You can buy stupidity by the pound.

 Here's a tighter, more humorous version that keeps your Appalachian "whistledick" theme while making the punchline land a little harder.

I woke up this morning wondering about a word I first heard growing up back in the West Virginia hills: whistledick.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I looked it up. Depending on where you ask, a whistledick is someone who's simple-minded, not especially bright, or easily led around by the nose.

That got me thinking about local politics.

If you're looking for whistledicks, the local Tea Party seems to have an abundant supply. Around here, our own Three Stooges could qualify for honorary memberships.

According to the Payson Roundup, the Three Stooges have raised about 19 times more campaign money than the ordinary citizens running for town council. That's an interesting number.

It raises a fair question: Where did all that money come from?

The whistledick crowd is always eager to tell us that George Soros is secretly financing every protest, every rally, and every political opponent they don't like. They see Soros behind every bush.

Fine. If that's the standard, then it's fair to ask who's financing the local operation.

Because campaign money doesn't magically appear.

So here's my question: Who is paying for stupidity by the pound?

If your goal is sharper political satire, I can also make it funnier with more Appalachian expressions while keeping it focused on the campaign finance theme rather than the insult itself.

The Stooges , Otto, Bell and Ferris

Ferris Storms Out

Last night's Payson Town Council meeting ended with an unexpected bit of political theater.

Councilman Jim Ferris didn't just lose the vote—he lost his temper. After seeing it become clear that the council was rejecting another effort aimed at the library, Ferris stormed out of the meeting and slammed the door behind him. It was a dramatic ending to a campaign that has repeatedly failed to gain support.

The strategy has become familiar. First came claims that the library contained "pornography." That accusation went nowhere because the facts didn't support it. Rather than moving on, Ferris and his allies shifted to a new controversy, raising fears about drag queen story hours and suggesting the library should be punished financially because of positions taken by national library organizations.

The problem is that this argument attempts to solve an issue that doesn't exist in Payson. It's a political formula seen often in recent years: create a controversy, amplify public outrage, and then present yourself as the person who will fix it. When the controversy falls apart, simply move on to the next one.

Fortunately, a majority of the Town Council refused to take the bait. They voted against the proposal, choosing to focus on the actual operation of Payson's library rather than national political talking points.

Ferris frequently presents himself as a man guided by Christian values. Every voter is free to decide whether his conduct at the meeting reflected those values. Storming out of a public meeting after failing to persuade your colleagues does not strike many people as an example of patience, humility, or respectful leadership.

In the end, the loudest statement of the evening wasn't made from the council dais. It was the sound of the council chamber door slamming shut behind a frustrated councilman.

Doug

Trump's Greatest Grift?

Donald Trump may be the greatest political grifter of our time.

Reading the New York Times this morning, columnist Thomas Friedman highlighted just how profitable Trump's cryptocurrency ventures have been—not for the people who bought into them, but for Trump himself.

As Friedman noted:

"Nearly 1 million people who bought President Trump's memecoin have lost money through the end of June... Their losses total $3.81 billion... Trump signed a financial disclosure revealing that the same crypto bet dealt him a $636 million payout. In all, his business ventures brought him at least $2.2 billion in 2025."

Think about that. According to those figures, nearly a million supporters collectively lost billions while Trump personally walked away with hundreds of millions.

That's quite a business model.

Then Doug stopped by the Kadizzle house yesterday.

Doug has been one of those folks who swallowed nearly every conspiracy theory and every Trump talking point, hook, line, and sinker. But yesterday something had changed.

Even Doug finally said, "Enough is enough."

Then came the real surprise.

Doug told Kadizzle he had realized that the Three Stooges running for town council are nothing more than Trump-style followers trying to imitate the same brand of politics right here in our own town.

Kadizzle nearly fell out of his chair.

If the clouds can part for Doug, maybe there's still hope for the rest of America.

If you're aiming for maximum political punch, I can also rewrite it in your sharper "Kadizzle" satirical style, with more humor and bite.

The Tea Party Brain

The Tea Party mindset seems to thrive on absurdities. A recent letter to the Payson Roundup confidently asserted that George Soros is paying protesters in Payson. As usual, this appears to be another flight of right-wing fantasy.

Let's think this through. Where exactly do people get paid? Has anyone ever cashed a George Soros check at a local bank? Is there a secret payroll office hidden behind the donut shop? Are protesters paid in cash, direct deposit, or perhaps prepaid debit cards handed out at rallies?

The questions are endless because the claim itself makes no sense. Yet these stories continue to circulate because they appeal to a certain strain of political paranoia. Every protest must be a conspiracy. Every disagreement must be orchestrated. Every citizen expressing an opinion must secretly be on someone's payroll.

The irony is especially rich because the very name "Tea Party" came from a protest movement. Apparently, protesting was patriotic when they were doing it, but now anyone protesting the current administration must be a paid operative.

One wonders how this supposed Soros payment system works. Is there an application process? Background checks? Performance reviews? Does someone monitor sign-waving technique and slogan creativity before authorizing payment?

Perhaps enterprising Tea Party members should sign up themselves. If the rumors are true, they could collect the money and then donate it directly to a Trump campaign committee. It sounds like a foolproof plan—assuming, of course, that the imaginary checks arrive from the imaginary payroll department that exists only in the fever swamps of political conspiracy theories.

The truth is much simpler. Most protesters show up for the same reason people have always shown up to protests: they care about an issue. Agree with them or disagree with them, but pretending they are all paid actors is not an argument. It's just a convenient way to avoid listening to what they have to say.

 Payson’s Central Park — Or Another RV Park?

