A Once great country

This used to be a country built on hope.
For decades the United States stood near the top on nearly every social measure—health, education, opportunity, decency. That feels like ancient history now. Today, many Americans find themselves embarrassed by what we’ve become. Under Trump, the national ride has plunged straight into the gutter.

We no longer lift up the tired, the poor, or the hungry. Instead, we applaud as Trump builds a gilded castle for himself and fortifies the estates of the already wealthy. Health care? That’s now a privilege for those who can afford survival. Education has been twisted into a factory for indoctrination. Christianity—once a moral compass—has been repurposed into a shrine for Trump and the almighty dollar.

We’re watching a man turn lying and theft into competitive sports, a kind of moral Olympics where the record book is written in corruption. And the truly frightening part? Millions cheer him on.

The sickness isn’t just national—it’s seeped into the local bloodstream. Small-town politics now mimic the same authoritarian swagger. Fueled by right-wing disinformation, the Tea Party faithful elevate local leaders who copy Trump’s tactics with enthusiasm. The result is a disastrous trio of mini-dictators convinced that democracy is optional, truth is negotiable, and power is the only scripture worth reading.

What have we become—and more importantly, how far are we willing to fall?

None are so blind as those who will not see

Every day, Donald Trump shovels out fresh proof that he is exactly what he’s always been—a liar, a thief, a dictator-in-waiting, and a world-class con man. And every day, the country reacts with the same stunned silence you’d expect if he’d simply announced the weather. The MAGA crowd nods along as if this is all perfectly normal—just another day in the land of alternative facts and perpetual grievance.

Sure, America has survived crooks and political lowlifes before. But at least the old-school scoundrels had the decency to pretend they weren’t crooks. They worked in the shadows. They whispered. They denied everything. They felt shame—or at least understood they should.

Not Trump.

Trump celebrates his corruption the way a high-school bully celebrates stealing someone’s lunch money—loudly, proudly, and in front of the whole cafeteria. And somehow, unbelievably, this particular bully was elected class president. Twice.

How did we get here?
Trump didn’t erode decency; he power-washed it off the nation with a blast of scandals so constant no one could sandbag the flood fast enough. Outrage fatigue became a political strategy, and it worked.

And now the latest trick: a plan to seize control of elections by “nationalizing” them—code for “rigging the system so he never loses again.” He’s already used the Constitution for toilet paper, kindling, and a Kleenex when he needs to blow his nose.

So the real question isn’t what Trump is doing.

It’s: Who still cares—and why aren’t the rest screaming?

---

If you’d like, I can make a darker version, a more humorous version, or one styled specifically for your National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog voice.

Rodents of Unusual Stupidity

R.O.U.S. — Rodents of Unusual Stupidity

If you remember The Princess Bride, you’ll recall the R.O.U.S.—Rodents of Unusual Size—creatures so absurd you laughed, right up until they tried to eat the hero.

Now imagine one of those rodents as president.
Then imagine another one—Stephen Miller—scurrying behind him, helping gnaw through the walls of democracy.
And if that isn’t enough R.O.U.S. infestation, just look to Payson where we have our own Three Stooges version: Otto, Bell, and Ferris—Rodents of Unusual Stupidity.

What has this country come to when our so-called “leaders” wake up every morning with the same three goals:
destroy the country, steal the cheese, and dismantle freedom as quickly as their tiny paws allow?

Here in Payson, the rodents have built quite the nest.
A full colony gathers at the Tea Party—sniffing out conspiracy crumbs, squeaking lies to each other, and mistaking paranoia for patriotism. Their head rodent? A sexual abuser, con man, and professional liar. Truly the full rodent résumé.

And what do rodents do when left unchecked?
They chew through the East Wing of the White House.
They scamper toward the Kennedy Center with matches.
And here at home, our local rodents have shredded any hope of a new swimming pool or a town that moves forward instead of backwards into the basement.

Like all invasive species, there’s only one solution:
Trap them, relocate them, and disinfect the nest before the whole house collapses.

