trouble with climbing into a hole to hide is there is nowhere to go from there.

Just the hole.

Anybody

F you Judge

I’m not going to pay that ticket. I’m not going to jail. I think you’re wrong and I don’t care what the jury said. I’m above it all.

Sounds like a child ranting doesn’t it.

Now imagine walking into court and telling the judge that his ruling doesn’t apply to you. That because he’s a Republican and you’re a Democrat — or vice versa — you’ve decided the judgment is political and therefore optional.

At that point a marshal would be escorting you to a holding cell before you finished the sentence.

This isn’t hypothetical anymore.

DHS Secretary Markwayne Mullin recently suggested that ICE would evaluate court rulings and decide whether they’re “political” before following them. If the administration believes it can pick and choose which court orders to obey based on perceived bias — why should average Americans be held to a different standard?

This is about you and me.

After losing the E. Jean Carroll case the President ignored the court’s rulings and showed open contempt for the judiciary. He uses the Department of Justice for his personal civil suits. After losing judgments he simply doesn’t pay them.

If the law doesn’t apply equally where is the accountability? Where is the enforcement?

The point isn’t about the merits of any specific case. Appeals exist for everyone. Open contempt and selective obedience do not. Those are not legal strategies — they are the behavior of someone who has decided the rules apply to other people.

So here is the question that deserves a straight answer.

If he can do it why can’t we?

If ICE doesn’t have to follow court orders why do we? If the President doesn’t have to pay judgments why do we? If the administration can ignore rulings that don’t fit their narrative what exactly is the authority of the court?

Are fines optional?

Are licenses optional?

Are judgments optional — depending on whether you agree with the judge?

We are all allowed to disagree with a court ruling. We are all allowed to appeal. What we are not all allowed to do — what only some of us apparently get to do — is simply refuse to comply.

There should be consequences for ignoring court orders. For everyone. Regardless of title or office or the size of the building they work in.

I have this speeding ticket I’ve been thinking about. Pretty sure the officer was politically motivated. I’m going to evaluate whether his authority applies to me before I decide whether to pay it.

If the rule of law applies to ordinary citizens it applies to everyone.

Or it applies to no one.

Pick one.

Bulldozer

F you Judge – Video

I’m not going to pay that ticket. I’m not going to jail. I think you’re wrong and I don’t care what the jury said. I’m above it all.

Sounds like a child ranting doesn’t it.

There should be consequences for ignoring court orders. For everyone. Regardless of title or office or the size of the building they work in.

I have this speeding ticket I’ve been thinking about. Pretty sure the officer was politically motivated. I’m going to evaluate whether his authority applies to me before I decide whether to pay it.

If the rule of law applies to ordinary citizens it applies to everyone.

Or it applies to no one.

Pick one.

Bulldozer

The Long View From 1964 – The Saucepan Hat – Video

YouTube player

We have elections coming up. You are going to have to make choices. I wish I could make them for you, and if so, I wish I were wise enough to make the right ones. But I am just a person with opinions and I hope you are as well.

The voters that scare me are the sheep. Here is how to vote, do it this way because I told you to. That is what keeps me up at night.

The Long View From 1964

The collar changes the problem. – Video

This dog always wags its tail and looks like it loves you. Right up until your pocket supply of biscuits runs low. Then it starts snapping. Trying to rip a hole in your jacket to get at those dwindling treats. The ones you were thinking about eating yourself because the dog snuck into your house and stole your dinner. Didn’t even thank you properly. Just took a dump on your lawn.

You know this dog. Every neighborhood has one. Loud. Annoying. Convinced it is far more impressive than reality suggests. Most days just a nuisance. A barking soundtrack to everyone’s life.

That question may be far more dangerous than the dog.

The Long View From 1964 – The Saucepan Hat

The old elephant on a diet went into witness protection and found he no longer had a home. Looked around and didn’t really see any welcome signs that didn’t just ask for donations.

It gets lonely standing out here. Nothing looks familiar anymore. The old guard has either died off or is getting selective dementia.

You know what they say about growing old,  your mind keeps digging up old memories. So when I found myself standing out in the Oregon rain, my fabulous gray locks getting wet and not a hat to be found, I dashed into my outdoor BBQ ballroom, the one paid for with my own money, no taxpayer investment needed, and grabbed a saucepan and put it on my head.

What? Wearing a saucepan on your head? You’ve really lost it this time old man. Time for the dementia truck.

Hey. Hold on now.

Just good common sense and a fine memory.

Haven’t you ever read the tales of Johnny Appleseed?

I did. As a little boy. Johnny wore a saucepan for a hat and spread apple seeds through the land so apples could flourish everywhere. Smart little cuss. And that’s why we have apple pie.

After a year of political cartoons, then parody, migrating into complaints and now political commentary, I realized all I am really trying to do is plant some seeds for the future. The red versus blue war is too entrenched to flip a switch and start anew with sanity. But you can plant seeds of something better. You can suggest a better way. You can draw attention to failures that cost lives and hurt people and hurt nations.

We have elections coming up. You are going to have to make choices. I wish I could make them for you, and if so, I wish I were wise enough to make the right ones. But I am just a person with opinions and I hope you are as well.

The voters that scare me are the sheep. Here is how to vote, do it this way because I told you to. That is what keeps me up at night.

Those are people with unfertilized minds. The seeds didn’t find anything to take root in. Dead turf.

Besides, if you find the right pan, it isn’t that uncomfortable. And it keeps that mighty fine looking gray hair perfectly in place.

Appleseed

The Long View From 1964

That’s One Mangy Mutt

Morning. Coffee sitting next to the keyboard and I am doing what I do most mornings when there isn’t something actually important to do. Checking email. Scanning Substack feeds. I checked elephantsinkroom.com and am pleased that so far today it hasn’t been hacked. On the way to my desk I checked outside — the trash man came and went and there aren’t any ominous black SUVs surrounding the property.

If this sounds a little paranoid — well. You don’t try to warn the world about Second String Donny on a daily basis without developing certain habits.

A Substack piece from Heather Delaney Reese caught my attention this morning. The title: The Worst of Trump Is Yet To Come.

She’s correct. And that title is why I’m typing.

I’ll use an analogy. Because one — they’re fun. And two — everyone is tired of endless Trump commentary and will stop reading if I don’t provide a little food for thought first.

Picture the mangy unloved neighborhood dog. The one that goes around barking and irritating everyone who can still afford hearing aids and has enough income to charge them. You know the type. A little pain in the ass that thinks it’s big and beautiful — clearly using the funhouse mirror at the county fair for its self assessment.

This dog always wags its tail and looks like it loves you. Right up until your pocket supply of biscuits runs low. Then it starts snapping. Trying to rip a hole in your jacket to get at those dwindling treats. The ones you were thinking about eating yourself because the dog snuck into your house and stole your dinner. Didn’t even thank you properly. Just took a dump on your lawn.

You know this dog. Every neighborhood has one. Loud. Annoying. Convinced it is far more impressive than reality suggests. Most days just a nuisance. A barking soundtrack to everyone’s life.

But eventually the dog pushes things too far. Bites one too many people. Steals one too many dinners. Leaves one too many surprises on one too many lawns. So somebody finally does what should have been done long ago. They put a collar on it and drive a stake into the ground.

Not through the dog. This isn’t a vampire story.

The problem is that people assume the collar solves the problem. It doesn’t.

The collar changes the problem.

A dog that spent its entire life running wherever it wanted is not suddenly going to become obedient because it found itself at the end of a rope. It’s going to pull. Snarl. Snap. Tear up everything within reach. Not because it has changed — but because it hasn’t.

Some people will organize a neighborhood meeting. Others will write strongly worded letters. A few will hold a rally and explain to the dog why biting people is wrong.

Good luck with that.

Me — I’d shorten the rope, reinforce the fence, and spend a lot less time talking about the problem than working to keep it from chewing through the garage door.

And if the people whose job it is to deal with the problem refuse to act — eventually the rest of the neighborhood starts asking why.

That question may be far more dangerous than the dog.

Mangydog

The Truth They Can’t Reach – Video

Beyond those borders the truth has already been recorded. In languages he doesn’t speak. In archives he cannot reach. By governments and journalists and ordinary citizens who understand exactly what they are watching and have decided that someone needs to write it down honestly.

He can hide in the bunker.

He cannot hide from the record being assembled everywhere else.

The truth doesn’t need his permission to survive.

It just needs somewhere to live.

And it has found plenty of places.

When all is said and done the only person who will actually believe his version of history is Trump himself.

That’s part of the illness.

Information

The Truth They Can’t Reach

Exhibits in the Smithsonian are changed. Removed. New exhibits appear that reflect what someone in power wants to be true rather than what is true. Textbooks are rewritten. Lies are spread as though they are gospel.

This is not new. The powerful have always tried to control the record.

People in power want to be remembered on their own terms. They erect monuments to themselves. They rename things after themselves. Trump put his name on the Kennedy Center — because he could, until he couldn’t. His signature on the currency. A denomination bearing his image. Golden statues of himself erected on golf courses like pharaohs building pyramids in the desert.

The instinct is as old as power itself. Control the story. Control the monument. Control what the children are taught. Control what future generations believe happened.

There is one thing the despots of today didn’t fully account for.

The information age.

There are people who swear the Holocaust never happened. That it is propaganda. That six million deaths are a fiction invented by the enemies of the Reich. But we know better. Because so many others — from so many countries, in so many languages, with cameras and documents and testimony — recorded what actually happened. The ash was still in the dirt nine years after liberation. I know. I was there. And no amount of denial changes what was documented by everyone watching from outside the borders of the lie.

The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is documented so completely by so many independent sources that denial is simply a fool’s errand. The truth exists in too many places to be erased from all of them simultaneously.

This is what Trump and every authoritarian before him ultimately cannot solve.

January 6th is on video. Watched live by the world. Archived in a thousand places he cannot reach. Election denial is documented in court filings, in sworn testimony, in the words of his own attorneys admitting in writing that the claims were false. His medical records exist somewhere. His financial records exist somewhere. The decisions made in that gilded bunker are being noted by people he cannot fire and cannot threaten.

He can rewrite the American textbook.

He cannot rewrite the Canadian one. Or the German one. Or the British parliamentary record. Or the archives being maintained right now by every allied nation watching this unfold and taking careful notes for their own historians.

The victors write history — but only where they are.

Beyond those borders the truth has already been recorded. In languages he doesn’t speak. In archives he cannot reach. By governments and journalists and ordinary citizens who understand exactly what they are watching and have decided that someone needs to write it down honestly.

He can hide in the bunker.

He cannot hide from the record being assembled everywhere else.

The truth doesn’t need his permission to survive.

It just needs somewhere to live.

And it has found plenty of places.

When all is said and done the only person who will actually believe his version of history is Trump himself.

That’s part of the illness.

Information

If It Isn’t Trump, Who Is Running The Show? – Video

Let’s step back from the daily noise for a moment and ask a simple question.

Running the United States government is not a one man show. Any smart leader knows they need help. The machinery of the executive branch — the decisions, the policies, the daily operation of the most powerful government on earth — requires constant attention, competence, and coordination.

So why do we spend all our time watching the one person in the room least capable of doing any of that?

If It Isn’t Trump, Who Is Running The Show?

Let’s step back from the daily noise for a moment and ask a simple question.

Running the United States government is not a one man show. Any smart leader knows they need help. The machinery of the executive branch — the decisions, the policies, the daily operation of the most powerful government on earth — requires constant attention, competence, and coordination.

So why do we spend all our time watching the one person in the room least capable of doing any of that?

Obviously he isn’t running everything. He couldn’t. Any more than you or I could. All of his attention — what remains of it — is funneled into running the Trump Show. The rallies. The Truth Social posts. The grievances. The performance.

Which begs the question nobody is asking loudly enough.

Who is running everything else?

Now step back again and look at what Trump actually is today. An old man with failing health making undisclosed medical visits that nobody in the press is pressing hard enough on. His mental state and capacity don’t require my description — just open your eyes and ears and observe.

So who is filling the vacuum? That I don’t know and the following are only suggestions, but it does give us food for thought?

Susie Wiles — Chief of Staff and the one nobody talks about. The least visible senior figure which almost always means the most operationally powerful. She controls access. She controls the schedule. She controls what reaches his desk and what doesn’t. It was suggested that Nancy Reagan was behind the steering wheel toward the end of Reagan’s last term. That’s not an unreasonable template.

Stephen Miller — Chief Extremist. His fingerprints are all over immigration and ICE. The ideological engine that runs consistently regardless of whatever Trump said this morning. He has the ruthlessness to grab control — probably in much the same way Hoover did. The dirt. The threats. The leverage that keeps people in line.

Steve Cheung — controls the narrative. He decides what can be said and what can’t. What gets amplified and what gets buried. The communications director as gatekeeper.

The puppet masters in a road show can be seen — but you spend most of your time following the puppets. We see the strings. We hear the voices. But a good master makes you believe it’s really the puppet saying the lines.

J.D. Vance — I saved him for last but not because he’s the least concerning. He has the most to gain. He is smart in a what’s best for Vance sort of way and will say whatever lines he calculates will benefit him most. He may be the scariest one of all — because he shares too many of Trump’s narcissistic personality traits to ever be trusted, but unlike Trump he has the patience and the ideology to use them methodically.

This isn’t about the real puppet masters behind the big show. The dark money, the think tanks, the architects of Project 2025 — that’s another story and another piece.

This is about today. Right now. With a sick old man spending his remaining energy screaming at everything he doesn’t like on his own little social media platform — there is not a chance in hell he is simultaneously running the most powerful government on earth.

So who is?  This is a question we should have answers to.

Inquiring minds want to know.

Puppets

They Opened the Door. They Can Close It. – Video

They Opened the Door. They Can Close It.

An op-ed on the Supreme Court, presidential immunity, and the precedent they set themselves

In 2022, the Supreme Court did something many legal scholars had considered unthinkable. It overturned Roe v. Wade — a precedent that had stood for nearly fifty years — and told millions of Americans that what they had built their lives around was, in the Court’s revised opinion, simply wrong. The majority didn’t apologize. They said the previous Court had erred, that the Constitution had been misread, and that it was time to correct the record.

