MAGA Jesus

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MAGA Jesus: The Gospel According to Trump

MAGA Jesus is not the Jesus you’ll ever find in the Sermon on the Mount, or in any Bible except maybe the Trump Bible—if such a thing existed. MAGA Jesus is a peculiar invention, trotted out at town halls, council meetings, and Sunday sermons where politics drowns out the gospel.

Take our own little stage play at the council meetings. A local preacher solemnly opens with a prayer to “guide our leaders,” but then, without skipping a beat, the three stooges—Steve Otto, Charlie Bell, and Jim Ferris—step up to the microphone and torch every Christian virtue they just invoked. They lie about town management, misrepresent facts, and do their level best to undo what good people have worked so hard to build. Their piety lasts about as long as it takes to say “Amen.”

And if you flip on KMOG radio, you’ll hear the same script. Kenny Murphy—our local Rush Limbaugh wannabe—starts his show with a prayer asking Jesus to keep him on the right path. Then, without a blink of irony, he barrels down the MAGA highway: a steady stream of Trump worship, grievance politics, greed, and good old-fashioned disinformation. It’s a sermon where the Beatitudes get replaced with the Fox News talking points of the day.

The truth is, Trump didn’t just stumble into this playbook. He mastered it. He saw the hunger among certain evangelicals not for the Christ who preached humility, love, and sacrifice, but for a golden idol who would validate their resentments and weaponize their faith. And so MAGA Jesus was born—an angry, vengeful figure who blesses tax cuts for billionaires, sneers at immigrants, and cheers when the poor are told to fend for themselves.

The tragedy is that real Christianity—the one that calls for caring for the least among us, welcoming strangers, and speaking truth—has been pushed aside. In its place, we get a hollow imitation, a blasphemous knockoff used as a political tool. MAGA Jesus doesn’t turn water into wine; he turns lies into votes.

Maybe someday, the folks who invoke His name so casually will crack open the actual Gospels again and notice the difference. But until then, we’ll keep seeing MAGA Jesus show up at town halls, radio stations, and rallies—dressed not in robes, but in a red cap.

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Rain of lies

6:03 A.M. The rain is pouring down like the lies from MAGA. Thick, relentless, and impossible to ignore. If you’ve ever watched the local Hoopleheads in action, you know what I mean. The hypocrisy, the stupidity, the sheer lack of integrity—it’s a circus that has to be witnessed to be believed.

Take, for example, our own three stooges: Steve Otto, Charlie Bell, and Jim Farris. In their infinite wisdom, they decided the way to “protect morality” was to cut library funding—because apparently books are more dangerous than ignorance. Their crusade against “pornography” was nothing more than a cheap play to the simple-minded, the kind of red meat that gets the MAGA dogs howling. These are the same masterminds who push the idea that a “deep state” is secretly running things in little old Payson. It would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous.

This manipulation of the gullible is straight out of Donald Trump’s playbook. Trump’s genius wasn’t in building towers—it was in hiring idiots to manipulate other idiots. He stacked his administration with incompetent loyalists whose only qualification was blind obedience. And the MAGA peasants loved it, because the wreckage of normal governance felt like “sticking it to the elites.”

But Trump’s greatest invention—the crown jewel of his con—was Fake News. A magic phrase that erases reality. Don’t like the climate crisis? Just say it’s fake. Don’t like the fact-checkers? Fire them. Don’t like the press? Call them the enemy of the people. He trained his followers to sneer at journalism and instead feast on a steady diet of conspiracy and lies.

Trump is not a politician—he’s a cult leader. He knows exactly how Hitler dismantled truth in Germany, and he’s replaying the script word for word. And in the wings, Vladimir Putin couldn’t be happier. Trump is gutting American democracy so cheaply that Putin must feel like he’s shopping in the clearance aisle at Walmart.

The real tragedy is not just that Trump knows how to con people—it’s that millions still want to be conned.

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Penis Compensators for little men

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How to Be a Real Man (Republican Edition)

Jeff is a big guy. He doesn’t carry a handgun—he doesn’t need to. He calls the handgun what it really is: a penis compensator.

If you’ve spent any time around Republicans, you already know the type. Scratch the surface and you find sexual hang-ups galore. Nobody needs a handgun. But if you’re a mental lightweight, strapping one to your hip magically adds six inches to your… confidence. Instant he-man, at least in your own head.

Of course, firearms aren’t the only way to inflate your masculinity. If you’re a member of the Hooplehead tribe or a Tea Party dinger, here are some tried-and-true tips for making yourself feel large and in charge:

1. Get yourself a noisy truck or motorcycle.
   Big noise equals big man. Animals in the wild roar, screech, and howl to show dominance. Why shouldn’t little men with insecurities do it with a smokey, ear-splitting truck?

2. Wave your flag—literally.
   Nothing says “brave” quite like a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag flapping in the wind. Bonus points if it’s oversized enough to block traffic.

3. Sticker up.
   Plaster your truck with a Trump decal. That way, everyone will know you’ve pledged allegiance to the world’s biggest orange strongman.

