Trump and his bullies

Government by Bully

The high-school bully is now president, and he has surrounded himself with the same type of people who once lurked in hallways looking for someone weaker to push around. Not thinkers. Not leaders. Enforcers. Sycophants. Brainless bullies whose only qualification is loyalty to power.

Trump does not read. He does not reflect. But he lies effortlessly—and with no shame at all. When caught in a lie, he doesn’t correct it or explain it. He simply ignores reality and moves on to the next one. Truth, in this administration, is not a constraint; it is an inconvenience.

In the Oval Office, Trump watched video evidence contradicting his own claims—footage showing that one of his armed henchmen shot a woman in the face under circumstances Trump had publicly misrepresented. The facts were undeniable. The evidence was right there. Even reporters from The New York Times witnessed it. Yet rather than acknowledge the truth, Trump simply turned the page and lied again.

This is not incompetence. It is a philosophy.

“Might makes right” is no longer a slogan whispered by authoritarians—it is the operating principle of the federal government. Thugs occupy positions of authority. Intimidation replaces judgment. Loyalty replaces competence. The people empowered to act are not those with restraint or intelligence, but those most willing to carry out cruelty without hesitation.

Nowhere is this clearer than in agencies like ICE, which have become gathering points for the worst kind of small-minded tough guys—the same ones who had no brains in high school but desperately wanted to feel powerful. Given uniforms, weapons, and political cover, they are unleashed to do what bullies have always done: dominate, dehumanize, and harm—while insisting they are just “doing their job.”

This is what happens when a bully rises to the top. He does not govern; he recruits. And he chooses people who think like he does—people who confuse strength with brutality, authority with fear, and leadership with cruelty.

That is not law and order.
That is rule by intimidation.

Rent just went up

Welcome to the Dictatorship. Please Mind the Rug.

We now live in a full-blown dictatorship.
And the most disturbing part isn’t the dictator—it’s the shrug.

Who cares?
Kadizzle has a new pair of shoes. There’s food in the fridge. A warm place to sit and scroll. So let Trump have a ballroom. If he wants Greenland, hell, throw that in too. Democracy is toast, but the Wi-Fi still works, and that seems to be the line most people refuse to cross.

This is how democracies actually die—not with tanks in the streets, but with indifference wrapped in comfort. People don’t wake up one morning and choose authoritarianism. They simply decide that resistance is inconvenient. That outrage is exhausting. That as long as their personal bubble remains intact, the larger collapse can be outsourced to someone else.

We were told—over and over—that the rich would take care of us. That wealth would trickle down. That markets would self-correct. That billionaires were job creators, not hoarders. Now the illusion is complete: the rich don’t just run the economy, they own the country. And the rest of us? We pay rent to exist in it.

Higher rents. Higher healthcare costs. Higher tuition. Higher debt.
Lower wages. Lower expectations. Lower standards for truth, law, and accountability.

What we are watching is not governance—it’s asset stripping. The country is being managed like a leveraged buyout: loot what you can, discard what doesn’t produce profit, and silence anyone who points out the theft. Courts become tools. Laws become suggestions. Loyalty replaces competence. And elections become theater.

Still, many people say, “I’m doing okay.”
That’s the anesthetic. Comfort dulls moral urgency. As long as the suffering happens somewhere else—to migrants, to protesters, to journalists, to the poor—it’s easy to look away. Until, of course, it isn’t.

History is very clear on this point: authoritarianism does not stop once it secures power. It expands. It consumes. It eventually knocks on doors that once felt safely removed from the chaos. By then, outrage is labeled extremism, and dissent is treated as betrayal.

Democracy didn’t fail because people hated it.
It failed because too many people decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

So enjoy the new shoes. Enjoy the warmth. Enjoy the distractions.
Just understand the trade you’re making.

You’re not a citizen anymore—you’re a tenant.
And the rent is rising.

The rich are winning

 The supreme court has ruled 70% in favor of the rich. You need know anything more. Trump is the pig shoveling food to the other pigs, and MAGA plays the role of the dupe club. MAGA dolts supporting the king is insane. 

Our Hitler

Trump has pulled a Hitler. If you want some oil, just take it. Justification doesn't matter. Trump has set us back to World War II dynamics. What next? 

2026 Feed the Rich, Starve the poor, Trump style

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2026: What Will Trump Break Next?

As we look toward 2026, a question presses itself forward with uncomfortable urgency: what will Donald Trump destroy next? It is no longer hyperbole to ask whether he could mishandle even the simplest responsibility. The evidence of his conduct—financial, political, and moral—has become overwhelming.

