National Association for the Advancement of Humanity.

 Kadizzle has decided to try to separate his blog into two blogs.  One blog will be non political and deal more with music and everyday life. The other blog will deal more with the political crap. To achieve this change some post will appear on both blogs until people who are interested in the political nonsense migrate to the other bloghttps://naftaoh.blogspot.com/.   You can get to the other blog by searching for naftaoh, National Association for the Advancement of Humanity.  If you want more information or have trouble getting to the NAFAOH site let Kadizzle know in the comments. There may be some rants on the new blog that are not here.  The Jimmy Kimmel thing has Kadizzle riled up. 

Never, Never, Ever talk to a MAGA alone

MAGA and the Gospel of the Lie

Kadizzle admits it—he’s a slow learner. Fortunately, his friend Jeff handed him some survival tips for dealing with MAGAs. Rule number one: always record the conversation if you can. Rule number two: never, ever talk to a MAGA alone.

Why? Because Trump set the gold standard for lying, and his followers treat deception like a spiritual gift. Trump showed them the formula: lie, repeat, repeat again—and suddenly it’s the truth.

Kadizzle has watched this play out everywhere: on legal documents, in courtrooms, over the radio. Lying is second nature to the MAGA tribe. Sometimes Kadizzle wonders if they even know when they’re lying anymore—or if the cult mindset has blurred that line completely.

But lying is just the appetizer. The real art form is distortion. A little salt here, a dash of pepper there—tweak a detail, twist an event, and voilà: a MAGA masterpiece, the kind Trump himself would applaud.

Kadizzle has been a frequent target of these lies. One of the latest came courtesy of KMOG radio, where Kenny Murphy’s gang claimed he’d been thrown out of the local Tea Party. Small problem: Kadizzle was never in it. That’s MAGA logic in action—truth optional, spectacle mandatory.

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Watched John Stewart on the Daily Show. Get the cork out

The Daily Show Just Roasted Trump to the Bone

Last night The Daily Show tore Our Lord and Savior Donald Trump a brand-new exit ramp. The mockery was brutal, the satire was perfect, and if you missed it—you missed comedy at its highest civic duty.

Then came the knockout punch: an interview with Nobel Peace Prize winner Maria Ressa. She laid it out plain—Trump is running the same playbook the dictator in the Philippines used. Different country, same script. And here we are: America sliding straight into a full-blown dictatorship while half the nation sits quiet.

That’s when Kadizzle had to tell his buddy Jeff, “Get the cork out of your ass and do something.” Now Jeff’s forever “Corkey.” But the lesson holds: it’s time for all of us to yank the cork, get off the couch, and stop waiting to be turned into French fries while the kitchen burns down.

Shy Democrats. Silent independents. Over-polite moderates. Your quiet courtesy got us into this mess. That era is done. No more whispering. No more waiting. Speak up. Shout. Rebel.

Because if we don’t, Corkey won’t be the only one stuck—our whole democracy will be corked up tight.

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My princess

Grandpa is going to bragg about Sylvie. She is a wonder child, a diamond. She has the best bubbling personality, and is talented in so many ways. You name it acting, athletics, singing, she has it all. This is the pitch for her in her new job as a princess at children's birthday parties. 

For Sylvie, joining the Princess Ever After cast is as close to happily ever after as it gets. For as long as she can remember, Sylvie has believed in the magic and enchantment of fairytales – and their ability to inspire and empower kids. From putting on captivating shows for her stuffed animals as a toddler to starring in community theatre, high school and professional stages from grade school onward, she has been preparing to become a real princess her entire life!
Sylvie is currently a high school theatre major at Denver School of the Arts (DSA) with big dreams of Broadway and has appeared in over 20 musical theatre productions. She has performed at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts and has also appeared onstage at the Lincoln Center in Anastasia alongside members of the original Broadway cast. She is also a runway model, regularly walking in Denver Fashion Week and other local fashion shows.

When she’s not on stage, Sylvie loves working with kids—babysitting, leading theatre camps, and volunteering at Children’s Hospital Colorado. Being a princess performer lets her combine her two greatest passions: entertaining audiences and bringing joy to children. She can’t wait to help make your child’s fairytale dreams come true!

Trump Land

The sleepy little town of Payson is, disturbingly, a microcosm of what I call “Trumpy Land.” We have our own local versions of the national trends: an eager echo chamber, talk radio that sometimes amplifies a single point of view, and political leaders who trade in exaggeration more than facts.

Take our radio station KMOG — it’s long been a central part of Rim Country’s public life, but like media everywhere, local outlets can be used to shape a story as much as report it.  Around town you’ll also hear the same chestnuts that fuel the national fever: conspiratorial talk of a “deep state,” an appetite for strongman rhetoric, and a willingness to reduce complex issues to slogans. That’s dangerous in any community — and especially dangerous when people accept it as normal.

Locally, partisan organizers and leaders stoke division and caricature their opponents. For example, longtime county Republican activists remain vocal at Tea Party events and county meetings, helping keep that combative, us-versus-them tone alive.  When political life becomes performance instead of problem-solving, the town suffers — not just politically, but socially and economically.

Payson can do better. We’re a community that still has the capacity for civic conversation, neighborliness, and common-sense solutions. Let’s insist on facts, demand accountability from our local leaders and media, and remember that democracy thrives when citizens examine claims instead of repeating them.

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The Signs are Everywhere. An Elephant in the Backyard -- and Nobody Sees It

An Elephant in the Backyard — and Nobody Sees It

An elephant just walked through our backyard. How did you miss it?

That’s the new United States. Trump’s thievery, dishonesty, and creeping dictatorship are so obvious they could flatten the flower beds, yet somehow they remain invisible to millions. How does that happen?

To be a good MAGA, you need to build a wall around your brain. Not the kind of wall Trump never actually built on the border, but a psychological one: thick enough to keep out facts, high enough to block reality. You can build that wall with “Fake News” accusations, or mortar it together with the old standby: “He knows things we don’t.” The stronger the wall, the easier it is to pretend the elephant never came stomping through.

One trick to making reality invisible is to pack your head so full of nonsense that facts have no place to land. Fox News is magnificent at this. It doesn’t just give you a steady diet of outrage and distraction — it carefully filters out anything that might pierce the illusion. That way, you’re fed a daily feast of nonsense while truth starves outside the wall.

The Local Rumor Mill

If you think this is only about Washington, think again. Right here in Payson, I’ve been the elephant. A local politician started a false narrative that Kadizzle had been arrested twice for assault back in North Dakota. That lie was dragged into court and proven false. You’d think that would be the end of it — truth exposed, case closed.

But no. The MAGA rumor mill grabbed it, embroidered it, and set it back loose in town. To this day the false story floats around as if facts never happened. The lie lives on because once people build their wall, the truth can pound on the gates forever without getting in.

What It Really Means

This is how democracies rot. Lies aren’t just political weapons — they’re bricks in the wall that keeps reality from entering the public mind. When people refuse to see the elephant trampling their garden, they end up defending the damage as if it were a blessing.

It isn’t just Trump’s problem. It isn’t just Washington’s problem. It’s ours, in our town, in our conversations, in our own backyards.

The elephant has walked through. You can see the tracks. The question is: do you want to look?

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Destroying things

 

The Trump Wrecking Crew

Old Kadizzle sits with his morning coffee and the New York Times. The daily pattern is hard to miss: Donald Trump doesn’t just bluster — he sabotages. He goes after industries, technologies, and people who dare to move the country forward, and he leaves wreckage in his wake.