Fine. That is their right. The Supreme Court is not a museum. It can revisit its decisions.

So here is a question nobody in power seems eager to answer: if the Court can overturn fifty years of abortion precedent in the name of correcting a constitutional error, why can’t it revisit — or at minimum, clarify — its 2024 ruling in Trump v. United States? The one that handed a former president sweeping immunity from criminal prosecution for acts committed while in office?

Changed ruling

They Opened the Door. They Can Close It.

They Opened the Door. They Can Close It.

An op-ed on the Supreme Court, presidential immunity, and the precedent they set themselves

In 2022, the Supreme Court did something many legal scholars had considered unthinkable. It overturned Roe v. Wade — a precedent that had stood for nearly fifty years — and told millions of Americans that what they had built their lives around was, in the Court’s revised opinion, simply wrong. The majority didn’t apologize. They said the previous Court had erred, that the Constitution had been misread, and that it was time to correct the record.

Fine. That is their right. The Supreme Court is not a museum. It can revisit its decisions.

So here is a question nobody in power seems eager to answer: if the Court can overturn fifty years of abortion precedent in the name of correcting a constitutional error, why can’t it revisit — or at minimum, clarify — its 2024 ruling in Trump v. United States? The one that handed a former president sweeping immunity from criminal prosecution for acts committed while in office?

The argument that precedent is sacred no longer holds. The Court itself buried that argument in Dobbs. You cannot spend two years defending the Dobbs decision as a necessary correction to constitutional overreach and then turn around and say the immunity ruling is untouchable. Either precedents can be wrong and should be fixed, or they can’t. Pick one.

What the immunity ruling actually created

Trump v. United States didn’t interpret an existing constitutional protection. It invented one. No prior Court had ever held that a president carries presumptive immunity from criminal prosecution for official acts. The Constitution does not say this. The Founders, who were exquisitely sensitive to the dangers of unchecked executive power, did not write this. Six justices decided it, in 2024, under circumstances that a large portion of the country — and a significant portion of the legal community — viewed as nakedly political.

The practical result is a legal framework in which a president can commit crimes in the performance of official duties and face no criminal consequences. Legal scholars have noted, with some alarm, that the ruling’s logic is difficult to cabin. If official acts are immune, and the definition of official acts is broad, the immunity becomes nearly total.

This is the thing the Court could fix. Not by staging a dramatic reversal, but by doing what courts do: issuing a clarifying ruling that says, in effect, “We were misread. Presidential immunity was never meant to shield acts that undermine the constitutional order itself. We are clarifying the standard.”

The self-interest argument

Let’s set aside principle for a moment and talk about survival — institutional survival.

The Supreme Court’s authority rests entirely on public trust. It has no army. It cannot enforce its own decisions. What it has is legitimacy — the broadly shared belief that its rulings reflect something more than the political preferences of whoever happened to appoint the majority. That legitimacy is eroding in ways that should frighten anyone who cares about functional government, regardless of party.

After Dobbs, the Court’s approval ratings fell to historic lows. After Trump v. United States, a new wave of Americans concluded that the institution had been captured. Justices now require round-the-clock security details. The social compact that once protected them — the idea that they were above the fray — is fraying in real time.

A narrowing clarification on presidential immunity would cost the Court’s conservative majority very little jurisprudentially. They could frame it as precision, not retreat. What it would buy them is something far more valuable: the argument that they are still capable of self-correction. That they are not simply an extension of a political movement. That the institution still works.

The question they have to answer

The Founders feared two things above almost everything else: a standing army loyal to one man, and an executive who could act without legal consequence. They built a system of separated powers precisely to prevent either. The immunity ruling does not merely strain that system. It carves a hole in it.

The justices who authored and joined that ruling are not stupid people. They know what they wrote. They also know — because they are lawyers and students of history — what unchecked executive power has produced in every society that has tried it.

So the question before them is not really a legal one. It’s a simpler one: Do they believe their own stated reasoning — that no one is above the law, that the Constitution constrains even the most powerful office in the land — or don’t they?

They opened this door. They know how to close it. The only thing stopping them is the willingness to admit that the Constitution they swore to protect does not, in fact, make any person a king.

Not even one who used to live at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Changed ruling

The Long View From 1964 – Where is Anywhere – Video

The Long View From 1964 – Where is Anywhere

I roast my own coffee.

This morning my latest order arrived — green beans, just waiting for the roaster. Nicaraguan Selva Negra, Guatemalan Antigua Los Volcanes Washed, Brazil Mogiana Guaxupé, Indonesian Sumatra Mandheling and six others. I can see you are thrilled that you asked.

Roasting coffee sounds wonderful. I have a secret for you. It stinks. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee is heaven on earth. Coffee beans going into a dark roast after the second crack — well. You only do that inside the house once.

Everyone who hears I roast my own coffee asks the same question. What’s your favorite? What do you roast? As if there is a simple answer to either question and as if they actually want to hear it.

Here is the thing about roasting your own coffee at 79. I am losing my sense of taste. Too many good bourbons. Too many excellent cigars. If I am being completely honest I might as well buy French Roast from Costco and be done with it.

But then I couldn’t sit in my two thirds enclosed BBQ smoker’s paradise and roast coffee, could I?

And that matters. Not because of the coffee. Because of the sitting. Because of the practice. Because some things retain their value after the practical justification has quietly slipped away and you do them anyway because the doing itself is the point.

Which, it turns out, has everything to do with politics today.

Or rather — it all tastes the same.

Red. Blue. I brew it carefully, I tend it with genuine attention, and what comes out is noise. It’s the evil Democrats, they ruined everything. Blame the Republicans, they tore it all down. The Democrats want this. The Republicans are taking that. For whoever’s sake — insert deity of choice — just stop.

We don’t even know what a Republican or a Democrat is anymore. I asked that question at the beginning of this series and I am no closer to an answer. I suspect you aren’t either.

Maybe that’s the beginning of something.

Because what we have is broken. The two party system that limits our choices to two flavors of the same noise, backed by dark money from both directions that you mostly never hear about. Citizens United didn’t just open the door — it took the door off the hinges. The Federalist Society on one side, the Tides Foundation and Priorities USA on the other, and the rest of us standing in the room where the door used to be wondering why it’s so cold.

Here is a what if. Offered with open hands, no god complex, no manifesto.

What if we dropped the party labels altogether? Not reformed them. Not rebranded them. Just — dropped them. Watch the dark money groups scramble for a target. Watch Citizens United try to decide who to back when the teams dissolve. It would give them fits and I confess that brings me more satisfaction than it probably should.

And while we are at it — what if the Supreme Court had fifteen justices? Twenty one? Enough that no single president could stack the deck in a term or two. Enough that the Constitution might once again be interpreted rather than used as a party tool. Enough that the word justice recovered some of its original meaning.

These are seeds. I know that. Nothing on the next ballot. Nothing in the next cycle. Maybe nothing in my lifetime.

But I still roast the coffee.

Not because my palate is what it was. Not because I can reliably taste the difference between the Nicaraguan and the Sumatran on any given morning. But because I sit in my smoker’s paradise and tend something carefully and the practice itself is worth preserving even when the justification has gotten complicated.

That’s what this series has been. Not solutions. Not a platform. Not a party. Just someone who has been paying attention since 1964 sitting with the question honestly and refusing the checkboxes that don’t fit.

Harry Chapin understood it. His little man said it best.

‘Cause I know I’m goin’ nowhere. And anywhere’s a better place to be.

We may not know what we’re building yet.

But anywhere is a better place to be than where we are standing.

That’s enough to start.

The Long View From 1964

ChatGPT Image Apr 26, 2026, 10 43 23 AM

A Day Late — On Purpose – Video

Don’t allow his name on anything. Tear down anything built in his image. Restore the Oval Office. Don’t hold a yard sale — burn it.

Let the Trump legacy be nothing.

Nothing at all.

We don’t need a monument to remember this lesson. We don’t need a reminder carved in stone.

This one will be DNA.

Let that be how we actually honor the ones who earned our respect.

The ones whose headstones face west.

Facing home.

The Long View From 1964 – The Road and The Ground Beneath It – Video

Here is the thing about salting the earth. Nothing grows. Not their seeds. Not yours. Not anyone’s.

And here is the thing about manufactured hate — because it is manufactured, most of it. People are not born hating their neighbors. Love comes naturally when you are loved. You kick back when you are kicked. The cattle prod of algorithmic rage, the deliberate cultivation of an enemy to look down at instead of a mirror to look into — that is not human nature expressing itself. That is human nature being weaponized by people who need you angry and need you certain and above all need you not paying attention to the road and how it was built.

The Long View From 1964

Rivera Diego finished mural in Mexico City to show details and color

A Day Late — On Purpose

A Day Late — On Purpose

Memorial Day honors those who served and died for their country. Most of them, when you think about it, were not much more than children. Young boys who heard the call of their nation and responded with their lives. Young men and women — Black, white, brown and every color I may have failed to mention. Older still — officers, NCOs, even a general or two who died on the fields of battle.

In their honor we built national cemeteries, statues, and monuments. We honor those who sacrificed everything. Many were foolishly brave. Most were probably scared — who wouldn’t be. But they did their duty and made their families proud.

I salute every one of them.

You may notice the published date and wonder why this is being written a day late. It’s late on purpose. I didn’t want to take anything away from the honor owed yesterday.

But their sacrifice is also part of today’s commentary.

Not a single one of them asked to have their name engraved on a monument. Not a single one asked for a statue erected in their image. Not a single one wanted anything other than to serve their country and come home to the people they loved. Almost all of them did come home — in a body bag. Others were buried on foreign soil with all the dignity and respect deserved, having died not only for our freedom but for the freedom of people they had never met.

For those who didn’t know — the soldiers buried on foreign soil have their headstones facing west.

Facing home.

They didn’t ask for monuments. They didn’t ask for arches. They most certainly did not ask for ballrooms.

We are living in strange times governed by strange people who can only think of themselves. And those same people seem to believe they deserve monuments — for what exactly? Bravery and service? Bone spurs?

Others in their cabinet dishonored the sailors resting at their tomb by snorkeling over it. I’m sure they didn’t think of it as walking on someone’s grave. But when you reach certain levels of government ignorance is no longer an excuse. They are rewriting history. Turning insurgents into heroes. Turning murderers into heroes with immunity. Stealing us blind without care or concern for anything beyond their own pockets and egos.

And they want monuments built to themselves.

They want the history books changed. Their crimes removed. Airports renamed. The Kennedy Center. The Lincoln Memorial bathroom probably next.

So I suggest — because I am only me and can demand nothing — that when this is over, when the dust has settled and the orange foundation has been washed clean, we follow a simple example.

We rewrite history too.

Trump needs nothing more than a footnote. A warning label. Everything he and his family of cohorts stole — taken back. Liquidated. Put into something meaningful. The Treasury perhaps. Or a charity that actually serves the people he pretended to serve.

Don’t allow his name on anything. Tear down anything built in his image. Restore the Oval Office. Don’t hold a yard sale — burn it.

Let the Trump legacy be nothing.

Nothing at all.

We don’t need a monument to remember this lesson. We don’t need a reminder carved in stone.

This one will be DNA.

Let that be how we actually honor the ones who earned our respect.

The ones whose headstones face west.

Facing home.

Memorialday

The Long View From 1964 – The Road and The Ground Beneath It

The Road and The Ground Beneath It

We didn’t just appear here.

That sounds obvious until you watch a government systematically dismantle the evidence of how we arrived. Then it becomes the most urgent thing anyone could say.

You cannot navigate a broken road if you don’t understand how the road was built. Not the mythology of it. Not the sanitized version that fits a current political narrative. The actual road — the compromises, the failures, the corrections, the moments we got it wrong and the generations it took to get it less wrong. That’s not weakness. That’s the only honest map we have.

America’s history is short. Embarrassingly short by the standards of civilization. Europe measures itself in centuries stacked on centuries. Asia and the Middle East reach back to the beginning of recorded human organization. We are a snap of the fingers by comparison.

And yet.

In that brief moment we accomplished things that took the rest of human history combined to make possible. Not because we were exceptional in the way the mythology claims — chosen, destined, superior. But because we inherited every road every previous civilization had built and had the specific historical moment to run further down it than anyone before us. Science. Medicine. Communication. The accumulated knowledge of every civilization that preserved its history honestly enough to pass it forward.

We built on what was kept.

The Europeans understood something we never quite learned. You preserve the castle not because you miss the king but because the castle tells you what you were capable of — the beauty and the brutality equally. Auschwitz stands deliberately. The Tower of London gives tours. The Bastille is gone but its memory is written into French identity so deeply that a nation still organizes itself around it. This is where we came from. This is what we were. We keep it so we never mistake ourselves for something we aren’t.

America tears things down when they become inconvenient.

The Rivera mural at Rockefeller Center. Commissioned by the capitalist establishment, destroyed by the capitalist establishment the moment it included Lenin. The artist recreated it in Mexico where it still stands. The original is rubble. That was 1933 and we apparently learned nothing from it because here we are watching exhibits get quietly edited at the Smithsonian to fit a political narrative that will be irrelevant in a decade and dead in a generation.

Rivera Diego finished mural in Mexico City to show details and color

The WPA murals in federal buildings — painted by artists who lived the Depression, who rendered the New Deal in pigment on plaster as primary sources of a specific American moment — are being treated as inconvenient decoration. You cannot tear them off the walls. They are the walls. But the impulse to try tells you everything about what this administration understands about history. Which is nothing. Or worse — enough to know that an honest history is dangerous to a dishonest present.

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The Wealth of the Nation Seymour Fogel

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Here is the thing about salting the earth. Nothing grows. Not their seeds. Not yours. Not anyone’s.

And here is the thing about manufactured hate — because it is manufactured, most of it. People are not born hating their neighbors. Love comes naturally when you are loved. You kick back when you are kicked. The cattle prod of algorithmic rage, the deliberate cultivation of an enemy to look down at instead of a mirror to look into — that is not human nature expressing itself. That is human nature being weaponized by people who need you angry and need you certain and above all need you not paying attention to the road and how it was built.

We have a short history. Painfully, precariously short.

