1 in 10 Americans is an idiot

Trump’s Harvest of the Simple-Minded

So, with the help of Artificial Intelligence this morning, I asked: what percent of Americans will believe literally anything Trump says? The answer: about one in ten. Which means America is basically running a Costco-size sampler pack of idiots. And—surprise!—most of them vote.

Now, science can’t give us a precise number for “stupid,” but let’s just say it’s not in short supply. Sprinkle in the fun fact that the United States is ranked 28th in education, and suddenly it all makes sense: Trump isn’t campaigning, he’s harvesting low-hanging fruit.

Think about it—if you’ve got millions of people whose critical thinking skills tap out somewhere between “Where’s the TV remote?” and “Did I leave the fridge open?” … you don’t need a platform. You just need a slogan and a red hat.

America doesn’t have a shortage of voters. We have a surplus of gullible ones—and Trump knows exactly how to cash in.

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

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

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Tea Party is rotten to the core

The Great Tea Party Eviction

So, apparently, I’ve been officially expelled from the Tea Party. Which is impressive, considering I was never actually a member. It’s like getting kicked out of the Vatican when you’ve never even been Catholic.

Here’s how it went down: Shirley Dye — local Tea Party royalty — calls me up and says, “I’ve got a letter for you.” Already shady. But fine, I meet her at the grocery store. She hands me this masterpiece of fiction. According to Shirley & Friends™, I’m persona non grata in their club.

Naturally, they couldn’t keep the fun to themselves. They read the letter out loud at their meeting like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls of MAGA righteousness. And then, for extra spice, they broadcast it on their favorite noise machine: KMOG, our very own MAGA Radio.

Now here’s the kicker: when Shirley gave me the letter, I said, “Great! Let me come to your meeting, stand on stage, and answer questions about all this nonsense.” You’d think they’d jump at the chance to grill me, right? Wrong. That door slammed shut faster than Trump dodging a subpoena.

Because let’s be honest — the Tea Party isn’t allergic to lies. Lies are their multivitamin. Truth, on the other hand? That’s like sunlight to a vampire. They’re not letting it anywhere near their clubhouse.

The Vengeance President our savior Lord Trump and the finger dogs

 

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Trump has reportedly told Attorney General Pam Bondi to go after anyone who dares speak ill of him. Like a loyal lickspittle, she probably will. Meanwhile, Americans sit warm, well-fed, and glued to their TVs—so who cares?

Yesterday, along Highway 87, Democrats held their signs and raised their voices in protest. In return, Trump’s disciples offered the sacred MAGA salute: the middle finger. His Majesty, Lord Trump—perhaps more fittingly, His MAGAsty—rules over a kingdom of grievance. His followers crave revenge, not reason. They don’t see how they were gutted by the very system he embodies. Instead, they revel in flipping off anyone they blame for their misery.

Trump himself has become the ultimate middle finger—a living, orange-hued insult to decency and democracy. His MAGA army, lost in the wilderness of the internet, are spoon-fed stupidity by right-wing dolts and call it truth. They cheer as he burns down the house, never realizing they’re inside it.

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length?

Hitler, and Stalin will be coming to your neighborhood soon

AI: The New Engine of Control

Everybody’s singing the AI song like it’s harmless new pop. I don’t hear a tune — I hear an alarm. AI isn’t just another gadget. Left unchecked it becomes the perfect tool for control: faster, cheaper, and far more invasive than any propaganda machine of the past. Autocrats already use it to monitor, repress, and silence dissent; that’s not a dystopian prediction, it’s happening now. (Journal of Democracy)

Imagine a ruler who can know everything you wrote, where you went, who you met, and what you said — a ruler who can flag you as “bad” with an algorithm and make that judgment stick. If you think dictators like Hitler or Stalin would’ve loved this technology, you’re not wrong: history shows authoritarian regimes eagerly reach for better tools of surveillance and social control. AI hands them a power multiplier. (Journal of Democracy)