My Older Brother Tom passed away yesterday

Here’s a polished, more vivid version for your Kadizzle blog—kept personal, warm, and written in your trademark storyteller voice.

---

Remembering Tom

Tom was the second oldest in a family of nine. Kadizzle came in at number seven, which put a good stretch of years between us. I used to joke that Tom was the only one out of nine who never finished college—but he was also the one who built a thriving business from nothing. Mountaineer Excavating rose out of Tom’s stubborn determination and long days servicing the coal mines in the Ohio Valley. Today his son Kevin, armed with an engineering degree, runs the company, shifting its focus to the region’s natural-gas boom. The legacy Tom started keeps rolling on.

Tom’s generosity was legendary. He didn’t just help the community—he helped all of us siblings in ways too many to count. When I was a broke college kid, Tom simply handed me a car. That was just Tom.

I remember the early days when he was driving his own rig, hauling steel and frozen goods across steep mountain terrain. I went along on several trips. One run I’ll never forget—though I somehow managed to sleep through the exciting part.

Tom’s truck lost its brakes barreling down a mountain grade. I was in the sleeper, dead to the world. By the time I woke up, we were gliding into a small town at the bottom. Half asleep, I said, “Tom… that’s a red light, and you’re going right through it.”

Tom, calm as a man ordering a cheeseburger, just said, “I know. I don’t have any brakes.”

That was Tom. Unshakeable. Capable. Quietly steering disaster into something manageable.

The stories about him are endless. I could write pages and still barely scratch the surface. Tom was unique—he played the hand he was dealt and played it well. And it worked.

---

KMOG the Holy Church of Hypocrisy.

The Holy Church of Hypocrisy (Services Held Daily on KMOG)

Welcome, fellow citizens, to another glorious day in the Tea Party Theocracy, where scripture is shouted, facts are optional, and outrage is the official love language. Let’s check in on our local saints—the three stooges of moral purity, who manage to combine religion, nationalism, and complete detachment from reality into one seamless performance.

Morning Devotional: Pray First, Lie Later

As always, the show begins with a solemn prayer, because nothing sets the stage for full-scale Trump-brand insanity like invoking the Almighty. Then comes the patriotic ritual:
Wave the flag, hug the flag, maybe even kiss it—because why follow its principles when you can just use it as a prop?

Right on cue, our spiritual guide, the ever-holy Kenny Murphy, fires up the microphone at KMOG, ready to turn national delusion into local entertainment. Kenny has mastered the delicate art of prayer-to-propaganda transition, a maneuver more complex than anything NASA ever attempted.

The Tea Party: Where Reality Goes on Vacation

Once the ceremonial prayer is complete, it’s time for the real gospel:
Conspiracy theories, Fox-News-approved fiction, and that special blend of moral superiority that can only come from people who haven’t checked a fact since 1997.

These folks care deeply about the future—
just not yours, your kids’, or anyone else’s.
But don’t worry: they do care about impressing each other and keeping Trump’s portrait polished.

Truth?
Oh, don’t be silly.
Truth is for amateurs.

They twist it, stretch it, and fold it like cheap tinfoil. And when it breaks, they sweep it under the rug and replace it with something more useful—usually a lie big enough to require its own ZIP code.

Local Heroes of the Great Unraveling

Our local Tea Party faithful never miss an opportunity to grovel at the boots of their chosen idols:
Eli Crane and Wendy Rogers. When these two speak, reality quietly leaves the room so nonsense can flow freely.

If there’s a conspiracy theory to push, they’re on it.
If there’s an honest conversation to avoid, they’re already gone.
If there’s a wedge to drive deeper into the country, they’re first in line with a hammer.

Why deal with facts when fantasy is so much more entertaining?

The Real Miracle: They Believe Themselves

And that, friends, is the true spiritual achievement—
not that they lie, but that they do it with such confidence.
It’s like watching magicians who honestly think they can saw the truth in half and have it walk away smiling.