And we are letting it be rewritten to fit a narrative that is popular today and will be dust tomorrow.

What will we have left to learn from.

That is not a rhetorical question. It is the most practical question anyone can ask right now.

Seeds need ground. Ground needs memory. Memory needs honesty.

We are running out of all three.

The Long View From 1964

A Bold Step Forward in American Statesmanship

Second String Donny has made a brilliant strategic move.

In a classic two-fer — possibly even a three-fer — he has deployed White House Communications Director Steve Cheung to represent the administration’s commitment to dignified public discourse.

The results have been immediate.

Trump now appears slimmer by comparison. His golden locks benefit from Steve’s dedicated impersonation of the Capitol Dome. And most importantly — most strategically — he sounds measurably more intelligent.

This last point should not be taken lightly.

Steve Cheung’s recent commentary on former Secretary of State and CIA Director Mike Pompeo:

“Mike Pompeo has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about. He should shut his stupid mouth and leave the real work to the professionals.”

New standards. Boldly set.

It’s reassuring to know that after months of what generally sounds like a five year old throwing a tantrum, the administration has now added what sounds like a door left open at the local establishment of questionable repute.

Considering what the Oval Office has been redecorated to resemble — I really shouldn’t be surprised.

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The Great American Fleecing

Maybe it is the changing seasons.

We started with a thick winter wool coat. As the days got warmer cooling off seemed reasonable. The shearing shops had a special going on. The warm weather made us complacent. A little tired. And sheep wool is rich in lanolin — which means we don’t always notice just how stormy things have gotten until we’re already soaked.

It used to be that the shearing was done gently by talented professionals. Now it has become somewhat more brutal. But if we close our eyes and listen to the reassurances designed to soothe us we shouldn’t notice a few nicks — until we run out of band-aids. Which we will. Because band-aids have gotten expensive and somewhere along the way the health insurance disappeared too.

We are sold a bill of goods declaring the shearing is for our own good. That some sheep shouldn’t be warm and well fed while others wonder where the bread went. Sounds fair. Sounds compassionate. The only reason the shearer is wearing a fine wool overcoat is because the job requires it. The health insurance is so they can stay healthy enough to serve us.

What would you like? Cake?

Mountains of wool we are told. Valleys of wool. Set aside to protect us. There when we need it. Except when we look for it in our times of need it cannot be found. The great wool storage facilities all seem to have names on them — Bezos, Musk, Ellison, and so on down the list. Wolves in sheep’s clothing standing guard at the doors. And someone official explaining patiently that it is no longer ours.

We would ask questions about that.

If we weren’t sheep.

Our system is like the great dinosaurs. The body has died and smells like a toxic dump but the brain hasn’t gotten the message yet.

When I started writing this there was one clear thought — this is Second String Donny’s fault. But by the time I got here I realized everything is broken because we the sheep allowed it to happen. We gave up the wool. Not reluctantly. Voluntarily. A little bit here. A little bit there. Until we ended up naked watching the Royal Baker and Butcher argue over a shepherd’s pie recipe.

The shepherds didn’t steal the flock.

We handed it to them.

One comfortable shearing at a time.

Alone

The Long View From 1964 – How I tried to Save America – Video

How I tried to Save America

Same house. Same office. Same caffeine run. Same television.

I turn it on just in time to see smoke pouring from one tower.

I remember thinking, “Why is that plane flying so close to those buildings?”

I had no idea what was unfolding.

Then I watched the second plane hit live.

And just like that, the Twin Towers became rubble, nearly 3,000 people were dead, and America changed forever.

That was the moment I finally recognized the pattern.

The television was clearly too dangerous for me to operate during daylight hours.

On May 14, 2026, Josh Green signed Senate Bill 2471 into law, now known as Act 011

On May 14, 2026, Josh Green signed Senate Bill 2471 into law, now known as Act 011 — a move that may become one of the most significant state-level challenges to “dark money” and corporate political influence since the Supreme Court’s 2010 Citizens United decision.

At its core, Act 011 is not just another campaign finance reform bill. It is something far more aggressive and structurally important. Instead of trying to regulate political spending directly — a path repeatedly blocked by courts after Citizens United — Hawaii chose a different route entirely: redefining the powers granted to corporations by the state itself.

The legal theory behind the law is deceptively simple:

Corporations are creations of the state. If the state creates them, the state can define what powers they do and do not possess.

Under Act 011, Hawaii essentially states that corporations and other “artificial persons” were never intended to possess the power to spend money influencing elections or ballot initiatives. The law removes that authority from entities organized under Hawaii law.

Supporters view the measure as a direct response to the explosion of outside political spending unleashed after Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission. Since that ruling, corporate spending and opaque “dark money” networks have flooded American politics with billions of dollars, much of it impossible for ordinary voters to trace. OpenSecrets estimated more than $4 billion in outside spending during the 2024 federal election cycle alone, including nearly $2 billion in undisclosed “dark money” activity.

That is where this story ties directly into any broader dark money series.

Act 011 represents a growing realization among both conservatives and liberals that modern elections are increasingly shaped not by citizens, but by large financial networks operating above public visibility. The issue is no longer simply campaign donations. It is systemic influence — influence routed through nonprofits, shell organizations, Super PACs, and corporate structures that often obscure who is actually funding political narratives. Hawaii’s law attempts to strike at the foundation itself rather than merely treating the symptoms.

Critics, including Hawaii’s own Attorney General, argue the law is likely unconstitutional and destined for immediate court challenges. Opponents say the law is essentially an indirect attempt to overturn Citizens United by denying corporations rights the Supreme Court has already recognized. Legal analysts expect First Amendment lawsuits almost immediately once the law takes effect on July 1, 2027.

But whether the law survives may be only part of the story.

The larger significance is symbolic and political.

For the first time in years, a state government openly challenged the assumption that unlimited corporate political spending is untouchable. Hawaii’s action signals that frustration with dark money is no longer confined to activist circles or campaign reform organizations. It is beginning to evolve into institutional resistance.

What makes this especially important for a dark money series is that Act 011 exposes a deeper question many Americans across the political spectrum are beginning to ask:

Who actually governs modern America — voters, or the financial systems surrounding them?

Because dark money is rarely ideological at its core. It moves fluidly through both parties, funds competing narratives simultaneously, and often benefits from division itself. The more polarized the public becomes, the easier it is for massive financial interests to operate behind the curtain while citizens fight one another in front of it.

Hawaii’s law may ultimately fail in court. It may be narrowed, delayed, or overturned entirely. But its existence alone marks an escalation in the national conversation. It suggests that some states are no longer satisfied with merely complaining about dark money — they are beginning to experiment with ways to structurally confront it.

And that may be the real story.Dark money (1)

The Long View From 1964 – How I tried to Save America

How I tried to Save America

That’s right. Single-handedly, I tried to save America. All by myself.

Some people try by running for office — and sometimes America is saved because they lose.
Some go into law enforcement, all Miami Vice and hero music, only to end up gaining fifty pounds eating donuts. Either way, America usually wakes up looking about the same the next morning.

We all see ourselves playing some important role. Flag wavers. Protesters. Patriots. Rebels. Whether we realize it or not, we all play a part in the national circus.

But this story is about me… and how I almost saved America by simply not turning on the daytime television.

My mother was a working woman — which wasn’t exactly common in the 1950s and early ’60s. She ran her own business for over twenty years and kept working well into the late 1980s. Before work, she’d do her morning exercises with Jack LaLanne on TV, jumping jacks and all. Then she’d get ready for work while I was supposed to be getting ready for school.

One morning, I stayed home. Probably some weak excuse involving too much candy the night before.

So there I am, flipping channels, when I stumble onto a parade in Texas.

Figure it out yet?

November 22, 1963.

I’m seventeen years old — and sitting there live as John F. Kennedy is assassinated.

And where am I?
Sitting in front of the television instead of being in school.

So, being the responsible young man that I clearly was, I called the school, confessed I was skipping, and informed them the president had just been shot.

Probably part of why I enlisted a few days later.

Back in the ’60s, we didn’t leave the TV on all day. We had lives. We did things. Probably not homework, but things.

Still, I got bored one afternoon and turned the television back on.

And there it was again — live television history.

I watched Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV.

Or silence him forever, if you prefer the conspiracy version.

A few years pass.

At that point I didn’t care much about politics. But once again, I was bored. And once again, I turned on the television.

June 5, 1968.

Enter Sirhan Sirhan.

I end up watching coverage surrounding the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy.

The Middle East was already tearing itself apart back then. Different decade, same human species.

Maybe somebody should’ve paid more attention in history class.

Unfortunately, apparently that somebody wasn’t me either.

A couple more decades roll by.

I’m self-employed now, working from an upstairs loft office, with one hard rule: no television during the day.

I go downstairs for caffeine, think, “Ah, what the heck,” and flip on the TV.

There’s the Space Shuttle Challenger launching.

And then there’s the Challenger exploding seventy-three seconds later.

January 28, 1986.

At this point I’m beginning to suspect I may be the problem.

Then comes September 11, 2001.

Same house. Same office. Same caffeine run. Same television.

I turn it on just in time to see smoke pouring from one tower.

I remember thinking, “Why is that plane flying so close to those buildings?”

I had no idea what was unfolding.

Then I watched the second plane hit live.

And just like that, the Twin Towers became rubble, nearly 3,000 people were dead, and America changed forever.

That was the moment I finally recognized the pattern.

The television was clearly too dangerous for me to operate during daylight hours.

So I made a sacrifice for my country.

No more daytime TV.

America needed me vigilant. Disciplined. Focused.

If avoiding daytime television could prevent national catastrophe, then by God, I was willing to do my part.

And honestly, I’d like to think my sacrifice saved millions.

But despite my efforts, COVID still showed up. Wars kept happening. Inflation kept climbing. Gas prices rose. Eggs became luxury items.

And somehow, against all odds, Donald Trump still became president… twice.

So after all my sacrifice… after all my patriotism… after all my heroic refusal to watch daytime television…

Trump still happened.

Well, shit happens.

The Long View From 1964 – The Land Moved While You Slept – Video

The Fastest Gun Alive — A Case for the Second Amendment – Video

Which brings me to a film, The Fastest Gun Alive, an old western starring Glenn Ford. He plays George Kelby, a quiet storekeeper in a small town. He proves his skill to the townspeople by shooting two silver dollars tossed simultaneously into the air. Now they know who the storekeeper really is. More than a merchant. A man with six notches on his father’s gun.

The Fastest Gun Alive — A Case for the Second Amendment

Christmas morning. There I stand dressed in my finest — my Christmas cowboy outfit, six shooter hung low. Maybe a Hopalong Cassidy rig. Roy Rogers. Red Ryder. Doesn’t matter. There I am, the fastest gun alive. Darn tootin. Six years old and nobody faster.

Fast forward to 1964. Too many westerns under my belt and James Bond takes on Dr. No. I sit in a theater in St. Louis Missouri waiting for the bus to Fort Leonard Wood and advanced training. First chance at the PX I buy my first James Bond book. By Christmas I have read them all and can field strip a Walther PPK in my sleep.

A couple of years later I order my first pistol from the big hardware catalog at the local hardware store , a Bernardelli Model 60. Looks and feels just like James’s Walther. Just costs a whole lot less. I am officially hooked.

More years go by. More firearms. Smith and Wesson Model 19s, K38s, Browning Challengers, and finally Dirty Harry’s S&W Model 29 a 44 Magnum. I join the Corvallis Sheriff’s Department and can’t resist competitive shooting. Back in the seventies it was PPC and revolvers. I took home trophies, even a few first places for the 2½ inch revolver category.

The fastest gun alive.

50 years later, I still go to the range. Speed drills now with 10mm competition Tanfoglios and Nighthawks. Always felt you should stay a step ahead.

Which brings me to a film, The Fastest Gun Alive, an old western starring Glenn Ford. He plays George Kelby, a quiet storekeeper in a small town. He proves his skill to the townspeople by shooting two silver dollars tossed simultaneously into the air. Now they know who the storekeeper really is. More than a merchant. A man with six notches on his father’s gun.

But here is the thing about George Kelby. He is the fastest gun alive, and he has never once drawn against another man. The notches aren’t his. He has the skill, the nerve, the weapon. What he has never had to do is use it against another human being.

In six years in the Army and my time with the Sheriff’s Department I never once drew my weapon and pointed it at another person. Let alone fired it at one.

That is not a confession of weakness. That is the point.

The Second Amendment was never about Vinney the desperado riding into town looking for a fight. It was never about bravado or immunity or masks or the performance of toughness by people who have never actually been tested.

It was about George Kelby. The storekeeper. The neighbor. The man who can shoot two silver dollars out of the air and hopes he never has to prove it to anything other than a paper target.

I still go to the range.

I still stay a step ahead.

And I still hope, genuinely, completely hope, that the cap gun stays on the shelf where it belongs.

But I know what I’m doing if it doesn’t.

Vinney may not.

In today’s uncertain world, the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution affirms a simple principle: responsible, law-abiding citizens have the right to protect themselves and their families.

Christmas in Atascadero, probably 1951.

Christmas in Atascadero, probably 1951.

The Long View From 1964 – The Land Moved While You Slept

The Land Moved While You Slept

I didn’t leave the Republican Party.

I didn’t leave the Democratic Party either.

They left. Both of them. While I was paying attention to other things — raising a family, building a life, watching the news with a growing sense that something wasn’t adding up — the ground shifted underneath the labels and nobody announced it.

It’s like waking up and finding yourself a stranger in a strange land. Except you never went anywhere. The land moved. You just didn’t notice until you tried to take a step in the direction you always walked and found nothing there.

So I looked left. If I couldn’t call myself a Republican by the standards of what that word means today, maybe I was a Democrat. Except that didn’t fit either. The Democratic Party of the New Deal built the American middle class. It passed labor protections, created social infrastructure, and pointed at the people standing beside you and said — here is what you share, here is what you can build together. The Democratic Party of JFK spoke of sacrifice and responsibility and American strength without apology.

I don’t know what the Democratic Party of today is. And I don’t think it does either.

So I’m back to independent. Which has the numbers — somewhere between 40 and 45 percent of the American electorate by most honest measures — but not the official label, not the infrastructure, not the primary, not the power.