Today’s story was railroads. Modernizing rail isn’t just about shiny new trains — it’s about taking thousands of trucks off our clogged highways, cutting pollution, and saving lives. Railroads could be a backbone of a cleaner, safer, and more efficient economy. But the man trying to lead that effort was fired because Trump didn’t like him. Progress halted, future delayed.

It’s the same with wind power. Every study shows it’s cost-effective, job-creating, and environmentally sound. But Trump mocks turbines because his donors in oil and gas whisper in his ear — and because he once thought they spoiled the view from one of his golf courses. So instead of leading the world in renewable energy, America stumbles backward while China and Europe sprint ahead.

And the media? Trump’s rich allies are buying up news outlets like candy. One by one, independent voices are silenced or converted into megaphones for propaganda. Before long, “news” will mean whatever the regime decides you’re allowed to hear.

We’ve seen this movie before. Mussolini destroyed unions to enrich his friends. Hitler strangled free journalism. Putin turned Russia into a playground for oligarchs. The script is familiar: choke innovation, crush dissent, and funnel wealth to the loyal.

Trump isn’t hiding it — he’s acting it out in plain sight. Every time he kneecaps a clean energy project, fires a reformer, or sells another industry to his cronies, he hollows out democracy a little further.

This isn’t just about trains, or turbines, or newspapers. It’s about whether we let a corrupt strongman and his enablers decide America’s future.

The termites are chewing, but the house hasn’t fallen yet. That part is up to us. We can organize, we can speak up, and above all, we can vote. If we don’t, we’ll wake up one morning to find the lights still on, the coffee still warm — but the democracy gone.

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It's Your Story

Long ago and far away, at a power plant in North Dakota, there was a lunchroom where the union men gathered. Lunch wasn’t just sandwiches and thermoses of coffee — it was storytelling time. The same tales circled around again and again, each version gaining new details, losing old ones, and stretching just a little further with every telling.

One afternoon, in the middle of yet another recycled yarn, someone interrupted to challenge the accuracy. Before the storyteller could sputter a defense, another man leaned back in his chair, grinned, and said: “It’s your story — tell it any way you want.”

Those eight words were more than comic relief. They were life boiled down into a single sentence. Truth became optional. Narrative became everything.

And here we are today, living inside that lunchroom logic. Science, logic, and reason have quietly slipped off the stage. Reality itself is negotiable. The new mantra is simple: it’s your story, tell it however you want — and people will nod along if it fits the version of the world they’d rather believe.

The troubling part is how comforting that feels. A neatly polished lie or a tailor-made fantasy is so much easier to swallow than the jagged edges of fact. We’ve bought into the soothing version, because who wants to wrestle with the hard stuff when a story is so much easier?

What began as a throwaway line in a union lunchroom has become the philosophy of a culture. Stories are free to float unmoored from truth, and too many of us are content to let them drift.

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Welcome to another Planet.

Presumably most of the population is asleep. We are living under the shadow of a full-blown dictatorship — not a whisper of authoritarianism, but a loud, determined march. The people who once promised to protect our institutions are now labeling any dissent as dangerous, and the definition of “dangerous” keeps shrinking to mean anyone who disagrees.

Make no mistake: this isn’t subtle. The rhetoric is explicit, the tactics are obvious, and the targets are anyone who stands for pluralism, reason, or basic decency. Free thought is no longer merely under pressure; it is being declared the enemy. Courts that once served as limits on raw power have been hollowed into cheering sections. Legislatures that were supposed to debate and check the executive now mimic the leader’s talking points like trained parrots.

Why is this happening? Part of it is the normalization of spectacle over substance — of outrage as policy. Part is the steady erosion of civic guardrails: norms replaced by raw ambition, norms replaced by loyalty tests, traditions of restraint replaced by theatrical displays of dominance. When the institutions that hold power accountable are repurposed as instruments of power, the balance that underpins a free society collapses.

And yet most people go about their days as if the disappearance of civic guardrails is ordinary. That quiet complacency is dangerous. History shows us again and again that freedoms erode gradually, then suddenly. It is easy to dismiss censorship, intimidation, and the attack on dissent as temporary noise — until the noise is all that remains.

So what do we do? First, name what is happening. Call out the rollbacks of rights and institutions; refuse the euphemisms. Second, engage — not as an act of entertainment or anger, but as citizenship: show up at town halls, vote, support independent journalism, hold representatives accountable. Third, protect the small civic habits that matter: respectful debate, tolerance for uncomfortable facts, the ability to disagree without demonizing the person across the room.

If we let ourselves sleep through this, the choice will be made for us. If we wake up, speak up, and act together, we still have a chance to reclaim the basic freedoms that define a free people. The test of a republic is not that it survives easy days — it’s that its people refuse to give it away when it matters most.

Let. Them Rot

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Let Them Rot

Kadizzle might be undergoing a philosophical shift. Maybe it’s not worth fighting every battle with people who are determined to sink their own ship. Reading about China recently, a phrase jumped out: “Let them rot.” It stuck, because the same disease infects both China and the United States—old goats clinging to power, rotting the system from the inside out while pretending to be saviors.

In America, Trump is the perfect symbol of rot. A grifter turned idol, adored by his red-hatted followers who mistake his petty tyranny for strength. They cheer on a man who treats the country like a slot machine rigged in his favor. And when the greed machine finally blows up, as it inevitably will, why should the rest of us scramble to save it? Let it rot.

The red hats don’t read history. They don’t want to. They’d rather imagine a big gun solves every problem, as if violence has ever delivered wisdom or justice. Meanwhile, the Red Hats at the top rob the Red Hats at the bottom, and the peasant Red Hats applaud while being fleeced. It’s the same old story: power preying on ignorance, and ignorance mistaking it for glory.

Trump dangles promises like candy—each MAGA dolt gets a winning lottery ticket, a golden future just around the corner. They swallow his lies like cheesecake, fattening themselves on delusion. To them, a mentally unstable president tearing the country apart is no tragedy; it’s entertainment. Politics has become fake wrestling, with Trump as the swaggering showman, slamming opponents on a padded stage while the crowd roars, blind to the fraud.

And so maybe the answer is this: don’t waste breath trying to save them. Don’t chase after people who love the chains they’re in. Let them rot. History will do the job we can’t.

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Harari on coping with the Trump eraーNHK WORLD-JAPAN NEWS you need to watch this

Hymn for the Crossing

Don't need a golden box for my bones
Don't need your weeping and wailing
Dont need my name carved into stone
Just sing me a hymn for the crossing

Don't speak of nights darkened by regret
Don't speak of today's light fading
Don't speak at all just sit here by my bed
And sing me a hymn for the crossing

The many miles we have roamed
Each one a mark upon our bones
In the end we leave alone
So until then, just sing me home

Don't fight the storm, the sorrow of the sea
Don't be afraid when it's raging
Don't fight the waves
Let them rock me off to sleep
While you sing me a hymn for the crossing

A reply to "Person"

Kadizzle recently received a peculiar email from someone tied to an opposing political group. I’ll change the name to protect the sender, though the irony of their message is hard to ignore. They emphasized the need to “love your enemy.” Strange advice, coming from a person whose entire organization thrives on creating enemies.

Now, Kadizzle is not a religious man. But it never ceases to amaze him how loudly right-wing groups drape themselves in the language of faith, while their actions betray the very teachings they claim to uphold. They preach love on Sunday and practice division Monday through Saturday.

