Apparently, the Rest of America Didn’t Get Washington’s Memo

You ever stand at the grocery store checkout, watch the numbers climb, and wonder whether somebody slipped a fucking microwave into your cart when you weren’t looking?

Four bags of groceries. Maybe five, if you got reckless and bought fresh fruit. Then you get home, open the electric bill, and discover the utility company apparently thinks you’re operating a steel mill in the basement.

That’s the stuff people talk about around the kitchen table. Groceries, insurance, whether the car can survive another winter without requiring a financial intervention, and whether there’s enough left after paying the bills to do something extravagant, like order a pizza without checking the bank balance first.

Meanwhile, Washington is having another argument about Donald Trump.

Of course it is. At this point, I suspect half the political establishment wakes up every morning, checks its pulse, and then checks to see what Trump said while everybody was asleep. The other half is busy figuring out how to defend it.

I’m not suggesting Trump doesn’t deserve scrutiny. Christ, the man generates enough material to keep a congressional committee occupied until the sun burns out. But somewhere between the investigations, the campaign speeches, the televised outrage, and the endless political dick-measuring contests, Washington seems to have misplaced the people it’s supposed to represent.

A new Associated Press-NORC poll makes that disconnect difficult to ignore.

Roughly eight in ten registered voters want the next Congress to make lowering the cost of living one of its highest priorities. About seven in ten want it to prioritize ending the war with Iran. Investigating the Trump administration comes in around four in ten, while supporting Trump’s agenda draws about two in ten.

Think about that. Americans are looking at their bank accounts and a war overseas, while the political establishment remains fascinated by the same man who’s been dominating the conversation for more than a decade.

The poll allowed respondents to name multiple priorities, so it isn’t an either-or choice. But the contrast is still striking.

Apparently, the American people didn’t get the memo that everything is supposed to revolve around Donald Trump.

Here’s What Voters Actually Said

Rounded figures from the October 8–12 AP-NORC poll. Respondents could select multiple priorities. Chart reconstructed from reported figures rather than reproduced from AP-NORC.

What voters want the next Congress to prioritize.

There it is. No complicated political theory required. People want their government to deal with the problems affecting their lives.

Which apparently becomes a radical concept once somebody gets elected to Congress and discovers the television cameras.

The Grocery Bill Doesn’t Care Which Party You Belong To

Here’s something Washington might find surprising: Republicans buy groceries. Democrats buy groceries. Independents buy groceries. Even the guy who insists he doesn’t give a shit about politics eventually has to buy toilet paper.

The checkout register doesn’t ask who you voted for. It just tells you how much you owe, and you can stand there explaining your economic philosophy until the frozen peas thaw. The cashier still wants $147.63.

That’s what makes the affordability numbers so revealing. Voters across party lines are feeling the pressure, even if they disagree about who’s responsible and what should be done.

And there’s plenty to argue about. Taxes, tariffs, corporate pricing, housing, health care, wages, and federal spending all deserve serious discussion. What doesn’t deserve another minute of anybody’s time is the familiar Washington routine of declaring economic victory while millions of people are wondering where the hell the money went.

Every administration has its favorite statistics. Employment numbers, stock market records, inflation rates, consumer confidence. Some of those figures matter enormously, but try explaining a record stock market to somebody who just discovered that a routine trip to the supermarket costs what a decent weekend getaway used to.

I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.

Congress can’t magically restore yesterday’s prices, and anyone promising otherwise is selling snake oil with a campaign logo on the bottle. But lawmakers can make choices that affect household costs, and voters are entitled to know what those choices are supposed to accomplish.

Not another speech about how terrible the other party is. Not another round of finger-pointing dressed up as economic policy.

An actual fucking plan.

I’m not expecting miracles. I’ve been around long enough to know that economic problems don’t disappear because somebody signs a bill in front of a roomful of applauding politicians.

But there’s a difference between acknowledging that a problem is difficult and treating the people living with it like an inconvenient interruption.

When somebody is choosing between groceries and a prescription, telling them whose fault it is might make a terrific campaign commercial. It doesn’t pay for either one.

Then There’s Iran. That’s Not Exactly a Side Issue.

The other number that jumped off the page was the seven in ten voters who want Congress to prioritize ending the war with Iran.

Seven in ten. That’s not a handful of antiwar activists making noise outside the Capitol. That’s a substantial majority of registered voters telling Washington that the war matters to them, and they’d appreciate somebody treating it like something more than another opportunity to sound tough on television.

War has a peculiar way of becoming abstract when politicians discuss it. Strategy, deterrence, regional stability, military objectives. The language is polished, the maps are impressive, and everybody sounds terribly authoritative.

Meanwhile, real people are getting killed.

American service members have families waiting for them. Iranian civilians have families trying to survive. And the people making decisions in Washington have an obligation to explain what they’re trying to accomplish and what it’s going to take to get there.

What’s the objective? What does an acceptable end to the conflict look like? Is diplomacy being pursued seriously? What happens afterward?

These aren’t trick questions, although judging by some political interviews, you’d think asking them was an act of treason.

Congress controls the purse strings and has constitutional responsibilities concerning war. That ought to mean something more than waiting for the administration to issue a press release and then deciding whether to applaud.

If lawmakers support the military strategy, explain why. If they oppose it, explain what they’d do differently. If they believe the war can end through negotiations, tell us what that might require.

But spare me the recycled bullshit about sending messages and demonstrating resolve.

A message to whom? About what? And what happens after everybody receives the fucking message?

U.S. military aircraft — illustrative photograph. Not verified as an image from the Iran war.

Ending a war responsibly isn’t necessarily simple. There may be competing security interests, difficult negotiations, and consequences nobody can predict with certainty.

Fine. Talk about them. Treat the public like adults capable of understanding that the world is complicated.

What I don’t want is another politician delivering a heroic speech while carefully avoiding the question of how this thing ends.

Because unlike a campaign commercial, you can’t just fade to black when the bombs stop making good television.

Accountability Isn’t a Luxury Item

Now we get to the finding that’s bound to make some people uncomfortable.

Only about four in ten voters place investigating the Trump administration among Congress’s highest priorities.

Before anybody starts celebrating that as a mandate to stop asking questions, don’t get carried away. The poll doesn’t say Americans oppose investigations. It says other concerns rank higher.

And frankly, I understand that.

You can believe an administration needs serious scrutiny while also wondering why your electric bill looks like the national debt.

About six in ten Democratic voters identify investigations as a high priority, although affordability and ending the war rank higher even among Democrats.

That doesn’t make accountability unimportant. It means voters are capable of caring about more than one thing at a time, a concept that apparently baffles a political establishment determined to reduce every issue to a loyalty test.

If federal officials abused their authority, misused public money, or broke the law, investigate them. Follow the evidence wherever it leads. I don’t care whether the person sitting in the Oval Office is a Republican, a Democrat, or somebody who wandered in looking for the men’s room.

But there’s a difference between serious oversight and political theater, and Washington has become awfully fond of the latter.

A congressional hearing that uncovers wrongdoing is valuable. A hearing that establishes facts, produces useful legislation, or leads to legitimate legal action serves a purpose.

A hearing where everybody spends six hours yelling at each other so their communications directors can extract thirty seconds for social media?

Congratulations. You’ve produced another episode of Congressional Assholes Behaving Badly.

Republicans have used investigations as political weapons. Democrats have been accused of doing the same. The answer isn’t to abandon oversight; it’s to insist that oversight actually accomplish something.

Bring the evidence. Question the witnesses. Establish the facts. If laws were broken, pursue the appropriate remedies.

But spare me the fucking performance.

The country has enough television shows. It needs a government.

Here’s Where the Poll Gets Really Interesting

Another is finding worth lingering over, particularly for anyone convinced that every Republican voter wants Congress to spend the next two years carrying Trump’s agenda around on a velvet pillow.

Only about four in ten Republican voters identify supporting his agenda as one of Congress’s highest priorities.

That doesn’t mean the others oppose him. It means their political lives may involve concerns beyond whatever Donald Trump wants this afternoon.

Imagine that.

The distinction between MAGA and non-MAGA Republicans is substantial. Roughly six in ten MAGA Republicans prioritize supporting the administration’s agenda, compared with about two in ten Republicans who don’t identify with MAGA.

On the Democratic side, voters who identify with democratic socialism place greater emphasis on investigating the administration than other Democrats do.

In other words, the parties aren’t nearly as uniform as their loudest representatives would have you believe.

Political television loves dividing America into two enormous tribes, each supposedly thinking, voting, and reacting in perfect unison. It’s convenient, easy to explain, and frequently wrong.

People are messier than that.

Someone can support Trump and still think Congress should concentrate on grocery prices. Someone can despise Trump and believe another round of congressional investigations shouldn’t consume every waking minute. Somebody else might want investigations, economic legislation, and an end to the war, preferably before the next ice age.

That isn’t confusion. That’s how normal human beings think.

The political industry has spent years encouraging Americans to treat party affiliation like a personality transplant. Apparently, once you register Republican or Democrat, you’re supposed to surrender your independent judgment at the door.

Well, fuck that.

If the poll tells us anything, it’s that voters aren’t necessarily following the script Washington wrote for them.

And maybe that’s why so many politicians seem determined to ignore what they’re saying.

U.S. House chamber

Congress Has More Than One Job. It Should Act Like It.

Here’s where I part company with anyone who thinks these numbers mean Congress should simply forget Trump and concentrate entirely on the economy.

No. That’s not the job, either.

Congress can investigate misconduct while working on economic legislation. It can debate military policy while addressing the budget. It can hold the executive branch accountable while passing laws that make a measurable difference in people’s lives.

That’s not asking too much. That’s the fucking job description.

What we’ve become accustomed to, unfortunately, is a Congress that behaves as though every issue must be converted into a partisan cage match before anybody is allowed to do anything useful.

One party proposes something. The other party announces that civilization will collapse if it passes. Everybody runs to the cameras, campaign donations roll in, and the actual problem sits in the corner wondering whether anyone remembers why they started arguing.

Then comes the election, when the same people promise to return to Washington and fix the mess they’ve spent years helping create.

You have to admire the nerve.

Another AP-NORC survey released October 15 found that eight in ten voters wanted substantial change or a complete overhaul in how the country is run. People may disagree about what that change should look like, but the appetite for something different is hard to miss.

And this is where I start losing patience.

Every election cycle, candidates tell us they’re fighting for working families, defending our freedoms, protecting our future, and standing up for ordinary Americans. They say it with such conviction you’d almost think somebody had just introduced them to ordinary Americans five minutes before the speech.

Then they get elected, discover the joys of committee assignments and television appearances, and somehow the people who sent them there become supporting characters in a never-ending political drama.

I’m not naïve enough to expect Congress to suddenly become a gathering of selfless public servants who put aside every disagreement and join hands around the Capitol reflecting pool.

Hell, I’d settle for lawmakers who occasionally remembered that winning an argument isn’t the same thing as solving a problem.

Because somewhere tonight, somebody is sitting at a kitchen table with a stack of bills, trying to decide what can wait until payday. Somebody else is worried about a family member serving overseas. Another person wants answers about what the government has been doing in their name.

Different concerns. Different priorities. All legitimate.

The next Congress will have plenty of opportunities to show whether it understands that.

And when the campaign signs come down, the television cameras move on, and the latest political scandal gets replaced by the next one, those bills will still be sitting on the table.

They’re still due.

Maybe Washington could start there.

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The Bullshit Detector

💩 Misleading · 💩💩 Distorted · 💩💩💩 False

💩💩💩💩 Fabricated/manipulative · 💩💩💩💩💩 Potentially dangerous

1. The Eiffel Tower’s Miraculous Disappearance

Claim: Viral videos show the Eiffel Tower burning and collapsing during October protests in Paris.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩

Why: The Eiffel Tower was still standing, open to visitors, and visible on live webcams when the claim circulated. Lead Stories found visual glitches and AI-detection results indicating the footage was fabricated. The protests were real. The collapsing landmark wasn’t. Read the fact-check.

You Can’t Make This Shit Up: You’d think the Eiffel Tower collapsing might attract a little attention in France. A news bulletin, perhaps. Maybe somebody calling the fire department.

But apparently we’re supposed to believe one of the world’s most recognizable landmarks fell over, and the only people who noticed were the folks forwarding a video on social media.

The really depressing part isn’t that somebody made the damn thing. It’s that people shared it without spending ten seconds checking whether Paris still had an Eiffel Tower.

2. The Texas Student Organization That Apparently Didn’t Exist

Claim: Flyers mailed to Texas homes came from the “Texas Transgender Student Union” and represented organizations serving transgender young people.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩

Why: Four organizations named in the flyers denied creating, authorizing, or distributing them. Lead Stories found no evidence of an operating student organization under that name, and the return address led to a commercial mailbox. The actual sender remains unidentified. Read the investigation.

The Part That Gets Me: Somebody mailed actual flyers to actual homes, using the names of organizations that say they had absolutely nothing to do with them.

That’s a particularly nasty kind of misinformation. It doesn’t just circulate a false claim. It puts words in other people’s mouths and leaves them trying to clean up the mess.

Whoever sent those things knew somebody would be furious. Whether that was the objective hasn’t been established, but the result was predictable enough.

3. The Presidential Sauna Party

Claim: The official White House social media account posted an image of Donald Trump sitting in a sauna surrounded by five shirtless men.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩

Why: Lead Stories traced the supposed screenshot to a social media account known for satire. The fact-checker found no matching post on the official White House account or in archived copies, and image-analysis tools identified the picture as AI-generated. Read the fact-check.

Oh, For Fuck’s Sake: Five shirtless men, Donald Trump, and a presidential sauna.

Somewhere, somebody looked at that picture and thought, “Yep, that looks like something the White House would post.”

I don’t know which part is funnier: the idea that somebody invented this thing or the possibility that people looked at it and didn’t immediately ask why the president was apparently hosting a diplomatic summit at a Turkish bath.

I’m not even going to speculate about the dress code.

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

If Washington’s daily circus has you questioning the future of civilization, What The Hell? offers a reminder that humanity has been spectacularly ridiculous for centuries. Chart Collision revisits the hits, misses, and memories behind the music, while Lotus Purrspective examines human behavior through the eyes of a cat who has very little reason to be impressed.

Panic Room Sports brings attitude and analysis to the games we love. Rabbit Ears Classic TV returns to the shows and commercials that helped raise a generation, and The Backlot Ghost explores the movies, performances, and Hollywood stories that refuse to stay buried.

One Question

If the next Congress could make meaningful progress on just one issue in its first six months, what would you want that issue to be?

#OffScript #TomHicksMedia #Congress #CostOfLiving #IranWar #PoliticalAccountability #APNORC #WashingtonPolitics #IndependentJournalism

I was in my high school’s production of Fiddler on the Roof.