The steady drip of revelations about Trump’s enrichment schemes, foreign money, influence peddling, and shameless self-dealing would have ended the career of any public figure in a functioning democracy. The scale of the corruption is staggering. And yet, his followers avert their eyes, excuse the behavior, or insist it is all fabricated. Moral exhaustion has become a political strategy.

This isn’t merely about character. It is about consequences.

Trump’s looming “revenge presidency” threatens to detonate the fragile economic stability of the coming years. By 2026, the bill for reckless tax cuts favoring the ultra-wealthy, ballooning deficits, trade wars, and attacks on regulatory institutions will come due. Slashing revenues while exploding spending is not economic populism—it is sabotage. Markets respond poorly to chaos, and Trump thrives on chaos. Investor confidence, international trust in U.S. institutions, and the value of the dollar itself are all at risk under a leader who governs by grievance rather than competence.

Public goods are already collateral damage. Funding for public lands, conservation, and volunteer-driven stewardship has been steadily eroded. Programs that once relied on skilled, experienced volunteers—trail crews, forest restoration teams, and local conservation partnerships—are quietly disappearing. People age out, burn out, or simply give up when the federal government signals that public lands are expendable. What took generations to build can be undone in a single administration that views anything not monetized as worthless.

The human cost is easy to miss unless you’ve lived it. Recently, old friends from trail crew days spent the night with us. We shared stories, memories, and watched a beautiful fireworks display from our home—perfectly positioned to take it all in. It was a reminder of what community once looked like. Yet every one of those volunteers has reached the same conclusion: the era of meaningful support for public service has ended. That loss is not accidental. It is policy.

Trump’s vision of governance serves only the wealthy, the connected, and the vindictive. It strips value from institutions that bind us together—public lands, public trust, and public truth—while concentrating power and wealth upward. By 2026, the economic damage will not be theoretical. It will be felt in weakened infrastructure, higher household costs, reduced global standing, and the quiet disappearance of civic life.

A nation cannot be run as a grift. A democracy cannot survive on loyalty tests and denial. And an economy cannot thrive when its leader treats corruption as a business model.

History will not be kind—but by then, the damage may already be done.

You Unload

There is an old gospel truth that keeps resurfacing in American music and faith traditions: before you can claim righteousness, you must first unload your burdens—your greed, your cruelty, your lies, and your indifference to the suffering of others. Grace is not something you wear like a campaign button; it is something that demands accountability.

That is why the behavior of so many self-identified Christian Republicans is so troubling.

They speak endlessly of Jesus, yet oppose feeding the hungry.
They praise the Prince of Peace, yet glorify violence and vengeance.
They demand moral purity from others, while excusing corruption, cruelty, sexual abuse, and outright dishonesty from political leaders who serve their interests.

Christian faith, at its core, is not about power, wealth, or dominance. It is about humility, repentance, and compassion. You cannot hoard privilege, demonize the poor, scapegoat immigrants, mock the sick, and then claim the moral high ground simply because you say the word “Christian.”

The message echoed through generations of gospel music is clear: redemption is not free of responsibility. You don’t get to keep your sins, your hatred, and your hypocrisy and still pass yourself off as saved. You must unload.

Until Christian Republicans are willing to unload their fear, their obsession with power, and their tolerance for cruelty, their public faith rings hollow. What they are practicing is not Christianity—it is politics wrapped in scripture.

Faith without integrity is just noise.

— Kadizzle

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Are we nearing the end of the Trump dictatorship

Many Americans now share a quiet, persistent hope: that the era of authoritarian behavior masquerading as leadership is finally nearing its end. The accumulation of documented corruption, ethical violations, and credible allegations of abuse has grown so large that even the most devoted partisan defenses are beginning to crack.

Institutions meant to safeguard democracy have been weakened. The Supreme Court’s legitimacy has been called into question. The rule of law has been distorted into a tool for loyalty rather than justice. Meanwhile, the normalization of intimidation, dehumanization, and the open association with criminal behavior has left the nation exhausted and fractured.

This is no longer a debate about policy differences or ideological disagreements. It is a question of whether a society can survive when truth is dismissed, cruelty is rewarded, and accountability is treated as persecution. History shows that democratic backsliding does not require mass support—only sustained silence.

Some within the former president’s own ranks have begun to step away. Their departures matter, but they are not yet enough. The real question is how many will be required to interrupt the cycle of corruption and destruction before lasting damage is done.

If this trajectory continues unchecked, the cost will not be borne by one party or one generation. It will be paid by institutions stripped of trust, by citizens taught to fear one another, and by a nation that forgot the difference between power and principle.

Human progress depends on courage—the courage to speak plainly, to reject lies even when they are convenient, and to defend democratic values before they are reduced to historical footnotes.