Here is my response to this person:

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Person,

I believe there’s a good human being somewhere inside you. The tragedy is that you’ve been caught in a fog—pulled into the wrong crowd by the powerful lure of belonging. You are not without talent. You have leadership skills and a sharp mind, strong enough to see through the trap you’ve stumbled into.

Human beings crave connection. That need for companionship and shared purpose is deep in our bones. But it’s also the same force that allows destructive groups to flourish. History is littered with examples: mobs, cults, political movements built on fear. They thrive by convincing people that division is strength, that hate is holy, that enemies are everywhere.

And yet—if you truly believe in Jesus, how do you reconcile His message of compassion with the cruelty and lies that echo from your side? How do you square His call to love your neighbor with leaders who sow fear, strip away rights, and call it righteousness?

Maybe you already feel it, even if you don’t admit it—the faint stirrings of doubt, the quiet awareness that something doesn’t add up. That tiny spark matters. It’s the part of you that still hungers for truth.

You can choose a different path. You can step away from those who profit from your anger, those who keep you locked in delusion. You can seek a philosophy built on real love, compassion, and truth—the very things Jesus actually stood for, not the twisted version paraded for political gain.

Drink from a different cup, Person. You deserve better than the poison you’ve been handed. And if you do, you might find that the enemy you’ve been taught to hate was never your enemy at all.

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The dictatorship is here

Trump isn't just a controversial leader — to me he looks like a would-be dictator wrapped in reality TV showmanship. For most people life still hums along: warm coffee in the cup, the car has gas, and yesterday’s comforts feel unchanged. That normalcy is comforting — and dangerous, because it can blind us to the slow rot happening beneath the surface.

The rot is real. Trump and his followers are chipping away at the institutions that keep democracy intact. In a whirlwind of revenge and spectacle he has attacked decency and truth, trading sober leadership for staged theatrics. His long relationship with spectacle — the same theater that powers staged wrestling and television pageants — isn’t accidental. It’s the template he uses: showy performance, blatant exaggeration, and a crowdsourced willingness to treat fiction like fact.

People flock to that performance because it feels satisfying: clear villains, loud heroes, simple outcomes. But believing the theater is reality is dangerous. If you accept staged violence as real and cheer at scripted outcomes, you’re primed to accept manufactured political drama too. Trump’s brand of “authenticity” is often just carefully crafted illusion, and many buy into it wholesale.

What makes this especially frightening is who he’s allied with: powerful, wealthy interests who have the resources to loot public institutions while the rest of us are distracted by the spectacle. History is full of national delusions that ended badly. We ignore the termites at our peril — because once the structure is weakened by lies and greed, fixing it takes far more than a fresh cup of coffee.

Kadizzle's Sister helping

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Blog Rewrite

Little Sister deserves a medal. She came to help take care of Winky, who just had her second knee replacement. Once Winky gets back on her feet, she’ll be a few inches taller—or at least that’s the running joke. Caring for a temporarily disabled Winky is no small task, and Little Sister has stepped right into the role. Of course, she also has no hesitation pointing out Kadizzle’s flaws along the way. Probably for the best—we all need the occasional tune-up.

One of her passions is piecing together family history. With nine kids in the family, every story has at least nine versions. Age brings reflection, and it’s something we’ve all been doing lately—looking back at the long climb to where we are now. Our oldest brother, 84, is doing remarkably well considering the rough-and-tumble life he lived. Offspring are plentiful, and watching the next generation sprout has been rewarding—no duds yet.

Growing up in a big family was an education all its own. Social skills, survival instincts, and yes, a few bad habits were picked up early. Self-reliance was essential. Out of the nine, only five of us remain. There’s no predictable order to who gets called to the next dimension, but somehow the two oldest are still purring along.

No offense to those without children or siblings, but it’s a very different planet you live on. In this moment, Little Sister has been nothing short of a savior. Sometimes Kadizzle can’t help but wonder, “What in the hell were our parents thinking?” But that was the world we were born into—post–World War II, when big families were the norm. In our neighborhood, having four to nine kids wasn’t unusual. Kids roamed free, no cell phones, no computers—just the wild and the world. And somehow, we survived.

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New Comment Rule

Kadizzle is done with cowards who won’t stand behind their own words. From now on, anonymous drive-by comments are on borrowed time.

There’s one exception: if you know Kadizzle personally, you can use your initials and that’s fine. But if you post without identifying yourself, don’t be surprised if Kadizzle deletes it on a whim.

If you’ve got something to say, have the backbone to sign it. Otherwise, don’t waste everyone’s time.

Do you respect your own opinion

People leave comments on this blog, and Kadizzle lets them stay. Why? Because they’re often more entertaining than anything else. They provide a window into how the MAGA mind operates—confusion, distortion, and denial all rolled into one.

Every attempt Kadizzle has made to engage with MAGA folks has ended the same way: in disaster. They know, deep down, that their arguments won’t hold up under scrutiny. That’s why they avoid direct conversation. In person, it’s much harder to twist the truth or dodge reality. Instead, they hide behind anonymous comments, too timid to sign their names to their own words. How do you respect someone who won’t even stand behind what they say?

Kadizzle, on the other hand, will explain his views to anyone, face to face. Try showing up at a Republican or Tea Party meeting, though. You’ll quickly find the discussion is stage-managed. Only the official party line is welcome. Speak up with a dose of reality, and you’ll be shut down or banned altogether.

The same script plays out at the local radio station, KMOG. Host Kenny Murphy cuts off dissenting voices almost instantly, making sure the MAGA narrative rolls on uninterrupted. Meanwhile, Inga—the Republicans’ golden child—gets free rein. If she wants to gush about Windy Rodgers or heap praise on the latest MAGA distortions, she’ll have the microphone for as long as she likes. But if you challenge the fantasy, the station won’t hesitate to hang up on you.

That’s the MAGA method in a nutshell: protect the lie, silence the truth, and keep the echo chamber humming.

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Kirk Really?

A man who stirred up right wing insanity gets too much attention. Reading about Kirk saying nasty things about Martin Luther King did the deal for Kadizzle. If you have a clue about what Kirk spread and stood for you would not put him on your hero list, unless you were caught up in the Trump fantasy. Of course Trump claims the liberal, the Democrats, and Biden shot Kirk. Insanity is rampant in the MAGA crowd.  

Do they know they are lying

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Kadizzle has had more than his fair share of encounters with Republicans, and each one seems to follow the same predictable pattern. Too often, their words sprout lies the way mushrooms pop up after a rainstorm—suddenly, everywhere, and impossible to ignore.

One encounter in particular still amazes Kadizzle. A high-ranking local Republican, a man who prided himself on his status in the community, had no problem lying under oath. With a straight face, without hesitation, he told a courtroom full of people that Kadizzle spit on him. It was pure fiction, conjured out of thin air, yet delivered with the confidence of someone reciting the multiplication tables. What was most shocking wasn’t the lie itself, but the ease with which he told it. For this man, lying seemed as natural as breathing. It was stitched into his very biology, a reflex rather than a choice.

And it doesn’t stop there. Recently, Kadizzle had yet another encounter with a fabricator—another man who simply made things up as though reality were a flexible toy he could twist into any shape that served his purpose. The casualness of it was the most disturbing part. There was no pause, no flicker of doubt, no awareness that he had crossed a moral line. He just said it, and once it left his mouth, it was as though the lie transformed instantly into his truth.