If you know the show, you know it isn’t exactly a cheerful little romp through the Russian countryside. It’s about Jewish families struggling to preserve their traditions in a world that’s changing around them. There’s religious persecution, antisemitism, generational conflict, arranged marriages, and eventually an entire community being driven from its home.

Imagine some of those themes landing in certain school board meetings today. I can practically hear the objections before the curtain goes up. Somebody would probably accuse Tevye of promoting a radical agenda because his daughters wanted to marry men they actually loved.

I didn’t have a starring role. Not even close. I played a minor character, the Seltzer Man, whose name I remember as something like Duvidal. I might have had one or two lines.

Didn’t matter a damn bit.

I sang the songs. I learned the dances, including the famous Bottle Dance at the wedding. I pushed myself physically in ways I hadn’t before. At one point, I could jump into the air and touch my toes with the palms of my hands in midair.

These days, I’m happy if I can reach my toes without calling for assistance.

But I discovered something about myself in that production. I could do things I hadn’t known I was capable of doing. I was part of something bigger than myself, surrounded by other kids making discoveries of their own.

More than fifty years later, I still consider it one of the best experiences of my life.

Students performing the Bottle Dance in a high school production of Fiddler on the Roof. Illustrative photograph.

Which is why I’m getting thoroughly pissed off watching today’s adults take those same opportunities away from children because somebody might get offended, somebody might complain, or somebody might lose a few votes.

Take Ana Mota, a 17-year-old senior at South Grand Prairie High School in Texas. She auditioned for Little Shop of Horrors, earned the role of Seymour, and was looking forward to playing a character traditionally portrayed by a male actor. She’d played male roles before, including Jack in Into the Woods, and somehow the republic had survived.

Then district officials got involved.

They wanted her moved into a female role, and eventually the production was canceled. As NBC 5 Dallas–Fort Worth reported, the district cited its efforts to comply with Texas Senate Bill 12, a law addressing instruction and programming related to sexual orientation and gender identity.

Now, I’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors. It’s about a giant, man-eating plant, murder, an abusive relationship, and a dentist who makes root canals look like a recreational activity. Nobody watches this thing and mistakes it for a documentary about responsible horticulture.

But a teenage girl playing Seymour? Apparently, that was the bridge too far.

The district reportedly selected Frozen as a replacement, a musical featuring a woman whose inability to control her supernatural powers nearly destroys an entire kingdom. Apparently, mass hypothermia is wholesome family entertainment, but gender-blind casting is the opening act of the apocalypse.

And here’s the part that really gets me. The district says it was trying to comply with state law. Fine. Then point to the provision that forbids a female student from playing a male character. Don’t wave a statute around like a crucifix at a vampire convention and expect everybody to shut up.

What we’re watching is a particularly ugly form of institutional cowardice. Administrators are so terrified of offending adults that they’re willing to disappoint children instead.

The children, after all, don’t vote in school board elections.

Audrey II in a school production of Little Shop of Horrors. Illustrative photograph, not the canceled Texas production.

And Texas isn’t the only place where grown-ups have discovered that canceling a school play is easier than defending it.

At Copley High School in Ohio, students had auditioned, received their roles, and begun rehearsing She Kills Monsters, a play exploring grief, identity, friendship, and acceptance through a fantasy adventure. Then a parent complained about its LGBTQ themes.

The district canceled the show.

Superintendent Aimee Kirsch said the decision wasn’t about those themes. The production hadn’t gone through the proper administrative approval process. A new review procedure followed, and Alice in Wonderland was chosen as the replacement.

Perhaps the paperwork really was screwed up. Schools are perfectly capable of administrative incompetence without any political assistance whatsoever. But if that’s what happened, why were students allowed to audition, receive roles, and begin rehearsing before somebody noticed?

And why were the kids the ones punished for the adults’ screw-up?

The teenagers, to their credit, started exploring ways to stage the production independently, with assistance from a local theater. While the administrators were busy explaining what couldn’t be done, the students were figuring out what could.

That sounds suspiciously like the sort of initiative schools are supposed to encourage.

But apparently, we’re operating under a new educational philosophy: children should learn to overcome obstacles, provided those obstacles aren’t created by the people running the school.

This is where the argument becomes bigger than theater. Because once adults decide that avoiding controversy is more important than giving children opportunities, there’s no particular reason to stop at the auditorium doors.

In Virginia, students at King George Middle School wanted to form a Gay-Straight Alliance. They followed the established procedures, but the school board adopted a policy prohibiting noncurricular clubs at the middle-school level. According to the ACLU of Virginia, other existing clubs continued operating despite the restrictions.

One of those clubs, according to the ACLU’s account, taught students to make fishing lures and skin squirrels.

So apparently, a club where children can learn to skin a squirrel is fine, but a club where children can support one another is a threat requiring emergency intervention.

You really couldn’t write satire this stupid. Nobody would believe it.

The families sued, and in September the board settled and restored the ability to form noncurricular clubs.

A federal lawsuit. Over a middle-school club.

What the actual fuck is wrong with these people?

These are children trying to figure out who they are, where they belong, and whether anybody gives a damn about them. Some want friendship. Some want support. Some simply want a place where they don’t have to spend every minute worrying about being judged.

You don’t have to agree with every political position associated with LGBTQ advocacy to understand that.

But apparently, basic human decency now requires legal representation.

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And if anybody thinks this is confined to a few school productions and extracurricular clubs, the numbers coming out of America’s libraries should cure that delusion.

Illustrative image representing restrictions on access to books.

According to PEN America’s October 2026 report, there were 11,982 recorded instances of school book bans during the 2025–26 school year, affecting 7,370 distinct titles. Those figures include restrictions and removals under PEN America’s methodology, rather than nearly 12,000 different books permanently outlawed nationwide.

The distinction matters. So does the scale.

Some books are challenged because they discuss sexuality. Others address racism, abuse, religious differences, or the less flattering chapters of American history.

Now, I’m not suggesting every book belongs in every classroom. A third grader and a high school senior aren’t interchangeable, and parents have every right to raise legitimate questions about age-appropriate material.

But your right to decide what your child reads does not automatically give you the right to decide what everybody else’s child reads.

You don’t want your kid reading a particular book? Work with the school on an alternative. That’s a reasonable conversation.

Demanding that the book disappear for everyone because you personally find it offensive is something else entirely.

It’s authoritarian bullshit dressed up in a PTA sweater.

And the politicians encouraging this nonsense get to pose for photographs, brag about defending family values, and head home before anybody asks whether they’ve actually helped a single child.

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Either way, I’m glad you’re here.

Here’s what really pisses me off about the whole thing.

We spend years telling children to think independently, challenge themselves, respect differences, and stand up for what they believe. Then, when they actually do those things, some adults react as though somebody just released a rabid raccoon into the school cafeteria.

A girl earns an unconventional role. Cancel the show. Students rehearse a play about grief and identity. Cancel that one, too. Middle-school kids want a club. Better call the lawyers. Books that might make young people question something they’ve been taught? Get those dangerous little bastards off the shelves.

What a magnificent educational philosophy.

We apparently want independent thinkers who never think independently, courageous young people who never challenge authority, and creative students who understand that creativity ends wherever somebody else’s political discomfort begins.

And the people behind this keep insisting they’re protecting children.

Bullshit!

Some of them may sincerely believe that. Others are terrified of controversy, desperate for political approval, or convinced their personal beliefs should govern everyone else’s lives. But sincerity doesn’t excuse stupidity, and good intentions don’t magically erase the damage.

If your idea of protecting children requires humiliating them, restricting their opportunities, or treating ordinary school activities like threats to civilization, maybe you ought to ask yourself whether you’re protecting the kids or protecting your own narrow-minded ass from having to deal with a changing world.

I keep thinking about Fiddler on the Roof.

It wasn’t an easy show. It dealt with painful subjects, and it asked teenagers to understand lives and experiences far removed from their own. Nobody wrapped us in ideological bubble wrap before we went onstage.

We rehearsed. We learned. We screwed things up and tried again. We became a cast.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, a kid with maybe two lines discovered he could leap into the air and touch his palms to his toes.

I can still remember that feeling more than fifty years later.

That’s what these self-appointed guardians of childhood don’t seem to understand. The important part of a school play isn’t always the performance. Sometimes it’s the kid in the background discovering something about himself that he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

Ana Mota should have had the chance to play Seymour. The Ohio students deserved better than having an administrative mess dumped in their laps. The Virginia kids shouldn’t have needed lawyers to establish that they deserved the same opportunities as their classmates.

And the next time some politician or school board member starts lecturing us about protecting children, I’d like somebody to ask a simple question.

“Protecting them from what, exactly?”

From books? From plays? From friendships? From discovering they might be capable of something extraordinary?

Or are you really protecting yourselves from having to deal with people who think differently?

I got one of the best memories of my life out of a high school musical.

These kids got a front-row seat to adult cowardice.

And if you’re one of the adults responsible for turning their childhood into your personal political battlefield, here’s my advice.

Get your sanctimonious ass out of the way.

The kids have a show to put on.

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The Bullshit Detector

Three more claims that deserve to be dragged into the daylight.

1. The Great Kansas Beef Apocalypse

Claim: Republican Sen. Roger Marshall said Democratic Senate candidate Adam Hamilton wants to shut down the beef industry.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩 — Four out of five.

Why: Hamilton discussed cattle emissions and dietary choices during a 2020 sermon about climate change. He never proposed shutting down the beef industry. During his Senate campaign, he explicitly supported Kansas cattle producers.

There’s a considerable difference between discussing methane emissions and declaring war on every steakhouse between Wichita and Topeka.

But apparently, “My Opponent Once Discussed Cow Farts” wasn’t frightening enough for the campaign. Source: PolitiFact, October 20

2. The Medicare Chainsaw That Wasn’t

Claim: Democratic campaign ads say Republicans voted to gut Medicare through President Trump’s major domestic policy law.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩 — Three out of five.

Why: The law does include Medicare-related changes, but the sweeping claims in some advertisements exaggerate their scope. FactCheck.org found that the changes are relatively narrow and affect a comparatively small share of beneficiaries.

That’s not an endorsement of the legislation. It’s a reminder that criticizing a real policy doesn’t give anybody permission to invent a much bigger one.

If your argument is strong, you shouldn’t need to inflate it until it looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Source: FactCheck.org, October 16

3. The Disavowal That Apparently Didn’t Count

Claim: Republican Michigan Senate candidate Mike Rogers said his Democratic opponent, Abdul El-Sayed, refused to disavow the Muslim Brotherhood.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩 — Five out of five.

Why: When directly asked whether he would disavow the organization, El-Sayed answered affirmatively. He then challenged the implication that his Muslim faith made his loyalty to the Constitution questionable.

Rogers subsequently insisted that El-Sayed hadn’t disavowed the group.

Apparently, we’ve reached the stage of political campaigning where an opponent can answer your question and you can simply declare that the answer never happened.

That’s not fact-checking. That’s sticking your fingers in your ears and yelling until the television cameras leave. Source: PolitiFact, October 19

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

If you enjoy watching human stupidity get the attention it deserves, What The Hell? explores the disasters, absurdities, and spectacular screwups history has generously supplied. Panic Room Sports takes a similarly skeptical look at professional sports, where the hype frequently outruns the facts.

Chart Collision revisits the songs, performers, and stories behind the music we grew up with. Rabbit Ears Classic TV remembers the television shows and commercials that once ruled our living rooms, while The Backlot Ghost digs into the movies that stuck with us long after the credits rolled. And Lotus Purrspective offers the perspective of a cat who considers most human behavior deeply embarrassing.

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One Question

What school experience helped shape who you became? And would today’s students still be allowed to have it?

#OffScript #TomHicksMedia #Education #SchoolCensorship #StudentRights #FreedomToRead #SchoolTheater #ParentalRights #CultureWars

If you’re old enough to remember the Cold War, you probably remember what we were taught about the Russians.

I certainly do.

Growing up, I absorbed the idea that Russia was dangerous, Russians couldn’t be trusted, and the whole business was something we ought to be afraid of. By the time I served in the Air Force, those ideas were already pretty firmly planted.

Looking back, I wonder how much of what I believed came from what I actually knew and how much came from what I’d been taught to believe.

That’s an uncomfortable question, especially when you’re about to examine another one: What happens when your suspicions about somebody start influencing how you interpret everything they do?

Because that’s a danger in examining Donald Trump’s relationship with Russia. If you begin with the assumption that he’s somehow working for Moscow, practically everything can start looking like confirmation. If you begin with the assumption that the entire subject is a political hoax, you can dismiss evidence before you’ve even examined it.

Neither approach gets us very far.

Yesterday, we looked at the decisions that brought the Russia question back into the headlines. Today, I want to revisit the history behind it, because after ten years of investigations, accusations, denials, and political shouting, the actual evidence has gotten buried under everybody’s preferred version of the story.

And there’s been enough shouting to power a small city.

The interference wasn’t imaginary

Let’s get something straight before going any further.

Russia interfered in the 2016 American presidential election.

American intelligence agencies concluded that Vladimir Putin ordered an influence campaign intended to undermine confidence in American democracy, damage Hillary Clinton, and help Donald Trump’s electoral prospects. A bipartisan Senate Intelligence Committee investigation subsequently supported the intelligence community’s assessment.

The Senate committee’s review wasn’t some Democratic campaign document. Republicans participated in examining the underlying intelligence.

Russian interference was real. The argument begins when people try to establish what Trump and his campaign knew, what they did, and whether their actions constituted coordination with Moscow.

Those are different questions. Unfortunately, political television discovered years ago that shouting collusion or hoax was considerably easier than explaining the distinction.

What Mueller found, and what he didn’t

Robert Mueller testifies before Congress in July 2019, following his investigation of Russian election interference.

Robert Mueller’s investigation documented Russian hacking operations, social media manipulation, and numerous contacts involving Trump campaign associates and people connected to Russia.

But it did not establish that Trump campaign members conspired or coordinated with the Russian government in its election interference operations.

That’s important. So is what the report said about the investigation’s limitations, including deleted communications, false testimony, and difficulties obtaining certain evidence.

Those problems don’t prove a conspiracy existed. They also don’t justify pretending the investigation uncovered nothing.

You can read the Justice Department’s Mueller report and judge the findings yourself.

My old paralegal instincts start kicking in here. I’ve seen enough legal work to appreciate the difference between something that looks suspicious and something you can establish with evidence.

Sometimes that distinction is maddening, particularly when your instincts are standing on the furniture, waving their arms.

But it’s necessary.

And the next investigation uncovered reasons to keep asking questions.

