Trump's mental illness is embarassing

Trump’s March Toward Madness: When Will the Hoopleheads Wake Up?

On it goes. Day after day, Donald Trump parades his chaos before the world. At the United Nations, he lied, he bragged, and he postured like a strongman on the international stage. Today, before our own military, the performance was the same—bombast, exaggeration, and self-glorification masquerading as leadership. What will it take to wake up the Hoopleheads who still cheer this spectacle?

This isn’t just embarrassing anymore—it’s dangerous. We are living in a slow-motion slide into authoritarianism, a full-blown dictatorship that inches closer each day while people tell themselves it can’t happen here. Trump’s latest stunt—pushing the idea of “training” the military by imposing martial law in our own cities—should send chills down every spine in America. This is not normal policy debate. This is a blueprint for repression.

Meanwhile, the Republican termites gnaw away at the foundation of our democracy. They undermine independent institutions, smear dissenters, and cheer on the very tactics they once swore America would never tolerate. These aren’t just political disagreements anymore. This is about whether we remain a free society or surrender to a wannabe king and his enablers.

History’s warning lights are flashing. Authoritarian regimes never start with tanks in the streets—they begin with the normalization of lies, the erosion of checks and balances, the steady drip of propaganda, and the quiet acceptance of abuses of power. We’re already deep into that cycle. Every day of denial makes it harder to reverse.

The question now is not whether Trump will stop. He won’t. The question is whether the rest of us will find the courage to stand up—before the country we love becomes unrecognizable.

---

Being Great Again isn't like we though it would be

MAGA: Make America Grift Again

So Trump was going to make America great again. Fantastic. We were supposed to be swimming in prosperity — gold-plated jobs, filet mignon at Walmart prices, and, I don’t know, maybe a bald eagle delivering paychecks straight to the trailer park. Instead, what did we get? Grocery bills that make you sweat like you’re betting the rent at the casino, and a town council in Payson whose idea of infrastructure is duct tape and a prayer.

The Pool of Broken Dreams

Let’s talk about the pool. Our town doesn’t have one. Zero. Nada. The kids are doing cannonballs into potholes because the old pool is closed. What’s the Trump-inspired solution from our local Three Stooges on the council? “Hey, why not slap some duct tape on the shut-down pool and call it good?” Because nothing says fiscal responsibility like turning a public safety hazard into a Slip ’N Slide of tetanus.

MAGA Math: Broke + Broke = Rich

Remember the prosperity Trump promised? Well, apparently it skipped Payson. The trailer park crowd still can’t afford groceries, but hey, they’ve got hats! Nothing screams “economic boom” like standing in line at the Dollar Store wondering if you can stretch instant ramen into a three-course meal. MAGA prosperity is kind of like Bigfoot — lots of people claim to have seen it, but the evidence looks suspiciously like a guy in a costume.

Same Old Circus, New Red Hats

This is the magic of Trumpism: convince people that “great” is just the same old broke life, only now you chant while you suffer. The prices go up, the services go down, but don’t worry — somewhere, a billionaire just got another tax cut. And here at home, the Stooges are busy following the script: obstruct, complain, and do absolutely nothing that would actually help anyone.

So, congratulations, folks. Payson is officially MAGA-great. No pool, higher prices, and a future being held together with duct tape. If that’s winning, please tell me what losing looks like.

---

The Elk own Payson

Kadizzle was on his way home, but there was a miniature traffic jam. It was the elk. A very large bull elk was standing in the middle of the street and part of his harem was helping block traffic. The eld are so tame cars, dogs, and people don't concern them. Some people are violating the law and hand feeding them. A friend had and elk lick him on the face wanting an apple or carrot. They are magnificent animals and fun to see. When they show up at the park the cameras come out and the elk are the stars. 

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog a little discussion about the rich taking over the country. Read the New York times today. Here is one quote “The U.S. Senate is just a country club of millionaires who work for billionaires and have no idea what it’s like to work for a living.”

Eat the Rich

The U.S. Senate isn’t a chamber of the people—it’s a country club for millionaires who spend their days working for billionaires. They don’t have the faintest idea what it’s like to punch a clock, scrape a windshield in the dark, or carry a lunch pail to a real job.

Do you think Trump ever pushed a lawnmower, washed dishes, or shoveled snow just to make ends meet? You already know the answer. He never worked a day in his life. And the people who line up to let him wreck this country? Most of them haven’t either.

I have worked. I went underground as a coal miner. I know what labor really is—dirty, dangerous, and back-breaking. It grinds down bodies and lives. That’s work.

Here’s a number that sticks with me: 400 families own half the wealth of the United States. Half. Trump and his crew want to drag us back to a feudal system—kings at the top, peasants at the bottom. And somehow, the Hoopleheads cheer for it. They’re waving the flag while they’re being stripped of everything it’s supposed to stand for.

---

Pray then lie and cheat

If you really want to hypnotize the MAGA crowd, there’s nothing like a little Bible aerobics. Wave it around, maybe kiss the cover for good measure, and suddenly you’re Moses parting the Red Hats. Every Town Council meeting starts the same way: prayer, pledge, a little patriotic karaoke.

And then—bam!—right after the holy opening act, the Three Stooges of Payson politics, Otto, Bell, and Ferris, roll out the agenda: let’s starve the library, deny kids a swimming pool, and see if we can bulldoze a few more common-sense ideas while we’re at it. Because nothing says “Christian values” like making sure children are miserable.

Honestly, if Jesus showed up at one of these meetings, he wouldn’t be turning water into wine—he’d be turning toward the exit. The guy flipped tables in the temple over money changers; imagine his reaction to Otto and company using his name to push a MAGA agenda. He wouldn’t just flip tables—he’d redecorate Town Hall in projectile vomit.

So sure, pray all you want at the start. Just don’t be surprised when the Almighty checks the agenda and says, “Yeah, I’m out.”

---

Why does the MAGA pool water smell like sewage? Are we great yet?

Trump promised to make us rich again, but the gold never trickled down to the peasants. Sure, if you had cash parked in the stock market you did alright. But if you were driving a bus, hauling trash, or doing the real work that keeps America moving, nothing changed.

The Hoopleheads cheered him on because he flipped the bird to the elites they thought were robbing them. Irony of ironies—Trump is the robber. He handed out tax breaks like party favors to his rich buddies while the peasants watched prices climb higher and higher.

And the worst of the Trump hammer? It hasn’t even dropped yet. That “feeling great” he promised is starting to feel like a hangover.

Here in Payson, we’ve got our own Three Stooges trying to copy the act. They say the town is busted flat and can’t afford a real swimming pool. Their grand solution? Duct-tape the corpse of the old pool and fill it with recycled sewage water. Nothing says “family fun” like the faint smell of yesterday’s toilet swirling in the deep end.

---

NEW BLUES HIT - "His Escalator Don’t Go Up No More”