4. Dress the part.
   A T-shirt promoting guns does wonders. “I ♥ My AR-15” will make you look tough at the gas station and even tougher at Applebee’s.

Follow these steps and you’ll have women swooning—at least that’s what the fantasy promises. In reality, you’ll mostly attract honks, eye-rolls, and the occasional speeding ticket.

But hey, if loud engines, big guns, and bad politics make you feel like a man, then you’ve found your tribe. Just don’t confuse smoke and noise with strength. Jeff will still be the biggest guy in the room—without a compensator strapped to his hip.

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A New Lie

The Tea Party’s Ministry of Lies

The Tea Party’s devotion to dishonesty never ceases to amaze me. Today I spoke with Shirley, the head of our local Tea Party. To her credit, Shirley was polite—but what stunned me was her casual mention of yet another fabrication currently making the rounds.

Let me back up. During the last election season, I stopped by the U-Turn for Christ thrift shop and questioned why a tax-exempt nonprofit had a giant Trump banner draped across its building. Politics and tax-free status aren’t supposed to mix. Not long after, I got a call from Pastor Joe himself. Instead of addressing the issue reasonably, he brushed aside the concern, assured me the banner was “perfectly fine,” and in the same breath told me they would find my body.

That was a first: being threatened with death by a pastor. Given Pastor Joe’s prison background, I suppose intimidation counts as one of his spiritual gifts. He also banned me from setting foot in the thrift store—something I’ve honored.

But apparently, that wasn’t enough. Now Pastor Joe, in his holy role as Christ’s representative on Earth, is telling people there’s a restraining order against me. Of course, no such order exists. It’s just another Tea Party tall tale: an ounce of truth buried under pounds of fabrication. For them, spreading lies has become a full-time ministry.

Shirley added a little extra salt and pepper, as MAGA folks love to do. According to her, Kadizzle was keeping the Republican headquarters from closing simply by “arguing with the staff”—a peculiar story, considering I was there early in the day and no such thing happened.

Exactly what my supposed “sins” were became the subject of our talk. Apparently, one offense was “mumbling under my breath” at a Tea Party meeting about the lies being told. That, according to Shirley, was one of the “chances” I had already used up.

But the biggest whopper involved my encounter with the notorious liar Gary Morris. I once walked up to Morris and asked to speak with him about the falsehoods he was spreading. Later, under oath in court, Morris claimed I had spit on him. I have the video of the exchange, and no such thing happened. Yet, in the Tea Party world, merely asking a man to explain his lies counts as “assault.”

This same game has been played by others in the MAGA crowd. At a town hall meeting, I confronted Steve Otto about his own dishonesty in front of a room full of people. His response? He accused me of assault.

The pattern is clear: if you question their lies, they don’t answer—you become the lie. Intimidation, distortion, and fabrication are the tools of their trade. For the Tea Party, truth isn’t just inconvenient. It’s the enemy.

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The MAGA game

Kadizzle wanted to attend the latest MAGA idiots convention at Tiny’s Restaurant. But here’s the problem: the MAGA crowd doesn’t like people showing up at their propaganda sessions and asking hard questions. Their tactic is simple — if you challenge them, they label it a “disturbance.”

The trick is, they never say exactly what you’ve done wrong. If you post something online that exposes their blind loyalty to Trump or the Republican Party, that’s enough to get you blacklisted. And when you press them for specifics, none ever come.

Kadizzle asked Shirley, the head of the Tea Party, if he could attend the Eli Crane event at Tiny’s. Here’s the phone message she left:

“We’ve all decided that you will not be attending the Eli Crane event tomorrow. You’ve already had too many second chances.

I also hear you’ve been posting that we’re going to have armed security at the event — and yes, we are. If you show up out front with a bullhorn disturbing the peace, you will be picked up for that.

No signs will be allowed inside. I’m sorry, but nobody trusts you to control yourself, and that’s the final decision.

Okay, I’ll see you around. Bye.”

Notice the line: “You’ve already had too many second chances.” Second chances for what, exactly? Of course, Shirley doesn’t say.

Kadizzle went anyway. No problems. The only drama came when Denis Bacon, one of their loyalists, instructed the police to “keep an eye” on him. After the event, Kadizzle asked Denis if there was some issue. The only reply: “You’re an asshole.”

That’s it. No evidence. No specifics. Just name-calling and vague accusations.

This is how the Tea Party operates: false claims, empty threats, and a constant effort to silence anyone who asks uncomfortable questions.

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The idiots convention at Tiny's resteraunt

Eli Crane’s Traveling Circus Comes to Payson

The Tea Party likes to think Eli Crane represents the people of Payson,  Let’s be clear—he doesn’t. What Eli represents is the Tea Party wing of Payson, and if you scraped together the lowest IQ samples wandering through Walmart on a Saturday night, you’d have a pretty fair cross-section of that “movement.” Sorting fact from fiction isn’t on their skill set. Their rule of thumb is simple: if Trump says it, it’s gospel—and if Eli repeats it, it’s scripture.

