The Greedy Bastards are going to kill us

Never Enough: The Billionaires and the AI Boom

There’s one rule the billionaires live by — never enough. No matter how much they have, they need more. More power, more profit, more control.

Now the new buzzword is Artificial Intelligence. The tech giants and their billionaire disciples are calling it “the next revolution.” So what?

Building the computer systems that fuel AI will double the nation’s electricity demand. So what, you ask? Think of the pollution. Think of the new power plants, the extra carbon, the higher bills. The same folks who can’t afford a new car or a decent home will be footing the electric tab for the billionaires’ next toy.

AI isn’t just about smarter machines — it’s about who owns the future. Every new “innovation” that promises efficiency also threatens to replace workers, hollow out livelihoods, and push the middle class further toward extinction. Progress, yes — but always at a price.

The real danger isn’t just economic. It’s political. Once AI lands in the hands of a dictator like Trump — watch out. The same algorithms that write poetry can also write your profile, track your movements, and silence your voice. AI gives tyranny eyes, ears, and memory.

Already, Iran uses facial recognition to identify and punish dissenters. It’s coming here soon — under the polished label of “law and order.” Don’t be fooled. The tools that can liberate humanity can also enslave it.

So before we worship at the altar of artificial intelligence, maybe we should ask — who’s really in control? The people, or the billionaires who never have enough?

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Acknowledging the Dictatorship

A Different Tone at Donuts with Democrats

The gathering at Donuts with Democrats this week carried a noticeably different tone — one that felt more urgent, more aware, and more united. Attendance was strong, and for the first time in a while, the conversation wasn’t just about political differences or upcoming elections. It was about survival — the survival of democracy itself.

Many who spoke acknowledged the uncomfortable truth: we are living under the shadow of a growing dictatorship. What once seemed like hyperbole is now playing out in real time. People compared Trump’s methods to the Nazi playbook — the vilification of the press, the demonization of political opponents, the rewriting of history, and the normalization of violence as a political tool. These are not distant echoes of the past; they are tactics being deployed before our eyes.

What’s changing is the public mood. There was a deep sense of awakening in the room — a recognition that silence is no longer an option. One speaker put it plainly: “If we don’t stand up now, we may not have another chance.” Others spoke of the creeping chill settling over civil dissent — how voices of opposition are being threatened, journalists attacked, judges intimidated, and institutions bent to one man’s will.

Yet, even amid the concern, there was a spark of determination. The gathering wasn’t about despair — it was about resolve. The sense that ordinary citizens, gathering in a small-town coffee shop on a Saturday morning, could still be the front line of democracy. People left with a clearer purpose: to speak, to organize, and to resist the slow normalization of authoritarianism in America.

It’s not too late — but it’s later than we think.

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Just plain evil

The Age of Normalized Evil

By the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity

Trump has ushered in a new era of moral collapse — an age where decency is mocked, truth is optional, and cruelty has become a political strategy. We’ve all seen it at the national level: the sneer, the lie, the smirk that says, “I can get away with anything.” But what’s truly frightening is how this poison has seeped into every small town in America — even here in Payson.

Our own “Three Stooges” on the town council — Steve Otto, Jim Ferris, and Charlie Bell — have become local disciples of the Trump gospel: deny, divide, and destroy. Their latest stunt? Trying to kill a swimming pool project that could bring joy, safety, and opportunity to our young people — all so they can posture as heroes before their MAGA fan club.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t just politics. It’s the worship of ego over empathy, of arrogance over service. These men are so drunk on their own self-importance that they would rather rob a generation of children of a pool than admit that progress sometimes requires courage.

Across America, Trump has shown people how to replace conscience with conspiracy, how to trade compassion for contempt. He built a movement on resentment, and in small towns like ours, that resentment finds easy targets — the librarian, the teacher, the coach, the kid who just wants a safe place to swim.

Evil doesn’t arrive wearing horns. It arrives in nice shirts, smiling for the cameras, saying it’s just “fiscal responsibility.” But behind that smile is a sneer — a sneer that says the future doesn’t matter, that truth doesn’t matter, that children don’t matter.

The National Association for the Advancement of Humanity believes that progress is morality. When a community builds something that serves its people — especially its young — it’s not just a project; it’s a declaration of who we are.

Payson must choose whether it will follow the politics of spite or the path of decency. The Malibu pool isn’t just a swimming pool. It’s a test — a test of whether our community still believes in building something good together.

Let’s prove that humanity still matters.

