The Rain in Spain falls mainly on the Plain

Liquid gold is falling from the sky. Arizona is normally drier than a popcorn fart, but for three days it will rain. In this state you feel sorry for the trees and the wildlife. Kadizzle has walked and ridden his motorcycle through miles of National forest. There is no water to be found. How do the animals survive? In places the state has put catchment facilities to accommodate the animals, but that is a small effort. The ground here has an amazing capacity to store water. The nature of the soil here is strange. Not only does it store water, but it allows water to move through it. In our back yard is a catchment basin. It fills and the water goes into the ground in 36 hours. Where does all that water go?

The National Association delves into the local evil of the Three stooges trying to defeat the pool. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

NEW BLUES SINGLE - Ain't No Better Time To Leave the Cult Mr. Newberger's

Get over to see this on the National Association blog. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

NEW BLUES SINGLE - Ain't No Better Time To Leave the Cult

Mr. Newberger's

Free Money

The Battle for the Pool—and for Common Sense

The big battle is on. The Stooges — Steve Otto, Jim Ferris, and Charlie Bell — are doing everything in their power to drown the town’s chance to build a new swimming pool. Their strategy is simple: keep Payson stuck in the past while pretending it’s fiscal responsibility.

Last night at the town council meeting, Kadizzle raised one small but powerful question: What about the free money?

That’s right — free money. It’s called grants. When a town like Payson steps up and invests in a modern, shovel-ready project — like a community pool — it becomes eligible for millions in federal, state, and private grants. If Payson puts in $16 million, grants could easily add $8 to $14 million more. That’s a multiplier effect for taxpayers — turning local dollars into a regional investment.

But the Stooges don’t want to hear about that. To them, “grant” sounds suspiciously like “government,” and that word makes their MAGA ears twitch. Instead, they’ve convinced the trailer-park crowd that the only thing Payson can afford is another trip to the casino, a sleeve of tattoos, and maybe a new muffler for the truck.

It’s the same playbook Trump used on a national scale: get ordinary people to cheer against their own interests. They’ll call a pool “wasteful,” but won’t blink when their tax dollars are wasted on vanity projects or sweetheart deals for friends.

Meanwhile, the rest of us — the normal people — can see what a new pool really means:

• A place for kids to learn to swim instead of drown.

• A community asset that boosts property values.

• A magnet for tournaments and tourism that brings money back into local businesses.

This isn’t just about swimming. It’s about whether Payson wants to keep sinking into cynicism — or invest in itself like a real town with a future.

The Stooges can sneer all they want. But the rest of us know that when you combine community effort with grant funding, Payson dollars go twice as far.

It’s time to stop letting the loudest voices drag the town down to the lowest common denominator. We can’t build progress out of fear and fake frugality.

We can, however, build a pool — and a future — if we decide we’re worth the investment.

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Payson's Three Stooges

The Three Stooges and the Great Payson Experiment

Somewhere between a MAGA rally and a bad rerun of The Three Stooges, three local Tea Party heroes — Steve Otto, Charlie Bell, and Jim Ferris — hatched a plan. They watched Donald Trump lie, cheat, and spin conspiracy gold out of air, and thought, “Hey, why not us?”

Their target wasn’t Washington. It was Payson, Arizona — the perfect test lab for political mischief where few bother to vote in primaries. The Stooges realized if you can get ten angry people in a church basement talking about the “deep state,” you can own the whole town.

So they did what all great political opportunists do: they found the gullible and fed them paranoia. The “deep state” became the town librarian. Fiscal responsibility meant gutting schools. And civic progress — like building a swimming pool for kids — became socialism.

It worked like a charm. The MAGA crowd lapped it up like Bud Light before the boycott. Soon the Stooges were in charge. And what happens when you put three men with the IQ of a ham sandwich in charge? They start wrecking the place.

They tried to defund the library, starve the schools, and now they’re on a crusade to kill the new pool — because, apparently, chlorine is woke. Their latest stunt? Handing all council power to the city manager — the one they picked, of course — turning democracy into a puppet show.

The professionals who once made town government function fled the building. What’s left is the Stooges, their hand-picked “yes man,” and a sinking ship they insist is “running great.”

So, good luck, Payson. The experiment continues. If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if Trumpism ran a small town — congratulations, you’re living in the pilot episode.

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Down in the Forest

For no known reason Kadizzle got tired of the old bike routes and decided to take the ebike down Boulder Trail.  Kadizzle encountered a problem. Logs blocked the trail in two places. One log was less than half the size of the other, but the smaller log turned out to be more of a problem. Using a handsaw, and a block and tackle Kadizzle defeated the small log. That was one days work. Yesterday Kadizzle returned to cut the bigger log. That log was rotten and much easier to cut and remove. Kadizzle hoped a hiker would come along and assist, but none showed up. 