So what exactly went down at this latest idiot convention? Predictably, the same tired, baseless numbers and stories were trotted out, and the crowd swallowed them whole. Immigrants, as always, were cast as villains—it’s the Hooplehead convention’s greatest hit. And of course, Trump was painted as the billionaire savior of the working man, supposedly saving us all mountains of money. Not a word about taxing the rich. Not a whisper about the ballooning deficit. Selective memory is a requirement at these events.

The microphone made its way around the room, but you can bet Democrats weren’t the ones holding it. The usual sycophants lined up, including Inga, who acted like she wanted to compare Eli to Jesus. Yes—Jesus. Because nothing says Christ-like humility and sacrifice quite like voting against school lunches and parroting Trump’s tantrums.

Then came Eli’s deep thoughts on free speech: apparently, cutting funding for PBS is the ultimate victory for liberty. After all, PBS is “communist,” don’t you know. The right-wing spin was enough to make you nauseous, a twisted funhouse mirror where reality goes in one side and comes out looking like a campaign bumper sticker.

And of course, the costumes. Cowboy hats galore, goofy getups, and MAGA hats worn proudly—because in this upside-down circus, wearing a Trump hat is like strapping on an Einstein wig. The faithful beam with pride, oblivious to the irony.

Honestly, one could have stayed home and watched Fox News for the same content, but at least in person you got the live-action spectacle. Eli Crane’s show was less a political rally and more a revival meeting for the Church of Trump. The gospel? Lies, resentment, and grievance. The choir? A crowd eager to shout “Amen!” to whatever nonsense was passed off as truth.

If this is the best representation Payson can muster, the town deserves better. Much better.

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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. 

The Magic Hat

The Magical Powers of a MAGA Hat

MAGA hats are like magic wands for the mind — but not in a good way. Slip one on and suddenly you can abandon logic, swallow every Trump lie without question, and proudly sign up for membership in a political cult. The transformation is instant.

The real magic, though, is not in what the hat does to the wearer, but in what it signals to everyone else. A MAGA hat is like a flashing neon sign over your head: “I’ve checked out of reality.” It tells the world you’ve traded critical thinking for blind loyalty, that you’re willing to embrace delusion as long as it comes wrapped in red fabric and stitched with Trump’s slogan.

Clothing has always been symbolic. Uniforms, badges, even simple accessories help identify people and their values. A doctor’s coat signals professionalism, a wedding ring symbolizes commitment, and a MAGA hat? It shouts ignorance, gullibility, and a willingness to be duped. It’s an advertisement that says, “I’ve stopped questioning. I believe whatever I’m told.”

Nothing in modern American politics so perfectly captures the cult-like devotion to one man as that red cap. To the rest of us living in reality, it serves as a warning sign — a reminder that some people would rather cling to fantasy than face uncomfortable truths. And perhaps the saddest part is that they think it’s a badge of honor, when in reality it’s just a billboard for foolishness.

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Have some fun, spoof a Republican

Kadizzle had to go to the pharmacy at the grocery store. For privacy the line for services is in one of the grocery aisles until your turn. Bored Kadizzle decided to do a Trump spoof. Holding his phone up as if he were talking to someone Kadizzle said all the bad things he could think of.  The who idea is to rile any Trump Hoopleheads in the line. It worked. A Trump dog stared at Kadizzle as he spoke to a woman in line about what a rat Trump is.  When Kadizzle finished his fake call the woman in front of him said she hated Trump also. This was perfect. The two of us ranted about Trump and the Hoople just stared in anger. 

OK, you can do Trump spoofs. With modern phones one half the conversation is broadcast into headphones, hearing aid or whatever. So you just hold your phone to your ear and act like you are talking to someone. You can do it at the doctors office while you wait or anywhere Trump dogs might be in ear shot. Sometimes the Trump dogs cannot hold on and will make a remark. That just makes it more fun. 

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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Lying Hoopleheads

Old Kadizzle has developed a bit of a fixation on the Hoopleheads who spin lies online. They’re an interesting breed, but they all share some predictable traits. First, they rarely invent their own lies—they pick up a falsehood from another Hooplehead and happily pass it along like a contagious virus. Second, they hide. Many cloak themselves in fake names, as if anonymity grants them a license to slander. And of course, they adore Trump’s style of lying—distortion is their preferred art form.

When you challenge a Hooplehead to meet face-to-face and talk through the lies they’re spreading, the pattern is almost comical. The first excuse is fear—they insist they might be harmed. Kadizzle has solved that problem by offering to meet at the police station or the public library, but that offer is met with an awkward silence.

The second response comes if you bump into one on the street. Ask them about their falsehoods and they’ll flee like a spooked rabbit, only to later claim you assaulted them.

And the third favorite trick? Posting bits and pieces of a story—partial facts with no source, no context, and certainly no official documentation. It’s a Hooplehead specialty: lying by omission, distortion, and cowardice, all rolled into one tidy package.