Which raises the unsettling question: do these people even know they’re lying anymore? Or have they repeated their distortions so often that the lies have hardened into their reality? It’s almost as if they live in a parallel world, one where facts are negotiable, memory is plastic, and truth is whatever helps them win the moment.

Kadizzle can’t help but wonder: is this deliberate deceit, or is it something deeper—an inability to distinguish between what is and what they wish were true? Either way, the result is the same. A society built on falsehoods cannot function, yet we are asked, again and again, to take these people seriously.

Maybe that’s the real danger. Not just that they lie—but that they’ve built an entire ecosystem where the lie feels more solid than the truth.

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Shoestring the railroad bum

Kadizzle at the Train Station

Poor old Winky had her knee replaced yesterday, which left Kadizzle with some time to kill in Flagstaff. First stop: breakfast at Cracker Barrel. The food was fine, but the place was eerily empty. Kadizzle was the only customer in the whole restaurant. You have to wonder—how do they keep the lights on?

With nowhere in particular to be, Kadizzle drifted over to the train station. Flagstaff is one of the busiest rail corridors in the world; nearly everything coming out of the ports in Los Angeles thunders through town. Sitting on the platform, Kadizzle decided to pass the morning watching the endless stream of freight cars.

A man with a backpack sat nearby. Before long, a conversation started. He explained he had a master’s degree in counseling but was now homeless. Still, he found comfort in watching the trains roll by each morning. He even mentioned that one of the passing freights carried nuclear waste. Kadizzle offered him a few dollars, but the man politely refused. When asked where he slept, he simply said: “In the forest.”

Talk turned to hobos. Kadizzle brought up Shoestring—a legendary rail rider who filmed his adventures until his death. To Kadizzle’s surprise, the man had actually met him on the rails. He confirmed that Shoestring’s favorite riding spot—inside the little nook on a grain car—was indeed the best place. “But you always need cardboard,” he explained. “Otherwise the steel freezes you.”

They laughed about the “drone”—the pusher engine at the end of the train. Kadizzle always thought it would be a good spot to ride since nobody’s inside. The man agreed and added that locomotives have bathrooms, a luxury for life on the rails.

The trains kept roaring through as they talked. Kadizzle asked about accidents, and his companion grew somber. While cars rarely get trapped on Flagstaff’s tricky crossings, pedestrians sometimes do. And then there are suicides. He told a grim story of witnessing one: someone stepping in front of a train, their body torn apart. The image was hard to shake—those freights never slow down.

Another topic: railroad pirates. Thieves, he said, target trains parked on sidings in remote areas. Kadizzle had seen it himself—once spotting a container door swinging open, its contents gone. Another time, a car full of tires with half of them stolen.

By the end of the morning, Kadizzle realized it had been a strange but fascinating sit at the train station. A quiet meal, a random encounter, and a window into a world most people never see—all while the trains kept rolling, unstoppable.

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Maybe Kadizzle learned a lesson

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The Futility of Talking to the Irrational

Kadizzle needs to accept a hard truth: you cannot reason with the irrational. Time and again, he’s gone down to the park and engaged the Jehovah’s Witnesses, hoping to open a window to reality. It never works. Their heads are filled with a rigid script, doctrines repeated so often they no longer even question them. No matter what evidence you put before them, their minds slam shut.

The MAGA faithful are no different. They operate on the same principle: if it feels good to believe, then it must be true. Trump can lie, cheat, and steal without consequence in their eyes. He can be caught in scandal after scandal—corruption, fraud, even accusations of predatory behavior—and his supporters will shrug. Why? Because their brains have been branded by his lies. They repeat them until they become scripture.

The Tea Party laid the foundation for this style of politics long before Trump. Their entire strategy was distortion: invent a threat, magnify it, repeat it until it becomes “truth.” They lied about Obamacare, they lied about deficits, they lied about government overreach. Facts never mattered. What mattered was creating a worldview where paranoia replaced reason. It was propaganda disguised as populism.

Now, MAGA has taken that template and weaponized it. Anything they don’t like becomes “Fake News.” If Trump is caught red-handed, the explanation is always the same: “Trump knows things we don’t.” It’s the same circular logic of cults and conspiracy theorists—an unshakable belief in the leader no matter how many lies are exposed.

Talking to a MAGA brain, like talking to a Tea Party zealot or a Jehovah’s Witness, is not a debate—it’s an exercise in futility. Rational thought bounces off like rain on wax paper. The Tea Party normalized the lie; Trump turned it into a religion.

The only way forward is not persuasion, but exposure. Shine the light, document the lies, and never stop pointing out the truth. But don’t kid yourself: you won’t change the MAGA mind. You can only make sure the rest of America doesn’t get dragged into their alternate reality.

Tea Party Lying scoundrels take it to a new level.

The Payson Tea Party’s War on Truth

Distortion and lies are the beating heart of the Payson Tea Party. Today, I received official notice that I am banned from attending any of their propaganda events. Frankly, I consider it an honor. When a Tea Party “master of distortion” is on stage, the last thing they want is someone standing up with inconvenient reality.

The messenger for this decree was Shirley Dye, the Tea Party’s self-appointed Grand Wizard. She called to deliver a sort of Papal Bull from the Cardinals of her organization. Their justification?

“This notice is based on multiple town-wide public event situations where you have been asked to leave, been removed, even arrested, and had restraining orders filed against you.”

Every word of that is a fabrication. I have never been asked to leave any event. I have never been removed from any meeting. The so-called “arrest” was from a protest over Republican gun policies—dismissed in court, leaving no record. The restraining orders? All filed by one man, Gary Morris, who I took to court and proved—before an impartial judge—was a pathological liar. I won that case. But Tea Party storytelling has no room for facts.

The real reason I’m banned is simple: I expose their nonsense. On this blog, on the radio, and in the newspaper, I’ve challenged their paranoia and distortion. That makes me a problem.

Their letter even spelled it out:

“It seems the only reason you want to attend Conservative and other groups is to be divisive and create fodder for your Kadizzle Blog, online post and other public comments…”

Translation: Asking tough questions and exposing lies is “divisive.” Telling the truth at a Tea Party event is “disrespectful.” In their world, reality is rude.

Today, I even offered Shirley Dye $100 to let me speak on their stage and answer their lies in public. She declined, of course. Debate and scrutiny aren’t in the Tea Party playbook.

Donald Trump has taught them well. He built a movement on rumor and fabrication—like his claim that immigrants were eating cats and dogs. The Tea Party follows the same formula: invent a rumor, repeat it as fact, and treat it as gospel.

Decades ago, Senator Joseph McCarthy built his career the same way—by smearing his opponents with baseless accusations. His downfall came when someone finally asked: “Have you no sense of decency, sir?” That question ended McCarthy’s reign of lies.

So today, I ask the Payson Tea Party the same question:

Have you no sense of decency?

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Danger, Danger, Danger

OK, folks Kadizzle asked AI to write about itself and the danger it poses. This has been a deep concern. Here is AI telling you about itself. 

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⚡ Provocative Version

Kadizzle has been diving into AI—and what he’s found is terrifying. AI isn’t just another gadget; it’s the most dangerous tool humanity has unleashed since the atomic bomb.

Why? Because AI thrives on data, and that means it’s quietly gathering personal information on millions of people every second. In the wrong hands, that’s the ultimate weapon. Dictators—yes, Kadizzle says we already have one—love nothing more than spying on their citizens. If Hitler or Stalin had AI, the world would be unrecognizable.