Now for the grand disappointment. Kadizzle thought he could extend the bikeable part of the trail by cutting the logs, but he never checked to see how much good trail was left after the logs. Whoops, the answer was very little. So the work did not benefit the ebiker much, but at least it will make life better for the hikers. 

Over on the National Association blog you can read about Bondi the bitch. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

One more time the sun is coming up

The Town of Haves, Have-Nots, and the Hopelessly Unaware

Here we are again in the little town of the haves and the have-nots — and today, the battleground is a swimming pool.

Kadizzle woke up early, coffee in hand, and went straight to the letters to the editor. It was a good morning for common sense: the “normal people” made their case loud and clear. They understand that a new pool isn’t a luxury — it’s an investment in kids, families, and community.

But the MAGA dogs were barking too. The three stooges — Otto, Bell, and Ferris — have learned the old trick: appeal to the crowd that’s been left behind, stir up resentment, and sell fear instead of hope. They tell the struggling folks that a pool is just for “the rich,” as if kids from broken-down neighborhoods don’t need to learn to swim.

Then there’s the third group — maybe the most dangerous of all — the ones who just don’t care. These are the people who sleep through elections and wonder later how the Tea Party crowd took over their town council. While Fox News preaches about “the deep state,” the stooges follow the Trump playbook chapter and verse: distract, divide, and deceive.

Now the vote is near. Payson has no functioning pool, and the bond measure will show what kind of town this really is. Will the zombies of apathy rise again, or will the sane citizens of Payson finally say enough — and choose progress over paranoia?  A different spin over on the National Association blog.   https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Heritage - 'Working Man'

Old Kadizzle started his career as an underground coal miner. Have the utmost respect for coal miners. This song brings it out. 

Awake

Monday Morning Ignition

Kadizzle is awake. The ritual begins: coffee as starting fluid. One cup to get the mind humming, another to get the gears meshing, and by the third, the engine starts to sputter out a few thoughts. The New York Times provides the spark — a depressing reminder that democracy, like an old dragline at a coal mine, needs constant maintenance or the whole thing starts to slide back into the pit.

That image stuck this morning — the spoils slide. Back when Kadizzle worked at a surface mine, he watched how gravity never quits. Pile the overburden too high, and slowly, quietly, the dirt creeps back over what you worked so hard to uncover. That’s what’s happening to our freedom under Trump’s creeping dictatorship — a slow-motion disaster, inch by inch, while most people sip their coffee and don’t notice the ground moving beneath them.

Now it’s Monday, and the national erosion mirrors the local one. Two battles define the week in Payson:
the fight for a pool and the fight for power.

The MAGA three — Otto, Bell, and Ferris — are working overtime to hand over the Town Council’s authority to the city manager. It’s a power grab dressed up as “efficiency,” but it smells like Trump’s playbook — weaken the checks, centralize control, and make sure the lapdog barks on command. A local version of a national disease.

And then there’s the pool. The same stooges who scream “freedom” are doing their best to block the one thing this town’s kids desperately need — a place to swim. They’ve turned civic progress into a partisan war.

So yes, it’s Monday. Coffee’s gone cold, democracy’s still sliding, and Wednesday’s Town Council meeting will be one hell of a show. The question is: will the normal folks of Payson stand up and stop the slide before we’re all buried in the spoils?

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Help Find Red

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Looking for Red

Kadizzle met Red under some unusual circumstances—details classified until we meet in person. But here’s what matters: Red is a good guy, one of those people life has hit hard but who keeps pushing forward anyway. Like too many others, he’s been chewed up by the same system that props up Trump-style “bootstrap” fantasies—the kind that say, “If you’re struggling, it’s your fault,” while billionaires fly overhead in private jets.

Red’s trying to make an honest living. He’s got an electric bike, a small trailer, and a chainsaw. With that, he does fire-wising—clearing brush and trees around homes to reduce wildfire risk. Think about that: the guy’s out there helping protect our town from California-style infernos, one yard at a time, running on batteries and grit.

Kadizzle told Red he’d help him find a better gig. And believe it or not, it worked—fast. A kind local contractor, heading up a major fire-protection project south of town, said he’d be happy to bring Red on board.

But here’s the snag: the phone number Red gave doesn’t work. No answer, no voicemail, nothing. So now it’s a bit of a mission.

If you see Red—riding that electric bike with the little trailer and a chainsaw strapped on—tell him Mike’s looking for him. There’s a job waiting.