This isn’t hypothetical geography-class history. Look at today’s examples: China runs hundreds of millions of cameras and increasingly ties them to facial-recognition and profiling systems — roughly a camera for every two people, by some estimates. (Wikipedia) Iran and other repressive states are already using digital tools — apps, cameras, and even AI-assisted monitoring — to enforce dress codes and control women’s lives. (The Guardian) Russia’s digital apparatus likewise tightens control and tracks citizens in ways that chill speech and protest. (Los Angeles Times)

We’re not just talking about cameras. Combine corporate data, phone tracking, facial recognition, predictive algorithms, and censorship tools — and you get an automated system that can flag, isolate, and punish people at scale. The war on free speech has started; AI will make it routine, invisible, and harder to fight. (Journal of Democracy)

And if you’re wondering what a “King Trump” with access to these tools might do — look at how surveillance and suppression already operate elsewhere. This technology won’t create tyranny by itself, but it will make repression faster, cheaper, and more efficient for whoever controls it. Tracking your car, reading your posts, mapping your contacts — these are no longer sci-fi scenarios. They’re the next frontier of control. (Wikipedia)

If we care about freedom, we should stop treating AI as neutral tech and start treating it like the political force it already is: a tool that can champion liberty or crush it, depending on who holds the levers. The choice is political — and we’re running out of time to make it.

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He Lives in a Small World

Living in Small Worlds

Long ago and far away, Kadizzle used to ride around a surface coal mine in North Dakota with the general superintendent. One day, as they were discussing a problem employee, Duane leaned back and said, “He lives in a small world.”

That phrase stuck with Kadizzle. It was perfect—short, sharp, and true. Everyone lives in some version of a small world. Kadizzle’s happens to be Payson, Arizona.

Yesterday, driving through Phoenix’s sprawl, it hit him: trying to change the big world from inside a small world might be hopeless. But people keep trying anyway. The question gnaws at the edges of everything: how do people really change people?

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Donuts and Democracy

This morning it’s Donuts with Democrats day. The routine is familiar. First comes the highway protest—homemade signs on Highway 87, waved at the endless weekend traffic streaming through Payson. Cars and trucks rush past, drivers glancing up for a split second before re-immersing themselves in talk radio, gas station coffee, and weekend plans.

Does it accomplish anything? Maybe. Maybe not. But for that one moment, when a weekender sees a sign that says “Democracy is on the ballot” or “Stop the Lies,” perhaps a small flame flickers. Change rarely starts with fireworks—it starts with sparks.

Later, the gang gathers at Democratic Headquarters. A small world inside a small town, sitting around a table with coffee and donuts, talking about how to change the course of the nation. It’s absurd in one sense—like a handful of ants plotting to move a mountain. Yet in another sense, it’s the only way change ever begins: small worlds colliding, overlapping, growing into something bigger.

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The Kingdom of Trump

The world today has three kingdoms: Payson, Arizona, and Trump’s America. One is intimate and personal, one is sprawling and local, and one looms like a dark empire over everything. The Payson Democrats live in all three at once.

Trying to change Trump’s kingdom from a folding chair in a small-town headquarters feels like bailing water from a sinking ship with a coffee mug. Still, what’s the alternative? To stop? To quit? To let the tide swallow us whole?

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Change as Maintenance

Changing the world isn’t a grand once-and-done achievement. It’s not a statue raised or a mountain moved. It’s maintenance. It’s repetition. It’s like changing a diaper: a nasty, necessary job you know you’ll be back doing again soon.

And maybe that’s the real truth. Democracy, justice, progress—they aren’t permanent states. They’re diapers. They get soiled again and again, and someone has to keep doing the dirty work.

So Kadizzle, along with the other stubborn souls in Payson, will keep showing up. Holding signs. Eating donuts. Talking politics. Living in a small world, but refusing to let the small world shrink to silence.

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The suppression of free speech under the Trump dictatorship

 If you missed John Stewart on his Daily show last night you missed a good one. He cut Trump a new bunghole. The humor and satire were terrific. We are here, the dictatorship took another bite of our freedom. It can only get worse. If you voted for Trump your and idiot. If you would do it again you are a certified idiot. The United States is in big trouble. Trump has forced our enemies to unite. China, Russia, India, and North Korea are now holding hands. If you did notice you must be sleeping under a rock. 