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The Senate’s uncomfortable findings

In August 2020, the Senate Intelligence Committee released the final volume of its bipartisan Russia investigation.

Among its findings were serious counterintelligence concerns involving Paul Manafort, Trump’s former campaign chairman, and Konstantin Kilimnik, whom the committee identified as having Russian intelligence ties.

Manafort’s campaign position and access created opportunities for Russian intelligence services. The committee examined the sharing of campaign information and the potential vulnerability of Trump’s political operation.

That doesn’t establish that Trump personally directed a conspiracy. It establishes that investigators found genuine national-security concerns involving people close to his campaign.

The committee also examined the June 2016 Trump Tower meeting, arranged after campaign representatives were offered damaging information about Clinton presented as connected to Russian government support. Investigators did not establish that useful information was delivered at the meeting or that Trump personally knew about it beforehand.

The Senate’s Volume Five report is worth reading because it refuses to fit neatly into either political camp’s preferred narrative.

What bothers me about this entire argument is how often people demand that the evidence do something it can’t.

One side wants every questionable contact to establish a secret conspiracy. The other wants the absence of a proven conspiracy to erase every legitimate counterintelligence concern.

Neither gets us very far.

Worth passing along?

And then came Helsinki

Trump and Putin at their July 2018 Helsinki summit.

I still find Helsinki one of the most revealing episodes in this history.

At their July 2018 joint news conference, Trump was asked about Russian election interference. Standing beside Putin, he discussed the Russian president’s denial in a way that appeared to place it alongside the conclusions of American intelligence agencies.

He later said he had misspoken and accepted the intelligence community’s findings.

That correction belongs in the record.

But so does the original moment, when an American president appeared reluctant to challenge a foreign leader over interference that his own intelligence agencies had documented.

Was Trump protecting the legitimacy of his election victory? Trying to improve relations with Russia? Acting according to his personal style of diplomacy?

Those are possible explanations. The public exchange itself doesn’t establish his private motives.

Still, you didn’t need a classified document to understand why the moment caused concern. You could watch it happen.

And when a president’s public statements repeatedly raise questions about his willingness to challenge an adversary, Americans are entitled to expect an explanation.

Ukraine wasn’t a side issue

In 2019, Trump’s administration withheld congressionally appropriated security assistance to Ukraine, which was already confronting Russian aggression.

The episode became central to his first impeachment. The Senate acquitted him, and arguments about his motives continued.

But there’s a separate finding that doesn’t depend on those arguments.

The Government Accountability Office concluded that the Office of Management and Budget violated the Impoundment Control Act by withholding the assistance for policy reasons.

That’s a federal oversight finding, explained in the GAO’s January 2020 decision.

The assistance mattered to Ukraine’s security. Withholding it had consequences regardless of which political explanation somebody accepts.

And that brings us to a distinction that matters today: we can evaluate the effects of presidential decisions without claiming to know everything that motivated them.

The evidence that doesn’t fit neatly

Now, before somebody starts typing an angry response, there’s something else we need to talk about.

Trump has also taken actions that hurt Russian interests. Real ones.

During his first administration, the United States approved Javelin anti-tank weapons for Ukraine. His administration imposed sanctions on Russian individuals and entities. In October 2025, the Treasury Department sanctioned Rosneft and Lukoil, two of Russia’s largest oil companies.

Those actions belong in this investigation.

They don’t automatically explain away other decisions that benefit Moscow, but we can’t erase them because they complicate the argument.

And there’s another problem with the word asset.

People use it casually to describe someone whose actions benefit a foreign power. In intelligence work, the term can imply a relationship involving recruitment, direction, or cooperation.

Those are very different meanings.

The public investigations we’ve examined did not establish that Trump was recruited or controlled by Russian intelligence. That finding doesn’t settle every question about his judgment or policies. It tells us what the available evidence can support.

Which is precisely why we need to keep examining the decisions themselves.

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The question that survives

So where does all of this leave us?

In October 2026, we’re once again examining decisions involving Russia, sanctions, and Ukraine. The administration offers economic and diplomatic explanations. Critics argue that some of those decisions reduce pressure on Moscow.

The historical record gives us reasons to scrutinize those choices. It also warns against assuming we know the motives behind them.

And I keep coming back to what I believed about Russians when I was younger.

Back then, the world seemed easier to divide into good guys and bad guys. We knew whom we were supposed to fear, and we didn’t spend much time questioning the labels.

Age has made me considerably less comfortable with that kind of certainty.

I don’t hold ordinary Russians collectively responsible for their government’s decisions. And I don’t believe skepticism about Trump requires assuming the worst possible explanation for everything he does.

But I also don’t think the absence of proof of a secret relationship means Americans should stop examining policies that may benefit an adversary.

Congress ought to demand clear explanations. Journalists ought to examine whether the administration’s stated objectives match the results. The public ought to know what concessions, if any, the United States receives in return for easing pressure on Russia.

Maybe the administration’s approach will produce meaningful diplomatic results. If it does, those results deserve scrutiny.

If it doesn’t, Americans deserve to know what was gained, what was surrendered, and why.

After two installments and a considerable amount of history, I find myself less interested in trying to read Donald Trump’s mind than in asking a question we can actually answer.

What has his Russia policy accomplished for the United States, and how do we measure whether it was worth the cost?

That seems like a reasonable standard for any president.

Even one who would probably prefer we stopped asking.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three more claims that didn’t survive a meeting with the facts.

1. The great American refinery disappearance

Claim: JD Vance said approximately 20% of America’s refining capacity went offline under Joe Biden, largely explaining today’s high gasoline prices.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩

Why: PolitiFact checked Vance’s October 17 claim and rated it false. California lost roughly 20% of its refining capacity; the nation as a whole did not. National capacity has remained relatively stable, and energy experts identified the Iran war and disruptions to oil supplies as much larger contributors to current prices.

Apparently, someone misplaced the entire country while reading California’s numbers.

PolitiFact — October 19, 2026

2. Medicare’s alleged demolition

Claim: Democratic campaign advertisements accuse Republicans of gutting Medicare through Trump’s major domestic policy law.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩

Why: FactCheck.org found that the ads exaggerated the Medicare provisions. The law does make changes affecting some vulnerable beneficiaries, but its much larger healthcare spending reductions involve Medicaid. The potentially enormous automatic Medicare cuts under federal budget rules were subsequently waived by Congress.

Those distinctions matter, especially when politicians are frightening older Americans about their healthcare.

Medicare and Medicaid aren’t interchangeable just because they both start with M.

FactCheck.org — October 16, 2026

3. Paris apparently had an uprising nobody noticed

Claim: A viral photograph shows crowds waving Palestinian flags beneath the Eiffel Tower while fireworks explode overhead.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩

Why: Full Fact examined the circulating image and found an invisible SynthID watermark associated with AI-generated content, along with visual inconsistencies. The photograph wasn’t authentic.

Somebody manufactured an enormous political demonstration without having to organize a single protester.

At least fake news has finally found a way to eliminate parking problems.

Full Fact — October 19, 2026

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Elsewhere in Tom Hicks Media

If politics has left you wondering whether reality has always been this ridiculous, What The Hell? has historical evidence suggesting the answer might be yes. Rabbit Ears Classic TV takes us back to classic television, when entertainment didn’t require fourteen streaming subscriptions and a password reset.

Chart Collision explores the songs, performers, and musical memories that never quite leave us. The Backlot Ghost revisits movies and the stories behind them, while Lotus Purrspective offers daily observations from a cat who remains unconvinced that humans are the superior species.

And when politics isn’t providing enough anxiety, Panic Room Sports has football, basketball, racing, and plenty of opportunities to question your life choices.

Buy Me a Tea

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One Question

After everything investigators uncovered about Russian election interference, what questions about Trump’s relationship with Moscow do you believe still deserve answers?

I’m interested in where you draw the line between reasonable suspicion and convincing evidence.

#OffScript #TomHicksMedia #TrumpRussia #VladimirPutin #MuellerReport #Ukraine #IndependentJournalism #PoliticalAccountability

I grew up in an America where you didn’t have to ask who the enemy was. We were told practically from the time we could understand the words that the Russians were dangerous, untrustworthy, and quite possibly coming to kill us all.

It was the Cold War. We practiced living with the possibility of nuclear annihilation as though it were just another unpleasant feature of modern life, somewhere between getting a cavity filled and watching your parents argue over the electric bill.

I served in the Air Force during that era. I remember the atmosphere, the assumptions, and the certainty with which we were taught to regard the Soviet Union. The message was pretty straightforward: Moscow couldn’t be trusted, and anyone who thought otherwise had better have a damn good explanation.

Looking back, I know we were fed our share of propaganda. The Soviet government was responsible for plenty of things worth fearing, but that didn’t mean every Russian citizen was evil or that every American policy was wise. Age has a way of teaching you that governments are considerably better at dividing the world into good guys and bad guys than the world is at cooperating.

Still, there were some principles I thought we understood. One was that an American president wasn’t supposed to make life easier for a Russian leader waging a war of conquest.

Yet here we are, watching Donald Trump make one decision after another that seems to work out rather nicely for Vladimir Putin.

Maybe you’ve been asking yourself the same question I have. What the hell is going on?

I’m not asking you to accept the idea that Trump is a Russian agent. That’s an extraordinary accusation, and extraordinary accusations require evidence. I’ve heard the speculation, the jokes, and the less-than-affectionate variations on the word asset. None of those establishes that Trump is acting under Moscow’s direction.

But there’s another question that doesn’t require us to prove any secret arrangement, and it’s one I think we’ve spent far too much time avoiding.

Why does Putin keep getting the benefit of decisions made in Washington?

The Sanctions That Weren’t

On September 18, Trump signed the Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026, legislation designed to increase economic pressure on Russia and those helping finance its war against Ukraine.

Congress had managed something increasingly unusual. Lawmakers from both parties agreed that Russia needed additional pressure. The legislation authorized substantial tariffs on countries buying Russian energy and sanctions against those helping Moscow sustain its war. The idea was simple enough: make the war more expensive for Putin.

Then came October 16.

Trump issued an executive order waiving major provisions of the law, including sanctions, restrictions, and additional duties. The stated justification was that the waivers served the national interests of the United States.

National interests.

That’s an interesting phrase, isn’t it? Broad enough to cover practically anything, yet official-sounding enough to suggest somebody has carefully weighed the consequences.

To be fair, the law explicitly allows presidential waivers. Trump used authority Congress provided, and the order didn’t eliminate every existing sanction against Russia. Those distinctions matter, particularly when we’re discussing something as serious as American foreign policy.

But the practical result was that new economic pressure Congress had authorized was put on hold, and Putin didn’t have to make a visible concession to receive that relief.

The administration argues that imposing sanctions during negotiations could undermine efforts to end the war. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has also described a review of the economic consequences, including potential effects on American consumers and international trade. Those aren’t ridiculous concerns. Sanctions can hurt people who had nothing to do with starting a war, and presidents are supposed to consider the consequences of their decisions.

But there’s a rather large difference between carefully managing sanctions and removing the threat of new penalties before the other side has agreed to anything.

The decision drew criticism from lawmakers in both parties, including Republicans who had supported tougher measures against Moscow. That matters because the objections weren’t limited to Democrats looking for another opportunity to criticize Trump.

The people who helped put pressure on Russia were watching the president release it.

And the timing was particularly interesting because the sanctions decision followed another arrangement involving something Moscow desperately needs to sell.

Oil.

Or, more precisely, diesel.

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A Deal That Deserves a Closer Look

On October 9, Trump announced that Russia would supply more than 300,000 metric tons of diesel to the United States and global markets, with additional shipments anticipated afterward.

The announcement followed discussions with Putin. The administration’s explanation was that the arrangement would help stabilize fuel supplies and bring down prices.

I understand the appeal. Anybody who’s filled a gas tank, paid a heating bill, or watched grocery prices climb understands why energy costs matter. If the administration can lower those costs without creating bigger problems elsewhere, Americans deserve the benefit.

But foreign policy has a nasty habit of presenting bills that don’t arrive at the same time as the purchase.

Russia’s energy exports are an important source of revenue. That revenue supports the Russian economy, which in turn supports Putin’s ability to continue his war. Easing restrictions on those exports creates an economic opportunity for Moscow, even if the stated American objective is lower fuel prices.

The Council on Foreign Relations examined the agreement and found that the initial quantities were relatively modest compared with American fuel consumption. Experts questioned whether the additional supply would meaningfully lower prices, particularly before the November elections.

Russian refinery infrastructure. Energy exports are central to Moscow’s war economy and the sanctions debate.

The administration also argues that economic cooperation could encourage Putin to negotiate. Maybe it can. Governments have used incentives alongside penalties for centuries, and sometimes those arrangements produce worthwhile results.

But incentives work best when there’s a clear understanding of what the other party must do to receive them.

So far, the administration hasn’t demonstrated that the diesel arrangement has produced a meaningful Russian concession. The promised economic benefits to Americans remain uncertain, while the opportunity for Russia to generate revenue is considerably easier to identify.

And there’s another complication. While Washington is easing some economic restrictions on Moscow, it’s also asking the country Russia invaded to change how it fights the war.

The Country Being Bombed Gets the Pressure

Ukraine has been attacking Russian oil refineries and other energy facilities, attempting to damage infrastructure that supports Moscow’s war economy. Russia, meanwhile, has continued striking Ukrainian energy infrastructure, leaving civilians without reliable electricity, heating, and water.

Both countries have targeted energy facilities, and the humanitarian consequences deserve scrutiny regardless of who carries out an attack. But there’s an underlying fact that cannot be treated as a minor detail in a negotiation.

Russia invaded Ukraine.

Ukraine is fighting to remain an independent country.

Trump has pressured Ukraine to stop attacking Russian oil facilities, arguing that the strikes contribute to rising energy prices and complicate negotiations. The administration has also pursued an energy ceasefire, an objective that could have genuine humanitarian value if both sides agreed to it and honored its terms.

The problem is that the proposed ceasefire hasn’t held, and Russian attacks have continued.

Russian attacks have repeatedly damaged Ukraine’s energy infrastructure, threatening civilian electricity and heating.

Imagine being a Ukrainian civilian trying to keep your family warm while the power goes out again. You’re being told that peace requires compromise, which is reasonable enough in the abstract. Wars generally end through some combination of military exhaustion, negotiation, and concessions.

But then you discover that your country is being pressured to stop attacking facilities that support the invader’s economy, while the invader is receiving economic relief from the United States.

I can understand why Ukrainians might wonder whose negotiating position Washington is trying to improve.

A ceasefire that protects civilians on both sides would be worth pursuing. An agreement that reduces attacks on energy infrastructure could save lives. But it has to be reciprocal, and there must be consequences when either side violates it.