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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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Debating Dingers

Someone brought up Kadizzle debating by responding to comments. If someone wants to debate they need to identify themself. If you don't have enough respect for your words to put you name with them, then more than likely you are just a MAGA dinger. MAGA dingers hide, run, and make false accusations. If you put your name with your comment it will get some respect.  

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."

Willow Tree Warriors

 Does it get any better? Almost every evening the Willow Tree Warriors sit by the lake. The elk come by an so does everyone and their grandmother with a dog. Usually about six to eight normal people sit beneath the willow and chew over the days happenings. Payzon is a dog crazy town. Everyone has at least one, and many have a spare. Many of the dogs are just big squirrels. Full sized regular dogs seem out of style. 

On some nights a guitar player shows up and there is a little sing along. Customarily people walk around the lake. That means everyone goes by with a hello or maybe stops for a comment.  The elk drew a big crowd the other night with phone cameras shooting. Slowly the sun sets the evening cools down, and the bats start cleaning up the insects. A pleasant way to end the day. Stop by and sit with normal people. MAGAs in search of a cure are welcome. 

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.

A Note for MAGA liars

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Setting the Record Straight: The Truth About the Kevin Cramer Incident and the Lies MAGA Supporters Tell

Michael Quinn, known as “Kadizzle” on his blog, has long been a vocal critic of Donald Trump and the MAGA movement. In response, MAGA supporters have repeatedly dredged up a 2017 incident involving Senator Kevin Cramer to smear Kadizzle’s character. Here’s what really happened — and how the truth has been twisted.

In 2017, Kadizzle attended a town hall hosted by Senator Cramer in Mandan, North Dakota. He came with a list of thoughtful questions, hoping for a real discussion. Before the event began, Kadizzle and Cramer even shared a brief, cordial conversation about Social Security, during which they agreed on adjusting the income cap.

But once the meeting started, it became clear the crowd was stacked with MAGA loyalists lobbing softball questions. Kadizzle, frustrated by the lack of substance and Cramer's evasive answers, occasionally stood up to challenge him. One particularly offensive moment came when someone asked about gun silencers — an absurd diversion from the real issues facing everyday people.

Then, a young woman stood up to ask an emotional question about healthcare for her infant born with severe birth defects. Tearful and nervous, she pleaded with Cramer to support long-term care under the Affordable Care Act. Cramer dodged her question. Kadizzle, outraged, asked how Cramer could support an $800 billion tax break for the rich while denying care to a struggling mother. Someone in the audience shouted, “I don’t mind paying taxes to help her!”

In that moment, Kadizzle acted on impulse. He pulled out $23 and attempted to give it to Cramer, thinking others might do the same to help the woman. Cramer brushed the money away. When Kadizzle tried to slip it into Cramer’s coat pocket, Cramer again refused. Finally, Kadizzle placed the money down Cramer’s shirt collar — a gesture of protest, not aggression. He was promptly removed by the police.

What MAGA supporters won’t tell you is what happened earlier. Before the money incident, a man attempted to physically intimidate Kadizzle by placing a chair directly beside him and then choking him when he stood to speak. That man — not Kadizzle — was thrown out by police. However, when the story went national, media outlets spliced the two incidents together, misleadingly portraying the chokehold as a defense against Kadizzle’s protest.

Years later, Gary Morris — the head of the Republican Party in Payson, Arizona — used the distorted Cramer story in a smear campaign against Kadizzle, who had since become a prominent local advocate for gun control. Morris falsely claimed that Kadizzle was arrested twice for assault in North Dakota. But even Senator Cramer himself said on the Rob Port radio show that he was not assaulted.

Morris went a step further, digging up arrest records for a different man named Michael Quinn in North Dakota and falsely claiming it was the same person who writes this blog. To put the matter to rest, Kadizzle hired a private investigation firm — William T. Butcher and Associates — to conduct a nationwide search. Their report confirmed that this Michael Quinn has never been arrested anywhere in the United States.

Despite the evidence, Morris and other MAGA Republicans continue to spread this false narrative. Why? Because they fear people who speak the truth — and Kadizzle does exactly that.

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Let me know if you'd like a shortened version for social media or a more formal one for a press release.

Seniors vs Teen Dingers

An Evening Stand for Peace and Quiet at Green Valley Park

Almost every weekday evening, a group of older residents gathers beneath the willow tree at Green Valley Park. It’s a peaceful tradition—a time to swap stories, enjoy the sunset, and appreciate the calm beauty of our town.

Unfortunately, this tranquility is often interrupted. Some younger individuals pass by in loud trucks or revving cars, seemingly going out of their way to disturb the atmosphere. On occasion, the situation escalates with disruptive motorcycle stunts.

Last night, things reached a tipping point. Kadizzle, one of our regulars, approached a young man on a motorcycle who had been making excessive noise. When asked to be more considerate, the rider admitted he was acting out because someone nearby had previously reported him to the police.