Imagine if New York City decided to turn Central Park into an RV park. Most people would think that was a terrible idea. Yet that is essentially what Mayor Steve Otto and his allies are proposing for some of the most valuable publicly owned land in Payson.

The Town of Payson currently owns approximately 21 acres adjacent to the police department. As Payson grows, that land could become one of the community's most important assets. Ramsey Park is already constrained by limited space. In the future, Payson may need room for a recreation center, a swimming pool, expanded public safety facilities, a fire station, or other municipal services. Having multiple public facilities located together can reduce construction and operating costs while creating a true civic center for the community.

Instead, Mayor Otto appears eager to pursue a deal that would convert this strategic public property into an RV park. Why? Payson already owns other land that could potentially be used for that purpose. Once this centrally located property is gone, the opportunity to create a long-term civic campus for future generations will be lost forever.

Mayor Otto recently claimed on KMOG radio that the town paid too much for the property. Yet the developer's own presentation to the Town Council suggested that RV park land in nearby Star Valley is worth approximately $450,000 per acre. Using that figure, Payson's 21-acre parcel would have a value approaching $10 million.

If those numbers are accurate, then the town has not lost money on the purchase—it has gained substantial value. The property may already be worth millions more than the town paid for it.

The real question is simple: Should Payson preserve one of the few large parcels of centrally located public land for future community needs, or should it give up that opportunity for an RV park that could be built elsewhere?

Some opportunities come along only once. This land may be one of them.

Republicans never lose

 Here's a satirical blog post you can use or adapt:

Election Fraud: The Republican Groundhog Day

There was a time when losing an election meant you shook hands, congratulated the winner, and started planning for the next campaign. Those days apparently ended when Republicans discovered a revolutionary new political theory:

Any election Republicans win is proof democracy works. Any election Democrats win is proof democracy has been stolen.

It is a remarkable system. No evidence required. No facts necessary. No consistency expected.

When Republicans win a governor's race, the voting machines are accurate, the ballots are secure, and the Founding Fathers smile down from heaven.

When Democrats win a governor's race, suddenly the voting machines are controlled by Venezuelan communists, dead people are voting, illegal immigrants are voting, Martians are voting, and somewhere a secret warehouse is manufacturing ballots by the truckload.

The routine has become so predictable that it deserves its own television series.

Episode One: Republicans lose.

Episode Two: Republicans declare fraud.

Episode Three: Courts ask for evidence.

Episode Four: Republicans produce a Facebook meme and a guy named Earl who heard something from his cousin.

Season Finale: Every court throws the case out.

Then the entire process repeats itself in the next election.

What makes this performance particularly entertaining is that many of the elections Republicans claim are fraudulent are being conducted by Republican officials.

Imagine a football team losing a game and then claiming the referees, scoreboard operators, stadium management, and league commissioner all conspired against them—only to discover every one of those people worked for their own team.

That is essentially where we are.

The Republican approach to elections has become the political equivalent of a child flipping over a Monopoly board because somebody else landed on Boardwalk.

"Did you win?"

"No."

"Then the game was rigged."

"But you made the rules."

"Exactly. That's how deep the conspiracy goes."

The real danger is not the comedy. The danger is that millions of Americans are being taught that democracy only counts when their side wins.

That is not patriotism.

That is not conservatism.

That is not faith in democracy.

It is simply a refusal to accept reality.

America's election system is run by thousands of local officials from both parties. They make mistakes, because they are human. But after dozens of audits, recounts, investigations, and court cases, the mythical nationwide fraud conspiracy remains exactly where it has always been:

Somewhere between Bigfoot and Elvis Presley.

The irony is delicious.

The same people who spent decades telling children that life is not fair, that sometimes you lose, and that character is measured by how you respond to defeat, are now the first to collapse onto the floor screaming election fraud every time voters reject their candidates.

At some point Republicans may rediscover an old American tradition:

If you lose an election, you don't overthrow confidence in democracy.

You convince more people to vote for you next time.

Until then, America can look forward to the next election cycle, when Republicans will once again assure us that every race they win is perfectly legitimate, while every race they lose is evidence of the largest conspiracy in human history.

Groundhog Day has nothing on this act.

Were busted flat

Here's a sharper version for a National Association audience that keeps the criticism focused on policy and economics rather than personal attacks:

Is Payson Really Broke?

According to Mayor Steve Otto and his allies on the Town Council, Payson is constantly short of money. Residents are told the town cannot afford major improvements. A community swimming pool remains out of reach. Roads continue to deteriorate. Public projects are delayed or abandoned because, we are told, the town simply lacks the resources.

Yet there is an interesting contradiction.

A quick look at Zillow shows more than twenty homes currently listed in Payson for over $2 million. Luxury properties are becoming an increasingly visible part of the community. Wealth is clearly present in Payson, even while town leaders insist the community is struggling financially.

That raises an obvious question: If there is substantial wealth in town, why does local government seem perpetually unable to fund basic community needs?

The issue may not be whether Payson lacks money. The issue may be who is paying taxes, who is receiving tax advantages, and whether the community's tax structure is keeping pace with changing property values.

Across America, working families often hear that there is no money for parks, pools, libraries, road repairs, or public services. At the same time, wealth continues to concentrate at the top. The result is a growing disconnect between what communities need and what local governments claim they can afford.

Payson may be a small town, but it reflects a larger national question: Are public services underfunded because communities are poor, or because the tax burden is not being shared fairly?

Before citizens accept the claim that "Payson is broke," they deserve a transparent discussion about where the money is, who is contributing, and whether everyone is paying their fair share.

That conversation might reveal that the problem is not a lack of wealth. The problem may be how that wealth is distributed and taxed.