Otherwise, the country defending itself is being asked to surrender leverage without any assurance that the country attacking it will do the same.

That isn’t a recipe for a durable peace. It’s a recipe for an agreement that looks good at a press conference and starts falling apart before the microphones have been packed away.

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When the Questions Turn to Intelligence

The economic decisions would be troubling enough on their own. But Ukraine has also raised concerns about interruptions involving American intelligence support, military supplies, and satellite communications.

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has complained that Ukraine missed expected warnings about Russian attacks and that restrictions involving satellite capabilities interfered with Ukrainian operations.

These are serious allegations because Ukraine depends heavily on American technology and intelligence to identify threats and defend its population.

But they’re also allegations that need to be handled carefully.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio has denied that the United States paused intelligence sharing. American officials have disputed claims involving satellite restrictions, and the available reporting does not establish that Trump personally ordered the interruptions Ukraine has described.

That’s an important distinction. I don’t intend to turn uncertainty into proof simply because it would make for a more dramatic column.

Still, an interruption doesn’t become harmless because officials disagree about what caused it.

If Ukraine was expecting intelligence warnings and didn’t receive them, that deserves an explanation. If satellite capabilities were restricted, we need to know who authorized those restrictions, why they were imposed, and whether they affected Ukraine’s ability to defend itself.

There may be technical or operational explanations. There may be disagreements over how American-supplied systems should be used. Those possibilities deserve consideration.

But the public shouldn’t have to choose between accepting every allegation from Kyiv and accepting every denial from Washington. We ought to be able to get answers.

The Evidence That Complicates the Picture

Before somebody decides I’ve conveniently forgotten everything that doesn’t fit my argument, there’s something important we need to acknowledge.

The Trump administration has taken actions against Russian interests. In October 2025, the United States imposed sanctions on major Russian oil companies, including Rosneft and Lukoil. Those measures represented genuine economic pressure on Moscow.

The October 16 executive order also preserved existing sanctions imposed under other authorities. It didn’t wipe the slate clean.

Those facts matter because they complicate the idea that every Trump decision involving Russia has benefited Putin. They haven’t.

The administration maintains that its approach combines pressure with negotiation, using the possibility of sanctions and economic incentives to encourage a settlement. That’s a legitimate diplomatic strategy in principle, and I don’t think we should reject it simply because Trump is the one pursuing it.

But strategies have to be judged by results.

If you impose sanctions one year and waive major new sanctions the next, what changed? Did Russia make meaningful concessions? Has Ukraine become more secure? Is there evidence that Putin is closer to accepting a settlement that respects Ukraine’s sovereignty?

Those are reasonable questions regardless of who’s sitting in the Oval Office.

And they’re particularly reasonable when the president has spent years telling us what an extraordinary negotiator he is.

You don’t get to advertise yourself as the world’s greatest dealmaker and then complain when people ask what you got in the deal.

What Putin Actually Needs

Trump and Putin at the August 2025 Alaska summit.

Here’s where I think much of the public discussion about Trump and Russia has gone wrong.

People become so determined to prove what Trump secretly wants that they sometimes overlook what his decisions actually accomplish.

Maybe Trump genuinely believes his personal relationship with Putin gives him a better chance of ending the war. Maybe he’s more concerned about American fuel prices than about maintaining maximum economic pressure on Russia. Maybe he believes Ukraine will eventually have to accept territorial concessions and wants to push negotiations toward that outcome.

Some combination of those explanations could be true. None requires a secret arrangement with Moscow.

But motives and consequences aren’t the same thing.

If a decision benefits an aggressor, the benefit doesn’t disappear because the person making it had another objective. If you weaken one negotiating partner’s position while easing pressure on the other, you should expect questions about whose interests your policy is serving.

And when those decisions accumulate, they become harder to dismiss individually.

The sanctions waiver. The diesel arrangement. The pressure on Ukraine to limit attacks on Russian energy facilities. The unresolved questions about defensive support. Taken separately, each has explanations worth examining. Taken together, they suggest an administration increasingly willing to offer Moscow relief while asking Ukraine to accept additional constraints.

There’s a difference between that observation and an accusation that Trump is secretly taking orders from Putin. It’s a distinction I intend to maintain, because the documented record is troubling enough without embellishment.

I remember when Americans were expected to be suspicious of practically anything that came out of Moscow. We were taught to question Soviet intentions, to watch for manipulation, and to be wary of concessions that weren’t matched by something substantial in return.

I eventually learned to question some of those assumptions. That was healthy. Nobody benefits from treating an entire nation as an enemy simply because of its government.

But questioning the propaganda of my youth doesn’t require me to abandon the skepticism that came with it.

If anything, it makes that skepticism more important.

I don’t know whether Donald Trump has some hidden reason for treating Vladimir Putin the way he does. I don’t know whether there’s a personal calculation, a diplomatic strategy that hasn’t produced visible results, or something else entirely.

What I do know is that Putin doesn’t need Trump to be a Russian agent to benefit from Trump’s decisions.

He only needs the decisions.

Tomorrow, we’ll examine the longer history of this relationship, including the allegations, investigations, business connections, and political decisions that have kept these questions alive for years.

Because this didn’t begin with a diesel deal.

And the questions didn’t begin last week.

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The Bullshit Detector

Three fresh claims. Three reality checks. The bullshit doesn’t care which party you’re in.

1. JD Vance Blames Biden for a Refinery Shutdown That Didn’t Happen

CLAIM: During an October 17 CBS town hall, Vice President JD Vance claimed that approximately 20% of American refining capacity went offline under Joe Biden and that this was the biggest reason gasoline prices were so high.

BULLSHIT: The nationwide figure is false.

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩💩💩💩 — 4/5

WHY: California has lost roughly 20% of its refining capacity, but the United States as a whole hasn’t. National capacity remained relatively stable during Biden’s presidency. The more immediate driver of high gasoline prices is the disruption caused by the Iran war, which began under Trump.

Vance took a California statistic, promoted it to a national emergency, and sent the bill to his predecessor. That’s a remarkable amount of mileage from one wrong number.

PolitiFact’s October 19 investigation rated the claim false.

PolitiFact

2. A Democratic Ad Claims a Republican Senator Paid Himself $500,000

CLAIM: A Democratic-aligned super PAC ad says Alaska Senator Dan Sullivan voted to give himself a $500,000 taxpayer-funded payout while increasing healthcare costs for Alaskans.

BULLSHIT: The ad creates a false impression that Sullivan collected the money.

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩💩💩💩 — 4/5

WHY: Sullivan voted for a government funding bill containing a provision that would have allowed certain senators to sue for damages over access to their phone records. But Sullivan never collected $500,000, said he wouldn’t pursue a payout, and later voted to repeal the provision.

The ad also omits important context about his healthcare votes, including his subsequent support for extending enhanced Affordable Care Act subsidies.

There’s plenty of room to criticize a senator’s voting record without pretending he walked away from the Capitol carrying half a million dollars in a canvas sack.

FactCheck.org documented the misleading claims on October 15.

FactCheck.org

3. The Poll Worker Who Supposedly Invalidates Your Ballot With a Pen

CLAIM: A viral social media warning claims that if an election worker writes anything on your ballot before you feed it into the voting machine, your vote could be disqualified.

BULLSHIT: Routine authorized markings don’t automatically invalidate a ballot.

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩💩💩💩💩 — 5/5

WHY: Election procedures vary by state, and poll workers may make authorized administrative markings without invalidating a vote. The viral warning turns an ordinary election procedure into an allegation of voter suppression.

That matters because somebody who believes the warning might confront a poll worker or distrust a perfectly legitimate ballot.

We’re close enough to Election Day without inventing new reasons for voters to panic.

PolitiFact examined the warning on October 16 and rated it false.

PolitiFact

The Bullshit Scale: 💩 Mostly harmless · 💩💩 Misleading · 💩💩💩 Substantial deception · 💩💩💩💩 Serious deception · 💩💩💩💩💩 Weapons-grade bullshit

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

What The Hell? explores history’s most spectacular examples of human beings making terrible decisions with impressive confidence, while Chart Collision revisits the songs that shaped our lives and the stories behind them. Lotus Purrspective offers the household’s feline assessment of human behavior, usually with considerably less patience than the humans deserve.

Rabbit Ears Classic TV revisits classic television, The Backlot Ghost goes behind the movies and the people who made them, and Panic Room Sports separates what actually happened on the field from the noise that followed.

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Independent journalism takes time, especially when the subject requires sorting documented facts from speculation and political spin. If you’d like to help support Off Script, you can do so through Buy Me a Tea. No obligation. Reading and sharing matter, too.

One Question

When you look at Trump’s decisions involving Russia, do you see a coherent diplomatic strategy, a series of questionable judgments, or a pattern that demands a deeper investigation?

I’m especially interested in hearing from readers who disagree with my interpretation. Tell me which decision you think I’m getting wrong, and why.

#OffScript #Trump #Russia #Putin #Ukraine #ForeignPolicy #PoliticalAccountability #IndependentJournalism

Somewhere in Washington, somebody finally looked at the numbers and realized that spending nearly four cents to manufacture something worth one cent might not be the brightest idea the federal government ever had.

Fair enough. I can’t argue with that.

If I handed you a dollar and asked you to give me 27 cents back, you’d probably look at me like I’d been drinking since breakfast. Yet we’ve been doing essentially that with pennies for years, manufacturing coins at a cost considerably greater than their face value and sending them out into the economy as though everything made perfect sense. U.S. Mint production costs

So the Trump administration decided to stop making them.

There’s just one little problem.

The coin that’s supposed to help us live without pennies costs more than twice its own face value to manufacture. U.S. Mint, FY2025 Annual Report

Welcome to American currency, where apparently the solution to losing money on pennies involves making more nickels that also lose money.

I wish I were making that up.

The penny’s last stand. In February 2025, President Trump directed Treasury to stop producing pennies. The U.S. Mint eventually struck its final circulating pennies on November 12, 2025. The government estimates that suspending production will save approximately $56 million annually in production costs. U.S. Mint penny history and FAQs | Treasury’s savings estimate

That’s real money. It’s also a legitimate reason to question whether we need to keep manufacturing a coin whose purchasing power has been declining for decades.

You can’t buy much with a penny anymore. Hell, you can barely find anything that costs a nickel.

But the problem isn’t whether eliminating the penny makes economic sense. It probably does, at least when you look at the penny by itself.

The problem is what happens when you start looking at everything connected to it.

Because Washington made the decision to stop production before Congress had finished establishing a national framework for dealing with the consequences. Businesses began running short of pennies, retailers had to figure out what to do when they couldn’t make exact change, and states started addressing the problem themselves. Federal Reserve penny distribution records | Retailers’ concerns and congressional response

The government had the legal authority to suspend production under existing law. That’s important. Nobody needed to pass a new law to give Treasury permission to stop making coins it determined were no longer necessary. U.S. Mint, legal authority FAQ

But having the authority to do something and having a workable plan for what comes afterward are two different questions.

And that’s where this story gets interesting.

Circulating penny production ended in November 2025. Existing pennies remain legal tender.

The rules arrived after the problem. By late 2025, retailers were already dealing with penny shortages. Some rounded cash transactions down to avoid charging customers extra. Others began encouraging electronic payments. Businesses wanted clearer guidance on what they could legally do. Federal Reserve coin distribution information | National Restaurant Association concerns, as reported September 29

Treasury eventually issued recommendations in December 2025 explaining how cash rounding could work. But those recommendations were nonbinding, and businesses still had to comply with applicable state and local laws. Treasury’s December 23 guidance

Now Congress has passed the Common Cents Act, which would formally end circulating penny production and establish a federal framework permitting certain cash transactions to be rounded to the nearest nickel when exact change isn’t available. Common Cents Act, enrolled text

Notice the sequence.

First, stop making pennies. Then deal with shortages. Then issue guidance. Then pass legislation.

I’m not suggesting there was no preparation whatsoever. The Mint and Treasury had reasons for making the decision, and they had existing legal authority to act. Treasury’s explanation of the decision

What I’m questioning is whether the transition was adequately coordinated before the consequences reached the checkout counter.

That’s a perfectly reasonable question when we’re talking about a change that touches something as ordinary as buying a cup of coffee.

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And now, about that nickel. According to the U.S. Mint’s fiscal 2025 annual report, it cost 3.02 cents to produce and distribute a penny and 13.31 cents to produce and distribute a nickel.

Those are the same fiscal year’s figures, so we’re comparing apples to apples. The Mint has also cited a higher penny production-cost estimate of 3.69 cents in discussing the shutdown. FY2025 Annual Report | Treasury’s 3.69-cent figure

A nickel costs roughly thirteen cents to manufacture and distribute. That’s more than eight cents above its face value.

The penny costs several times what it’s worth.

At this point, I half expect someone to announce that we’re going to save money on nickels by manufacturing quarters for 65 cents apiece.

Fortunately, quarters still cost less than their face value to produce. So does the dime.

The nickel, however, is a problem Congress has clearly noticed. Mint production costs by denomination

The Common Cents Act would permit Treasury to test a different nickel composition, using an inner layer of zinc and an outer layer of nickel, provided the change reduces production costs and minimizes problems with coin-operated equipment. Common Cents Act, nickel-composition provisions

That last part matters more than you might think.

A coin isn’t just a little piece of metal. Vending machines, parking meters, laundromats, and other equipment have to recognize it. Change the composition, weight, or electromagnetic characteristics, and you may have to change equipment that was designed around the old coin.

Which means that saving money on manufacturing could create costs somewhere else.

The legislation recognizes that risk. Whether the proposed redesign will be cheap enough, compatible enough, and practical enough remains to be established. Congressional nickel redesign requirements

The Mint reported a 13.31-cent production and distribution cost for each nickel in fiscal 2025.

Here’s the part where we have to be careful with the arithmetic. A nickel costs more than a penny to manufacture. That doesn’t automatically mean the government will lose more money by eliminating pennies.

A single nickel can replace several pennies in making change. The Mint doesn’t necessarily have to produce one new nickel for every penny it stops making. And existing coins can keep circulating for years.

The relevant question is how many additional nickels will be needed, what those additional coins will cost, and whether those expenses eat into the projected savings.

The Federal Reserve Bank of Richmond has raised precisely that concern. Its research notes that increased nickel production could offset some of the savings from eliminating pennies. Richmond Fed, Does Phasing Out the Penny Make Cents?

Could it offset all of them? We don’t have enough evidence to say.

Could Treasury still save substantial money overall? Absolutely.

That’s why I wouldn’t trust anybody claiming to know the final financial result before we have the necessary figures.