As another loud vehicle passed, Kadizzle decided to visit the nearby parking lot where the disruptive group often gathers. He stopped briefly on his own motorcycle to record license plates as a precaution. During this time, a young woman behind him began honking impatiently. After she parked nearby, Kadizzle began photographing her vehicle, prompting her to confront him. When he explained the reason for the documentation, she launched into an aggressive verbal tirade filled with obscenities.

At that moment, several of the seniors from the park came over to support Kadizzle, creating an unexpected but powerful show of community. Interestingly, a group of young men stepped in to defuse the situation. They were respectful and engaged in a civil conversation with the seniors. Eventually, an agreement was reached: the younger group would make an effort to be more respectful of the park’s peaceful environment.

Kadizzle, impressed by their willingness to talk and compromise, even gave the young men money for pizza as a gesture of goodwill. The unified presence of the seniors seemed to make a strong impression. With luck, the experience will lead to a more considerate coexistence between the generations who share our public spaces.

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There is no use in trying to deal with the dying

There Is No Use in Trying to Deal with the Dying
— A reflection on aging, stiffness, and the quiet surrender to time

There comes a point in life when you stop trying to "fix" getting old. You stop pretending that turmeric, yoga, collagen powder, or whatever the latest podcast is pushing, will somehow reverse the slow grind of time. Your joints are stiff. Your back whispers threats when you bend. Your knees creak like old floorboards. And despite the advice from chirpy health influencers, you realize: there is no use in trying to deal with the dying.

That may sound bleak, but it’s really just honest. Aging isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s a process. One that creeps in quietly, like rust on metal, or a fog over the hills. First, it’s the sore shoulders when you wake. Then it’s the pills for blood pressure. Then it’s forgetting names you used to know without thinking. You try to resist it at first. You stretch. You hydrate. You tell yourself you're just “a little stiff today.”

But one day, you sit down in your favorite chair and realize: this is how it’s going to be from now on.

No miracle cure. No fountain of youth. Just the slow acceptance that your body is returning, inch by inch, to the earth it came from.

This isn’t to say you give up. You still walk. You still laugh. You still enjoy the sunrise and good soup and the warmth of a blanket. But you stop waging war against age. You stop pretending you’re a repair project with an end date. You let the cracks show. You stop saying “I’ll bounce back” and start saying “I’m moving slower now, and that’s okay.”

It’s not about hopelessness—it’s about honesty. There’s a kind of freedom that comes from admitting you're winding down. You’re no longer part of the hustle. You’ve done your time in the grind. You’ve raised kids, built careers, made your mark. Now, it’s your time to just be. Even if “being” means a heating pad, a cane, and a good nap at 2 p.m.

We’re not here forever. No one gets out alive. And no anti-aging cream is going to change that.

So take your pills, stretch if it helps, laugh when you can. But stop trying to outwit the inevitable. You’re not broken. You’re just human. Beautiful, aching, aging human.

There is no use in trying to deal with the dying. There is only living well while you can—and learning to make peace with the slow return to stillness.

Some rain at last

The catchment basin in our backyard filled up in 11 minutes. The rain was welcome, but we need more. The area has been very dry. Winky has been going wild with her planting.  To keep her plants watered we have to have a drip irrigation system. This means small lines run everywhere underground. Pound in a stake and more than likely you hit a line. Now you have a leak to repair. Never ending fun. 

When we first moved into our new home we were in an empty development, but not it has filled in. Fortunately one large patch of land near our backyard will stay empty, but a new home to the East has ruined part of our view. The home is not done yet. The builder made a poor decision and the driveway is steeper than Mount Everest. A fellow down below us built a huge house. The problem is he has two sons. One drives a noisy jeep that is getting on everyone's wires, and the other has a dirt bike that he rides every evening when some quiet would be nice. Such is life. 

Are the Hoopleheads retreating

 The Hoopleheads in the Trump cult seem to be missing. Not many red hatted idiots in the grocery store, and the gunslingers are nowhere to be seen. Maybe the dolts are beginning to feel Trump has betrayed them. Trump called his own dingers stupid for insisting on the Epstein files, yet the simple minded still love him. 

Now for the good part. The dingers are starting to think Trump is the "deep state". Does it get any better?  Trump stirred up some lies that are backfiring on him. His gang is lying about lies he spread. The Epstein mess has the old Trumpster in super lying mode. Will it work? Usually Trump can lie his way out of anything. Fake news, fake news, it was Biden, the democrats, not me. 

Excellent turn out today for Highway 87 protest.

 About 80 people showed up to support democratic principles. It was a good turnout, and the police made sure no MAGA smoke dogs came near. Across the highway a MAGA dog has a car dealership. The MAGA dog made one of the horns on his cars go continuously. A young woman who worked for the MAGA car dealer came out with a MAGA sign. One MAGA across the street from 80 normal people told the story very well. A big thanks to the Payson police. No doubt the MAGA dogs will have some sort of show. It seems the MAGA crowd is embarrassed about the sexual predator they support. Even some MAGAs are turning against Trump. He called his own supporters stupid and said he didn't need them. Wow.