Maybe, just maybe, you can help close the loop on a small-town good deed.

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog:  A summary of a good presentation at the Donut meeting yesterday.   https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

How to be a real manly man

“The Manhood Starter Pack” You ever notice how being a real man these days requires an accessories department?

First up — the truck.
Not just any truck — it has to sound like a collapsing oil rig every time you start it. If your exhaust isn’t rattling windows two counties over, sorry bro, you’re still in the beta version of manhood.

Then come the tattoos.
Nothing says “I’m comfortable in my own skin” like covering every square inch of it with flaming skulls and badly drawn eagles. Bonus points if your tattoo artist was also your probation officer.

Still not feeling tough enough? No problem.
Get a gun. Because nothing screams confidence like needing a weapon to pick up a rotisserie chicken at Safeway.

But wait, the kit’s not complete — you need a girlfriend.
Preferably one with matching tats, ripped jeans, and a PhD in eye-rolling. Her job is to sit on the back of your Harley while you rev the engine at red lights like a bull elk trying to impress a Prius.

And the truck — oh, you thought we were done with the truck?
Jack that thing up until you need a stepladder to get in. Those wheels should be visible from space. And don’t forget the giant American flag flapping off the tailgate — because nothing honors the flag like dragging it through the dust at 60 miles per hour while blasting Kid Rock.

Then it’s time to parade through town — exhaust roaring, testosterone leaking — because apparently the best way to prove you’re a man is to sound like your muffler’s having an emotional breakdown.

Congratulations, champ. You did it. You’ve achieved peak masculinity — king of the Applebee’s parking lot.
Now, if you’ll excuse us, the rest of the world’s going to quietly go about being men without needing a sound system, a weapon, or a sponsorship from Monster Energy.

Over on the other blog a good satire of Trump's lying about military recruiting.   https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

The Whistledick erased my sign

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The Pool, the Stooges, and the Dingers

Payson desperately needs a new swimming pool. Everyone knows it. But the MAGA Three Stooges—Steve Otto, Jim Ferris, and Charlie Bell—would rather rile up the Tea Party crowd than do something good for the kids.

Their base? Folks living busted flat in ramshackle houses, forever convinced someone else is to blame for their problems. Funny how it’s never the casino vacuuming up their Social Security checks while the poor dog behind the chain-link fence goes hungry.

Kadizzle is for the pool. The dingers are against it. Simple.

So down at the park, Kadizzle set up a little whiteboard that read: Vote YES for the Pool. Nothing fancy, just leaning against a post. He went back to the car to watch. Sure enough, along comes a MAGA dinger, sporting the universal IQ test failure badge: an NRA hat.

Thinking no one was watching, the dinger started erasing the sign. That’s when Kadizzle strolled over.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re not allowed to put signs in the park,” the dinger huffed.

Kadizzle explained that, unless the town itself objected, it wasn’t his job to enforce sign policy. After all, the Jehovah’s Witnesses pitch their pamphlets there every day without incident. And the pool isn’t partisan—it’s not Republican or Democrat. It’s about whether kids get to swim in something cleaner than a mud puddle.

The argument cooled. Kadizzle asked the man if he was a grandfather. He was—nine grandkids.

“Then why,” Kadizzle asked, “would you oppose a pool for them?”

The dinger couldn’t quite say. He never admitted he was against the pool. He just felt obligated to erase the sign, like it was his sacred MAGA duty. Because in their world, opposing progress isn’t a choice—it’s a reflex. 

Over on the Association blog read about the macho men leading our country.   https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Get Over to the other blog.

Wow, a very good video on The National Association for Humanity blog . A good historian talks about comparing Trump to Hitler.  https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Hymn for the Crossing Listen to the words

Where is Red?

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Looking for Red

The sun came up once again, promising a day with near-perfect weather. The question is always the same: what to do with it?

For Kadizzle, today comes with a mission—and a bit of a mystery. Where is Red?

Red is one of those characters who lives on the edge. He does firewising around Payson with nothing more than an electric bike and a chainsaw. That’s his whole operation. He needs work, and Kadizzle managed to line up a job for him. The problem is finding him.

Red gave Kadizzle a phone number, but like so many things in his world, it doesn’t work anymore. Most likely the bill went unpaid. That’s the struggle of being essentially homeless, trying to keep yourself afloat with odd jobs and grit.

So maybe today’s task isn’t just another day under a perfect sky. Maybe today’s job is finding Red.

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Under The Willow Tree

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Almost every evening, under the great willow at Green Valley Park, a little circle of old-timers gathers to watch the sun slip behind the horizon. As autumn cools the air, the jackets come out and the gathering shifts a little earlier. It’s part ritual, part survival—because growing old is easier when you don’t do it alone.