In Payson we have the Donuts with Democrats doing everything we can to restore freedom. Start your own group. Boycott the rats, Disney is a rat supporting Trump by caving in. Burn your childrens Disney toys. 

The days of pretending it will go away, or things are fine, is over. Do something. Talk to people. If you love your children or grandchildren think about what has been stolen from them. 

Payson't Three Stooges want to be obstructionist to satisfy the Tea Party, Our children will suffer

Letter to the Editor

I moved to Payson five years ago from a small town in North Dakota with just 2,250 residents. Ten miles away was another town of 3,000. Both communities had modern swimming pools. Ours included a water slide and a children’s pool, while the other boasted a lazy river feature. If towns that small could build and maintain such amenities, why can’t Payson, a town of 16,000, do the same?

The effort to nickel-and-dime this project only guarantees more delays. Payson residents have been waiting far too long for a community pool, and turning this into a political fight is a disservice to the people. If voters approve the project, construction could begin as early as March. If the obstructionists succeed, our children and grandchildren will be waiting yet another year.

We enjoy schools, parks, and facilities today because earlier generations had the courage to invest in the future. It is now our responsibility to do the same. A pool is more than recreation—it’s a place where families gather, children learn to swim, and a community builds pride in itself.

I urge my fellow residents: let’s stop the delay, reject the obstruction, and finally give Payson the pool it deserves.

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A happy conclusion

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Old Kadizzle was puffing his way up the little hill by the golf course on his bike when a woman waved him down, motioning for him to come over. At first, he couldn’t believe his eyes — it was the woman who used to live under a tree down by the creek.

Only this time, she was hardly recognizable. Gone was the frail, weary forest dweller. Before him stood someone vibrant, healthy, and full of life. A year or two back, Kadizzle had tried to help her in small ways — bringing her water, offering her chances to earn a little money. In that moment by the road, she reminded him of that, saying he had been the only one who helped her without expecting anything in return, without attaching sexual strings.

For a long time, Kadizzle had feared the worst. He thought perhaps she had died, or worse yet, been harmed and left hidden in the brush. Oddly enough, she had been told he was dead. Yet here they both were, very much alive, crossing paths once again.

And this time, the story had a happy turn. She told him she now had steady work, a place to live she could afford, and had reconnected with her family. The woman once lost to the woods had found her footing again.

What a pleasant surprise for the day — proof that even the most unexpected lives can turn a corner toward hope.

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Let them Rot

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Let Them Rot

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

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

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

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

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

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Who are we

Mission Statement

The National Association for the Advancement of Humanity (NAAH) exists to promote the well-being of people and communities by encouraging education, civic engagement, mutual respect, and the responsible use of knowledge. Our goal is to advance humanity through actions that build understanding, foster cooperation, and challenge the forces that diminish compassion and reason.

Welcome to the association, and what it is about

I’ve decided it’s time to give this blog some energy and purpose. To do that, I’d like to invite people to join this effort. There are no dues, no strings attached—just a commitment to caring about others. At the start, it may only be a handful of us, but every change begins with a small group willing to speak up and share ideas.

Lately, I’ve realized that much of traditional social media has become toxic. My own experience of getting pulled into MAGA arguments felt like a trap, one that was tough to climb out of. At some point, I may share that story in full. For now, though, I want to focus on what this blog can be.

This is not meant to be a narrow project. The issues we face—whether hunger, housing, democracy, or human dignity—aren’t confined by region, religion, or ideology. The goal is simple: to make life better for people. That can happen in countless ways—through voting, speaking out at public meetings, marching in the streets, supporting food programs, fighting for housing justice, or just sharing ideas that might spark action.

This space is meant to be a forum where we can ask hard questions, offer solutions, and inspire each other. I believe humanity thrives when we share, cooperate, and care. Some may call that socialism; I call it common sense.

Most importantly, I want your input. Comment, contribute, or even submit a post of your own. Hopefully this will be a place where censorship won’t be necessary—just open conversation and a focus on making life better for all.

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