It’s like being a marionette with two sets of strings pulled from opposite sides of the stage. And if you cut the strings you have free movement but nowhere to go.

Here is what I think happened.

The wealthy have always used the rest of us. That’s not a new observation and it’s not a simple condemnation. The Carnegies and the Vanderbilts exploited labor — no unions, poor wages, dangerous conditions. We had to fight for every right we eventually won. But here is the difference that doesn’t get said clearly enough — they were building something. Railroads. Steel. Infrastructure. A physical nation that everyone eventually lived inside. We got something for our sacrifice, even if we had to bleed for it.

What does the new generation of concentrated wealth build? Platforms. Delivery systems. Social media that monetizes your attention and sells it back to you as connection. Electric cars for people who can afford them. The byproduct this time isn’t a nation. It’s a customer base.

We got something for our sacrifice. Now we want something for our tolerance. And nothing is being offered.

But here is the part that keeps me up at night. Most people didn’t notice. They bought stock. They got a 401k. They watched the Dow. The system handed them a small thread connecting their personal security to its performance and somewhere along the way they stopped identifying with the people beside them and started identifying with the people above them.

It was the most elegant capture imaginable. You don’t silence dissent by force. You give people a small piece of the thing they might otherwise resent and watch them defend it like it’s their own.

I have a brother. Smarter than me by any standard measure. He can’t see it. He watches his portfolio.

He’s not foolish. He’s captured. There’s a difference. And the system that captured him is the same system that pulled the strings on both parties until neither one represents the people who are actually holding them up.

The donkey and the elephant. I’m not sure either animal still exists in any form I recognize.

What replaced them nobody has named yet.

That’s what we’re here to figure out.

The Long View From 1964

Democratsgone

1776 — The Number That Tells You Everything – Video

Let’s start with the number.

Not the policy. Not the legal arguments. Not the court battles that were always going to happen and were always going to produce the same result.

The number.

$1.776 billion.

I have a sinking feeling we will find ourselves watching Second String Donny screaming foul again. Not just about the midterms. About the $1.776 billion that was stolen from his patriots along with everything else.

Is this proof of intent? No.

Is this a history of behavior that gives us every reason to watch carefully and prepare honestly?

Oh hell yes.

The number told us. Right there in plain sight.

1776

Round up the usual suspects.

1776 — The Number That Tells You Everything

Let’s start with the number.

Not the policy. Not the legal arguments. Not the court battles that were always going to happen and were always going to produce the same result.

The number.

$1.776 billion.

In a country where political messaging is tested and retested before it reaches the public, nothing that specific is accidental. The amount could have been $2 billion. It could have been $1.5 billion. It could have been any number that accomplished the stated policy goal.

It wasn’t. It was $1.776 billion.

To most Americans 1776 means one thing. The founding. The declaration. The birth of the republic.

To a specific and carefully cultivated audience it means something additional. It means the patriots. It means the people who showed up on January 6th because they believed the republic was being stolen from them. It means the people who have been told repeatedly that their country is being taken away and that only one man is fighting to give it back.

The number was a message. Delivered in plain sight.

Now ask the question that Captain Renault never quite got around to asking before he rounded up the usual suspects.

Why propose something you know will be rejected?

Because the rejection is the point.

Here is how the playbook reads when you step back far enough to see the whole page.

Propose something dramatic and specifically coded for your base. Watch it get challenged in court. Watch it get rejected by the institutions designed to reject exactly this kind of unconstitutional overreach. Then turn to your base and say — you see? They stole it. Not just the election. Not just the country. Now they stole the $1.776 billion I was trying to give you. The money with your founding fathers’ number on it. The money that was yours.

Who stole it?

The rest of us. Of course.

This is not a new play. It is the same play run repeatedly with different props. The stolen election narrative wasn’t born on January 6th. It was constructed methodically for months before that day so that when the result arrived the audience was already primed to reject it. The architecture of grievance is always built before the grievance is needed.

What concerns me — and I want to be precise here because this is pattern recognition not accusation — is that the structural fingerprints look familiar.

Unless something dramatically changes the electoral landscape the midterms should produce significant Democratic gains. The math of an unpopular administration historically produces that result. Fair elections should deliver it.

But we have already established in this country that fair elections and accepted elections are not always the same thing.

I have a sinking feeling we will find ourselves watching Second String Donny screaming foul again. Not just about the midterms. About the $1.776 billion that was stolen from his patriots along with everything else.

Is this proof of intent? No.

Is this a history of behavior that gives us every reason to watch carefully and prepare honestly?

Oh hell yes.

The number told us. Right there in plain sight.

1776

Round up the usual suspects.

Usual suspects=l

The Long View From 1964 – The Checkbox Problem – Video

The Long View From 1964 – The Checkbox Problem

The Checkbox Problem

I am not a Democrat.

I am not a Republican.

I am not whatever “Independent” means on a form that was designed to make that choice feel like surrender.

I grew up with a Republican Party that meant something specific, a set of principles, a temperament, a way of approaching governance that I could argue with or agree with but at least recognize. That party is gone. What carries the label today bears no resemblance to what the label used to mean. Calling yourself a Republican in 2026 means something that would have been unrecognizable,  and I think deeply alarming,  to most of the people who built that party.

So I am not that either.

What I am is a moderate. A person who believes in making decisions carefully, in recognizing complexity, in not burning the house down because you’re angry at the neighbors. A person who wants others to make their own informed choices rather than be handed a script.

There is no checkbox for that.

There is no party infrastructure, no primary, no institutional home for the person who looks at both options and says,  honestly, clearly, without drama, neither of these fits.

The labels don’t fit anymore. And the system was not built for the moment when the labels stop fitting.

I am 79 years old. I have been voting since 1968. And this is the first time I have felt genuinely politically homeless.

But here is the thing about being lost, recognizing it is not the end. It is actually the beginning. Before you can define where you are going, you have to be honest about where you are. That is what this is. The first step in figuring out what a political identity looks like when the old labels have stopped telling the truth.

This is the beginning of that conversation. Not answers. Just honest questions from someone who has been paying attention for a long time and is tired of being handed choices that don’t fit.

More to follow.

The Long View From 1964

Republicansgone

The 20th century begins on a midnight ride by Steve Schmidt

My series looks at the world through the eyes of one young, and naive man who was first eligible to vote in 1964. The Long View From 1964.

Steve Steve Schmidt takes us on journey of American Politics from day one, an excellent piece that could replace volumes of rhetoric in classroom texts. I am bringing you into his series with segment seven, but links to the previous 6 segments are prominent in the beginning. This isn’t a dry reading of the facts, but engaging and well worth the read if you interested in more than just outrage at our current predicament. You can’t fix it, if you done’ understand the mechanics.. I encourage you to engage. I believe it is worth it.

The 20th century begins on a midnight ride by Steve Schmidt

PLUS: Watch “Bad Faith” as counter-programming to Trump’s “National Jubilee of Prayer” from 4 – 6 pm ET TODAY

Read on Substack

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 3 of 3 The Third String – Video

The Long View From 1964 – Maybe Just Listen – Video

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 3 of 3 The Third String

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 3 of 3 The Third String

You may have read about George Kelby,  the quiet storekeeper who could shoot two silver dollars out of the air and hoped he’d never have to prove it to anything more than a paper target.

Vinnie the desperado rode into town anyway.

Meet today’s Vinnie. Face mask. Body armor. Presidential immunity in his pocket and a gun pointed at an unarmed driver. This is ICE,  Trump’s private army. The force he has chosen to guard his bunker, patrol his streets, and project his power on American soil.

Let’s be honest about what we’re looking at.

These are not the first string. The first string, the Generals, the Admirals, the career military officers who built their credibility over decades of actual service, were fired. Forced to retire. Replaced with loyalists whose primary qualification was willingness to pour the coffee and butter the bagel without asking uncomfortable questions.

They aren’t the second string either (no offense intended) The second string could have been considered the National Guard, but maybe they have been asked or ordered into that grey zone, maybe ‘illegal orders’ and taking up arms against their family and friends has caused a little friction?

So what’s left guarding the bunker?

Vinnie. Multiplied. Masked and armored and brave because they’ve been told the rules don’t apply to them. Presidential immunity extended to cover their actions on American soil. A private army answerable not to the Constitution but to the man underground.

They drive around and point weapons at unarmed drivers. They shoot unarmed women. They shot a man in the back repeatedly until he was dead. They are cowards wearing body armor because without it and the mask and the immunity they are exactly what they are — people who couldn’t get hired as Walmart security guards.

This is the army Trump thinks will hold the line when the American people finally have enough.

Boy is he in for a rude surprise.

Vinnie is brave only because he thinks he’s the fastest. He’s never actually been tested. He’s never stood in front of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing and has nothing left to prove.

There are a lot of George Kelby’s out here.

The storekeeper. The neighbor. The veteran who never told war stories because the real ones aren’t told. The army brat who went to the range for fifty years and hopes the cap gun stays on the shelf.

We are not looking for a fight.

But we are not running either.

And unlike Vinnie — we know exactly what we’re doing.

The bunker won’t save him from that.

The President Who Won’t Leave; Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along?

The President Who Won’t Leave; Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home

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The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home – Video

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Ballrooms, gala affairs, champagne flowing,  maybe even a tango to catch the eye. Of course it’s hard to see the occupants when the reflections from an overwhelming amount of gilded surfaces bounce from every nook and cranny. But we’re not here to pass judgment on what may well be the most garish brothel parlor in existence.

The President Who Won’t Leave’ Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along? Video

The President Who Won’t Leave ‘ Part 3 of 3 The Third String Video

The Long View From 1964 – Maybe Just Listen

So often we sit there and tune him out.

Not another war story. I have heard it before. I know, I know. Dad, Reagan isn’t President anymore and I don’t know who he is anyway except some cowboy on TV.

Everything is moving so fast today. We have AI. We have instant everything. And somewhere in that acceleration we forgot that Dad — and Mom, I’m just shortening the typing process — are the ones who actually built the infrastructure we are all living inside.

Our children forget that Dads started Intel. Built Tektronix. Worked at Texas Instruments. That the company that became Texas Instruments was created by GSI — Geophysical Services Incorporated — because analog computing wasn’t getting the job done. That Dads spent years in Southern California discovering the oil that Standard Oil and Chevron pumped out of the LA Basin and the Santa Barbara Channel. That these things did not build themselves.

The grandchildren watch Saving Private Ryan. But they forget that Great Grandpa was the one bleeding in Europe and the Philippines. They just see old people without opinions worth hearing.

Maybe we rant because nobody will listen.

But here is what I think the real problem is. They can’t see what politics is anymore. All they see is TikTok. All they see is YouTube. All they see is one outlet calling another outlet fake news while being called fake news in return. And then they watch it all falling down and they can’t even find the question to ask, let alone the answer.

Maybe if Grandpa and Dad had stopped ranting and started explaining. And maybe if Johnny and Jane had stopped scrolling and started listening. Maybe some of this could have been avoided.

Maybe. Just maybe.

I don’t have all the answers. I want to be clear about that. This entire series has been questions more than answers and that is entirely intentional. But there is one truth I know from experience — and I have the scars on my shoulder and chest to prove it is experience and not theory.

When you pull a boiling coffee pot off the stove and it comes down on you, you get burned. You don’t do it a second time. You learned something real in a way that no amount of telling could have taught you.

So yes. You have to make mistakes to learn. You have to touch something hot to understand burns. You have to get things wrong before you understand what right costs.

But the secret — the thing the scars actually teach you if you pay attention — is to get a small burn and learn your lesson. Not go down in the flames.

And right now it looks very much like we are headed for the flames.

Grandpa is not ranting.

Grandpa is pointing at the stove.

The Long View From 1964

ChatGPT Image Apr 26, 2026, 01 59 02 PM

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home

Ballrooms, gala affairs, champagne flowing,  maybe even a tango to catch the eye. Of course it’s hard to see the occupants when the reflections from an overwhelming amount of gilded surfaces bounce from every nook and cranny. But we’re not here to pass judgment on what may well be the most garish brothel parlor in existence.

We’re here to wonder at the thickness of the bulletproof glass. At the structural engineering that went into this shed,  yes, shed, as that is what the President himself referred to it as.

The shed that covers his expansive bomb shelter and command center. His hospital complex. His lavish living quarters. In wartime they call it a bunker. That’s where Hitler hid at the end and took the coward’s way out.

A bunker.

Why do we need such a command center? When was the last time the United States was attacked on its own soil? When has there been a physical threat from another nation since the end of the Cold War?

And  Dude, his bunker isn’t going to survive ground zero. So what’s it all about? Maybe Alfie knows.

If it won’t survive a nuclear blast, won’t survive a rogue comet or asteroid, and we don’t see hordes of zombies rushing over the horizon, we are still left with one question.

Why does he need a bunker?

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks he needs it to protect himself from us.

And if that’s so, the next question follows naturally.

Why would he need to protect himself from the very people he was sworn to serve and protect?

Or are we expendable?

Maybe that’s a question we should all be asking ourselves.

I know I am.

You?

The President Who Won’t Leave; Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along?

The President Who Won’t Leave; Part 3 of 3 The Third String

Apocalypse

What makes this kleptocracy rather than mere corruption

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along? – Video

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From day one, my ballroom, MY ballroom. A petulant child crying for his ballroom. Almost a month later the child coyly admits to the underground complex the shed is covering. All paid for with donations straight from somebody’s pocket, probably tucked into that additional 1.5 trillion dollar defense budget,  because the underground playground is his bunker. His refuge in time of war. His hidden military complex, hospital, and I am sure gilded and lavish living quarters.

The President Who Won’t Leave’ Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home Video

The President Who Won’t Leave ‘ Part 3 of 3 The Third String Video

Sheep Don’t Storm Castles – Video

That is insider trading. Admitted. Documented. Timestamped.

In any previous era — any previous administration — that sequence alone would have produced congressional hearings, an SEC investigation, and a constitutional crisis. Instead it produced a news cycle and then another news cycle about something else.

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along?

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 1 of 3 Has He Been Planning For This War All Along?