The penny savings are relatively straightforward to estimate. The full cost of the transition is considerably more complicated. Treasury’s estimated savings | Richmond Fed’s analysis of additional nickel costs

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What about the money in your pocket? Let’s say you stop at a convenience store, grab a couple of things, and your total comes to $12.98.

Under conventional nearest-nickel rounding, a cash payment would become $13.00.

You’ve paid two cents more.

But if your total is $12.97, it rounds down to $12.95. You save two cents.

A total ending in one, two, six, or seven cents rounds down. Three, four, eight, or nine cents rounds up. Amounts ending in zero or five don’t change. Common Cents Act, cash-rounding formula

The pending federal bill generally permits this when exact change can’t be provided. It doesn’t require every merchant to round every cash purchase, and it also permits rounding in the customer’s favor under specified circumstances. Card transactions aren’t subject to the bill’s cash-rounding provisions.

Existing pennies don’t suddenly become worthless, either. They remain legal tender. Enrolled bill, transaction provisions | U.S. Mint, penny legal-tender FAQ

You might think the rounding would even out over time. Sometimes you pay a couple of cents more, sometimes a couple of cents less. No big deal.

Except researchers have found something curious.

Using 2023 consumer payment data, Federal Reserve researchers estimated that transaction totals were slightly more likely to end in digits that would round upward than downward.

Their modeled result was a net cost to consumers of approximately $6.06 million annually. Richmond Fed, rounding research

Now, before anybody starts screaming about a six-million-dollar robbery, let’s keep that number in perspective.

Spread across the country, it’s a tiny amount per person. It’s a model based on historical transaction patterns, not a measurement of what Americans have actually lost since penny production stopped. Federal Reserve research methodology

But it does raise a question about who is affected.

If you pay electronically, you generally don’t encounter this rounding. If you rely on cash, you may encounter it repeatedly.

That matters for people who don’t have bank accounts, people who prefer cash, and households where even small amounts deserve attention.

It’s also worth noting that the legislation specifically calls for examining the effects of penny shortages and rounding on populations with limited banking access, older consumers, and lower-income communities. Common Cents Act, reporting requirements

Apparently, Congress recognizes that a change that looks trivial from Washington can feel different when you’re standing at the register counting out your money.

Cash customers may encounter rounding when exact change is unavailable. Electronic payments remain calculated to the cent under the proposed framework.

There’s another detail Congress slipped into the bill. Future decisions to discontinue other circulating coins would come with an advance-notification requirement and a phaseout plan for Congress.

That plan would have to address the consequences for consumers and businesses. Common Cents Act, future coin phaseout provisions

Which makes me wonder why we’re establishing those safeguards now.

I’m not claiming the provision is a confession that the penny transition was botched. Legislation often addresses problems that become clearer once a policy is underway.

But the timing is hard to ignore.

The penny production shutdown happened first. Businesses dealt with shortages. Treasury issued nonbinding guidance. Congress developed legislation that includes additional planning requirements for future coin changes. Federal Reserve shortage records | Treasury guidance | Congressional legislation

It suggests that lawmakers understand the importance of looking beyond the manufacturing cost of a coin.

And that’s really what this comes down to.

The cheapest decision isn’t always the cheapest outcome. Suppose the government saves $56 million a year by no longer producing pennies. That’s good.

Suppose it then needs additional nickels, some businesses have to update equipment or software, employees need training, and cash transactions require new procedures.

Those costs don’t all land on the federal government’s books. Some fall on retailers, equipment operators, or consumers. Richmond Fed’s discussion of broader costs | Restaurant industry’s reported operational costs

That doesn’t mean the decision was wrong. It means the financial picture is bigger than the savings figure printed in a press release.

If we want to know whether eliminating the penny is a success, we should eventually compare the total costs and benefits, including the transition, rather than treating the Mint’s production savings as the entire answer.

And we should remember that the penny itself isn’t disappearing overnight.

There are still billions of them in circulation. You can spend them, receive them as change when they’re available, or leave them in that jar on the dresser where they’ve been accumulating since approximately the Eisenhower administration.

The government has stopped producing new circulating pennies. It hasn’t confiscated the old ones. U.S. Mint, continued use of pennies | Federal Reserve penny deposit and distribution guidance

So where does that leave us? Trump is expected to sign the Common Cents Act, giving the penny phaseout a formal legislative framework. As of this edition’s final research, I haven’t found official confirmation that the signature has occurred. The latest official legislative text I located remains the enrolled bill dated October 9. Government Publishing Office, enrolled legislation

The legislation may help businesses handle a transition that’s already underway. The Mint’s projected savings are real estimates, and the economic argument for discontinuing penny production is substantial. Treasury savings and policy rationale

But the full financial consequences remain an open question.

I’d like to know how much additional nickel production actually costs. I’d like to know whether redesigning the nickel saves enough to justify the change. I’d like to know how much businesses spend adapting their systems, and whether the rounding effects on cash customers match the Federal Reserve’s projections.

Those aren’t unreasonable demands. They’re the questions you ask when somebody tells you they’re saving money.

Especially when the proposed solution involves a five-cent coin that costs thirteen cents to make.

There’s an old saying about being penny-wise and pound-foolish.

I suppose we’re about to find out whether Washington can manage to be nickel-foolish, too.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three more claims making the rounds. Three more reasons to check the receipts before swallowing the story.

1. Walmart Receipts Prove Grocery Prices Have Quadrupled

CLAIM: Viral images show authentic Walmart receipts from 2002 and 2026, supposedly proving that the same groceries now cost nearly four times as much.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 (5/5)

WHY: The receipts are fake.

The supposed Walmart is located in Sunset Bay, Florida, a town that doesn’t exist. The store address doesn’t check out, either. Fact-checkers determined that the images were AI-generated, with prices exaggerated to make inflation look even worse than it already is.

Grocery inflation is real. People are feeling it every time they shop. Apparently, somebody decided that wasn’t depressing enough and invented an entire Walmart to help make the point.

The next time somebody shows you an old receipt proving how cheap everything used to be, check whether the store actually existed.

Lead Stories, October 15

2. Trump Threatened Zelenskyy With Ramen Noodles

CLAIM: A screenshot supposedly shows Trump ordering Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy to stop attacking Russian oil refineries and threatening to replace American military assistance with instant noodles.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 (5/5)

WHY: The Truth Social screenshot was fabricated.

Fact-checkers searched Trump’s actual account and an independent archive. Neither contained the alleged message, and established news outlets hadn’t reported it.

There have been real disputes about attacks on Russian energy infrastructure, which probably made the fake post seem believable to some readers.

But the supposed presidential threat to replace military aid with thoughts, prayers, and ramen coupons wasn’t real.

Although I have to admit, the part about ramen noodles sounds like somebody who spent entirely too much time writing rejected Saturday Night Live sketches.

Lead Stories, October 16

3. JD Vance Is Making an Emergency Visit to Pope Leo XIV

CLAIM: Vice President JD Vance is scheduled to visit Pope Leo XIV following the pontiff’s surgery and cancer diagnosis.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩 (4/5)

WHY: The purported travel announcement originated with an account that openly identifies itself as parody.

The pope’s surgery was real. Vance’s public expression of concern was real. But as of the October 16 fact-check, neither Vance’s official accounts nor established news organizations had announced such a visit.

This is how a perfectly real news event becomes the setting for a made-up story. Somebody invents the next development, attaches it to something readers already recognize, and watches it travel.

Before you share the breaking news, it might be worth checking whether the account breaking it has the word parody in its biography.

Lead Stories, October 16

From Off Script: The Bullshit Detector

If you enjoy catching the tricks behind misleading headlines, manipulated images, and claims that collapse under five minutes of checking, there’s more where these came from.

The full Off Script Bullshit Detector guide is free for subscribers, or available separately for $4.95 at the Tom Hicks Media Store.

More From Tom Hicks Media

Off Script / Blind Spot follows the money, examines the machinery behind the headlines, and asks the questions that tend to get lost in the shouting. Chart Collision brings back the music and memories that defined the charts, while Lotus Purrspective offers the world through the eyes of a cat who has very little confidence in human judgment.

Panic Room Sports looks past the noise to figure out what actually matters on the field. Rabbit Ears Classic TV revisits the programs, personalities, and forgotten corners of television history, while The Backlot Ghost digs into the movies and the stories behind them.

And when reality gets too ridiculous to ignore, What The Hell? is there to remind us that human beings have been doing spectacularly stupid things for a very long time.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Independent reporting takes time, research, and tools that aren’t free. If Off Script gives you something worth thinking about, consider helping keep it going.

No billionaire owners. No corporate editorial meetings. Just the work, the research, and the occasional discovery that the government spends thirteen cents making a nickel.

One Question Before You Go

Would you rather eliminate the penny now and deal with the transition costs, or keep it until the government can show the change will actually save money?

I’m curious whether you’ve already encountered rounding at a store, too. Has it been handled fairly, or have you noticed something that doesn’t add up?

#OffScript #TomHicksMedia #CommonCentsAct #Penny #USMint #GovernmentSpending #ConsumerNews #FollowTheMoney #BullshitDetector

Imagine two Americans walking into their polling places on November 3.

Both are registered. Both receive legitimate ballots, mark their choices, and cast their votes for Congress. Nobody interferes with the process. Nobody tampers with their ballots. Everything is counted exactly as the law requires.

One of those Americans lives in a congressional district where either major party has a realistic opportunity to win. The other lives in a district where the same party has such an overwhelming advantage that changing the result would require a political earthquake.

Both votes count equally. But do those voters have comparable opportunities to change who represents them?

That’s a deceptively simple question, and I suspect most Americans don’t spend much time thinking about it. We’re accustomed to hearing that every vote matters, which is true in the sense that every eligible voter has the right to participate and every valid ballot must be counted. What we hear considerably less about is the machinery that determines which voters are grouped together in the first place.

That machinery can influence which communities have a representative who shares their priorities, how accessible that representative is, and how their concerns compete for attention. Sometimes the difference between two congressional districts is nothing more than a boundary running down the middle of a street, separating neighbors who share the same schools, roads, and local problems. Reuters investigation

And if you’re wondering whether this is just another abstract argument about election maps, let me take you to Tennessee.

A city divided. Memphis is a majority-Black city of roughly 630,000 residents. For decades, most of it was contained in Tennessee’s 9th Congressional District, which routinely elected Democrats. That arrangement gave much of the city a common congressional representative, although the district also included communities outside Memphis. Reuters

In 2026, Tennessee’s Republican-controlled legislature approved a new congressional map that divided Memphis among three districts, combining portions of the city with suburban and rural communities extending across the state. Tennessee congressional district maps

Supporters defended the map as a lawful exercise of the legislature’s redistricting authority. Critics argued that dividing a politically cohesive, majority-Black city would weaken its residents’ opportunity to elect candidates reflecting their preferences. Those are competing claims that require examining the actual boundaries, voting patterns, and legal standards rather than simply accepting either side’s description. Reuters

Reuters examined the changes in an October 17 investigation, looking beyond electoral arithmetic to constituent access, community representation, and federal spending. Its reporting offers a particularly useful reminder that congressional boundaries can affect everyday political relationships long after Election Day. Reuters investigation

Memphis, Tennessee. The city’s congressional representation has become a focal point of the state’s redistricting disputes.

Consider a city trying to secure federal assistance for transportation improvements, housing, or aging infrastructure. If that city is concentrated within one district, local officials may have a single principal congressional office with which to coordinate. Divide the city among several districts, and the same project may require conversations with multiple representatives whose constituencies extend far beyond the city.

That doesn’t automatically make the second arrangement worse. More representatives can sometimes mean more avenues for assistance. A member of Congress has a responsibility to every constituent, regardless of whether that person voted for them.

But the political incentives are different. A city’s voters may no longer represent a decisive share of any one district’s electorate, and the representative who once had a concentrated urban constituency may now answer to a very different combination of communities.

Nashville provides another example. Following Tennessee’s 2022 redistricting, the city was divided among three congressional districts, replacing a configuration in which much of Nashville had shared a single representative. Reuters

The political consequences were immediate: a Democratic-held Nashville-based seat was replaced by districts with substantially different electoral compositions. The change also altered which congressional offices residents depended on for constituent services. Reuters

Reuters reported that Nashville residents previously averaged approximately nine miles to their congressional district office. Following redistricting and subsequent office arrangements, reported averages for residents in the city’s three districts were approximately 24, 25, and 47 miles. These are averages across different groups of residents, rather than proof that every individual trip became longer, but the difference is striking. Reuters investigation

Nashville: Average distance to a congressional district office

Miles, as reported by Reuters. The three post-redistricting figures refer to different districts.

Source: Reuters, October 17, 2026.Rounded reported averages; distances do not represent individual journeys.

A district office isn’t a polling place, and distance alone doesn’t tell us whether constituents receive good service. People can call, email, or arrange appointments. Still, there’s something worth considering when a congressional boundary changes the practical geography of contacting your representative.

A map that appears to be a collection of colored shapes on a legislative computer screen can turn into a longer trip for somebody who needs help resolving a federal benefits problem.

That’s where this story becomes more interesting than another argument about which party gained a seat.

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How the trick works. Congressional districts must satisfy population-equality requirements, but that still leaves mapmakers considerable discretion over where the boundaries go. Two familiar techniques are called packing and cracking, and neither requires changing a single ballot. Brennan Center: Gerrymandering explained

Packing concentrates voters who favor one party into relatively few districts, where they may win by overwhelming margins. Cracking distributes those voters among several districts, where they may lack enough support to elect their preferred candidates. Brennan Center

You can understand the effect with a simple hypothetical. Imagine 100 voters divided into five equally populated districts. Sixty favor Party A, and forty favor Party B. The statewide political preferences stay exactly the same, but the district arrangements change.

Same electorate, different district outcomes

Hypothetical example, not an actual election map.

3 A / 2 B seats 5 A / 0 B seats

Party A (60 voters)

Party B (40 voters)

Party A seats

3 / 5

Party B seats

2 / 5

Choose either arrangement to see how identical statewide voting preferences can produce different seat distributions. Actual maps must also comply with geographic, population, and legal constraints.

In the first arrangement, Party A wins three districts, and Party B wins two. In the second, Party A wins all five.

The voters haven’t changed their minds. The statewide division remains 60–40. What changes is how those voters are grouped.

Now, before we turn this into a claim that every state should produce congressional seats in exact proportion to its statewide vote, there’s an important complication. The United States generally elects House members from single-member districts. That system doesn’t guarantee proportional representation, and geographic clustering can produce lopsided seat totals even without deliberate manipulation. Brennan Center

Democratic voters are often concentrated in large urban areas, while Republican voters are more widely distributed across suburban and rural communities. That pattern varies by state, and it can produce political advantages or disadvantages even when district boundaries follow neutral geographic rules.