The walkers drift past with their dogs, and the dogs are practically the heartbeat of the park. Everyone has one—grandmothers, retirees, families—and they all stop for a quick sniff-and-greet. While the dogs mingle, their humans do the same.

The talk under the willow drifts with the breeze: aches, pains, doctor’s visits, the small triumphs and tragedies of aging. If no Hoopleheads or MAGA mutts are in earshot, the conversation sometimes turns to politics—usually some fresh insanity from Trump’s gang. Otherwise, it’s the ordinary chatter of life lived day by day.

And maybe that’s the point. Growing old means crumbling here and there, but a little laughter, a little companionship, and a lot of dogs make the crumble easier to bear.  

Over on the National Association blog a review of Trump's mental illness.

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Not Good

 A good friends wife is in the early stages of alzheimer's. The disease will be life changing. Aging is a process of watching people wilt. How many have already cashed in and are hopefully in a better place? The lesson is enjoy what you can, your grandchildren, your sunshine, and your reflections on the good old days. Maybe you feel sorry for yourself, but think of the people starving while they are being bombed. We never reflect on the good life we have even with aches and pains. We are warm, well fed, and the TV works. 

Are we Great Again? Find out over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog: https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

A different world with rain

The Gift of Monsoon

The monsoons finally arrived, rolling in with their familiar rhythm of thunder, cloudbursts, and long stretches of gray skies. For days now, the Earth has been drinking deeply. The sponge-like soil—parched and cracked for months—has taken in the water with a thirst only the desert can know. You can almost hear the trees sigh in relief, their roots pulling in life, their branches loosening as if grateful for the cool weight of rain.

Life Revives

The arrival of moisture transforms the landscape in ways easy to overlook. Dry creek beds that sat silent all summer suddenly begin to murmur with water. Wild grasses push up through the forest floor, and even the smallest desert plants swell with a kind of stubborn joy. The animals know it too. Deer and elk can wander farther, no longer tied to dwindling tanks or human water sources. Birds call more often, insects emerge, and the forest feels alive again. Rain is more than weather here—it is a reprieve, a reset button for every living thing.

The High-Desert Balance

We live in a rare place: a high-mountain semi-desert. One side of town can be bone-dry while the other, just a few hundred feet higher, can be green and damp. Altitude makes the difference. The higher the elevation, the more clouds linger, and the more rain falls. That simple shift in altitude shapes entire micro-ecosystems. From one end of town to the other, the plant life changes, the soil changes, and so do the creatures that call each patch home.

A Reminder

The monsoon reminds us of the delicate balance we live within. A few days of rain can mean survival for trees that looked ready to surrender. It can turn bare ground into a carpet of green. But just as quickly, the rain will vanish, the ground will harden again, and the cycle of thirst will return. For now, though, we get to breathe in the cool air, listen to the rain on the roof, and watch life spring back from the edge. 

Check out the post over on the political blog. The National Association for the Advancement of Humanity comments on praying before lying. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

NEW BLUES HIT - "His Escalator Don’t Go Up No More”

11 minutes

Our backyard contains the catchment basin for the entire project where we live. The basin is a good rain gauge. The basin which is about 20 by 60 feet can fill in eleven minutes. Once full it overflows and down the hill the water goes. The concept is too keep a surge of water from going downhill. The basin drains itself by soaking the water into the ground. Usually in 36 hours the basin is dry again. Since it periodically fills with water landscaping the basin poses a problem.  Slowly it is becoming grassy, but there must be a better solution. 

Tripod the injured Elk makes a visit.

Looking out the bedroom window there they were, two huge bull elk, and a couple females. Tripod is an old about town elk everyone knows. Something happed to his right rear leg. About 9 inches of it are mission. He seems to be managing well. Kadizzle got pretty close to him for the picture. Town elk are very tame, they don't mind people, dogs, or cars. The elk in Payson are everywhere. When they come through the yard it is fun to see them. Mrs. Kadizzle does not like the way they tear up the plants. Kadizzle wondered why elk have the big rack. Looking at the sharp points you see a defensive weapon. If you look closely at the picture, right in front of Tripod you will see a small tree stripped of bark. He was shinning his rack with it standing up, then he sat down and still kept working. 

Over on The National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog the devious Tea Part is discussed. They hold what they call a public meeting, but toss out any public that challenges them. 

https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

 

A fireworks display in the sky

Lightning Without Rain

All night the sky flashed and growled, thunder rolling over the house as lightning lit up our bedroom window. The show was spectacular—even without much rain. That big window at the foot of our bed is usually a portal to the stars, but last night it was the storm itself that stole the stage.