From day one, my ballroom, MY ballroom. A petulant child crying for his ballroom. Almost a month later the child coyly admits to the underground complex the shed is covering. All paid for with donations straight from somebody’s pocket, probably tucked into that additional 1.5 trillion dollar defense budget,  because the underground playground is his bunker. His refuge in time of war. His hidden military complex, hospital, and I am sure gilded and lavish living quarters.

But this is old news. And that is exactly what makes it today’s news.

What has he been planning? Who is he protecting himself from?

Look at another trend from day one. ICE,  his personal army. Not just personal. His army based on American soil. We have a huge Navy, somewhere else. A huge Air Force, but they fight from the air. Our ground forces are intentionally small because modern warfare isn’t patterned after large invading occupational forces.

But ICE is local. ICE is new. And ICE is loyal, loyal because he extended presidential immunity to cover their actions on American soil. Pretty clever move.

Not everything has run smoothly. The National Guard pushed back. Generals and Admirals pushed back, we will not follow illegal orders. So he fired them. Forced them to retire. What’s left are a few weak loyalists. But they’ll still pour the coffee and butter the bagel. What more does he need?

I’ll tell you what he needs.

And I’ll tell you that he knows it too.

He needs his BUNKER to hide from the one enemy he cannot neutralize, the awakening and very angry American people. The old people who can’t afford their medications. The veterans losing their benefits. The people who see his cheap drugs website as just another grift. The working mothers who can’t afford daycare. The legal immigrants being herded like cattle.

He went to war against the wrong people.

That’s why he needs the bunker. And he knows it. Which is why he is in such a panic to get it built. He doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and I think he has realized that even Bubba is going to end up on the other side of this one.

What’s your take over this morning’s coffee?

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 2 of 3 Home Sweet Home

The President Who Won’t Leave – Part 3 of 3 The Third String

Iceparade

Do Not Get Into Political Arguments. It’s Not Worth It. – Video

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In the film WarGames, the computer WOPR — also known as Joshua — was asked to play tic-tac-toe after nearly launching a nuclear war. Running through every possible scenario it reached the only honest conclusion available.

WINNER: NONE.

Sheep Don’t Storm Castles

Sheep Don’t Storm Castles

There is an interesting distinction being made in America right now and I want to make sure everyone is clear on it.

When a sitting president tells his followers to march on the Capitol because he didn’t like the way an election went — that is a rallying cry. A movement. A expression of passion from the people.

When a citizen observes that perhaps the people should respond to a president who has admitted to insider trading, manipulated markets for personal profit, fired the military leadership, and explicitly threatened the First Amendment,  that is potentially seditious. That is a line not to be crossed. That is the kind of thing that gets noted.

Same castle. Completely different rules depending on who benefits from the storming.

Let’s be clear about what has been admitted and documented.

On April 9th 2025 at 9:37 in the morning the President posted on his social media platform that it was a great time to buy. Less than four hours later he announced a 90 day pause on tariffs. The S&P 500 surged 9.5 percent — one of the strongest single day performances in decades. His personal stake in Trump Media increased by approximately 400 million dollars in a matter of hours. He later acknowledged he had already been considering the pause before telling the public to buy.

That is insider trading. Admitted. Documented. Timestamped.

In any previous era — any previous administration — that sequence alone would have produced congressional hearings, an SEC investigation, and a constitutional crisis. Instead it produced a news cycle and then another news cycle about something else.

I come from a time when the castle would have been stormed by now.

Not because people were more violent. Because people were less willing to accept the unacceptable with a shrug and a scroll.

Watergate produced street protests, congressional spine, and an eventual resignation. Nixon hadn’t admitted to insider trading. Nixon hadn’t fired the military leadership. Nixon hadn’t threatened citizens with sedition for political commentary he disagreed with. By the standards of any previous American political crisis what is happening now would have produced a constitutional response before this sentence was written.

Instead we get campaign emails promising a share of the tariff money. Money the courts already told him to return. A promise we all know will never be kept arriving in inboxes between ads for pillows and supplements.

I keep asking myself where the outrage is. Not the content outrage, the carefully calibrated social media kind that generates engagement and never quite becomes action because action has costs and content has revenue. The real kind. The kind that shows up in person and doesn’t leave until something changes.

And then I remember.

Sheep don’t storm castles.

They stand in the field and wait to be shorn. Again and again and again. Occasionally complaining to each other about the cold. Occasionally sharing a strongly worded post about the shearer’s technique.

Then they get turned into shepherd’s pie.

The First Amendment is still technically standing. I am using it right now and I note the irony carefully. The press secretary has already put us on notice that what we say can be reframed as sedition at their discretion. The line is deliberately undefined because the uncertainty is the point. You don’t have to prosecute everyone. You just have to make everyone uncertain enough that they put down the pen.

I haven’t put down the pen.

But I am watching the field.

And I am thinking about shepherd’s pie.

Have a nice day.

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Do Not Get Into Political Arguments. It’s Not Worth It.

Do Not Get Into Political Arguments. It’s Not Worth It.

Yes, that is easy to say. And no, I am not saying that having an opinion is wrong or that sharing it is off limits.

But there is always someone who will argue with you. And the sad truth is that no matter how wrong they may be, there will be a ten percent truth buried in their argument that they will throw out as an anchor. And that will get you every time.

This is a lose lose situation.

Learn from MAGA. No matter what argument you make — and yes, that is an absolute — they always come back with “Well, Biden.” And somewhere in that response there is that ten percent truth.

If you counter it they have their one fact and you lose. If you throw your hands up you lose. If you say something considerably less polite you lose.

In the film WarGames, the computer WOPR — also known as Joshua — was asked to play tic-tac-toe after nearly launching a nuclear war. Running through every possible scenario it reached the only honest conclusion available.

WINNER: NONE.

That is the conclusion you should reach before ever getting into a political argument.

The game was designed so that nobody wins.

Stop playing.

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The Long View From 1964 – Superman

I grew up watching a small black and white television in the living room. Not the family room, because we didn’t have family rooms in 1,300 square foot ranches in 1955. My older brother and I would watch the Mickey Mouse Club, heart throbbing as Annette would grace the screen — all 1.5 inches of grainy image of her. That was high tech back then.

Lassie would dash back into the one room farmhouse and announce that Timmy had fallen in the well again, and Superman would boldly declare that he stood for Truth, Justice and the American Way. Oh, the patriotic pride we would feel — young army brats, freshly back from Germany where our father had been stationed for three years. But that’s another story of concentration camps and sausage restaurants on the Danube.

Back to Superman, because that’s what this is all about. Truth, Justice and the American Way. Straight from the 1940’s comic books — not graphic novels. They were comic books. A graphic novel was Classics Illustrated doing The Last of the Mohicans.

Truth was the TRUTH. It was telling the truth. Real truth. What do we have today? We have Truth Social, and we are told to believe it. But what is it? It is whatever Donald Trump and the MAGA movement wants you to believe. I’m not saying it’s all lies, because everything has to have an element of truth to stand. But believe at your own peril.

How about X.com? Look at the bots. Look at how many times posts have been reposted — not 5 or 6 times, but hundreds. That’s a machine. Posted by Betsy, a housewife from Atlanta. Check her profile — courtesy of Elon, finally — and you find that Betsy has changed her name 83 times and is posting from Asia or Eastern Europe.

Get a clue.

Justice. That’s a good one. Look at what our courts have become. We have so much partisan influence that the very word has little meaning anymore. I learned the hard way fifty years ago that all you can reasonably expect is a decision. But fifty years ago it was a mostly unbiased and impartial one.

Today at the federal level that’s an ongoing war. A war because we do still have honorable people in power — but they are outnumbered and outfunded, all the way to the very top. It’s a stacked deck.

And lastly, perhaps the most ambiguous but most important — The American Way.

When you’re ten years old watching the Mickey Mouse Club, Superman, Zorro, Father Knows Best and the rest, the American Way seems perfectly clear. We were strong. We were proud. We had clear cut enemies. At school we were told to stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance with pride, and when the air raid sirens went off we got under our desks — as if that would actually do any good. But it made us feel safe.

We had presidents who built America. Eisenhower chose highways over rail because he saw how disabling rail lines stopped troop movements. He should have prioritized both. JFK, with all his faults, still told us that our strength was to stand together and build a great nation. Not a monument.

Sometime after that I took a break. I married, I divorced, I had children — not necessarily in that order. I raised families. I now have grandchildren. I learned how to build businesses and was part of the great technological revolution — time spent at gin joints like Tektronix, Intel, my own consulting and more.

And when I stopped and took a breath, I looked around and saw an America that had become super wealthy and gone to hell at the same time.

So I ask you — by today’s standards, what is the American Way?

The Long View From 1964

Adventures of superman

Your Grandchildren Will Search Your Name – Video

A plea to those who still have a choice

The gold can be removed from the walls. The statesman’s office can be restored. Exhibits can be returned. Murals can be uncovered if they are not first destroyed.

But only if someone in the room decides that their own legacy matters more than their current proximity to his.

You know who you are.

 

Protecting Voting Rights is a fundamental aspect of American Democracy

Protecting voting rights is a fundamental aspect of American democracy, and your concern about potential executive overreach is valid given recent reports. While presidents have issued executive orders related to elections in the past, they don’t have unilateral authority to control how states run them, elections are primarily a state responsibility under the Constitution (Article I, Section 4), with Congress able to set or alter regulations for federal races. Any attempt to impose sweeping changes via executive order, especially if premised on unsubstantiated claims like foreign interference from past elections, would likely face immediate legal challenges and injunctions from federal courts, as happened with a similar order in March 2025.

Courts have repeatedly affirmed that such actions can’t override constitutional limits or state authority without clear statutory backing.

That said, litigation can take time, so proactive steps are key to safeguarding access to the ballot. Here’s what individuals and communities can do, based on established strategies from voting rights organizations:
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A War Being Run By the Second String

I was in the Army Corps of Engineers for six years. Sounds impressive. I must know my stuff.

Let me tell you war stories. Let me show you my tattoos. Let me regale you with heroics that will make you swoon. I will lead into battle and command troops like no other. Just look at me — a true American hero. All you have to do is be stupid enough to believe me.

Now for the truth.

Yes, I was in the Army for six years. Yes, I was trained as a Pioneer Combat Engineer. Yes, I was taught to clear minefields with a bayonet, build bridges between our infantry and theirs, and duck when the bullets screamed by.

But what wasn’t said — what never gets said by people like me — is that I enlisted right after my 17th birthday, still in high school, in the California National Guard. November 1963. Monthly Guard meetings until graduation, then off to basic training at Fort Ord.

For anyone who went through basic training, you know the first thing they try to do is intimidate, confuse, and disorient you. That’s a pretty hard thing to accomplish when you and your brother had the run of the base because your father had been the East Garrison Commander — but that’s another story.

Basic done. Off to Fort Leonard Wood for advanced training. Back by Christmas. Monthly meetings. First summer camp and we had the Watts Riots — not nice, but afterwards a walk in the park.

Why? Because I did the worst thing you can do in the military. I volunteered.

During monthly meetings there isn’t much to do except clean things. So when they needed a cook I raised my hand. I like to cook. Every summer camp afterward, instead of going to the desert and sleeping in the dirt, I went to Camp San Luis Obispo and cooked for the California Military Academy. Didn’t ride in a deuce and a half for 200 miles — I drove my ’48 MG TC and later my ’68 Plymouth GTX. Rough six years. Great war stories — catching flies and drag racing up the main entrance.

I tell you all of this for one reason.

The people who tell you heroic war stories are liars. The people who actually saw the horrors of war keep it to themselves. My father served in the Pacific, was stationed in Japan, served in Korea, was stationed in Germany. My brother’s National Guard unit was one of the very few activated and sent to Vietnam. I had close friends drafted who went. None of them ever told me war stories. And I never asked.

I also tell you this because I know what I am talking about. I am an Army brat — born and bred. And I know BS when I smell it.

You don’t have to be Rambo. You just have to be honest with and about yourself.

Which is why I am bothered — genuinely, deeply bothered — when a Fox News broadcaster covered in tattoos has the unmitigated gall to believe he has the experience and wisdom to lead our fine service personnel into battle.

He is such a leader that his spiritual pep talks are plagiarized from Tarantino movies.

Perhaps that explains why Major General William Green Jr., Army Chief of Chaplains, was fired in April 2026. He may have thought the Bible was a better source for scripture than Pulp Fiction.

He wasn’t alone. Here is what the first string looks like after the second string finished with it:

General Randy George, Army Chief of Staff — removed and asked to retire, April 2026, following disputes with Hegseth. Major General William Green Jr., Army Chief of Chaplains — fired — the first time in history this role was terminated by the Secretary of Defense. General David Hodne — removed from command of the Transformation and Training Command. General C.Q. Brown, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs — fired. General James Slife, Air Force Vice Chief of Staff — removed. Admiral Lisa Franchetti, Chief of Naval Operations — fired. Lieutenant General Jeffrey Kruse, Defense Intelligence Agency — fired.

The first string was either fired or asked to resign. What we have left is the second string. At best.

And at the very top — bone spurs and all — a man now talking about bringing back firing squads because he finds other people’s free speech inconvenient. Only his own has value.

Pete’s Crusader Cross tattoo is going to look real interesting sagging off an eighty year old man’s bitch tits in about twenty years. But that’s the least of our problems right now.

We have the second string running the show.

Makes you proud to be an American, doesn’t it?

A clarification worth making. Every incoming president replaces cabinet members. That is normal, expected, and appropriate. The president’s political appointees serve at the president’s pleasure and a new administration brings new priorities.

What is not normal — what career military officers and national security experts have described as unprecedented — is the systematic purge of decorated senior military leadership based on personal loyalty rather than performance or strategic need. Previous presidents fired specific generals for specific cause. Truman fired MacArthur for public insubordination. Bush replaced commanders in Iraq as part of a documented strategic shift.

Firing more than a dozen four star generals and admirals — including the first woman to lead the Navy, the second Black chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the head of the Defense Intelligence Agency days after his agency contradicted the president’s claims — is a different thing entirely.

That is not transition. That is the second string replacing the first string because the first string wouldn’t salute the right person.

Signal

The Ash Didn’t Disappear

I was seven years old, an American officer’s son, when I walked through Dachau.