This is why a mismatch between vote share and seat share is a reason to investigate, rather than proof by itself that somebody cheated.

The more revealing questions concern how the map was constructed, what alternatives were available, and whether its boundaries can be explained by legitimate districting principles.

The people holding the pencil. Once you understand what district boundaries can accomplish, the obvious question becomes who gets to draw them.

In many states, the responsibility belongs to legislators, who may have a direct interest in which districts are competitive and which are politically secure. Other states use redistricting commissions, although the way those commissions are appointed and the independence they possess vary substantially. National Conference of State Legislatures: Redistricting commissions

Some systems place greater emphasis on compact districts, keeping counties and municipalities together, or protecting communities of interest. Others give political actors considerable discretion within federal and state legal requirements. NCSL: Redistricting criteria

And the technology available to those actors has changed dramatically. Modern mapping tools allow people drawing districts to compare alternative boundaries against detailed population data and past election results. They can test how moving a neighborhood from one district to another might affect the partisan balance.

That doesn’t mean every unusual-looking district is a gerrymander. Sometimes irregular boundaries reflect rivers, municipal borders, or requirements under the Voting Rights Act. A district that looks tidy on a map can still divide a community, while an awkward-looking district may preserve one.

Still, sophisticated mapping tools can be used to pursue partisan objectives with considerable precision.

Redistricting decisions are made through state-specific political and administrative processes. The rules governing who draws the map differ substantially across states.

There is also an uncomfortable political reality here: Both major parties have incentives to protect their advantages when they control the process.

Republican-controlled states have drawn maps intended to improve Republican representation. Democratic-controlled states have done the same for Democrats. The circumstances and legal outcomes differ, and those differences matter, but the underlying temptation isn’t restricted to one party. Brennan Center

One argument often offered in defense of aggressive partisan redistricting is that unilateral restraint puts a party at a disadvantage if its opponents continue drawing favorable maps elsewhere.

It’s an argument worth taking seriously because the House is a national institution assembled from district elections in fifty separate states. A map drawn in one state can influence the national balance of power, even though voters in other states have no direct say over it.

But there’s a question buried inside that argument.

If each side justifies manipulating district boundaries because the other side is doing it, what incentive remains to develop rules that protect voters regardless of which party controls the legislature?

That isn’t a question with a convenient partisan answer.

The courts can only go so far. In 2019, the Supreme Court issued a decision that substantially changed the federal legal landscape for partisan gerrymandering.

In Rucho v. Common Cause, the Court held that claims of excessive partisan gerrymandering present political questions beyond the reach of federal courts. The majority concluded that federal judges lacked a judicially manageable constitutional standard for determining how much partisan advantage is too much. Supreme Court opinion, pp. 1–34

The dissent argued that courts could identify extreme partisan gerrymanders and that leaving such arrangements without a federal judicial remedy undermined representative democracy. Dissenting opinion, pp. 1–33

The decision didn’t make every congressional map immune from legal challenge. State courts can enforce state constitutional requirements, and federal courts still have responsibilities under federal constitutional protections and voting-rights statutes. Brennan Center: Case analysis

But it removed one important avenue for challenging district boundaries solely because of their partisan effects.

That leaves voters navigating a complicated legal landscape in which the reason a map was drawn, the evidence of its effects, and the particular legal claim can determine whether a challenge succeeds.

Race adds another layer of complexity. Federal law prohibits certain forms of racial vote dilution, while the Constitution also places limits on using race as the predominant factor in drawing districts.

In 2023, the Supreme Court’s decision in Allen v. Milligan upheld a Voting Rights Act challenge involving Alabama’s congressional map. The case illustrated circumstances in which district boundaries can unlawfully diminish minority voters’ opportunity to elect preferred candidates. Supreme Court opinion

Those principles have remained the subject of significant litigation, including the 2026 proceedings involving Louisiana’s congressional districts. Louisiana v. Callais, April 29, 2026

It’s tempting to reduce all of this to a simple rule: Politicians shouldn’t be allowed to choose their voters.

The difficulty is translating that principle into workable legal standards while respecting geography, communities, population equality, racial protections, and the constitutional responsibilities of state governments.

That difficulty doesn’t excuse deliberate manipulation. It explains why reform has proved so challenging.

But what would a fair map actually look like? This is the part of the discussion that tends to get lost when everyone starts counting potential Republican and Democratic seats.

Suppose a city votes overwhelmingly for one party. Should its residents be kept together in a district that reflects their shared political preferences, even if the resulting election is rarely competitive? Or should the city be divided among several districts to produce closer contests?

There isn’t a universal answer.

Keeping a community together may strengthen its collective voice. Dividing it can sometimes create additional opportunities for representation, depending on the surrounding population and the preferences of voters. But it can also weaken a politically cohesive community’s ability to elect candidates it supports.

A competitive district isn’t automatically fair, and a safe district isn’t automatically unfair.

The real question is whether the map reflects defensible principles applied consistently, or whether those principles were selectively invoked to achieve a desired political result.

One way to investigate is to compare an enacted map with thousands of alternative maps generated under the same legal and geographic constraints. Researchers can examine whether the enacted map produces an unusually strong partisan advantage relative to those alternatives. MGGG Redistricting Lab: Computational redistricting research

That kind of analysis doesn’t eliminate judgment or resolve every legal question, but it can reveal patterns that a casual glance at a colorful map would miss.

District maps are more than colorful boundaries. Their design determines which populations are grouped together for congressional representation.

And there’s something else we should remember.

The people who draw the maps don’t have to know exactly how every voter will behave in the future. Political preferences change. Candidates matter. Turnout fluctuates. Unexpected events can transform an apparently safe district into a competitive one.

A map can create an advantage without guaranteeing an outcome.

That distinction matters because redistricting is a powerful influence on elections, but it is never the only influence.

So what does this mean for November 3? With Election Day approaching, Americans are being inundated with arguments about candidates, campaign spending, advertisements, and polls. Those things matter, and Saturday’s Off Script examination of campaign fundraising raised legitimate questions about the resources available to different candidates and political organizations.

But fundraising happens within the political geography established by district boundaries.

A candidate running in a competitive district faces a different set of electoral circumstances from one running in a district where their party has an overwhelming advantage. Those differences can influence campaign strategy, advertising decisions, donor interest, and the kinds of issues candidates emphasize.

The map doesn’t write the campaign script, but it helps establish the stage on which the campaign takes place.

And for voters, the practical questions begin with understanding their own district.

The U.S. House’s representative lookup can help identify a current representative. For the district in which you’ll vote this November, particularly in states where boundaries have changed, consult your state election authority’s official map and ballot information.

Look at the shape of the district and the communities it contains. Find out who drew the boundaries and what criteria they were required to follow. If the map has been challenged, examine the arguments and the court’s decision rather than relying on a campaign advertisement’s summary.

You may discover that your district follows sensible community boundaries. You may discover that it combines places with surprisingly little in common. You may find that the lines have changed considerably since the previous election.

None of those observations alone proves wrongdoing. They do, however, give you a better understanding of the political structure in which your vote operates.

And that brings me back to those two voters we met at the beginning.

Both will cast legitimate ballots. Both deserve to have those ballots counted accurately. Both are entitled to representation, whether or not their preferred candidate wins.

What differs is the political environment surrounding their votes, including the composition of the districts in which they live.

For most of us, congressional boundaries are something we encounter only when a new map appears on the news or an election official tells us our district has changed.

Yet those boundaries can influence political representation for years, affecting which communities share a voice in Washington and how elected officials respond to competing local interests.

We spend an extraordinary amount of time scrutinizing the people asking for our votes. We examine their records, argue about their promises, and try to decide whether they deserve another term.

Maybe we should devote a little more attention to the people who decided which voters those candidates would have to persuade in the first place.

Because by the time we walk into the polling place, that decision has already been made.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three claims worth checking before somebody passes them along as facts.

1. CLAIM: If an election worker writes anything on your ballot, your vote will be disqualified.

BULLSHIT — 💩💩💩💩

Social media posts are warning voters that a checkmark, initial, or other notation made by a poll worker can invalidate their ballot. Some even advise demanding a replacement if a worker makes any mark whatsoever. Associated Press fact-check

The problem is that election procedures vary by state, and certain administrative markings are perfectly legitimate. In Illinois, for example, election judges are required to initial ballots. Other jurisdictions use authorized markings to help manage different categories of ballots. PolitiFact, October 16

That doesn’t mean every conceivable mark is harmless. It means the sweeping claim is false.

If something looks wrong, ask an election official rather than relying on somebody’s cousin who supposedly heard something at poll-worker training.

The Associated Press investigated the claim, and PolitiFact independently examined the same misinformation. PolitiFact

2. CLAIM: The Supreme Court’s 2026 Louisiana redistricting decision means racial discrimination in congressional maps is now legal.

BULLSHIT — 💩💩💩💩

The Supreme Court’s April 29 decision in Louisiana v. Callais substantially restricted the circumstances under which race can be used to draw congressional districts. It held that Louisiana’s creation of an additional Black-majority district was not justified by Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act under the circumstances of that case. Supreme Court opinion, April 29, 2026

That is a consequential decision, but it did not repeal the Fourteenth or Fifteenth Amendments, abolish the Voting Rights Act, or declare racial discrimination lawful.

The majority and dissent disagreed sharply over the implications for minority voting rights. Those disagreements deserve serious attention, without turning the ruling into something it didn’t say. Majority, concurrence, and dissent

Read the Supreme Court’s decision.

3. CLAIM: The Supreme Court’s refusal to hear an election lawsuit proves the allegations in that lawsuit were true.

BULLSHIT — 💩💩💩💩

This is a recurring misunderstanding of how the Supreme Court operates.

When the justices decline to review a case, that generally leaves the lower court’s ruling in place. It does not mean the Court has endorsed every argument made by either side, and it certainly doesn’t establish the truth of allegations that were never proven. Supreme Court: Frequently asked questions

A refusal to hear an appeal is not a secret victory for whichever political personality happens to be celebrating it online.

Before accepting claims about what the Supreme Court supposedly decided, check whether it actually issued a ruling on the merits.

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

Off Script / Blind Spot follows the political machinery, the money, and the decisions that deserve closer scrutiny. What The Hell? explores real events so ridiculous they sound like somebody invented them after several drinks, while Lotus Purrspective offers daily observations from a cat who has already decided that human civilization is a poorly managed experiment.

Chart Collision revisits the music, memories, and unexpected stories behind the hits. Rabbit Ears Classic TV looks behind the television shows we grew up watching, while The Backlot Ghost digs into the movies and backstage stories Hollywood left behind.

For sports fans, Panic Room Sports examines the games, the decisions, the fantasy headaches, and the occasional spectacle of people being paid extraordinary amounts of money to do something inexplicably stupid.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Research takes time, reliable information isn’t always easy to find, and independent journalism doesn’t come with a corporate expense account.

If you’d like to support Off Script / Blind Spot, consider buying me a cup of tea. It helps fund the research and tools we use every day.

One Question Before You Go

Would you rather have a congressional district that keeps your community together, even if one party almost always wins, or a more competitive district that combines communities with different political priorities?

I’m interested in how people weigh those two considerations, because they don’t always point toward the same map.

#BlindSpot #OffScript #Election2026 #Midterms2026 #Gerrymandering #Redistricting #VotingRights #Congress #IndependentJournalism

There’s something almost beautiful about watching a political party assemble a financial war machine capable of overwhelming its opponents, only to discover that the opponents apparently didn’t get the memo about being overwhelmed.

Republicans entered the final stretch of the midterms with Donald Trump’s reported $400 million political war chest, Elon Musk writing checks that would make most lottery winners feel financially inadequate, and a Supreme Court that has made it easier for party committees to help their candidates. For that kind of money, I’d expect somebody to throw in a few congressional seats and complimentary valet parking. Apparently, somebody forgot to tell the Democratic candidates. Punchbowl News

The third-quarter fundraising reports are arriving, and some of these numbers are ridiculous. They’re the kind that make you check whether somebody accidentally added a zero, particularly when you consider where the money is being raised.

Take Texas, where Democrat James Talarico raised a staggering $64 million during July, August, and September. Republican Ken Paxton raised approximately $18 million when his campaign and affiliated fundraising are considered together. That’s Texas, mind you, the state where Democrats have been hearing that this might finally be their year for so long that the phrase probably qualifies for historic preservation. The Texas Tribune

James Talarico and Ken Paxton in the Texas Senate contest. Photograph: CBS News.

Texas isn’t an isolated case. In Ohio, former Democratic Senator Sherrod Brown raised $23.1 million through his campaign account while Republican incumbent Jon Husted brought in $4.8 million. Democrat Mary Peltola raised $17 million in Alaska compared with Dan Sullivan’s approximately $2.7 million through his campaign. Maine’s Troy Jackson brought in $20.4 million against Susan Collins’ $5.2 million, and similar disparities appeared in Michigan and Iowa. Punchbowl News

Now, I know what some of you are thinking, because I’m thinking it myself. Democrats have raised enormous amounts of money before and still managed to lose elections they were absolutely convinced they were going to win. I’ve been watching politics long enough to know that Democratic optimism and actual election results occasionally occupy different zip codes.

That’s why I’m not interested in declaring the election over because Democrats had a spectacular fundraising quarter. What interests me is the pattern, particularly when we move away from the headline Senate races and look at what’s happening in the House.

According to Punchbowl News’ examination of the filings, at least 47 Republican House incumbents were outraised by Democratic challengers or independents during the third quarter. Only about half a dozen Democratic incumbents were outraised by Republicans, most in heavily Democratic districts. Punchbowl News

Think about that for a minute. Incumbents normally have a tremendous fundraising advantage. They’ve already won an election, established donor relationships, built political organizations, and acquired the sort of name recognition challengers spend months trying to develop. Some have also perfected the art of convincing wealthy contributors that another two years of their presence in Congress is essential to the survival of Western civilization.

Yet in New York, Democrat Cait Conley raised $5.4 million compared with Republican Representative Mike Lawler’s $1.8 million. In Colorado, Manny Rutinel raised $4.2 million while Republican incumbent Gabe Evans brought in about $1.5 million. Does that mean Lawler and Evans are finished? Of course not. But if you’re an incumbent looking at a report showing that the person trying to take your job just raised nearly three times as much money as you did, I imagine the next conversation with your campaign manager is going to be a little uncomfortable. Punchbowl News

The larger Republican political operation has plenty of money. Its individual candidates, however, are frequently struggling to keep pace, and that’s a much more interesting problem than simply having an empty bank account.