Welcome to the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity, where we observe, document, and marvel at the spectacular collapse of critical thinking—
one KMOG broadcast at a time.

---

How did we get here

How did we get here?
A big part of the answer is Fox News. For years, Hoopleheads across the country have been starving for a narrative that confirms their fears and fantasies, and Fox has happily served up the falsehoods—steaming hot and ready to swallow.

And what about Payson, Arizona? The same Hoopleheads wanted a local version of the Fox illusion. That’s where KMOG and Kenny Murphy stepped in. With zero evidence, Kenny claims George Soros pays protestors—a lie so flimsy any thinking person can see through it. Not one ounce of truth, but to the Hoople crowd it’s pure nectar.

Fox invites sycophants to reinforce the propaganda. Kenny follows the script perfectly. He brings on Wendy, Steve Otto, and the rest of the local stooge-brigade to amplify the Tea Party storyline and pump it into Payson’s airwaves. The Hooples are drunk on right-wing lies, and KMOG is their open bar.

So ask again: How did we get here?
Because lies—told loudly, repeated endlessly, and consumed eagerly—became the local gospel.

---

What Can You Do About It?

You don’t have to sit quietly while KMOG turns misinformation into the soundtrack of Payson.

Decent people can push back.

Here’s how:

1. Call into Kenny Murphy’s “Forum” and challenge the distortions directly.
You don’t have to shout. You just have to be clear. Ask for evidence. Ask for sources. When Kenny or one of his Tea Party guests floats a fantasy, calmly ask:
“What proof do you have?”
That simple question alone can shake the whole circus tent.

2. Don’t accept the hang-up routine as defeat.
Kenny is known to cut callers off when they present inconvenient truth. That’s fine. Call back another day. Persistence matters.

3. Speak for the silent majority.
Many reasonable people in Payson are disgusted by the misinformation but feel isolated. When you call in, you remind others that they’re not alone. You give courage to people who want to speak but don’t want to be the first voice.

4. Keep the focus on facts and accountability.
No insults necessary. Just keep asking for evidence. Lies wither under scrutiny; truth doesn’t.

5. Encourage neighbors, friends, and family to challenge the falsehoods too.
A misinformed town becomes an authoritarian town. A vocal, fact-driven public becomes a healthy community.

---

KMOG depends on silence. Democracy depends on speaking up.

Call in. Push back. Tell the truth where the lies are being sold.

KMOG Rodent, Kenny Murphy

---

National Association Commentary: KMOG—The Church of Hypocrisy on the Airwaves

In a town that wraps itself in patriotism and Christianity, KMOG radio should be the last thing standing. Yet here it is—the loudspeaker for a brand of hypocrisy that would make any Sunday-school teacher faint. Kenny Murphy, the station’s resident moral gymnast, opens his show with a prayer and then spends the next hour breaking every principle he just invoked. It’s a familiar routine in Payson: Steve Otto, Jim Ferris, Charlie Bell—the Tea Party’s holy trinity—do the same every week at Town Hall. Pray first, betray the prayer second.

On KMOG, lies and distortions wash over the airwaves like a monsoon. Kenny welcomes any caller eager to defend Trump’s abuses, but the second a truth bomb appears—click—the line goes dead. That’s the editorial policy: propaganda in, truth out.

Yesterday was a masterpiece in disinformation. While federal agents acting under Trump’s authority killed protesters in Minneapolis, Kenny strained every muscle to blame anyone except the people who pulled the triggers. It was nauseating. KMOG is Fox News on steroids—where amateur liars become instant experts, and the truth is treated like contraband.

When Wendy Rogers or Eli Crane unleash one of their trademark whoppers, does Kenny challenge them? Of course not. KMOG has become the clubhouse for anyone in Payson willing to uphold the fantasy, spin the story, or sanctify the deception. If you’ve got a lie to tell, they’ve got a microphone.

I’ve contacted the advertisers who bankroll this little local Nazi-style propaganda outlet. You should too. Silence is how these operations survive. Accountability is how they end.

---