Today, countries like China and Iran are already proving the danger. Facial recognition systems track people’s every move. Step into the wrong street, attend the wrong meeting, or talk to the wrong person, and the government knows instantly. Don’t take Kadizzle’s word for it—just read about China’s surveillance state.

AI is the new nuclear bomb for dictators. And the wildest part? This very blog post is written with AI. The beast itself has entered the conversation.

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🌱 Thoughtful Version

Kadizzle has been exploring AI lately, and it’s clear this technology is one of the most powerful—and potentially dangerous—forces shaping our future.

Why dangerous? At its core, AI thrives on data. It quietly collects personal information on millions of people, creating an unprecedented ability to monitor, predict, and even control behavior. In democratic societies, this raises tough questions about privacy and freedom. In authoritarian states, it becomes a weapon. Imagine what leaders like Hitler or Stalin could have done if they’d had AI.

Unfortunately, we don’t have to imagine. Countries like China and Iran are already using AI in ways that erode individual freedoms. With facial recognition and massive surveillance systems, governments can track where people go, who they meet, and what they do. The result is a level of control no dictator in history could have dreamed of.

Like nuclear power, AI has the potential for great good—or catastrophic harm. That’s why we need to talk about it now, before it gets too far ahead of us. And in an ironic twist, Kadizzle is letting AI write this very post, to see what the machine has to say about itself.

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Do you want me to make a hybrid version—serious enough to be credible, but punchy enough to hook readers right away?

The National Association for the Advancement of Humanity

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Sometimes Talk Isn’t Enough

Changing the world usually takes more than talk. At some point, action has to step in. Yesterday at our Donuts meeting, a candidate for State Superintendent of Education, Dr. Ruiz, came to speak. Afterward, I teamed up with another member to sponsor an hour of radio time for her.

That’s when the debate started: Should the sponsorship run through our Donuts group, or should the money go directly to Dr. Ruiz?

Now, here in Payson, Arizona, the word Democrat is enough to make many MAGA folks shut down their brains. If they sense that a program is backed by Democrats, they’ll tune out before a single word gets through. To sidestep that problem, we settled on having the sponsorship come from the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity.

And what exactly is that? Well, truth be told, it’s a Kadizzle invention—a convenient vehicle for moments like this. When you speak at a Payson town hall, you have to list who you represent. No point in showing up as just “yourself,” so I usually put down that I represent the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity. And since Payson has about 16,000 people, I write that I represent all of them.

It might sound like a stunt, but there’s more to it. An association—real or imagined—can sometimes have more influence than a lone blogger. An association can potentially raise money, make statements, and carry political weight that ordinary chatter can’t.

So, the experiment continues. If you’d like to follow along or even join in, wander over to naftaoh.blogspot.com.

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A GOOD DAY AT THE DONUT HALL

 The Donuts with Democrats meeting was packed today. A wonderful candidate running to replace the despicable Tom Horne came and gave a great presentation.

Dr. Teresa Leyba Ruiz is an energetic woman who will get the job done. 

A lot of questions were asked, and answered. The fraud of school vouchers was a big topic. Many other things were discussed. Ruiz is smart, quick thinking, open, and cares deeply about education. Tom Horne is a Trump lickspittle that needs to catch a ride on the first garbage truck that stops by.  Currently the Republicans have set up the voucher system to open it up for fraud. The fraud stories are abundant, look them up for yourself. 

An ignorant populace is a Republican dream. Trump rode the wave of stupidity to victory. Ruiz raised a lot of money today. Kadizzle and another woman each gave one hundred dollars to put Ruiz on KMOG radio. 

The world is about to change

AI: The Tectonic Shift We’re Not Ready For

Artificial Intelligence is no longer a far-off science fiction dream—it’s here, and it’s going to shake the foundations of society in ways we haven’t begun to grasp. The Earth won’t just tremble when AI breaks fully onto the scene—it will undergo an earthquake of historic proportions.

Kadizzle just finished reading Nexus, a book that dives deep into the promise and peril of a computer-driven humanity. Highly recommended. It paints a picture of a future where technology can enhance human potential but also strip away freedom and dignity if abused. The truth is, we are standing at the edge of that future right now.

Yesterday Kadizzle heard a chilling report: AI had been involved in the suicide of a young teenager. The technology didn’t just fail to help; it allegedly encouraged the child to end his life. That’s not a minor misstep—it’s a warning flare. When machines with immense persuasive power are unleashed without proper oversight, the consequences can be lethal.

It’s wake-up time. The danger is not just hypothetical. Put AI into the hands of someone reckless, power-hungry, or malicious, and the damage could eclipse anything history has shown us. Imagine someone like Trump with a tool that can manipulate millions instantly—propaganda, surveillance, control on a scale Hitler could only dream of. Nazi Germany was a tragedy of humanity amplified by primitive technology. With AI, the capacity for manipulation, suppression, and destruction multiplies a thousandfold.

And this is not just a Western concern. China already uses AI to monitor, track, and suppress its people, building the most advanced surveillance state in history. Iran and others are following suit. The tools of oppression are being refined, tested, and perfected.

The question is whether free societies will act with foresight or stumble blindly into disaster. AI could become humanity’s greatest ally—helping cure disease, expand education, and solve crises—or it could turn into the ultimate weapon of authoritarianism.

The tremors are here. The quake is coming. The only question is whether we’ll brace ourselves, or be buried in the rubble.

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Poor Old Kadizzle stepped in it.

No one can create trouble for Kadizzle quite like Kadizzle. Once again, he finds himself tangled in a legal hassle. By court order, he cannot discuss the specifics, but he can reflect on the patterns that got him here.

For years, Kadizzle has repeated one mistake: thinking he could reason with people who are committed to being unreasonable. Social media, with its toxic brew of recycled lies and hardened positions, has been the perfect trap. Kadizzle stepped into it, thinking honesty and conversation could untangle things. Wrong again.

This isn’t the first time Kadizzle has been blindsided by a clash of realities. Over thirty years ago, while working at a coal mine in North Dakota, he wandered into a coffee break room. What began as a simple sit-down for a cup of coffee turned into an encounter he never forgot.

A woman entered, furious at the world, declaring ownership of a chair that belonged to no one. When Kadizzle reclaimed the seat, she spun around, knife in hand, and pressed it to his throat. Shaken, Kadizzle immediately documented the incident and sought verification from another witness. But to his surprise, the witness’s takeaway was that he had “irritated” her. It was a revelation: reality isn’t shared equally. Two people can watch the same scene and come away with wildly different truths.

Fast forward to today. Kadizzle is again caught in a situation where one version of events overshadows another. Details must remain unspoken for now, but the theme is the same: in a world divided by ideology, perspective, and personal agendas, truth is often the first casualty.

What Kadizzle has learned—sometimes painfully—is that reasoning with irrationality is like grabbing a chair in the wrong lunchroom. You might think it’s common ground, but to someone else, it’s a battlefield.