The Senate money gap

Third-quarter candidate campaign receipts · Millions of dollars

■ Democrat - Purple

■ Republican - Pink

Campaign-account figures, excluding affiliated joint fundraising totals. Texas is discussed separately because its broader reported totals use a different accounting basis.

Here’s where the money gets interesting. Most people understandably assume that if two campaigns spend $10 million on television advertising, they’ve purchased roughly the same amount of exposure. That would be reasonable if political advertising worked like ordinary advertising, but apparently campaign finance law wasn’t complicated enough already.

Under federal law, qualified candidates generally receive broadcasters’ lowest unit advertising rates during the final 60 days before a general election. Independent super PACs don’t automatically qualify for those rates, which means a candidate can sometimes purchase substantially more advertising with the same amount of money. So when you see a Democrat raise $20 million directly and a Republican super PAC spend $20 million attacking that Democrat, don’t assume they’ve purchased an equal amount of television time. They may not even be close. Semafor

Republican strategists understand this perfectly well, which brings us to the Supreme Court. In June, the Court struck down limits on coordinated spending between political parties and their candidates. Then, on October 14, the justices intervened in a dispute over an FCC policy extending favorable advertising rates to certain party-coordinated advertisements and joint fundraising committees. Reuters

Democrats challenged that interpretation, arguing that Congress intended the special rates for candidates. The Court’s intervention blocked a lower court deadline that would have forced the FCC to act before Election Day, leaving the existing guidance in place while the underlying dispute remains unresolved. Roll Call

You don’t have to believe every Supreme Court decision involving elections is part of some grand conspiracy to recognize that legal rulings have political consequences. Republican party organizations have gained additional spending flexibility at precisely the moment their candidates are having difficulty keeping up with Democratic fundraising. That’s a pretty useful combination when you’ve got a few hundred million dollars looking for somewhere to go.

If you’re finding this kind of reporting useful, subscribe to Off Script. It’s free—or help fund the research and tools we use every day. No billionaire sponsorship required, although I suppose I’d hear one out if he promised to leave the journalism alone.

And speaking of billionaires, we should probably talk about Elon Musk, because the amounts of money he’s putting into Republican politics have reached the point where the numbers almost stop meaning anything.

According to reporting from The Washington Post, Musk has contributed approximately $369 million to Republican political efforts since 2025, including a reported $158 million in September to the Senate Leadership Fund. One man, hundreds of millions of dollars, and an extraordinary ability to influence which candidates receive financial support. The Washington Post

I don’t begrudge anybody the right to participate in politics, but we’ve reached a point where one billionaire can contribute more to political organizations than most Americans will earn in several thousand lifetimes. That ought to bother people regardless of which party is receiving the checks.

Donald Trump and Elon Musk. Musk’s political contributions have become a major part of the Republican effort to retain control of Congress.

The Republican Senate Leadership Fund raised approximately $273 million during the third quarter, compared with about $151 million for its Democratic counterpart, Senate Majority PAC. Those are enormous sums, and they explain why Republican candidates can be dramatically outraised without necessarily being overwhelmed on television. Semafor

But there’s a catch. When candidates depend heavily on outside groups, those groups have priorities of their own. They look at polling, campaign performance, and the likelihood of winning, then decide where their money will do the most good. If a race begins looking hopeless, they can redirect resources somewhere else.

That’s perfectly rational campaign strategy, but it probably doesn’t feel especially comforting if you’re the candidate whose future depends on somebody in Washington deciding you’re still worth saving. Imagine spending months knocking on doors, shaking hands, smiling for photographs, and pretending to enjoy rubber chicken dinners, only to discover that the people controlling the big money have decided your district is no longer a sound investment. Thanks for playing. We appreciate your participation.

Democrats raising money directly have more control over how those dollars get spent, although there’s an important qualification. Raising money and having money left to spend are two different things. In Iowa, for example, Josh Turek raised $13.9 million during the quarter but spent approximately $12.6 million. Republican Ashley Hinson raised considerably less, yet finished September with nearly twice as much cash on hand. That’s why these figures need to be examined rather than treated as some magical prediction of Election Day. Punchbowl News

The Republican outside-money advantage

Third-quarter fundraising by major Senate super PACs

Super PAC fundraising, not candidate receipts or spending. Sources: Semafor and Senate Majority PAC.

The enthusiasm question is where political analysts usually start talking about momentum, grassroots energy, and all the other things they claim to measure right up until Election Night proves they couldn’t. I’m not interested in pretending campaign contributions are the same thing as votes, because we’ve seen far too many well-funded candidates lose elections.

A candidate who raises $10 million from a handful of wealthy donors hasn’t demonstrated the same kind of grassroots participation as somebody who raises that amount from hundreds of thousands of individual contributors. Both have $10 million, but the political implications can be very different.

In Talarico’s case, his campaign says 97 percent of its third-quarter donations were for less than $100. That doesn’t mean 97 percent of the money came from small donors, an important distinction, but it suggests substantial participation by people making relatively modest contributions. The Texas Tribune

Maybe Democratic donors are angry about Trump. Maybe they’re worried about the economy, health care, or the direction of the country. Probably some combination of those things, along with motivations we haven’t adequately measured. We don’t need to pretend we know what every donor is thinking to recognize that something unusual is happening.

There’s also the possibility that Republicans are approaching the point where additional spending simply doesn’t produce much additional benefit. Think about the last fifty political advertisements you’ve seen. Can you remember which candidate approved which message, or have they all blended into one endless parade of ominous music, unflattering photographs, and somebody warning you that civilization will collapse if the other guy wins?

I swear, by the time Election Day arrives, half the country would probably vote for a candidate promising to outlaw political commercials altogether.

Political advertising works under certain circumstances. It can introduce unfamiliar candidates, reinforce existing opinions, and persuade undecided voters. But there’s no guarantee that doubling your advertising budget doubles its effectiveness. At some point, you’re simply paying more money to annoy the same people.

Republican Senator Bernie Moreno raised this concern while discussing Talarico’s fundraising, suggesting that campaigns may be reaching a point of diminishing returns. He’s got a point. Semafor

If voters have already formed strong opinions about Trump, his administration, and the Republican Congress, another $50 million in television advertising may have limited power to change those opinions. The same applies to Democrats, of course, but Republicans are the party defending control of Congress, and they’re doing it with a president whose political influence is central to the election.

Democrats seem perfectly happy to make Trump the subject of the midterms. Republican candidates, judging by their advertising, often appear considerably less enthusiastic about discussing the man who dominates their party.

There are legitimate reasons for congressional candidates to emphasize local issues instead of the president, but if Trump is the tremendous political asset his supporters insist he is, you’d expect Republicans in competitive districts to be falling over themselves to associate with him. Instead, many seem more interested in discussing almost anything else.

If Democrats are correct that Trump is a liability in competitive districts, Republicans have a problem that no amount of campaign financing can entirely solve. They can buy another advertisement, hire another consultant, or send another billionaire looking for his checkbook. What they can’t buy is a different president.

Which brings us back to November 3. I wouldn’t bet the mortgage on either party controlling Congress next year based on quarterly fundraising reports. Democrats still face difficult Senate arithmetic, Republicans retain advantages in numerous districts, and enormous outside spending could make the difference in close races. There’s also the little matter of people actually voting.

What interests me isn’t whether these numbers guarantee a Democratic victory. They don’t. It’s what they reveal about the election Republicans thought they were preparing to fight.

They assembled an extraordinary financial operation, benefited from wealthy donors willing to spend sums most Americans can’t begin to imagine, and gained additional flexibility through legal decisions affecting political spending. Yet Democratic candidates are repeatedly outraising Republican opponents by astonishing margins, including dozens of incumbents who ordinarily should have the upper hand.

Maybe Republicans will spend enough money to overcome those disadvantages and retain control of Congress. Maybe Democrats will discover that their fundraising success doesn’t translate into the votes they need. Either outcome is possible.

But suppose Republicans lose one or both chambers despite everything they’ve spent. What exactly will those hundreds of millions of dollars have purchased?

That’s the question I keep coming back to, because money can buy an extraordinary amount of political exposure. What it can’t guarantee is that the people watching will believe a damn word you’re saying.

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack, or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

The Bullshit Detector

Three more claims that deserve a closer look.

1. Jeff Bezos says AI deserves drinking water more than people do.

Claim: Bezos supposedly said water should be prioritized for data centers over human consumption because artificial intelligence will contribute more to humanity.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩 — 5/5

Why: The quotation appeared in a post made to resemble a BBC report, but it originated with a self-described satire account. Fact-checkers found no evidence Bezos ever made the statement. There’s a legitimate debate about the water consumed by AI data centers, particularly in communities already dealing with shortages. Apparently, that wasn’t outrageous enough for somebody, so they decided to manufacture a quote. Because why settle for a real controversy when you can invent a better one? Lead Stories, October 15

2. Viral Walmart receipts prove how much groceries have increased since 2002.

Claim: Images comparing Walmart receipts from 2002 and 2026 provide photographic proof of the dramatic increase in grocery prices.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩 — 5/5

Why: The viral receipts were AI-generated, not authentic records of purchases made 24 years apart. The supposed store location doesn’t even exist. Grocery inflation is real, and anybody who’s bought food lately probably doesn’t need a lecture about it. But fabricated receipts aren’t evidence of anything except somebody’s ability to make convincing-looking bullshit. Lead Stories, October 15

3. A viral video shows ships trapped in the Strait of Hormuz.

Claim: Footage circulating online shows ships stranded in the Strait of Hormuz during the current Middle East crisis.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩 — 4/5

Why: Investigators matched the coastline in the footage to the port area around Chittagong, Bangladesh, rather than the Strait of Hormuz. Shipping disruptions in the Middle East are a legitimate concern, but relocating an entire harbor to another part of the world is a hell of a way to illustrate them. Lead Stories, October 15

More from Tom Hicks Media

If you enjoy Off Script / Blind Spot, there’s plenty more from Tom Hicks Media. Chart Collision revisits the music and stories behind the hits, while Panic Room Sports brings some attitude to the games and people making headlines.

Lotus Purrspective offers the daily observations of a cat who has very little patience for human stupidity, and Rabbit Ears Classic TV revisits the shows, stars, and personalities we grew up with.

The Backlot Ghost digs into Hollywood’s forgotten stories, while What The Hell? explores the real-life absurdities that make you wonder how the hell we’ve survived this long.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

I don’t have a $400 million political war chest, and I suspect my accountant would be very surprised if I did. But independent journalism still takes time, research, and the occasional cup of tea. If you’d like to help keep Off Script going, your support is always appreciated.

One Question Before You Go

Do you think campaign spending still changes voters’ minds, or has political advertising become mostly an expensive way to annoy people who’ve already decided?

#OffScript #Midterms2026 #CampaignFinance #PoliticalMoney #Congress #Election2026 #BullshitDetector

I’ve been thinking about the housing crisis, and there’s something about the conversation that doesn’t quite add up.

Everybody agrees that housing costs too much. Young people are struggling to buy their first homes. Renters are watching more of their paychecks disappear into monthly payments, and people who have lived in the same communities for decades are discovering that their children can’t afford to live anywhere near them. Politicians from both parties promise to fix it, developers insist we need to build more, and homeowners complain that the house down the street just sold for an absolutely ridiculous amount of money.

Of course, if their own house sells for that ridiculous amount of money, that’s an entirely different conversation.

I don’t think there’s anything particularly sinister about that. Most people who own homes have spent years paying for them, maintaining them, and watching their equity grow. For many, that house represents the biggest financial asset they’ll ever have. Naturally, they want it to increase in value. I would, too.

But there’s a contradiction hiding in there, and it’s one we don’t talk about nearly enough. We want housing to become more affordable for everybody else while hoping the value of our own property continues climbing. We want our kids to be able to buy homes, but we also want our retirement investments protected. Somehow, we’re expecting those two things to happen simultaneously, and we’re getting annoyed that nobody has figured out how to pull it off.

Now imagine that somebody announces plans to build 150 apartments in your town. Maybe the developer has purchased an old commercial property that’s been sitting empty for years. Maybe the apartments would be close to shopping, public transportation, and jobs. On paper, it sounds like the sort of project we’ve been saying we need.

Then the neighbors find out.

Suddenly, everybody’s an expert on traffic engineering, stormwater runoff, school capacity, and the architectural character of the community. People who haven’t attended a town meeting since the last time somebody threatened to change the garbage collection schedule are organizing petitions and demanding answers.

Some of those questions absolutely deserve answers. If a development is going to create dangerous traffic conditions or cause flooding in somebody’s basement, that’s a legitimate problem. If the water system can’t handle another 150 apartments, the developer needs to explain how that gets fixed. But suppose those concerns can be addressed. Suppose the developer makes reasonable changes, the engineers sign off, and the project complies with the applicable safety requirements.

What happens then?

That’s where the conversation often gets interesting, because sometimes the objection isn’t really about traffic or drainage. Sometimes people simply don’t want apartments in their neighborhood.

I can understand that feeling, too. Change can be uncomfortable, especially when it involves the place where you’ve chosen to live. But understanding why somebody feels that way doesn’t mean the rest of the community should automatically accept the consequences.

Somebody has to live in those apartments. If we don’t build them here, where exactly are those people supposed to go?

Here’s where the politics gets awkward. Republicans have traditionally championed private property rights, limited government interference, and the idea that markets should respond to supply and demand. Those are familiar conservative principles, and there’s a perfectly reasonable argument behind them. If somebody owns a piece of property and wants to develop it responsibly, government shouldn’t make the process unnecessarily difficult.

Until, of course, the property owner wants to build something the neighbors don’t like.

Now the discussion turns to preserving single-family neighborhoods, protecting community character, and maintaining restrictions on what can be built where. The developer’s property rights suddenly become less compelling than the neighbors’ desire to keep everything looking exactly as it did when they moved in.

There’s a legitimate role for zoning. Nobody wants a chemical processing plant opening beside an elementary school, and nobody should have to accept a development that creates demonstrable safety hazards. But when the argument becomes that a neighborhood should remain exclusively single-family because that’s what the existing homeowners prefer, we’re no longer having a straightforward conversation about property rights. We’re deciding whose property rights matter more.

Democrats have their own complications, and they’re no less interesting. Affordable housing is supposed to be a priority, along with economic opportunity, inclusion, environmental protection, and making communities accessible to people who aren’t wealthy. Those are all worthwhile goals, but they don’t always coexist as comfortably as campaign speeches suggest.

Consider an affluent community that strongly supports affordable housing while resisting proposals to build it locally. Residents may raise concerns about trees, open space, wetlands, neighborhood density, or the appearance of new buildings. Sometimes those objections are completely justified. Sometimes they’re the same arguments that have been used for decades to keep new housing out of desirable neighborhoods.