Water fell from the sky

The nectar of the gods fell last night and our holding pond is full of water. The desert pops when rain hits. Many years ago we were in the Baja and it rained as hard as it had in 100 years. The desert popped and the plants bloomed instantly. Old Kadizzle will never forget the experience. Walking in the desert felt like another planet. Unusual plants that looked like something on Mars were everywhere.  

Secretary of State

Adrian Fontes Electrifies Donuts with Democrats

Adrian Fontes delivered a powerful and inspiring speech at the Donuts with Democrats gathering, packing the Democratic Headquarters to capacity. When Kadizzle arrived early, he had his doubts. Jeff was already there, dutifully setting up rows of chairs. Kadizzle figured Jeff was being overly optimistic — but he was wrong. The room quickly filled, and by the time Fontes took the stage, it was standing room only.

Arizona’s Secretary of State proved to be a dynamic and engaging speaker, with the kind of presence that makes you believe he could very well be governor one day. His message was simple but compelling, built around ten two-letter words: “If it is to be, it is up to me.” Fontes had the audience repeat the phrase, driving home the urgent need for action.

The takeaway? Democracy doesn’t defend itself. If we want to stop the slide into authoritarianism, we all need to get off the sidelines — and off our asses — and stand up to the creeping Trump dictatorship.

The Childish MAGA mind.

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What Is the Mind of a MAGA Like?

It’s a question many thoughtful people find themselves asking: What is going on in the mind of someone deep in the MAGA world? The answer isn’t hard to find—just look at the comments they leave on Facebook posts, particularly those that challenge their worldview. The patterns are remarkably consistent and, frankly, revealing.

First, there’s the humor—or rather, the lack of it. Much of the content relies on juvenile jokes, name-calling, or tired memes that might have gotten a chuckle in a middle school locker room. It’s not that humor itself is a problem—it's that their jokes often aim down, mock the vulnerable, and rely on crude sexual innuendo or cartoonishly exaggerated caricatures. These aren’t efforts to persuade or even engage; they’re just attempts to ridicule and dominate.

Second, the comments are rarely grounded in fact or curiosity. Instead of asking questions or offering well-reasoned counterpoints, many MAGA followers jump straight to deflection, conspiracy, or ad hominem attacks. It's easier, apparently, to call someone a “libtard” or post a Photoshopped image of Joe Biden falling off a bike than to discuss climate change, healthcare, or democracy with any seriousness.

Third, there’s an emotional immaturity that runs through much of the MAGA commentary. You’ll notice a visceral need to “win” arguments—not through logic, but through volume and insult. Any disagreement is treated as an attack. Every discussion is a battlefield. There’s little room for self-reflection, nuance, or empathy. Instead, the world is split into heroes and villains, patriots and traitors.

Lastly, there is an eerie devotion to authoritarianism disguised as patriotism. Many MAGA followers celebrate strength, but only when it comes from “their side.” They claim to defend freedom while cheering for censorship of opposing views. They wrap themselves in the flag, but seem to forget what the Constitution is actually about.

So what is the mind of a MAGA like? It’s angry, tribal, and frequently unmoored from reality. It finds comfort in simplistic narratives and black-and-white thinking. It’s addicted to grievance, dismissive of complexity, and quick to lash out. It doesn't want a conversation—it wants control.

And while not everyone in that movement is the same, the loudest voices often paint the clearest picture. We should pay attention to what they say—not just to criticize, but to understand the deeper forces at work in our country.

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Back in the Arizona Mountains

The plane landed on the frying pan at Mesa. 118 degrees greeted the Kadizzles as we got off the plane. Reaching Payson the temperature dropped to 102.  That 16 degree difference is why we live in Payson. It rained while we were gone and the desert plants popped. The shade of dessert green is much more dull than Dakota green. Our good friends in North Dakota served us well. No hotel bills for 12 days was wonderful. 

Dina is pulling up stakes in North Dakota and heading to Seattle. North Dakota will lose the best liberal it ever had. North Dakota Republican greed is insane. The state has 14 billion in the bank it refuses to spend. The money's sole purpose is to protect the rich. North Dakota could have the very best of everything, but sharing is not part of the greed dogs mantra. North Dakota should have the best paid teachers, free health care and no homeless, but the Trump rats will not share. The Trump rats all claim to be direct descendants of Jesus. The Republican Jesus is one mean bastard. 

Crumbling

Today the Kadizzles return from North Dakota where we visited a lot of old good friends. Age is taking its toll. The old timers are crumbling. People are moving awkwardly, slowly and painfully. Like all old people the discussion is what happened to old Willy or what is the latest doctors visit about. Adjustments come with crumbling. Steps have a whole new meaning when they have become Mount Everest. Oh, and replacements. Yes, new knees, borrowed eyes, shots of lubrication. What fun. Now kids get ready we are moving back to be close to you. Yup, you get to take care of us. We will be your new set of kids. Then the mind goes.  Do I know you? Where am I? Driving, look out. Pills, doctors appointments. What did I do to deserved this? First you let yourself get fat, then you drank too much, and of course lack of exercise. 