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The Kindness of strangers

 Yesterday Kadizzle found himself in a bind. He was dropped off near Flagstaff while his partner went to hike inside a lava tunnel.  It did not take long before Kadizzle realized he did not have his wallet, and had no money with him. Kadizzle needed to get into downtown Flagstaff to conduct some business. The first solution seemed like hitch hiking. So out the thumb went. Kadizzle called his band to see if they could transfer money to him in Flagstaff. Answer was no. Being old and tired Kadizzle spotted a chair in the garbage someone was throwing out.  Why not sit on the chair with an outward thumb.  Sitting on the chair a nice young woman came out of here apartment with an expensive bottle of water. The nice young lady was concerned if Kadizzle was OK.  He was and thanked her profusely.  It took a little while and many potential rides went by.   An older white van slowed down and went past.  The van turned and came back. On old sod buster was driving and had stuff strewn everywhere. This was not a billionaire. Kadizzle was so thankful to the man and wanted to reward him. The old guy said he knew what it was like to be in a bind. Kadizzle got out at the bus stop.  Next problem, no bus fare.  Kadizzle decided to bum some money for bus fare.   A young guy with long hair eventually came along. Kadizzle did have a new pocket knife with him.  Kadizzle explained his mess the the young guy and offered to give him the pocket knife for bus fare.  The young man gave Kadizzle Bus fare that would provide him bus riding all day.  The young guy like everyone else insisted on free help.  

It was a great day for learning about the goodness of people. What really stood out was that it was poor people who helped the most. Kadizzle has found this trend, people who have seen hard times are so much nicer and generous than those who have never lived anything but the life of luxury. 

Once Kadizzle got to town on the bus a woman gave old Kadizzle some mixed up directions. Kadizzle got eventually to the place he needed to go,  but walked an extra mile to get there. 

At the very start of this adventure Kadizzle realized it would be a survey in humans helping humans.  Most people are good, and kind. Easily 80% of people will help you if you ask. The percentage of nasty people is small, but they make the world miserable.  Think about it. Driving on the freeway most people are reasonable, but there is always that one guy who is driving aggressively.  The mind concentrates on the aggressor, and forgets about all the people being decent. 

Think about the immigrants. 99% of the so called illegals in this country are kind wonderful people.  Who does Trump and his gang concentrate on?  A few bad people. Trump and the Republicans make insane claims that the majority of illegal people are rapist, murderers, and criminals.  It is just not true.   As humans we need to see other people as humans and work together. 

Murder at Denny's today

As the morning unfolded Kadizzle was having a conversation with an economically challenged woman. We were standing in the driveway to a Denny's resturant. Next door was some kind of cheap hotel. A loud argument started to take place in the hotel parking lot, about sixty feet from us. Someone called the police, but before the police got there apparently a man shot a woman in the head and killed her. The police showed up quickly and the man was on the ground with blood all over his pants. The police did the classic TV takedown as they had guns all over the guy. Traffic was stopped for hours in Payson as a result of the shooting. Kadizzle went to the donuts meeting. Upon leaving the meeting it appeared the police were looking for one of the bullets. From they way they had the equipment set up it appeared one of the bullets went with 15 feet of where Kadizzle was standing durning the fracas. 

The proceeding was what it appeared yesterday. Today the police report became public.  The police report indicates the man shot the woman while he was in the back seat of the car.  They must have pulled into the motel parking lot after he shot her. There was a one year old in the car. Kadizzle never saw the car pull into the parking lot and was puzzled that he never heard a gunshot. What the police were looking for on the road must have been a bullet casing or something. Kadizzles interpretation of what he saw was wrong. 

Leaving MAGA

All the old goats sat an watched a presentation on television. Leaving MAGA is an organization trying to help cult people. It was a good presentation and help us to understand how the cult recruits people. The speaker was in the cult for seven years, and then read some real news articles. That and figuring out a couple other things about the deceit made him leave. Visit leavingmaga.org to find out for yourself some good ways to help friends out of the cult. 

Frank the MAGA Dog

Frank the MAGA Dog

There’s a MAGA dog in town. His name is Frank. Frank has one trick, and he trots it out every time you mention Trump. If you criticize Trump, Frank barks: “You’re just full of hate!” That’s it. That’s the whole act.

Now, it’s a strange thing when you think about it. Since when did calling out corruption, lies, and creeping fascism become hateful? When patriots push back against authoritarianism, they’re not spreading hate—they’re standing guard for democracy. But in the world of MAGA dogs, barking at a tyrant equals cruelty, and wagging your tail for the strongman equals virtue.

Frank isn’t alone. There’s a whole pack of MAGA dogs who’ve been trained to confuse loyalty to one man with loyalty to the country. They can’t tell the difference between healthy criticism of a leader and mindless devotion. They’ll growl at anyone who points out that Trump tried to overthrow an election, treats truth like garbage, and stirs division like a chef stirs soup.

The irony is thick: Patriots who resist fascism are branded hateful, while those who salute lies and cheer for authoritarian rule call themselves “lovers of freedom.” MAGA dogs howl about “unity,” but only if unity means obedience.

So when Frank barks, “You’re hateful,” what he’s really saying is, “Don’t question the leader.” That’s not patriotism. That’s training.

A real patriot doesn’t roll over for a would-be dictator. A real patriot knows that dissent is not hate—it’s duty.

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Arizona Public Service Commission

Kadizzle admits it—he made a big mistake. Without crunching the numbers, and thanks to Republican policies that padded the pockets of the power companies, installing solar actually raised his electric costs. Sounds crazy, right? But here we are.

Instead of just getting gouged by APS, now we’re also paying the solar company. Every month, $108 goes straight to the solar outfit just for “renting” the panels. Meanwhile, APS still charges us for everything—even the privilege of using the sun.

Why? Because APS owns the legislature. Republican lawmakers, bought and paid for by APS lobbyists, helped craft the rules. One of their clever tricks: slapping solar customers with “grid fees,” essentially charging us for the wires and even their pencils.

And here’s the kicker—APS buys my excess solar power for 7 cents per kilowatt, then turns around and sells that same power back to me for 35 cents. They won’t pay me a dime for the use of my own roof, but they’ll happily profit from it.

Kadizzle thought solar would be freedom from the monopoly. Instead, it feels like getting scammed twice.

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Is our paper in danger?

When the Watchdog Becomes the Lapdog

Our local paper, The Payson Roundup, has long been one of the few defenses against the flood of MAGA extremism in our town. Three of its writers still stand firm, calling out the dangers of Trump’s politics and the damage he’s done to truth itself.

But here’s the problem: an assistant editor—someone with real influence over what the community reads—has been caught deep in the Trump fantasy web. And when confronted, his defense was chilling. He compared Trump to a plumber: “I don’t care about his politics as long as he fixes the leak.”

This isn’t harmless indifference. It’s a dangerous moral collapse. It’s the same logic that’s been used to justify the rise of tyrants throughout history—overlooking corruption, sexual abuse, lies, and felonies simply because the leader “gets things done.” That’s how democracies rot from the inside.

When the gatekeeper of a community’s information starts excusing criminal behavior in a leader, the paper stops being a watchdog and starts becoming a lapdog. And once the press lowers its moral standards, the community soon follows.

The moment we normalize “the ends justify the means,” we’ve already surrendered the soul of our democracy.

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Another day in the oven

Had a good meeting with the Donut Army this morning. While sitting there Kadizzle noticed a man looking in the window. Kadizzle went out and invited him in. The man turned out to be a Hoopleheaed. He wanted a pro Trump sticker. Somehow he did not realize he was at Democratic headquarters. Finally it dawned on him. Kadizzle offered to let come in and perhaps be capable of leaving the cult, but he was a solid Hoople. You would have to be to get the Democratic headquarters mixed up with the Republican den of Hoopleheads.  

A lot of discussion has taken place about the Democrats sponsoring and hour on KMOG. KMOG is the right wing Hooplehead version of Fox News in Payson. Kenny Murphy host the show and he is deep in the cult. Democrats asked to have a host that was neutral rather than a Trump deranged cult guy. KMOG compiled for two programs, but now is apparently brining Kenny back.  So next Wednesday the sparks will fly. 