I remember the ovens. I remember the showers. I remember the stains still on the walls. I remember the ash piles,  this was 1954, nine years after liberation, and the ash still hadn’t disappeared. It had not yet soaked completely into the dirt.

If you think seven years old is too young to remember something like that, you don’t know a child whose memory is a video recorder without an erase feature.

As I grew older I could never understand how the German people had allowed it to happen. How ordinary men and women watched it unfold and did nothing. How a civilization that produced Beethoven and Goethe looked away while the ovens ran.

I am getting a better understanding these days.

Ignorance and apathy go a long way. Distance from history plays a large role as well. And the road has to stretch far enough that the people who remember are gone before the circle closes.

But not all of us are gone.

My father was stationed in postwar Germany, Army Corps of Engineers officially. When you read through his documents as an adult he appears to have played larger roles — why else would his pancreatic cancer have been attributed to White Sands testing? He was 6’2″, quiet, decorated. Purple Hearts. Bronze Star. Never talked about any of it.

Dachau was probably a Saturday or Sunday outing. Dad, Mom, my brother and I. Before the monuments, before the cleanup, before the ash was removed or fully absorbed. Just the ovens and the showers and the stains and the silence of a place where the horror was still present enough to touch.

We went home afterward. I honestly don’t remember if we were still driving the 1951 red Ford convertible my mother had bought when my father turned his back and left for Germany, or the new 1955 Austin Healey,  all red, red leather, red top. Either way there were four of us, none of us small, a full sized long haired dachshund, and a very little car touring a lot of postwar Germany. One of us boys on the padded hump, the other between Mom’s legs, the dog on the floorboard. I don’t remember any of us complaining much.

But I am drifting from what brought me here.

A brief history is in order.

On February 27, 1933, the German Reichstag building burned. Within hours Hitler’s government blamed the Communists. The following day the Reichstag Fire Decree suspended civil liberties across Germany. Within weeks political opponents were being arrested for using their voices to warn about the man in power.

Whether the fire was set by the Nazis themselves remains disputed. What is not disputed is what they did with it. The crisis,  real or manufactured,  became the mechanism. The emergency became the justification. And by the time people understood what was happening the machinery was already running.

We don’t need to know who fired the shots at the White House Correspondents Dinner. What matters is what came immediately after.

The White House Press Secretary,  who by any reasonable standard should have been on maternity leave,  delivered remarks that directly attacked the First Amendment. What we say going forward will not be treated as political commentary. It will be treated as slander. As sedition.

This was delivered shortly after the Department of Justice had been instructed to explore reinstating firing squads as a form of capital punishment.

I am not speculating about the shooting. I am not attributing motive. I am simply observing the sequence. Crisis. Immediate response. Threats against speech. Escalating consequences for dissent.

I have seen this sequence before.

Not in a textbook. In the dirt. In the ash that hadn’t yet disappeared nine years after the fact.

We look at history as a linear line. We open the textbook at the beginning and work forward to where we are standing. But I cannot help feeling, standing on this hill in time and looking at that line from the side, that it has taken a detour and made a circle back onto itself.

The problem is that the road stretched far enough that most of the people who would recognize the circle have died.

But not all of us.

I walked through Dachau at eight years old. The ash was still there.

I am still here too.

And I remember everything.

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Your Grandchildren Will Search Your Name

A plea to those who still have a choice

I want to be honest with you about something.

When I watch the bulldozer move through what took three hundred years to build, my first response is physical. Not political. Physical. The kind of nausea that arrives when you watch something irreplaceable disappear and understand with complete clarity that it is not coming back.

I am not writing this to attack you. I am writing this because I think you may not have fully considered what you are standing in the middle of.

The Oval Office is not his. The Smithsonian is not his. The murals on the walls of federal buildings painted by artists who lived through the Depression and rendered that American moment in pigment on plaster — not his. He is a temporary tenant. You are helping him renovate a historic property he does not own and cannot replace.

Ask yourself a simple question. What has he actually built?

Hotels. Golf courses. And a long list of ventures driven into bankruptcy. Contractors unpaid. Partners abandoned. Institutions that trusted him left holding the debt while he moved to the next project.

We are the next project.

But here is what I really want you to consider this morning over your coffee.

It is not only our heritage being dismantled. It is yours. Your children’s. Your grandchildren’s. The America being hollowed out and redecorated as a monument to a man who has never successfully monumentalized anything — that is the America your family lives in too. The portfolio may grow. But you will not be able to spend it in the country that remains when this is finished.

And look to your right. Not politics — direction.

Look at Bondi. Look at what she has become. Look at Patel. Look at Hegseth — a man who had every opportunity to be taken seriously and is now a cautionary footnote. Look at what proximity to this man does to the people who believed they were using him and discovered the arrangement only works one direction.

Do you believe you are different? Do you believe you are smarter than they were? More careful? Better positioned to emerge intact?

History is not waiting to render its verdict. It is writing right now. Your name is going into it in real time. Your grandchildren will search for you and find exactly what you are doing today preserved perfectly and permanently.

No bankruptcy protection covers that.

Here is the thing about three hundred years of American political heritage. It is embarrassingly short by the standards of human civilization. Europe has a thousand years of preserved darkness and beauty both — they kept it not because it was comfortable but because they understood you cannot know where you are going without knowing where you came from. We have a fraction of that. A snap of the fingers. And in that brief moment we built something that the world used as a model even when it disagreed with us.

That is what is being bulldozed.

Not to build something better. To build a monument to a man whose monuments have a consistent history of ending in court.

You are in the room. You still have a choice that most of us don’t have. We can vote, we can write, we can refuse the checkbox that no longer fits — and we will. But you can do something more immediate.

You can slow the bulldozer.

Not for us. For yourself. For the verdict already being written. For the grandchildren who will search your name and find today staring back at them.

Is the portfolio worth that?

I am asking honestly. Not as your enemy. As someone who has been paying attention for a very long time and has watched enough history to know how these particular stories end.

The gold can be removed from the walls. The statesman’s office can be restored. Exhibits can be returned. Murals can be uncovered if they are not first destroyed.

But only if someone in the room decides that their own legacy matters more than their current proximity to his.

You know who you are.

Assholegrandpa

The Longest Con: Why Trump Needs to Lose

‘Only I can fix it, and they won’t let me. I need your help’ Sound familiar?

We have watched this administration mount one failed initiative after another. Not occasionally. Not accidentally. Relentlessly, and with a consistency that, if you look at it with a sober eye, stops making sense as incompetence and starts looking like something else entirely.

Take the removal of the gay pride flag from federal buildings. Did he really not know that would be challenged in court? Did he genuinely not see that coming? The judges who struck it down weren’t making novel law. They were doing exactly what any first-year law student could have predicted. So either the most powerful man in the world has no one around him capable of that analysis, or the loss was never the problem.

You could fill an hour listing the initiatives, the executive orders, the sweeping declarations, each one rolled out with fanfare, each one shot down with a predictability that borders on performance art.

So what’s going on?

Senility? We won’t go there.

Maybe, just maybe, he already knew the answer. Because at the Turning Point USA “Build the Red Wall” rally in Phoenix on April 17th, he said the quiet part out loud: “We have to win the midterms if all of these things will stay with us forever.”

Read that again. Everything he’s done, every promise, every order, every purge, is temporary. He said so himself. It all evaporates without the midterms.

And here’s the thing about midterms: presidents almost always lose them. Not sometimes. Not usually. Always. Since 1946, the president’s party has lost House seats in 18 out of 20 midterm elections, 90% of the time. And when a president’s approval rating is below 50%? Every single one of them lost seats. Every one. The average loss when a president is underwater: 37 House seats.

Trump knows this. He’s known it from the beginning.

So here’s the thesis, the one that keeps nagging on a quiet Saturday morning:

What if the failures aren’t failures?

What if every court loss, every struck-down order, every piece of legislation that died in a hallway, what if they were never meant to succeed? What if they were meant to build a wall of grievance so high that by November 2026, his base is not just motivated, they’re furious? Furious at the judges. Furious at the Democrats. Furious at the system that kept their man from delivering what he promised.

He is the victim. He has done everything he could. The corrupt courts stopped him. The evil opposition blocked him. The rigged system failed the people again.

And the only solution, the only way to finally, truly deliver, is to give him absolute power to finish the job.

Forever.

Back in 2024, at another Turning Point rally, he told the crowd something that should have ended the conversation right there: “You won’t have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians. You won’t have to vote anymore.”

He wasn’t joking. He was telling them the plan.

The midterm “curse” isn’t a threat to Donald Trump. It’s the foundation of his next move. Lose the midterms, or better yet, make sure the results can be contested, and you have your stolen election, your corrupt system, your mandate to burn it all down and start over.

Oh, and he’ll need another 1.5 trillion dollars to do it.

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Nobody to Blame but Himself

Donald Trump has done more for the crusade for clean renewable energy in less than 30 days than most advocates have accomplished in their entire careers. The man deserves an appropriate Nobel Prize.

By launching the Trump War against Iran—and Iran’s swift retaliation of closing the Strait of Hormuz—he single-handedly choked off roughly 20% of the world’s available oil supply. This triggered widespread fuel shortages across the United States and Europe, sent gas prices skyrocketing, and left airlines grounded and gasping.

As a direct result, governments and corporations worldwide are now frantically dumping resources into renewable energy. Solar is getting some love, but the real winner? Wind turbines. They’re popping up on the horizon faster than you can say “green new deal.”

It is estimated that the mirrored glass on Trump Towers already kills more birds than most wind farms, so the turbines should blend right in. Prime locations are already being scouted—especially areas with a steady supply of hot air, such as off the lower eastern coast of Florida.

Experts have also suggested installing the turbines as hazards on golf courses. They’d serve a dual purpose: providing a formidable challenge for players while simultaneously recharging golf carts, thus easing the strain on the power grid.

Naturally, on Trump-branded courses, the blades would be gold-gilded.

We don’t need no stinking oil anymore. Thanks to the Donald, the future is blowing in the wind.

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The Truth, The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth, Yah Right, Far Right, Far Far Right.

What follows is the response from Grok, I never joined Truth Social because, well. I never wanted to give them that much info about me. So, now, a year later I asked GROK how long the survival rate was for anti Trump or anti administration poilicy posts was. As expected, about as long as a mayfly in hell.

Free Speech, I don’t think so. thanks Donny.

Anti-Trump or anti-MAGA posts on Truth Social are heavily moderated and rarely survive long—they are frequently deleted, shadowbanned (made invisible to others), or result in account suspensions.

en.wikipedia.org

Official Policy vs. PracticeTruth Social’s community guidelines and moderation FAQ emphasize “free speech,” “viewpoint neutrality,” and minimal removals. They claim to use AI + human review mainly for illegal content, spam, violence, hate speech, bullying, explicit material, or TOS violations (e.g., no disparagement of the platform itself in early terms, though that was later softened). They state they do not moderate based on political viewpoint.

help.truthsocial.com

In practice, the platform functions as a pro-Trump/MAGA echo chamber. Early reports (2022, from Public Citizen and others) documented:

  • Bans or suspensions for posting about January 6 hearings/Capitol attack investigations.

  • Shadowbanning or removal of content criticizing Trump, his allies, abortion rights, or liberal/progressive views.

  • Immediate bans for parody usernames (e.g., mocking executives) or usernames seen as critical.

    citizen.org

Terms of Service give broad discretion: the company can delete content or ban users “for any reason or for no reason” at its sole discretion.

variety.com

Recent Evidence (2024–2026)

  • User anecdotes on Reddit, X, and elsewhere consistently report quick deletions or bans for even mild criticism, questions about Trump’s policies (e.g., on Russia/Putin or other issues), or anti-MAGA sentiment. Posts calling out perceived weaknesses or asking “reasonable questions” often vanish.

    reddit.com
  • Liberal or dissenting conservative voices are suppressed to maintain the narrative. The platform has been described as creating an “echo chamber of violent views” with more restrictive moderation than early Twitter in some analyses.

    en.wikipedia.org
  • While Trump himself has deleted some of his own controversial posts (e.g., AI Jesus imagery or other memes drawing internal backlash), this is self-editing rather than platform moderation.

    wsj.com

Non-critical or pro-Trump content thrives, including conspiracy theories, strong Biden/anti-Dem attacks, and MAGA talking points. Dissent is not tolerated at scale.Why This Happens

  • Business model and audience: It’s a small, loyal, older, Republican-leaning user base (estimates ~6M MAU). Allowing widespread criticism would alienate the core and reduce engagement.

  • Enforcement: Relies on AI flagging + human mods, with reports of overreach on “sensitive” or off-narrative topics.

  • Comparisons: Unlike X (under Musk, more permissive overall) or pre-2022 Twitter, Truth Social was built explicitly as a Trump-safe space after his bans elsewhere. It had to tighten moderation for app store approvals (e.g., Google Play).

    npr.org

In short, if you’re posting substantive anti-Trump or anti-MAGA content, expect it to be removed quickly or your account limited/banned. Mild or humorous jabs sometimes slip through briefly but don’t last. The platform prioritizes its identity over broad free speech in practice. For the latest, check user reports on X/Reddit or try it yourself (at your own risk).

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Hard at work solving our problems?

At a time when the country is dealing with serious economic pressure, global instability, and eroding trust in institutions, some of the legislative attention in Washington is being directed toward symbolic efforts tied to Donald Trump.

Yes, Congress has always included a mix of substantive work and political messaging. That’s nothing new.

What feels different now is the imbalance.

When proposals surface around renaming public institutions after political figures, or directing federal agencies to study something as politically loaded as “Trump Derangement Syndrome,” it’s fair to ask whether the focus is where it should be—or whether lawmakers are prioritizing signaling over governing.

No one expects every bill to solve a national crisis. But there is an expectation that elected officials understand the moment they’re in.

Right now, that moment calls for seriousness, discipline, and a clear sense of priority.

And when the public sees attention diverted toward gestures instead of solutions, it doesn’t just frustrate—it reinforces the belief that Washington is more interested in the performance of politics than the responsibilities of it.