This morning the storm is still hanging on, though it brought little relief. Our part of the world is desperate for water. Out back sits the catchment basin—our little man-made pond that swallows the runoff from the whole development. A real downpour will fill it in eleven minutes. By morning, it’s dry again. A snapshot of our larger reality: quick flashes of hope, followed by drought.

The storm cooled the air for now, but the bigger storm—our climate crisis—keeps heating up. And here comes another player in the disaster: Artificial Intelligence. I just watched a sobering video showing how A.I. is set to drive energy use through the roof. Soon, A.I. alone will consume as much energy as the entire nation of Japan. One A.I. search already uses ten times the electricity of a regular computer search.

At a moment when we need real leadership to face this crisis, we’re saddled with the worst possible president—a man too consumed by his own delusions to care about the planet he’s leaving behind.

If you want more of Kadizzle’s take on our mentally ill president and the disasters piling up, head over to the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity: https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

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Trump turns the Justice Department into the Stasi

 Read it on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog.  https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Fall is a wonderful time of year and the Town Council meeting.

Fall Notes from Kadizzle

Fall has arrived, and it’s one of those rare times when the weather feels just right. But while we’re enjoying crisp air and golden leaves, the animals aren’t so lucky—hunting season is in full swing. On the way to Flagstaff, a herd of deer crossed the highway. The big bucks easily cleared the fence, but the mothers with fawns had to scramble for another path.

There is hope, though. On the interstate near Flagstaff, a massive wildlife overpass is under construction—an idea Canada mastered long ago. Even the old fencing is being improved, with built-in spots for elk to leap safely, and padded tops to keep them from tearing themselves up as they cross. Humans are finally giving the animals a fairer chance.

And at long last, rain blessed our corner of Arizona. The parched earth soaked it in, and the air felt alive again with moisture. Around here, rain isn’t just weather—it’s salvation.

Then came the town hall. Kadizzle had a speech ready but passed the baton to Smidly, who stepped up like a pro. Years as a church reader had made him a natural. His theme? A pointed echo from the McCarthy hearings: “Have you no sense of decency?” Smidly delivered it with the timing of a Hollywood actor, skewering the three Tea Party stooges on the council for their pandering.

The night’s climax came when Jim Ferris, one of the stooges, tried to hijack the meeting to attack the pool proposal. The town attorney warned him he was breaking open meeting laws, but Ferris wouldn’t stop. That’s when Jeff called him out, shouting over the nonsense. Mayor Steve Otto, chief stooge himself, ordered Jeff out.

The Blue scare, just like the Old Red Scare

   Over on the naftaoh blog. National Association for the advancement of Humanity.  Check it out, very good. 

Back at the Flagstaff Train Station

 

The Commander and the Bums

The commander of the free world—Kadizzle’s wife—had a doctor’s appointment in Flagstaff, which left the lowly foot soldier with time to kill. What does a man do when turned loose in a strange town with hours on his hands? Kadizzle does what Kadizzle always does: he goes to watch the trains rumble by.

At the depot, fate served up a rerun. The same rail-side philosopher he’d met on a previous visit was back on the bench. A bum by appearance, but a scholar by conversation. He had once been an educated man, but he traded in the rat race for the liberty of nothing. His philosophy was simple: happiness requires less than we think.

As they compared notes on life, a woman wandered over—another traveler on the margins. Her mind was frayed, her possessions in a tattered bag. She asked the two men to guard her worldly goods while she ran to the store. Kadizzle slipped her a few bucks and told her to bring him a Coke and something for herself. That’s how commerce works at the edge of the empire: one person buys time, the other buys sugar water, and dignity is bartered in between.

Kadizzle has always liked bums. Since childhood, he has admired the peculiar freedom they enjoy—the ability to exist outside the petty chores and schedules the rest of us are chained to. Their kingdom has no mortgages, no HOA meetings, no quarterly reports. Just benches, boxcars, and the slow shuffle of migration.

The philosopher-bum explained that Flagstaff’s nights were growing cold. Winter was coming. His plan? Head south and west where the sun still has a little mercy. Bums migrate with the seasons, just like billionaires with private jets. Both chase warm weather, but only one leaves no carbon footprint.

Maybe the rest of us are the fools. The bums roll with the weather, laugh at the system, and drink a Coke bought with somebody else’s pity. They own nothing—and in that, they own everything.

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Check out Trump's rant

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog today we go into Trump's insane rant at the United Nations. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Piss on the wall

The Daily Show: Bathroom Commandments Edition

You ever read the Bible and think, “Wow, God was really micromanaging back then”? Like, we’re not just talking Ten Commandments — we’re talking bathroom policies.