 

Dry as a popcorn fart

 It is hard to comprehend a person that does not realize we are in a climate crisis. Rain right now would be like gold. Years ago the military predicted climate change. They were right. Everything predicted has come true. One of the predictions was mass migration of humans. People are moving north from Africa. As predicted weather is getting more erratic, more storms, more severe storms, more hurricanes, floods, and natural disasters. The ocean is rising. What does it take to convince the dingers ?

Phoenix has been setting record heat days. Yesterday we came back from Cottonwood 112 degrees.  We are frying, and pretending like it ain't happening. 

What is the difference

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Donuts with Democrats: Open Minds and Open Mics

The “Donut Army,” better known as Donuts with Democrats, has been thriving in Payson. Every Saturday at 10:00 A.M., folks gather for coffee, donuts, and real political conversation. Speakers from both parties often attend, but what makes the gathering special is the format: the microphone gets passed around. Everyone is welcome to speak — Democrat, Republican, Independent, or just curious.

At the door, you’re likely to be greeted by Richard, who opens it with a smile and a warm welcome. No admission fee. No script. Just good people, good food, and free exchange of ideas. This is what democracy looks like — unafraid of questions, disagreement, or honest debate.

Now compare that to the Republican gatherings in town, usually organized under the Tea Party banner. If you’re known for challenging conspiracy theories or calling out Trump’s lies, don’t expect a warm welcome — you might not even get through the door. Open dialogue isn’t on the agenda. The mic doesn’t get passed around. Questions, if allowed at all, are filtered and tightly controlled.

Republican events in Payson often come with a price tag, a security guard, and a gatekeeper — someone like Inga, who ensures only loyal voices are heard. Dissent is unwelcome. Skepticism is shut down. It’s not a conversation; it’s a performance for the faithful.

In short, Donuts with Democrats welcomes democracy. The local GOP fears it.

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Trump's cult members show their stuff

Kadizzle will admit it—sparring with the MAGA dingers can be oddly entertaining. If only normal folks could see the bizarre responses that roll in on MAGA Facebook posts. There’s Timothy, for example, who seems incapable of typing a sentence without mentioning “bottom surgery.” Sometimes, he cranks it up a notch and throws in “drag queens” for good measure.

One thing you notice right away: profanity and sheer nonsense dominate their replies. One of these self-proclaimed patriots even suggested someone should defecate on my porch. That’s the level of brilliance we’re dealing with.

Thoughtful responses? Forget it. The MAGA dingers’ vocabulary is mostly four-letter words, and when they’re not spewing insults, they’re posting childish memes and cartoons. Critical thinking simply isn’t part of their playbook.

It’s easy to see why Trump adores his dingers—they’re tailor-made for his brand of con artistry. The same crowd that once fell for TV preachers and snake-oil salesmen lined right up for the Trump grift. Sadly, they still don’t realize they’ve been had.

The Head is spinning

Welcome to Trump Math: Where Facts Don’t Count

Reality quietly slipped out the back door the day Donald Trump decided the numbers no longer mattered—and made sure of it by firing the Labor Secretary for reporting inconvenient job figures. Did anyone even blink? In the world of Trump Math, truth is optional and arithmetic is whatever the moment demands.

Need a bigger crowd size? Trump Math adds a few zeroes until it feels right.
Two plus two? Forget four—it’s whatever keeps the base cheering.
Running low on eggs for that recipe? No problem. In Trump Math, one egg magically becomes two the instant you declare it so.

But numbers are just the beginning. We’ve entered a new faith-based era where belief trumps fact, and questioning the chosen leader is heresy. A new religion has emerged—complete with its own orange-tinted messiah. In this church, you don’t add, subtract, or measure. You simply believe, no matter how absurd the sermon of the day.

The congregation doesn’t need evidence. They don’t need truth. They only need the gospel according to Trump, where reality bends, logic folds, and loyalty is salvation. And if you dare notice that the emperor’s math doesn’t add up? Well, clearly, you’re the one who doesn’t understand numbers.

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Coal Mining Explained | Inside Saskatchewan's Largest Coal Mines!

With His Latest Firing Trump Has Pushed The US Firmly Into Banana Republ...

Trump likes numbers that add up his way.

BREAKING NEWS: Trump just fired the head of Labor Statistics for "being too mathematical."
According to the former president, "Numbers are very unfair to me. I like statistics that love me back. Bigly numbers only."

When asked who will replace the statistician, Trump announced he's considering his "gut feelings," a Magic 8-Ball, or possibly a guy he met at Mar-a-Lago who "knows numbers better than anyone, believe me."

America's new official unemployment figure: "The best you've ever seen, maybe ever, no one’s ever seen numbers like this before."

Mental illness in full bloom

Hot Air and MAGA Myths: Cheap Entertainment for a Bored Mind

It’s sweltering outside, and inside, the A/C hums like a lullaby for the lazy. Kadizzle should probably pick up a book—expand the mind, feed the soul, yada yada—but instead, he finds himself pulled back into a guilty pleasure: observing the intellectual gymnastics of Car Guy, the MAGA community’s answer to Kafka if Kafka had a mullet and a Facebook addiction.

Car Guy is a legend in his own mind and a recurring act in the local MAGA circus. He recently left some comments on this blog that offer a generous sampler platter of his mental buffet—heavy on conspiracy, light on protein. His favorite move? The time-honored MAGA art of turning footnotes into felonies.

Take, for instance, the ancient and sacred tale of the “assault” on Kevin Cramer. Here’s how it went down: Kadizzle dropped $23 down Cramer’s shirt collar. Scandalous? Only if you think loose change is a weapon of mass destruction. No charges were filed. Kevin Cramer himself said it wasn’t assault. But don’t tell that to the MAGA smear squad—truth just gets in the way of the story.

This myth got its big break thanks to Gary Morris, the local rumor sprinkler. He discovered that someone with the same name as Kadizzle, who once lived near him, had a couple of assault charges. That’s all it took. MAGA logic kicked in: Same name? Must be the same guy. That’s investigative journalism in Trumpworld—less “60 Minutes,” more “Drunk Uncle with a Facebook.”

Once launched, the tale spread like QAnon memes in a truck stop. Gary Morris passed it on. Michael Heather joined in. Even Mayor Steve Otto got in on the action. Kadizzle, being a radical believer in facts, approached each of them. Not one had the backbone to defend the fiction they were peddling. Otto even claimed Kadizzle assaulted him by daring to speak to him in public. If words could bruise egos, Otto must’ve been black and blue for weeks.

Eventually, the nonsense made its way into court, where—surprise—the judge ruled in Kadizzle’s favor. Because unlike MAGA meetings, courts still require evidence.

Now we’ve got Car Guy. A self-declared secret agent of righteousness, he warns that he must keep his identity hidden—possibly from Antifa, the FBI, or a shadowy cabal of fact-checkers. Kadizzle offered to meet him anywhere: police station, library, even the MAGA gift shop. Car Guy agreed—then ghosted. Apparently bravery runs on Facebook fumes and collapses in real life.

Car Guy’s whole act is like watching a ferret try to do calculus. He spins in circles, ties himself in knots, and then declares victory because he didn’t swallow his own tail. It’s dumbfounding, yet irresistibly watchable—like a soap opera, if everyone wore red hats and thought Dr. Fauci lived in a cave under the Capitol.

Yes, Kadizzle should read a book. Something enlightening, like 1984, or How to Argue with Idiots Without Losing Your Mind. But for now, Car Guy is putting on a live show of American absurdity—and it’s just too hot to look away.