Old friend Dave delivers pills to nursing homes. Dave took Kadizzle on his route from the airport to Stanton. It occurred to Kadizzle nursing homes are just well appointed jail cells where the last stages of crumbling occur.  Hope this has all been uplifting. 

Another Day in North Dakota

 Our trail crew friends spent the night with us in Stanton, ND.  We toured the Knife River Indian Village.  Cissie helped build the replica Earth Lodge there. North Dakota is so isolated and peaceful. The nights are dark and quiet. Wildlife is abundant, and the Missouri river is nearby. In the old days we sailed here and often floated the Missouri. North Dakota has many charms, you just have to discover them. 

Working on the farm

Our old friends in North Dakota let us stay in their spare house.  It is a wonderful home built by an old friend who had amazing talents. The house has some wonderful touches including custom stain glass in the Frank Lloyd Right style. The yard is several acres and Brian has a big job mowing it. Winkie and Kadizzle used to pheasant hunt here and we have many good memories of the hunts. Winkie picked a lot of June berries down by the Knife River. The main house is unique. Brian and his dad aligned the house so the sun would shine in one dormer, and out the other on only one day a year. They used to have a party on the Summer Solstice to celebrate that day. Brian like to heat with wood so he has a pile of huge logs we have been splitting. 

The Deplorables

For entertainment Kadizzle has been interacting with the deplorables. One constant in the communication is the total lack of writing ability the deplorables are cursed with. Reading their comments it seems obvious they are stuck somewhere on the fifth or sixth grade level. The reasoning ability of the MAGA dogs is non existent. It becomes obvious why Trump loves the deplorables. They are easily fooled and manipulated. Low information MAGA minds are ripe picking for Republicans. 

Summer in North Dakota

Summers in North Dakota are hard to beat. Nights are cool, days are long, and the temperature is damn near perfect. The good old days when Kadizzle used to wake up on his wonderful sailboat back in a bay. I've got to remember its a fine memory. The quiet, ah the quiet, no dingers in loud trucks, just the birds. Green, the green is pleasant compared to the parched desert. 

We lived in North Dakota for forty years. Not much has changed. Slow, life is slow here. The total lack of people is astounding. North Dakota is the cleanest state in the union. Slumming is not popular here and people keep their property up. 

Western North Dakota has some rolling hills, but the flat East is unbearable. 

A different planet

Today Kadizzle awakened on planet North Dakota. So different. No slummers, green, green everywhere. Not a mountain in sight. The Missouri river, and prairie to the horizon. A strange prosperous state with 14 billion in the bank and only 750,000 people. It could be absolute heaven, but it is infested with Republicans in the cult protecting the rich from taxes. So a state that could have free health care, the highest paid teachers, and extremely low taxes does not. Why. The hoarded oil money is for one thing only to make sure the rich are never taxed. That is the goal of the Trump cult, protect the rich from taxes. Enough money is in the bank account to give every man woman and child 17,000 dollars, but no, protect the rich. 

Who fixes your plane

Think it through. Many years ago Kadizzle visited a nursing home in Florida. Who do you think took care of all the old racist. Yup, it was black people. If you were a lifelong racist would you want a black person making your eggs. Maybe a little spit in your eggs would do you good.  

Yesterday Kadizzle sat beside a Mexican jet engine repairman. Guess whose jet engines he rebuilds? Yes Trump might want to think about who he is abusing. 

MAGA sexual hangup.

Blog Post Title: Why Are MAGA Folks So Obsessed With Sex?

Spend five minutes in a Facebook comment thread on any local news story, and chances are you’ll find it: a MAGA follower making some wild, obscene sexual reference. The story could be about potholes, the weather, or a bake sale, and somehow we end up talking about drag queens, genitalia, or how Joe Biden is secretly turning kids gay. It’s not just an online phenomenon either—bump into a hard-right Republican at a coffee shop or the gas station and just wait. Somehow, some way, the conversation will detour into transgender bathrooms, gay marriage, or their deep-seated fear of books in libraries that mention the existence of sex.

What gives?

Why is the MAGA wing of the Republican Party so obsessed with sex? And not just healthy, adult conversations about sex, but twisted, fearful, paranoid ideas about it. To hear them tell it, sex is lurking around every corner, waiting to corrupt their children, poison their schools, and topple the very foundations of the Republic. It’s like they see a Pride flag and immediately need therapy.

Let’s unpack this a bit.

Projection 101

First off, there’s a heavy dose of projection going on. Many MAGA loyalists accuse others—teachers, librarians, LGBTQ people—of being “obsessed with sex,” when they themselves bring it up constantly. They can’t stop talking about “groomers,” “porn in schools,” and who’s using what bathroom. If anyone else were that fixated on these topics, we’d be deeply concerned. But somehow, when it comes from the right wing, it’s “protecting the children.”

Ironically, the more they scream about it, the more it looks like they’re the ones with unresolved issues.