Check this gem out from 1 Samuel 25:22 (KJV):

“So and more also do God unto the enemies of David, if I leave of all that pertain to him by the morning light any that pisseth against the wall.”

That’s right. Apparently, God had a zero-tolerance policy for… wall-pee.

Now, let’s think this through. One guy has a little too much mead, stumbles outside, lets it fly against the brickwork — and BOOM! Whole village on death row. Forget Sodom and Gomorrah; this is Splash and You’re Ash.

Imagine the angelic staff meeting:

• “Uh, Lord, minor update: Jedediah took a leak behind the goat pen.”

• “Fine. Kill EVERY male in town. Rules are rules.”

Really? Over that? It’s the ultimate biblical overreaction. Like burning down your house because someone left a wet towel on the floor.

And the best part? King James translators looked at the Hebrew and said: “Should we soften it to ‘every male’? Nah. Let’s keep ‘pisseth against the wall.’” Because nothing says divine authority like 17th-century potty humor.

So next time somebody tells you America was founded on biblical values, just remember: somewhere in that holy text is a passage where God threatens mass murder if you can’t keep it in the chamber pot.

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Full Blown Dictatorship

We Are Living in a Full-Blown Dictatorship

People keep asking, “Are we really in a dictatorship?” The short answer: yes. It may not come with the old-fashioned uniforms, goose-stepping, and giant portraits on every street corner—but the mechanics are all here.

Free Speech Has Been Shackled

In a democracy, you’re supposed to be able to mock the leader, criticize policies, and share uncomfortable truths. Today, those who challenge the strongman risk losing jobs, facing legal harassment, or worse. Comedians are muzzled, journalists branded “enemies of the people,” and citizens threatened simply for posting online. When laughter becomes a crime, dictatorship has arrived.

The Law Is No Longer Impartial

Once the justice system bends to the will of one man, it ceases to be justice. Judges are intimidated, prosecutors are pressured, and the law is weaponized against critics. Instead of protecting the Constitution, the courts are repurposed to shield the regime and punish dissent. That is not democracy—it is authoritarian control dressed up in legal robes.

Institutions Have Been Captured

Congress no longer acts as a check on executive power but as a cheerleading squad. State legislatures are stacked with partisans willing to trade principle for power. Even agencies meant to serve the public—education, environment, labor—are being hollowed out and converted into tools of loyalty enforcement. A government that once belonged to “We the People” now functions as the personal property of one man.

The Cult of Personality

Dictatorships thrive on myth-making. Facts are optional; loyalty is mandatory. A dictator does not have supporters—he has believers. Every lie becomes sacred scripture, every criticism an act of heresy. When 30% of the population cheers louder for the strongman than for the truth, the danger is not looming—it is here.

The Illusion of Normalcy

The hardest part is that life can look ordinary. Grocery stores are open. The internet still runs. People still vote. But the ballot box means little when elections are gerrymandered, when opposition voices are silenced, when propaganda drowns out facts. Dictatorships don’t arrive overnight with tanks in the street—they creep in, one norm at a time, until suddenly the extraordinary becomes ordinary.

What Comes Next

If people shrug and say, “That’s just politics,” the dictatorship calcifies. But if people recognize what is happening, speak up, organize, and refuse to normalize it, there is still a chance. History shows us that dictatorships only end when people decide they’ve had enough.

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Here we go right into the worst world you can imagine

How dictators (and autocrats) will — and already do — use AI to suppress dissent

1) Mass surveillance + facial recognition to identify and track protesters.
AI powers city-wide camera networks, matches faces to ID databases, and flags people who attend protests or meet with known activists — enabling arrests, reprisals, or pre-emptive detention. China is the canonical example, and similar systems are documented elsewhere. (European Parliament)

2) Phone/network spyware and remote device compromise.
Governments deploy offensive tools (commercial spyware, zero-click exploits) to read messages, capture contacts, and plant evidence — often targeting journalists, lawyers, and opposition figures. These tools become far more effective when combined with AI to triage and analyze the harvested data. (AP News)

3) Social-media monitoring and automated content removal.
AI systems can crawl huge volumes of posts, flag “undesirable” content, and automatically request takedowns or block accounts. That enables rapid censorship at scale and makes it easy to silence voices before a story spreads. Platforms’ moderation tools can be co-opted by governments or tuned to follow local repressive laws. (Freedom House)

4) Disinformation, deepfakes, and identity-forgery to delegitimize opponents.
Generative AI can produce fake audio/video, realistic sock-puppet accounts, and automated propaganda tailored to micro-audiences — all used to smear dissidents, confuse the public, or create plausible pretexts for repression. State or state-linked influence ops have already used AI to run fake networks. (Reuters)