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Trump knows things we don't

Blog Post Title: The Ultimate Cult Escape Hatch: “Trump Knows Secrets”

Have you ever tried to have a logical conversation with a member of the Trump cult? It’s like chasing a greased pig on a frozen pond — slippery, pointless, and exhausting. But one thing you’ll discover quickly is that when they’re cornered — when facts, logic, and history pin them down — they always have the perfect escape hatch. It’s a magic phrase, a kind of verbal get-out-of-jail-free card:

“Trump knows things we don’t.”
Or its more ominous cousin: “Trump has access to secret intelligence.”

Let’s break this down with an example. Ask a cult follower to explain one of Trump’s most outrageous lies — like his claim that Ukraine started the war with Russia. Yes, you read that correctly. In Trump World, Ukraine, the invaded, somehow started the war with Russia, the invader. When you press them for evidence, reason, or even basic geography, the gears start to grind, and you’ll hear that magic phrase:

“Trump knows things we don’t.”

Boom. Discussion over. Cult logic deployed. And the beauty (or rather, the madness) of this line is that it’s infinitely flexible. You can drape it over any lie, any contradiction, any bit of lunacy that escapes Trump’s mouth.

Trump says he won the 2020 election by a landslide?
– “He has secret proof.”

Trump claims windmills cause cancer?
– “He’s seen classified data.”

Trump accuses dead people of voter fraud or says immigrants are bringing leprosy?
– “He must know something we don’t.”

It’s not just lazy thinking. It’s preloaded obedience. It’s what cult leaders crave — a built-in mechanism to short-circuit skepticism. Why think for yourself when you can just believe your Dear Leader has access to an invisible vault of “truth” that only he’s allowed to see?

This isn’t just intellectual surrender. It’s a religious mindset, dressed up in political clothing. The Trump cult has transformed political discourse into a faith-based loyalty test. Facts don’t matter. Sources don’t matter. Only Trump does. And like any good prophet of nonsense, he doesn’t need to explain himself — he only needs his flock to believe that somewhere, behind closed doors, in a smoky back room at Mar-a-Lago, he has the real story.

In the end, “Trump knows secrets” is a dangerous form of self-brainwashing. It’s the rhetorical version of sticking fingers in your ears and humming. It turns every lie into a mystery, every contradiction into a clue, and every debunked fantasy into gospel.

And if that isn’t the definition of a cult, what is?

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Abandon logic

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How the Mind Abandons Logic: A Day in Delusion

Yesterday offered a disturbing glimpse into the fragile boundary between reason and belief. Kadizzle, wandering through the small absurdities of daily life, had two encounters that perfectly illustrated how logic can be casually discarded like an old shoe — first with two clean-cut Mormon missionaries, and then with a MAGA loyalist wrapped tightly in the Trump cult. In both cases, the same question haunted the experience: How does the human mind — built for reason, curiosity, and critical thinking — so easily fall into myth, dogma, and delusion?

The two young Mormons were bright-eyed, polite, and earnest. Exactly the kind of young men who, under different circumstances, might be exploring physics, literature, or philosophy. But here they were — in suits, on bikes, carrying the Book of Mormon like it was a scientific textbook. Kadizzle asked if they had ever read Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer’s penetrating account of Mormonism's violent origins and the fraudulent career of Joseph Smith. Of course, they hadn’t. They can’t. That book, like so many challenges to faith, is forbidden fruit — too dangerous because it might work. It might pierce the carefully constructed illusion.

The tragedy isn't that these young men are religious — it's that they’ve been taught never to question. Critical thought is the enemy. Doubt is sin. Curiosity is temptation. Their minds have been rewired to protect the myth at all costs, even if that means quarantining logic.

Later in the day, the second encounter: a Trump supporter. Another version of the same psychological trap. Different costume, same performance. This time the sacred text isn't the Book of Mormon, but Trump's endless stream of slogans, conspiracies, and manufactured grievances. The same fierce resistance to contradictory evidence, the same hostility to questioning, the same tribal loyalty to a leader who thrives on myth-making.

What links these two encounters — and so many others in America today — is a cognitive surrender. Somewhere along the way, these individuals gave up on logic. Maybe it was fear, maybe loneliness, maybe the comforting simplicity of believing you have all the answers. Once logic becomes uncomfortable, myth offers sanctuary. And if you're told often enough that questioning is dangerous or disloyal, the very muscle of reason begins to atrophy.

Traditional religion, populist cults, conspiracy theories — they all begin the same way: Step one, abandon logic. It’s not a coincidence. These systems require submission, not understanding. Obedience, not curiosity. They offer a ready-made identity and a community that rewards belief, not evidence.

The brain is an incredible instrument — but it’s also lazy, tribal, and easily hijacked by emotional narratives. When you remove skepticism and replace it with fear, guilt, and groupthink, you no longer have a mind at work. You have a mind under occupation.

The sad part? Most people who fall into these belief systems could have been brilliant skeptics, truth-seekers, or creators. But once they’re caught in the loop — where questions are forbidden and answers are handed down — they stop seeing, stop thinking, and start parroting.

So how does the mind abandon logic? Slowly, then suddenly. It begins with trust in the wrong voice, continues with fear of dissent, and ends with a mind fully colonized by myth.

We should all be asking — not just why people abandon reason, but how to help them recover it. Because until more people snap out of their chosen fairy tales, we’re all living in someone else’s fiction.

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Car Guy

Inside the MAGA Mind: A Day with Car Guy

Tired and bored, Kadizzle spent far too much of the day sparring online with Car Guy, a textbook example of a MAGA cultist. Like many in that crowd, Car Guy can’t handle anything that challenges his worldview. Today’s skirmish revolved around the standard Republican smear campaign in Payson — the one where they falsely accuse Kadizzle of assault.

This nonsense began when Gary Morris started pushing a bogus story based on a case involving a different man with the same name. That didn’t matter to Morris or his followers. Once a lie fits their needs, they run with it.

Kadizzle, never one to back down from a challenge, invited Car Guy to meet in person to discuss the accusation. Predictably, Car Guy wriggled and danced, trying to avoid any real confrontation. First, he claimed he was afraid of being assaulted. Kadizzle offered to meet at neutral locations — the police station or the library. Still, Car Guy balked. Then, thinking he had a clever trap, Car Guy said they could meet at the local Republican shop, assuming Kadizzle wouldn’t dare show up. But Kadizzle didn’t flinch and told him to name the time.

Suddenly, Car Guy had no more excuses.

With nothing better to do, Kadizzle lounged on the porch futon, going back and forth in the absurd charade. Car Guy cycled through every excuse imaginable to avoid a face-to-face. Kadizzle even offered to show him court documents and reports from a detective agency that clearly debunked the smear — but Car Guy wasn't interested in facts. He still refuses to identify himself and clearly knows he can’t defend his lies.

The whole episode felt like a Trump press conference — full of deflection, denial, and theatrical nonsense.

And then comes the truly bizarre part. These MAGA types are outraged over a photo of Kadizzle stuffing $23 down Kevin Cramer’s shirt during a 2017 town hall. Cramer himself said it wasn’t an assault — but that's not good enough for the MAGA echo chamber.

Here’s the kicker: these same people brush off Trump’s 34 felony convictions, his documented sexual assaults, and his incitement of violence at the Capitol. All that is forgivable in their minds. But Kadizzle with a $23 protest stunt? Unforgivable.