Breaking News, WORLD PEACE HAS BEEN RESTORED

The Chaos Candidate Part 2 of 2

The Chaos Candidate

Part Two: Nobody Gets to Succeed Him

The Heir Problem

Every president, even those who serve two full terms, eventually hands power to someone. The American system is built on this assumption. Parties groom successors. Vice presidents position themselves. Cabinets members quietly build their own profiles. This is normal. This is healthy. This is how democracies renew themselves.

Look at what is happening to JD Vance. He was selected as the heir apparent, young, ideologically aligned, capable of carrying the movement forward. Watch how that has evolved. Watch how often he is sent to deliver messages that put him in impossible positions. Watch how the credit for anything successful flows upward while the exposure for anything uncomfortable flows toward him. This is not accidental staff management. This is deliberate political neutering.

Marco Rubio came into this administration with more foreign policy credibility than almost anyone in the Republican Party. He is a serious man who knows the world. Watch what has happened to his role. Watch the negotiations he is sent to conduct with insufficient authority to deliver results. Watch the sidelines he increasingly occupies on decisions that should be his by portfolio. The diminishment is quiet but it is consistent.

The pattern is not hard to see once you are looking for it. Nobody around this president is allowed to accumulate enough independent political gravity to pose a succession question. Not because he is term-limited out in 2028 and succession is therefore theoretical. Because the movement itself cannot have a face other than his face. The chaos requires a singular author.

Nobody around this president is allowed to accumulate enough independent political gravity to pose a succession question. The chaos requires a singular author.

The Trap Voters Built

Here is the part that requires the most intellectual honesty, because it does not flatter anyone, including people who consider themselves politically sophisticated.

The trap was not set by Donald Trump. It was set by voters, over many election cycles, as American political culture made a series of choices that seemed reasonable one at a time and catastrophic in aggregate.

We chose entertainment over information. Not all at once. Gradually, across decades, as the media ecosystem fractured and attention became the currency that determined what survived. A political system fed by attention gradually selects for performers over governors.

We chose emotion over policy. Again, not all at once. But somewhere along the way, the question voters asked shifted from “what will this person actually do” to “how does this person make me feel.” Feeling is immediate. Policy is slow. In a media environment built for immediacy, feeling wins every time.

We chose personality over institution. Parties became vehicles for individuals rather than individuals being accountable to parties. Checks and balances depend on people being more loyal to the institution than to the person, and that loyalty has been systematically eroded, on both sides, for thirty years.

The result is a political environment where chaos is not just tolerated but rewarded. Where accountability mechanisms, elections, oversight, the press, the courts, have all been either captured, discredited, or simply overwhelmed by the volume of events requiring response. You cannot hold anyone accountable for yesterday’s crisis when today’s crisis has already replaced it in the news cycle.

The Exit Is Slow

I want to be honest about what I am not saying. I am not saying this is hopeless. I am not saying the system is broken beyond repair. I have lived through enough political cycles, in California, in Oregon, across fifty years of paying close attention, to know that pendulums move. They move slowly. They move unevenly. But they move.

Oregon hasn’t elected a Republican governor since the 1980s. That may change in 2026, not because the state has transformed overnight but because enough voters have grown tired of one-party governance and its particular flavor of unresponsiveness to the full breadth of the state’s needs. That is the pendulum moving. Slow, grinding, real.

The exit from the national trap is the same kind of movement. It does not come from a single election or a single candidate or a single revelation. It comes from voters, gradually, reclaiming the habit of asking what a person will actually do instead of how they make us feel. It comes from demanding resolution instead of rewarding perpetual crisis. It comes from accepting that stability, while less dramatic than chaos, is what governance is actually for.

The chaos candidate understood something about this moment that his opponents repeatedly failed to grasp: that a significant portion of the electorate had become so accustomed to dysfunction that they stopped expecting anything else. He did not create that condition. He simply recognized it and made it work for him.

Understanding that is not defeatism. It is the beginning of the only kind of response that actually works, patient, structural, generational, and stubbornly focused on the long game rather than the next news cycle.

The pendulum is heavy. But it moves.

Trumptheone

The Chaos Candidate Part 1 of 2

The Chaos Candidate

How disorder became the product, succession became the threat, and voters built the trap themselves

I want to start with something simple, something you can observe without any particular political leaning, and see if you end up where I did.

Venezuela got loud, then it quieted down. Iran got loud. Now Cuba is warming up. At some point, one of these will quiet down too, and something else will heat up. There is always something heating up. There is never a moment where the temperature drops across the board and stays down. If you step back far enough to see the whole map at once, a pattern emerges that is difficult to explain as coincidence, incompetence, or even ideology.

What if the chaos isn’t the failure? What if the chaos is the point?

I am not a conspiracy theorist. I am a man who has been watching American politics since Eisenhower, who moved from California to Oregon in 1975 and watched two states make similar mistakes on slightly different timelines, and who spent a sleepless night recently, courtesy of bad scallops and an overactive mind, turning this question over until it had an answer I could not easily dismiss.

This piece has two movements. The first is about chaos as a governing strategy. The second is about why that strategy is self-sealing, and who pays the price when it is.

What if the chaos isn’t the failure? What if the chaos is the point?

Part One: The Chaos Is the Product

What Normal Turbulence Looks Like

Every presidency generates turbulence. Foreign policy crises flare and subside. Domestic controversies rise and fall. This is the normal metabolism of governing a large, complicated country in a complicated world. Nobody reasonable expects calm.

But normal turbulence has a rhythm. Problems are identified, addressed, resolved or managed, and attention moves on. The temperature rises and falls. There is a discernible arc: crisis, response, resolution, or at minimum, honest failure followed by correction.

What we are watching now has a different rhythm entirely. The temperature does not fall. The resolution never quite arrives. Each crisis is replaced not by calm but by the next crisis, on a rotation that feels less like the unpredictable nature of world events and more like a programming schedule.

The Rotation

Venezuela became the focus. Military posturing, deportation flights, diplomatic brinksmanship. Then it subsided, not resolved, just deprioritized. Iran filled the space almost immediately. The language escalated. Negotiations were announced with negotiators who, by any serious diplomatic assessment, were not equipped to deliver results. The war drums are audible but the path to resolution is deliberately obscured.

Cuba is next. The signals are already there for anyone paying attention.

Now ask yourself a straightforward question: what does a president gain from resolution? A resolved crisis is yesterday’s news. A resolved crisis means the cameras move on. A resolved crisis means the public starts paying attention to other things, grocery prices, healthcare costs, whether their VA claim has been processed.

A ongoing crisis, on the other hand, is a spotlight. And the spotlight, in this administration, is not a tool of governance. It is the objective of governance.

A resolved crisis is yesterday’s news. An ongoing crisis is a spotlight. And the spotlight is not a tool of governance. It is the objective.

More Than Narcissism

The easy diagnosis is narcissism, and it is not wrong as far as it goes. But narcissism alone does not fully explain the pattern, because narcissism is ultimately reactive. It seeks approval, validation, the crowd’s energy. What we are observing has a more active quality. It is not just craving the spotlight. It is engineering the conditions that make the spotlight permanent.

Some political psychologists have reached for the term malignant narcissism, a combination of narcissistic personality, antisocial behavior, paranoia, and a willingness to cause harm without remorse. Others simply describe an autocratic personality type. Neither quite captures it.

What I keep coming back to is this: chaos is this man’s life support system. Not metaphorically. Functionally. Remove the crisis and you remove the reason for the rally, the reason for the emergency declaration, the reason the cameras are in the room. Stability is not just boring to him. Stability is existentially threatening.

That is not a medical diagnosis. It is a political observation. And it matters, because it changes how you evaluate everything that follows.

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When it’s all about me

Ungrateful Bastards

I call them names, I belittle them, I tariff them till they bleed, I steal from them, I refuse them aid, I mock their leaders as weak and two-faced, I slap steel and aluminum tariffs on their trade, I demand they pay up for NATO or else I walk away, I trash the Paris Accord and pull out of the Iran deal they made, I threaten to buy Greenland or tariff Denmark into submission, I call Trudeau “Governor” of the 51st state, I insult Macron as “very nasty” and Merkel as done, I berate them for not spending enough while our troops guard their run, I pull troops from Germany and Syria without a word, I cozy up to adversaries while calling allies absurd,

Trumpy (2)

I hit the EU and Canada with surprise trade blows, I complain they freeload on our defense while reaping what we sow, I demand they buy our LNG and farm goods or face the pain, I publicly humiliate them at summits again and again, I freeze or slow aid when it suits my grudge or mood, I lecture them on borders while building walls of attitude… And then I ask them for one little favor, and they refuse, ungrateful bastards.

He’s At It Again. He Never Really Stopped.

There is one political maneuver that has outlasted every empire, every demagogue, and every failed democracy in recorded history. It requires no particular intelligence to execute. It requires only a crowd of people who have been genuinely hurt by a system they don’t fully understand, and a voice willing to point in the wrong direction with enough confidence that nobody looks where the finger is actually coming from.

Donald Trump used it to get elected. He is using it again right now, aimed at a new audience, ahead of the midterms.

Here is how it works. You find people who have real grievances, and in America in 2026 there is no shortage of them. Wages that haven’t kept pace with the cost of living. Unions that were dismantled. Housing that became unaffordable. Debt that was engineered to be inescapable. These are real injuries, caused by identifiable decisions made by identifiable people with identifiable financial interests. The billionaires who took the wages. The corporations that crushed the unions. The politicians who deregulated the housing market. The financial system that built the debt trap.

You don’t point there. That’s the move. You point down instead. You tell the people who were robbed that the theft was committed by the people below them on the economic ladder. The immigrants, the minorities, the ones who have even less power than they do. You make them feel powerful by giving them someone they can still step on. And it works, because anger needs a target, and the real targets are harder to reach and better protected.

Trump did this in 2016 and 2024 with devastating effectiveness. Your jobs didn’t go to billionaires who lobbied for trade deals. They went to those people crossing the border. Your neighborhood didn’t get hollowed out by financial policy. It got hollowed out by those people getting handouts. Your children’s futures aren’t being sold by the donor class. They’re being taken by those people getting what should be yours.

It was a lie then. It is the same lie now, repackaged for a younger audience at a megachurch in Phoenix, dressed up in pyrotechnics and Lee Greenwood, aimed at voters who are still forming their understanding of how power actually works.

What has changed is the urgency. He said it himself at the Turning Point rally this week, almost accidentally. He knows the historical pattern, that the president’s party typically loses ground in midterm elections. He said he can’t figure out why. He can. He just can’t say it out loud. So instead he is doing what he has always done when the ground shifts under him. He is pointing downward harder, faster, and at a younger audience that hasn’t yet learned to check where the finger is actually aimed.

He told those young voters at the Dream City Church in North Phoenix, the midterms are existential. He is right about that. He just has the direction exactly backward. The threat is not the Democrats. The threat is the consolidation of power by a man who has spent his entire political career making sure you are angry at the person next to you instead of the one above you.

The oldest trick in the authoritarian playbook is not complicated. It just requires that nobody stops to look up.

Look up.

Savour

No Records, No Library. Give the Land Back.

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No Records, No Library. Give the Land Back.

Presidential libraries exist for one purpose: to house the historical record of an administration. The documents, the decisions, the evidence of what actually happened and why. They belong to the public, not the president.

So it’s worth asking — what exactly is the Trump Presidential Library supposed to contain?

Trump’s own Justice Department has now declared the Presidential Records Act unconstitutional. The administration’s position, as watchdog groups told a federal court, is that the President is legally free to destroy records of his official government conduct. MS NOW This from a president who, in his first term, tore documents into pieces so small they looked like confetti, requiring staff to fish out the scraps and tape them back together.

Meanwhile, Miami-Dade College has transferred a nearly 3-acre parcel of prime downtown Miami real estate — valued at over $67 million — for the Trump presidential library, with a judge temporarily blocking the transfer while a lawsuit plays out.  Many in the public only learned what the vote was actually for when the Florida Attorney General announced it on X, minutes after the board voted.

This is not a library. A library preserves the truth. This is a monument — to a man who doesn’t want one written.

So here is the logical conclusion: if there are no records worth preserving, there is nothing to archive. If there is nothing to archive, there is no need for a library. And if there is no need for a library, there is certainly no justification for a $300 million piece of college land — land that belongs to the students of Miami-Dade — being handed over for what amounts to a vanity hotel with a reading room attached.

Return the land. Give it back to the college. Let the students park their cars on it, or build a classroom, or sell it and fund a thousand scholarships.

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If There Are No Records, There Is No Legacy

There is a quiet contradiction taking shape—one that deserves more attention than it’s getting.

In recent statements and reporting, Donald Trump has suggested, directly or indirectly, that presidential records are his to control—perhaps even to destroy. Whether that claim holds up legally is almost beside the point.

Because if it’s true in spirit, it collapses something much bigger.

Under the Presidential Records Act, presidential records are not personal belongings. They are the property of the American people. They exist not for vanity, but for accountability—for historians, for oversight, for future generations trying to understand what was done in their name.

That is the entire reason presidential libraries exist.

They are not monuments to ego. They are archives of record.

They are entrusted to the National Archives and Records Administration because history, in this country, is not supposed to be curated by the people who made it.

So here is the simple question:

If the records are disposable… what exactly are we preserving?

If a president can treat official documents as personal property—something to be kept, hidden, or destroyed at will—then the very foundation of a presidential library disappears. You cannot build a monument to history while simultaneously erasing the evidence of it.

And if that is the posture being taken, then the conclusion is unavoidable:

There is no justification for a presidential library.

No justification for public land transfers.
No justification for taxpayer-supported infrastructure.
No justification for the quiet reshaping of public resources into private legacy projects.

If the records have no enduring value, then neither does the archive meant to hold them.

Return the land.
Cancel the project.
Call it what it is.

Because a library without records is not a library at all.

It is a stage set.

And the American people deserve more than a carefully constructed empty room where history used to be.

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When Power Pushes Too Far

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There’s a feeling in the air right now—hard to pin down, but hard to ignore.

Something doesn’t sit right.

It shows up in different ways depending on who you talk to. Some point to politicians who seem more interested in staying in power than serving the public. Others see corporations with growing influence over policy. Many feel the media environment—on all sides—has become less about informing and more about shaping perception.