5) Predictive policing and risk-scoring.
By analyzing mobility, social ties, and communications, AI models can produce “risk” scores that flag people as potential troublemakers — then trigger surveillance, stops, or administrative actions without human transparency. Reports warn this amplifies discrimination and arbitrary enforcement. (European Parliament)

6) Social control systems (e.g., social-credit / behavior scoring).
AI can aggregate financial, social, and behavioral data to reward compliant citizens and penalize dissenters (travel restrictions, job/school access, public shaming). Even where full “social credit” systems don’t exist, partial scoring systems are being used to shape behavior. (NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR DEMOCRACY)

7) Automated harassment, doxxing and intimidation at scale.
Bots and AI agents can amplify abusive messages, threaten critics, flood comment sections, or dox opponents — drowning out real voices and creating fear that discourages organizing. (Freedom House)

8) Legal and regulatory capture enabled by AI “evidence.”
Governments can use AI-generated “evidence” (analytics, pattern reports, allegedly incriminating content) to justify arrests or court cases. Because models are opaque, it’s easy to present machine output as factual while avoiding scrutiny. (European Parliament)

Real examples / documented incidents

• State-linked influence operations using AI to run fake accounts and influence public discourse (reported and disrupted by law enforcement). (Reuters)

• Reports of spyware used to monitor journalists and opposition in Serbia and other countries. (AP News)

• Extensive use of facial-recognition and biometric systems in occupied/contested areas to monitor populations. (The Guardian)

• NGO and academic analyses documenting how AI amplifies digital repression and weakens internet freedom. (Freedom House)

What makes AI especially dangerous for repression

• Scale & speed: AI automates tasks that previously needed many human analysts.

• Cheapness: once trained, automated systems are inexpensive to run and can be exported.

• Plausible deniability / opacity: model outputs are opaque, making it easy to hide biases or errors as “technical” decisions.

• Personalization: propaganda can be micro-targeted to exploit emotional triggers and social fractures. (Freedom House)

Practical defenses — what citizens, platforms and policymakers can do

For individuals & activists

• Use end-to-end encrypted messaging and practice device hygiene (keep OS/apps updated; avoid suspicious links). (AP News)

• Use privacy tools: VPNs (with caution), anonymity-preserving browsers, and adversarial obfuscation (e.g., altering appearance in public photos where legal/feasible).

• Minimize metadata footprint (separate accounts for activism, use burner numbers when necessary).

• Document abuses safely (secure backups, distribute copies with trusted organizations).

For platforms & tech companies

• Harden user verification against state coercion; resist government takedown demands that violate human rights; publish transparency reports and process-level audits. (Congress.gov)

• Implement provenance / watermarking for AI-generated media and better tools to detect deepfakes. (PMC)

• Offer safer defaults, stronger account protections for journalists/activists, and independent redress mechanisms when governments request takedowns.

For governments, international bodies & civil society

• Pass targeted export controls on surveillance tech and require human rights due diligence from vendors. (NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR DEMOCRACY)

• Fund open-source tools to detect/mitigate repression (deepfake detectors, traffic obfuscation, secure comms).

• Support independent audits of government AI systems and require explainability/procedural safeguards if AI influences policing or legal actions. (European Parliament)

Bottom line

AI doesn’t invent new motives for repression — it multiplies them. The same political incentives that lead governments to silence critics become dramatically more powerful when combined with automated surveillance, disinformation, and opaque decision systems. But technology + policy + civic action can blunt those risks if actors move deliberately: better laws, platform accountability, defensive tech for citizens, and international pressure to restrict the sale and misuse of repressive AI. (Freedom House)

Rain from Heaven

Arizona Gold Rush

Rain in Arizona is worth more than Bitcoin. And guess what—it’s finally falling! Our backyard is the official catchment basin for the whole subdivision. In a decent storm, it fills up in about eleven minutes—faster than Congress can spend a budget surplus.

But then comes the mystery: once the water leaves our yard, where does it go? Kadizzle has tried to track it, but the cul-de-sacs below look like they were designed by a drunken maze-builder. Someday the old man will strap on his boots and play Sherlock Holmes: The Case of the Missing Stream Flow.

In the meantime, if you want to see where all the gullible voters flow, check out the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog. Spoiler: Trump has been busy harvesting idiots like it’s pumpkin season.

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The local news yesterday was downright chilling. Phoenix hosted what could only be described as a memorial service for bigotry—a sendoff for a premier racist. It looked more like an idiots’ convention mixed with a fan club for compulsive liars.