Moral Panic Is the Point

The truth is, this sexual hysteria is a political tool. It’s been used for decades, from Anita Bryant’s anti-gay crusades in the ’70s to the “Satanic Panic” of the ’80s. Now it’s the “trans panic” of the 2020s. It works because fear is powerful. Scaring people into thinking their children are under attack makes them easy to manipulate. Just toss out a few inflammatory buzzwords—“woke,” “drag,” “groomer,” “porn”—and boom, you’ve got a loyal voter base frothing at the mouth and ready to pull the lever for whoever promises to save them.

Sex = Control

There’s also a deep cultural undercurrent here: sex is about control. Who’s allowed to have it, who’s allowed to talk about it, and whose bodies get policed. MAGA ideology is obsessed with maintaining traditional gender roles and a very narrow version of morality. Any deviation—whether it’s a transgender person living authentically, or a school teaching comprehensive sex ed—is viewed as a threat to their entire worldview. It shakes the foundation of the good ol’ days they desperately want to return to (you know, when people knew their place and kept their secrets).

The Porn Paradox

And then there’s the irony so thick you could butter toast with it: the loudest voices screaming about pornography are often the ones secretly consuming it in record numbers. Studies have shown that some of the most conservative states have the highest porn viewership. It’s the old preacher-who-gets-caught-in-the-motel-room story, just scaled up to national politics.

Final Thought

It would be funny if it weren’t so sad—and dangerous. When MAGA folks obsessively inject sexual fear into every political conversation, they’re not just being weird or crass. They’re distracting from real issues: healthcare, climate, wages, corruption. They’re demonizing innocent people to score political points. And they’re feeding a toxic stew of ignorance and hate.

So the next time a MAGA warrior brings up genitals in a school board meeting or posts a comment about drag queens on a story about zoning laws, remember: this isn’t about protecting children. It’s about fear, power, and projection.

And frankly, it’s exhausting.

Bee Bumble Bee wins design award

Kadizzle could not be prouder of Megan, his youngest daughter.  To grandpa she is still just a kid. There is no one like Megan. When Megan decides to accomplish something it is going to happen. Growing up in a small town with no art program Megan went on to design clothes for Macy's, KMart, and Anthropology. Before that she started her own design business in New York City. Now, my wonderful Megan has developed an interior design company which just won and award for designing a kitchen area. In her little town she designed the bookstore. This fall her designs will be featured in a fashion magazine. 
 

A classic runner Timothy Coyne

When the Galumphs Scatter

Mike F. and Kadizzle arrived early at the town hall meeting, taking seats as a few other early birds filtered in. Sitting alone in the back was a familiar figure—a large galumph of a man: Timothy Coyne.

Coyne, a local Facebook poster and prolific liar, has long trafficked in the false accusation—originally stirred up by Gary Morris—that Kadizzle committed assault. Morris’s lie didn’t hold up in court; Kadizzle exposed it, and Morris has been curiously silent ever since.

Kadizzle had challenged the liars—Coyne included—to meet face-to-face. None accepted. But here was Coyne, in the flesh. Kadizzle approached and calmly asked if Coyne wanted to discuss the falsehoods he’d been spreading.

The galumph sprang up and started jabbering. True to form, he deflected, refusing to engage directly or allow Kadizzle to address the lies. Cornered, Coyne had a choice: stay and be unmasked in front of the room, or flee. He chose flight, insisting they "talk outside"—away from witnesses—then quickly slunk out of the meeting room entirely.

Coyne fits right in with the other runners: Mayor Steve Otto, ex-GOP chair Gary Morris, Michael Heather the serial fibber, and council member Charlie Bell. They all share the same strategy—slander from a safe distance, then scatter when confronted.

The pattern is clear: when the truth walks in, the galumphs head for the door.

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Dear Mayor Steve Otto

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Mayor, Council Members, and Fellow Citizens,

I come before you today not in anger, but in defense of truth and civility.

Recently, both the Mayor and another council member made false public statements about me. When I approached them—in a public place, calmly and without threats—simply asking for a conversation about these falsehoods, I was accused of “assault.”

Let’s be clear: disagreement is not assault. Asking someone to explain their words is not assault. The law defines assault as an act that causes another person to fear imminent physical harm. At no point did I raise my voice, use threatening language, or make any physical move toward anyone. The only thing I brought with me was a request for honesty and accountability.

Calling a civil conversation “assault” is not just a misuse of the word—it’s a dangerous distortion. It silences public discourse. It weaponizes fear. And it attempts to paint political disagreement as violence.

This is a small town. We all live here. We see each other at the grocery store, the post office, and the park. We must be able to confront lies without being slandered ourselves.

Public officials should be held to a higher standard. If they misrepresent a citizen, that citizen has every right—every responsibility—to seek clarification and defend their name.

I’m here tonight to say: I will not be intimidated. And I hope this council understands the difference between disagreement and aggression. Our community deserves honest dialogue, not fear-based accusations.

Thank you.

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