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

Payson's Three Stooges

Perfect — here’s a blog-ready version with a strong headline, a short social-media intro, and the full post polished for rhythm and punch:

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🧠 The Three Stooges and the Great Payson Experiment

When small-town politics meets the Trump playbook — what could possibly go wrong?

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The Three Stooges and the Great Payson Experiment

Somewhere between a MAGA rally and a bad rerun of The Three Stooges, three local Tea Party heroes — Steve Otto, Charlie Bell, and Jim Ferris — hatched a plan. They watched Donald Trump lie, cheat, and gaslight his way to power and thought, “Why can’t we do that right here in Payson?”

Their target wasn’t Washington. It was our quiet little town — the perfect testing ground for political theater, where primaries draw fewer voters than a church bake sale. The Stooges realized that if you can get ten angry people in a community-center meeting to chant “deep state,” you can run the place.

And so, they did what all great con men do: they invented enemies. The “deep state” became the library. Fiscal prudence became starving the schools. Building a new pool for kids? Clearly Marxism with lifeguards.

To the MAGA faithful, it all sounded heroic — a crusade to “save” Payson from, well… reading, learning, and swimming. It worked. The gullible cheered, the reasonable stayed home, and the Stooges took their seats.

Then the wrecking began. The library? Targeted. Schools? Starved. The pool? “Unnecessary.” Their newest trick? Handing over all council power to the city manager — the one they chose. That’s right: democracy outsourced to a yes-man.

The professionals who once kept Town Hall running have packed up and left. What remains is a government run like a back-alley poker game — only without the cards or the brains.

So good luck, Payson. The great MAGA experiment rolls on. It’s the same Trump show — just with cheaper microphones and fewer indictments.

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The Nasty Bitch

Pam Bondi: The Cult’s Favorite Fox

Pam Bondi is precisely the kind of woman Trump would adore — loud, loyal, and allergic to truth. Watching her dodge straightforward Senate questions was like watching a feral fox chew through a fence — all hiss, no substance.

Trump handpicked Bondi for one purpose: revenge. He needed someone mean enough to swing the axe but dim enough to believe it was a patriotic duty. Bondi was the perfect lickspittle for the job — tail wagging, claws out, ready to shred decency for her master’s applause.

This is the Trump formula: surround yourself with people who lie easily, smile wickedly, and see the law as a speed bump on the road to power. Bondi fits the mold like a glove dipped in venom.

For the MAGA cult, that’s not a flaw — it’s the feature. They cheer when decency is mocked. They love the swagger, the smirk, the “own the libs” sneer. The cruelty is the point. It gives the broken dogs of the movement a bone to gnaw on — someone else to blame for their busted dreams and unpaid bills.

Bondi and her ilk thrive on grievance. They know that anger is the last refuge of those who’ve lost everything else. So they feed it. They sell hate like snake oil and call it freedom.

The rest of us can only watch in disbelief as decency is replaced by deceit, and justice is traded for vengeance — all wrapped in the flag and blessed with a fake prayer.

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Life behind the Chain Link fence sponsored by the Republican Party

The Chain-Link Fence Nation

When we moved to Payson about five years ago, it felt like a clean start — a new home in a new neighborhood, the kind of place where everything still smelled like lumber and fresh paint. At first, we stayed in our little bubble, going to the same stores and driving the same roads. But as time passed, we began to wander — and what we saw painted a different picture of this town and, really, of America itself.

The symbol of that quiet struggle is the chain-link fence. It seems to whisper, “I don’t have much, but you’re not getting it.” Drive a few miles in any direction and you see them — small fortresses guarding tired trailers, rusting cars, and hope that’s gone a little thin.

Years ago, I asked a young woman from New Zealand what she thought of America. Her answer stuck with me: “People here don’t have much house pride.” She was right. Too many yards are filled with junked cars, plastic debris, and half-collapsed dreams. The Walmart parking lot tells another story — shiny new cars, people with jobs, people who clearly have some money. So how do those same people end up living behind sagging fences?

Maybe the answer lies in the choices made along the way. The casino instead of the savings account. Tattoos instead of a retirement plan. The mindset that tomorrow would somehow fix today. Then one day, the mirror says you’re sixty, the bank says you’re broke, and Social Security says “that’s it.”

And right on cue, along comes Trump — the master of misplaced blame — offering absolution. It’s not your fault, he says. You’ve been cheated. And so the people who spent a lifetime being sold bad deals buy one last one: the idea that the man who built the casino is somehow their savior.

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