In one of those “you can’t make this up” moments, Trump wandered into a speech about autism while supposedly honoring Charlie Kirk. The crowd, bless their red hats, didn’t even notice the remarks had nothing to do with the dearly departed disciple. That’s the scary part—the sheer number of dolts who nod along, unbothered by the nonsense.

Once upon a time, folks packed a picnic basket and went to watch a hanging. Today, they pack MAGA hats and line up for the same bloodsport—only now the rope is around free speech. Trump is strangling it with a vengeance, and his disciples clap like trained seals, never noticing the air around them getting thinner.

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I just watched this video interview of the bumble-flumpers gathered at Charlie Kirk’s memorial in Phoenix.

Imagine showing up to a funeral service dressed in your Trump Halloween costume.

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Kadizzle thrown out of Tea Party he never was in.

 On the other bloghttps://naftaoh.blogspot.com/.  You can read how Kadizzle was thrown out of the Tea Party. 

$1,300,000 for a new house.

Here we sit in Payson, Arizona—a little mountain town that has, in recent years, been invaded by Californians. The locals don’t much like it. Around here, the default assumption is that anyone from California must be a dreaded liberal. Nothing is worse to the local MAGA rats than an educated person who dares to think.

But here’s the twist: many of these California immigrants aren’t liberals at all. They’re disgruntled right-wingers fleeing the “terrible” progressives back home. They arrive with fat wallets after selling overpriced houses in California, and they happily bid up property here, making the MAGA mess in Payson even redder and even more toxic.

About four years ago, Kadizzle built a new house in town. Thanks to the influx of rich immigrants—and Phoenix folks escaping the heat—the value has climbed nicely. One local builder has his own racket: he builds a house, lives in it just long enough to milk the tax advantages, then sells it for top dollar when the right fish swims by. One of his places nearby sold for a cool million. Now his newest house, perched right in front of our once-beautiful mountain view, is listed at $1.3 million. Maybe some rube will bite. Maybe not. But if it sells, it’ll drag our home value up with it.

That’s the strange part: Kadizzle sold the old house in North Dakota for $275,000. But that very same house, if it were sitting here in Payson, would easily sell for over half a million. Geography is destiny.

For now, Payson is riding the real estate wave. But when King Trump finishes wrecking the economy, watch how fast those “adjustments” come.

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The Vengeance president

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity you can read about our Vengeance president. 

Big Spender-DSA Block Party 2025 With the grand daugher

Sylvie is on the far left

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity Blog

 On the NAFTAOH blog, National Association for the Advancement of Humanity, some commentary about the Donuts with Democrats group. Give it a try. https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

Slum Warriors

The Rat Maze of Phoenix

Kadizzle had a nightmare of a drive through Phoenix yesterday. The car, a 2014 relic, still thinks malls and Blockbuster video stores are cutting-edge destinations. Worse yet, Kadizzle forgot his phone. That meant the only guide through the Phoenix jungle was the car’s outdated navigation system, which belongs in the Smithsonian.

After dropping Snoocher Bear at the airport, Kadizzle set off in search of a Costco he had never been to. That’s when the real fun began. Note to humanity: Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport is the worst airport in America to pick anyone up from. It is a rat maze of confusing roads, dead ends, and signs that contradict one another. If Dante had written The Divine Comedy today, one of the lower levels of hell would look exactly like Sky Harbor’s pickup lanes.

Back to the navigation disaster. The damn GPS zigzagged Kadizzle all over hell’s half acre before proudly declaring “you’ve arrived” at the start of a gravel road. No Costco. No hope. Just rocks and cactus.

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A Nation Paved in Sprawl

As Kadizzle drove through Phoenix’s endless sprawl, he couldn’t help but think what a visitor from a civilized country might make of this mess. Strip malls as far as the eye can see, every square foot paved, every horizon scarred with signs. Title loan companies blare from giant billboards—a neon declaration of poverty and desperation.

The rich, of course, live somewhere else entirely—behind gates, hedges, and armed security systems. Their streets are manicured, their lives buffered from the chaos. But the people hooked on drugs, the working poor, and those left behind by America’s greed-driven society are stuck in the wasteland we’ve created.

This isn’t just Phoenix. This is the American model of “growth.” Endless highways. Cookie-cutter subdivisions. Billboards shouting over one another. A country built not for people, but for cars and consumption.

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Closing Thought

Kadizzle’s misadventure was supposed to be a simple errand. Instead, it turned into a reminder of what happens when greed, poor planning, and blind faith in sprawl shape a nation. A GPS can get you lost. A society built this way can keep you lost forever.

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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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