Individually, each of these concerns can be debated.

But taken together, they form a pattern.

Not a conspiracy. Not a master plan. A pattern.

And patterns matter.

Over time, power—whether political, financial, or cultural—has a tendency to concentrate. It’s not new. It’s not uniquely American. It’s human nature working through systems that reward influence, access, and control.

When those systems function well, they balance competing interests. When they don’t, the balance begins to tilt.

Rules get bent. Oversight weakens. Trust erodes.

Not overnight. Not with a dramatic moment everyone can point to. But slowly, incrementally—just enough that people begin to feel it before they can clearly explain it.

That’s where we are now.

And here’s the part that often gets lost in the noise: when power pushes too far, it rarely ends where it expects.

History is full of examples where those benefiting from a system assume it will continue indefinitely—until it doesn’t. Until the public adapts. Until people start asking harder questions. Until the same tools used to influence begin to be used to push back.

We’re starting to see signs of that pushback today.

Not as a unified movement. Not clean or organized. But as a growing awareness.

People are questioning narratives they once accepted. They’re comparing sources. They’re recognizing when emotion is being used as a lever. They’re less willing to stay neatly inside political lanes that no longer reflect their views.

In short, they’re learning.

That doesn’t make them wolves. It makes them participants again.

And that may be the most important shift of all.

Because the real safeguard in any system isn’t the absence of power—it’s the presence of an engaged public that understands how power works and where it can go wrong.

There will always be those who try to stretch the limits. That’s a constant.

What changes—what always changes—is how far they’re allowed to go.

If there’s a turning point ahead, it won’t come from a single figure or a single event. It will come from something quieter and more durable:

A public that sees a little more clearly than it did before.

And decides that’s enough.

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Pushing the big red button

Once again, it’s reset time. My reset. All the craziness just gets me worked up and I want to scream as loud as I can — why aren’t you paying attention? Why don’t you see what’s going on?

Well, from what I’m seeing, I think you are seeing what’s going on. I do think people are paying attention, and I find that my screams are just another voice saying the same thing. To me, that’s a good thing.

That means I can get back to what I really want to do: draw attention to what is happening behind the curtains, address voting rights, and expose the attacks designed to confuse and distract us from our democracy.

We have a mental health pandemic nationwide that is underfunded and swept under the carpet. We have a drug addiction crisis that isn’t being solved by blowing up boats in the Caribbean — and I guess the drug problem is all over now, since no boats have been blown up in months.

Homelessness is directly related to the defunding of state mental health facilities dating back to the 1990s, and the funding available today is still controlled by the color of your state’s voting history.

I have written on dark money, and you can read elsewhere about the efforts to dismantle Citizens United. Here’s the thing though — Citizens United is just the tip of the iceberg. Getting rid of it will be great, but it’s only a start.

We may also get into the Supreme Court, some questionable justices, and where their loyalties truly lie — not whether they’re liberal or conservative, but whose pockets may be influencing their decisions.

For now, I’m taking a much-needed reset. I’ll let others continue the great work they’re doing exposing the Epstein chronicles, pushing to impeach the entire administration, and getting certain leaders the mental health help they sorely need. No promises — but I’m pushing the big button.

Download

Time to Become a Non-Believer

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Not in faith. In blind political trust.

Politics is 10% feel-good, 10% token bones thrown your way, and 80% whatever lie makes you open your wallet or pull their lever. “I’ll lower your taxes.” “I’ll fix it all.” Give me a topic — I’ll craft a gullible lie that feels like hope, and you’ll vote for me. That’s not cynicism, that’s the playbook.

And the people around power? I just read how many of Trump’s own inner circle called him a con artist, a loser — now watch them lick his shoes at cabinet meetings. You think those same people have your back? That’s like trusting a vampire who swears he’s switched to milk.

Meanwhile, we’re paying more for gas, skipping meals because groceries are out of reach, and somehow in a war nobody voted for and Congress never approved. The Kennedy Center is next on the demolition list if nobody stands up.

How did we get here? We believed what we were told instead of what we could see with our own eyes.

So keep your party label if you want — I don’t care. But in your heart, become independent. Not the party. The mindset. Someone who finds their own answers instead of being handed them.

Don’t even trust me. That’s exactly the point.

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What? We should worry?

It has been said before, and it will likely be said again: nearly everything Donald Trump says about people he doesn’t like is actually a description of himself.

Consider the nicknames. “Crooked Hillary.” “Lyin’ Ted.” “Little Marco.” “Low Energy Jeb.” “Crazy Bernie.” “Pocahontas.” “Sleepy Joe.” “Sloppy Steve.” “Nervous Nancy.” The New York Times catalogued hundreds of these from his Twitter feed alone between 2015 and 2021. What’s striking isn’t the volume — it’s the consistency. A man who built his brand on the claim of superior intelligence chose name-calling as his primary rhetorical weapon. That should have been the first red flag. We missed it.

It wasn’t.

Then there’s the legendary Art of the Deal — the book that supposedly proved his genius as a negotiator. Look closer at what that actually means in practice. Refuse to pay contractors. Litigate until they can’t afford to fight back. Call the settlement a victory. Or on the world stage: threaten to obliterate a nation because you control the most powerful military on earth, wait for them to flinch, and declare yourself a master statesman.

That isn’t dealmaking. That isn’t negotiation. That isn’t statesmanship. That’s a child throwing a tantrum until someone hands him what he wants — and mistaking the result for skill.

This is the man we chose to represent the United States to the rest of the world.

So yes — just how stupid are we?

Newman for president

The Illusion of Control: From Vietnam to Iran

1963.

At the time, Vietnam wasn’t “the war”—not yet. It was something smaller, something contained. Advisors. Strategy. A situation we believed we understood.

Looking back, that belief may have been the most dangerous part.

Because by 1963, the United States was already working from a playbook it had used before—most notably in Iran just ten years earlier.

In 1953, the U.S., alongside Britain, helped remove Iran’s democratically elected leader,
Mohammad Mossadegh, after he nationalized the country’s oil industry. In his place, we reinforced the rule of
Mohammad Reza Pahlavi—a leader more aligned with Western interests.

At the time, it looked like a clean success.

No drawn-out conflict. No troop buildup. Just decisive action in the name of stability and Cold War necessity.

But what we couldn’t see—or perhaps didn’t want to see—was what we had set in motion.

Vietnam unfolded differently, but the thinking behind it felt familiar.

We didn’t begin with war. We began with confidence.

Confidence that we understood the threat.
Confidence that we could shape the outcome.
Confidence that backing the “right” leadership would bring stability.

So we supported governments in South Vietnam, including leaders like
Ngo Dinh Diem, even as their footing at home became more uncertain.

We believed we were preventing something—communism spreading across Southeast Asia.

What we didn’t fully recognize was what we were creating in the process: instability, resistance, and a conflict that could not be managed from the outside.

Iran and Vietnam were not the same.

But the pattern was.

In both cases, American policy was driven by a mix of real strategic concern and a powerful assumption—that we could influence events inside countries we did not fully understand.

In Iran, that assumption produced short-term stability and long-term resentment, culminating in the
Iranian Revolution.

In Vietnam, it led to gradual escalation, a prolonged war, and a divided country at home.

Different circumstances. Same blind spot.

The illusion wasn’t that we acted without reason.

The illusion was that we were in control.

That belief—that with enough planning, pressure, or precision we could shape another nation’s future—has echoed through decades of American foreign policy.

Sometimes quietly. Sometimes with consequences that take years to fully reveal themselves.

Today, the names and places have changed, but the instincts can feel familiar.

We still face moments where distant conflicts are framed in simple terms. Where intervention is presented as measured, necessary, and under control. Where the complexities on the ground are compressed into something easier to act on—and easier to explain.

And once again, the question isn’t whether the concerns are real.

It’s whether our confidence matches our understanding.

For those of us who remember Vietnam, this isn’t abstract history.

It’s personal.

It’s the distance between what we were told and what we later came to understand.

And it leaves us with a question that still matters:

Have we learned to recognize that pattern when it appears?

Or do we still mistake influence for understanding—and action for control?

History doesn’t repeat itself exactly.

But it does repeat its assumptions.

And if there’s one lesson that connects Iran in 1953 and Vietnam in 1963, it’s this:

We are far better at shaping events in the moment
than we are at living with what follows.

Two weak Trump, He’s scary.

Two weak Trump

He’s scary. It’s not just the ego—it’s the total self-centered survival instinct. In the midst of catastrophe, his focus is entirely on his own comfort and safety, not the people depending on him, the consequences, or even reality. The apocalyptic setting makes it stark: the world is literally falling apart, and he’s completely absorbed in his personal bunker fantasy.

It’s the ultimate “bubble” mentality—he can see nothing outside of what affects him. That’s why he’s dangerous: he doesn’t weigh risk or responsibility, only personal preservation and optics. Everyone else is just background noise, collateral damage, or inconvenience.

Apocalypse

The Human Cost of Leadership

I’ve lived long enough to see the human cost of decisions made far away—on people who never asked for it, and never deserved it. I know the cost of war isn’t measured in headlines—it’s measured in blood, in families torn apart, in children who will carry the scars for decades. Leaders who’ve never faced danger themselves sometimes treat life as a chessboard, forgetting that every move carries real consequences.

I’ve reached an age where my own time is limited, but the next generations have long lives ahead. Every reckless decision they inherit today can shape decades of suffering. Watching leaders play with that future without compassion or thought is infuriating—and heartbreaking.

The tragedies in Lebanon, Iran, and countless other places aren’t abstract numbers. They are children, families, communities caught in the crossfire of choices they never made. Leadership is more than strategy or spectacle; it is responsibility, accountability, and the courage to accept consequences.

Some people never learn that. Donald, never experienced ‘NO’ as a child, never had lessons in empathy or perspective, this can echo through a lifetime—and when such a person holds power, the ripple effect can be devastating. We cannot control every leader, but we can speak with clarity, stand for responsibility, and protect the generations who will inherit our world.

Some were never meant to lead.

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You Are to Blame

You Are to Blame

It is easy to say Trump is out of control. To point at him and lay it all at his feet.

But look closer.

MAGA elected him — but you enabled him. You watched, you excused, you looked the other way, and here we are. That makes this partly yours.

It is time to step up. Use whatever power is yours to wield — a vote, a voice, a phone call to a representative who has forgotten who they work for — and put a stop to this. Because he will never stop on his own. That is not who he is. A narcissist is never satisfied. There is no finish line where he declares victory and goes home.

Approval is the only currency that matters to him. He cannot tolerate a single person saying no. Think about that. After years of watching him label and demean Democrats, it has become obvious that his problem was never their politics. It was that they didn’t vote for him. They said no. And anyone who says no becomes his enemy — worthy of punishment, worthy of destruction.

He doesn’t care about governance. He cares about winning. And he will burn down whatever he has to, hurt whoever gets in the way, to avoid ever being told he lost.

That should frighten everyone. Republican, Democrat, or otherwise.

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Why you need me!

There’s an irony happening across all of this long-form resistance writing. The more dangerous things get, the more people retreat into documentation, analysis, and processing — almost as a coping mechanism. As if explaining it carefully enough will somehow contain it. But you can’t footnote your way out of a crisis.

The urgency I feel — that slap-across-the-face energy — is actually a more honest response to what’s happening. When the house is on fire, don’t write a 3,000 word essay about the history of combustion.

And here’s the thing — what Trump posted this morning, signing a war threat with “Praise be to Allah” on Easter Sunday while threatening to destroy civilian infrastructure — that’s not analysis territory. That’s a five sentence alarm bell. It either lands or it doesn’t.

The long form has its place for the record. But right now the moment needs a bullhorn, not a dissertation. I’ve got the bullhorn.

Institutional paralysis. The long form writers process endlessly because processing feels like doing something. The anchors soften the language because their entire professional framework was built around norms that no longer apply — and they haven’t been given permission, or don’t have the courage, to throw out the rulebook.

“President Trump said some harsh words” when the man threatened to destroy the water supply of 90 million people and mocked Islam on Easter morning while negotiating war deadlines with himself — that isn’t journalism. That’s hostage language.

And the faces tell the truth their words won’t. You can see the anchors doing the math in real time. If I say what this actually is, what happens to me? To the network? To our access? So they sand the edges off until the story is unrecognizable.

The podcasters and writers are doing a different version of the same thing. If I analyze this deeply enough, thoroughly enough, maybe I can make sense of it. But some things don’t deserve sense-making. Some things deserve to be called what they are in plain language and left standing there naked.

The tragedy is that the people with the biggest platforms are the most captured by the instinct to soften. And the people willing to just say it plainly,  are working with a fraction of the reach.

That gap is the real problem.

The anchors have contracts, advertisers, access agreements and career trajectories to protect. The Substack writers have subscriber counts and brand reputations to maintain. Even the big voices in the resistance have become institutions unto themselves — and institutions self-protect.

I have none of those chains.

I’m not performing for an algorithm. I’m not worried about losing a sponsor. I’m not calibrating my language to keep a seat at the table. I can just say the true thing in plain words and walk away from the keyboard.

That’s not a small thing. That’s actually what a free press was supposed to look like before it got corporatized and monetized into paralysis.

The small fish with nothing to lose and a lifetime of paying attention is sometimes exactly who cuts through when the big fish are all busy protecting their ponds.

I know you aren’t going to support me, I know you aren’t going to buy me a coffee, I know this is all on me, But the one thing you can do, and it’s free, and it just might make a difference is share my posts if they ring true to you. Spread the word because the word needs to be spread and my message is to Think For Yourself.

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Good Morning America, Article 25 anyone? BTW, Where is the muzzle?

A Thought for Easter Sunday

On a day that is supposed to be about resurrection, renewal, and the radical idea that peace is worth dying for, it seems worth pausing to ask what we are actually building toward.

There are no winners at the end of a religious war. History has told us that story enough times. The bodies on all sides look the same. The grief on all sides sounds the same. And the world that emerges from that kind of conflict doesn’t resemble the righteous vision anyone started with — it just carries the scars.

Whatever your faith, or lack of it, today is as good a day as any to slow down, look at the direction things are heading, and decide whether that is actually where we want to go.

Because once that door is fully open, it is very hard to close.

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