The tricky part is separating one from the other.

If protecting a wetland means rejecting a particular development, fine. Wetlands matter. But if every proposed development somehow turns out to threaten something precious, and the only acceptable alternative is to build somewhere else, eventually we have to wonder whether environmental protection has become a very convenient way to avoid having new neighbors.

Notice that neither party has to be lying about its principles for these contradictions to exist. People can genuinely believe in property rights, affordable housing, environmental protection, and neighborhood preservation. The problem comes when those principles collide, and somebody has to decide which one gets priority.

That’s the part politicians tend to leave out of the speeches.

Chicago residents protest the Lincoln Yards development and public subsidies for developers in April 2019. Their concerns included displacement and rising rents, a reminder that opposition to development isn’t always opposition to housing. Charles Edward Miller / CC BY-SA 2.0.

And there’s an important distinction in that photograph. Those Chicago protesters weren’t simply demanding that nobody build anything near them. They were questioning how public money was being spent and whether the people already living in surrounding neighborhoods would benefit or be pushed out.

That’s a different argument from insisting that an apartment building will ruin the view from your back porch. We shouldn’t lump the two together just because both involve somebody objecting to a development.

Now, before this turns into a philosophical argument about people who live in neighborhoods with names like Whispering Pines Estates, let’s look at something that actually happened.

On October 5, the Planning and Zoning Commission in Mansfield, Connecticut, voted 8–1 against a proposal to redevelop the Carriage House Apartments near the University of Connecticut. The developer wanted to replace an existing 64-unit apartment complex with 192 units, a net increase of 128 apartments.

An October 10 report by CT Insider describes the objections, which included concerns about groundwater, density, land use, and whether the project would address the community’s actual housing needs. Some commissioners questioned whether Mansfield needed more student-oriented apartments rather than housing aimed at other residents.

Those aren’t frivolous concerns. If a community has a shortage of housing for working families, adding student apartments may not solve that particular problem. And if there are genuine water issues, they need to be resolved before anybody starts digging.

But the commission’s decision raises a question that extends well beyond Mansfield.

What happens to the demand for those additional apartments?

It doesn’t necessarily disappear because eight people voted against the proposal. The students and other prospective tenants who might have lived there still need housing. The developer may revise the project, pursue another location, or abandon the effort altogether. Each possibility has consequences, and the people making the decision ought to understand them.

I’d also like to know whether the problems identified by the commission were fixable. Could the density have been reduced? Could the water concerns have been addressed through another approval process? Was there a version of this development that would have worked for the community?

Those questions matter because rejecting a bad proposal can be good public policy. Rejecting every proposal until the housing shortage becomes somebody else’s problem is something else entirely.

Affordable housing construction in Greenville, North Carolina, February 2024. City of Greenville / Public domain.

Here’s something else that complicates the familiar story about politicians doing nothing.

Congress actually managed to agree on a major housing bill this year.

I know. Take a moment to appreciate the rarity of that sentence.

The 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act became law on July 11. It included provisions addressing housing supply, financing, regulatory barriers, and incentives for communities that modernize their housing policies.

That deserves recognition. It’s easy to complain about Washington’s inability to accomplish anything, but when lawmakers from both parties support something substantial, we ought to acknowledge it.

The catch is that much of what happens next depends on states and local governments. Congress can create incentives, remove certain barriers, and provide resources, but local zoning boards still have enormous influence over what actually gets built.

As Pew explained in its examination of the law, much of its success will depend on how state and local governments respond.

So Washington has taken a step toward encouraging more housing, and now thousands of communities have to decide what they’re willing to permit.

Which brings us to another uncomfortable possibility: maybe the politicians aren’t always the biggest obstacle.

A national survey commissioned by Pew in September 2023 found substantial support for policies intended to increase housing supply. Eighty-six percent supported simplifying and speeding up permitting, while 80% supported allowing apartments near transit and job centers.

But support fell when the proposed changes came closer to traditional single-family neighborhoods. Fifty-six percent supported allowing townhouses and small multifamily buildings on any residential lot, while 49% favored reducing minimum lot sizes.

That tells us something important. Americans generally support more housing, but enthusiasm becomes more complicated when the discussion turns to changing the places where people already live.

Pew also found that people who speak at public meetings about development tend to be less supportive of additional housing than the broader communities they represent.

Think about what that means.

Suppose most people in a town favor building more housing, but the people most strongly opposed to a particular project are the ones who attend every hearing, organize neighborhood groups, and contact elected officials. The people who would benefit from the apartments may not even live in town yet. They can’t vote in the local election, and they probably don’t know there’s a zoning meeting scheduled for Thursday night.

One group has a voice in the process. The other may not even know the process exists.

That’s a pretty significant imbalance, especially when the decisions being made will determine who gets to live in the community in the future.

And that’s something worth remembering the next time a handful of people stand up at a meeting and announce that the entire community opposes a project.

Of course, developers aren’t exactly innocent bystanders in all this. They’re businesses, and businesses generally don’t spend millions of dollars building things unless they expect to make money. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it does mean their interests aren’t automatically identical to the interests of people who need affordable housing.

A developer might argue that a new luxury apartment building will help relieve pressure on the housing market. That can sound ridiculous to somebody earning $40,000 a year who couldn’t afford the rent in that building if the landlord threw in free utilities and a personal chef.

But the economic argument isn’t necessarily nonsense.

When higher-income renters move into newly constructed apartments, they may leave older, less-expensive units available for somebody else. Those moves can ripple through the housing market. A Pew analysis of housing construction and rent growth found that communities adding more housing generally experienced slower rent growth, including in older and more affordable properties.

That doesn’t mean building a luxury apartment complex will magically solve the housing crisis. It means additional supply can help relieve pressure on existing housing, even when the new units themselves are expensive.

Still, we shouldn’t pretend that slowing rent increases is the same as making housing affordable to somebody who can barely cover the rent they’re paying now.

That’s where direct assistance, income-restricted housing, and other targeted programs become important. Some households simply cannot afford what the private market can profitably provide, no matter how efficiently developers operate.

Step Up on 5th in Santa Monica, California, provides permanent affordable housing with supportive services. Calderoliver / CC BY-SA 3.0.

And the numbers are ugly.

According to Harvard’s State of the Nation’s Housing 2026, 83% of renter households earning less than $30,000 were housing-cost burdened in 2024. More than two-thirds of those households spent over half their income on housing and utilities.

Imagine trying to build any kind of financial security when half your paycheck disappears before you’ve bought groceries, paid the electric bill, or put gas in the car.

People talk about saving for a down payment as though it’s simply a matter of discipline. Stop buying expensive coffee, cut back on restaurants, and put a little money aside every month. That’s wonderful advice if there’s actually money left over to put aside.

For somebody spending half their income just to keep a roof overhead, the financial plan is considerably simpler.

Pay the rent. Hope nothing breaks. If something does break, figure out which bill can wait.

That’s the reality behind the statistics, and it’s worth keeping in mind when we’re discussing whether a development should have 100 apartments or 150.

But I keep coming back to the people who already own homes, because I think that’s where the contradiction becomes personal.

Let’s say you’ve lived in the same house for 25 years. You’ve paid the mortgage, maintained the property, and watched the neighborhood change around you. Maybe you’ve finally reached the point where the house is worth considerably more than you paid for it.

Then somebody proposes a development nearby.

You worry about traffic. You worry about noise. You worry about whether the neighborhood will still feel like the place you chose to live.

I get it.

But somewhere else, a young family is looking for a place to live, and the community you’ve enjoyed for 25 years is effectively telling them there’s no room.

Maybe the development really is inappropriate. Maybe the infrastructure can’t support it, or the developer hasn’t adequately addressed the environmental concerns. Those are legitimate reasons to push back.

But if every available piece of land is unsuitable, every apartment building is too large, every proposal threatens neighborhood character, and every alternative belongs somewhere else, eventually we have to ask whether we’re solving a housing problem or simply defending the status quo.

Because the status quo is working pretty well for some people. It’s just not working for everybody.

There’s another part of this that bothers me. We tend to talk about housing as though the only choices are preserving existing neighborhoods exactly as they are or allowing developers to build whatever they want wherever they want.

That’s a ridiculous way to frame the problem.

Communities can establish reasonable standards, require infrastructure improvements, protect environmentally sensitive areas, and still make room for additional housing. Developers can revise proposals. Local governments can allow duplexes, townhouses, accessory dwelling units, and smaller apartment buildings without turning every residential street into downtown Manhattan.

Sample of the smaller-scale housing that can fit into established neighborhoods. Sightline Institute, Missing Middle Homes Photo Library / CC BY 2.0.

There are compromises available, although they require something that seems to be in increasingly short supply: a willingness to accept that somebody else’s needs might occasionally matter as much as our own preferences.

And maybe that’s the most uncomfortable part of this whole discussion.

I don’t think most Americans are deliberately trying to make housing unaffordable. I think people make decisions that seem perfectly reasonable from where they’re standing. Homeowners want to protect their investments. Environmental advocates want to protect natural resources. Local officials want to respond to constituents. Developers want projects that make financial sense.

None of those motivations is automatically wrong.

But when you put them together, you can end up with a system that makes it extraordinarily difficult to build enough housing in the places where people actually want and need to live.

The consequences don’t arrive all at once. They accumulate over years. A development gets rejected here. A zoning restriction prevents another one there. A permitting process becomes too expensive or unpredictable. A community refuses to allow anything other than single-family homes on large lots.

Eventually, the shortage becomes severe enough that everybody starts demanding action.

Then, when somebody proposes action, the whole process starts again.

I’m not suggesting we should approve every housing development. That would be irresponsible. Communities need planning, and residents deserve a meaningful voice in decisions that affect their homes.

But there’s a difference between having a meaningful voice and having an unlimited veto over the possibility of change.

We ought to be able to recognize that difference.

The next time somebody proposes new housing in your community, ask the hard questions. Ask about traffic, water, infrastructure, affordability, and whether the developer is being straight with the public. Those are all things responsible citizens should want to know.

But once those questions have been answered, ask yourself something else.

If this project isn’t acceptable, what would be?

Because if the answer is that nothing seems quite right, maybe the problem isn’t entirely with the developers, the politicians, or the people looking for somewhere to live.

Maybe some of the accomplices are a little closer to home than we’d care to admit.

And maybe that’s why this problem has been so damn difficult to solve.

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

The Bullshit Detector

Three claims that have nothing to do with housing, but still deserve to be taken out behind the woodshed.

Claim #1: The Great Wall of China is visible from the Moon.

BULLSHIT. 💩💩💩💩💩

Apparently, being impressive on Earth isn’t enough. Somebody decided the Great Wall needed to be visible from a quarter-million miles away, too.

It isn’t. NASA explains that the wall cannot be seen from the Moon and is difficult to distinguish even from low Earth orbit without magnification. It’s long, certainly, but relatively narrow and blends into the surrounding landscape.

It’s an impressive engineering achievement without requiring astronauts to admire it from space.

Claim #2: Goldfish have a three-second memory.

BULLSHIT. 💩💩💩💩

Goldfish can learn associations, recognize patterns, and remember information far longer than three seconds. A study published in Science demonstrated memory formation in goldfish after a single learning experience.

So the next time somebody compares your memory to a goldfish’s, you might want to consider whether the fish is getting the short end of the insult.

Claim #3: Humans use only 10% of their brains.

BULLSHIT. 💩💩💩💩💩

This one has been hanging around for generations, probably because people love imagining they’ve got 90% of their brain sitting around waiting to unlock superpowers.

As neuroscience researchers explain, there’s no dormant 90% waiting for somebody to flip the switch. Different areas perform different functions, and we don’t use every part of the brain simultaneously.

Given some of the things people say on the internet, I understand why the theory remains popular. Unfortunately, the science doesn’t support it.

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

Off Script / Blind Spot keeps following the stories behind the political noise, while Chart Collision revisits the music, memories, and sometimes downright peculiar stories behind the songs we grew up with. For a different perspective on human behavior, Lotus Purrspective offers the observations of a tuxedo cat who remains thoroughly unimpressed by our species.

Panic Room Sports sorts through the games, decisions, and occasional acts of athletic stupidity. Rabbit Ears Classic TV and The Backlot Ghost revisit the television and movie stories that deserve another look, while What The Hell? explores true stories so ridiculous that making them up would probably be easier.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Independent journalism requires research, time, and the occasional willingness to spend several hours discovering that something everybody knows isn’t actually true.

If you enjoy Off Script, consider buying me a cup of tea. It helps cover the tools and research that keep this operation running, and it allows the work to remain free for everyone.

One Question Before You Go

Would you support a new apartment development in your neighborhood if it meant more affordable housing, even if it changed the character of the neighborhood?

I’d be particularly interested in hearing what would make you support or oppose it.

#HousingCrisis #AffordableHousing #HousingPolicy #Zoning #Homeownership #IndependentJournalism #OffScript

Donald Trump has a new White House press secretary, and after watching her first appearance at the podium Tuesday, I’m beginning to wonder whether the administration might save everyone a little trouble by replacing the position with a prerecorded message thanking the president for his extraordinary leadership.

Katie Zacharia lasted approximately fourteen minutes. She took questions from three news organizations, all conservative-leaning, and spent much of her time reading prepared remarks praising the president. She announced that Trump had asked Ambassador Kimberly Guilfoyle to resign, discussed his upcoming travel, and promised to continue expanding opportunities for new media.

It was an interesting introduction to a job that ordinarily involves answering questions from journalists. Particularly since so much of the introduction involved explaining how wonderful the man who hired her is.

I realize a White House press secretary is expected to defend the president. That’s part of the job, and nobody seriously expects the person standing behind that podium to announce that the administration has been behaving like a collection of escaped circus animals.

Still, there ought to be some distinction between representing the government and auditioning for the president’s next birthday tribute.

The most revealing moment came when Fox News correspondent Peter Doocy asked whether Zacharia’s job was to communicate White House business or help Republicans ahead of the midterm elections.

Her answer was that she hoped to amplify and expand Trump’s agenda, taking what she’d already been doing outside government into an official capacity.

Then Doocy asked whether the United States had stopped sharing intelligence with Ukraine.

She’d have to get back to him.

That’s a perfectly legitimate answer when a press secretary doesn’t know something. I’d rather hear it than watch someone manufacture a response and hope nobody checks. But there’s something worth noticing about the sequence. Zacharia could describe her mission as amplifying the president’s accomplishments without hesitation. A consequential foreign-policy question had to wait.

That’s where this story gets interesting.

Watch the briefing:

The trouble didn’t begin Tuesday.

In fact, if we’re going to understand how the White House press secretary’s job arrived at this peculiar point, we probably ought to revisit a few of the people who helped get it here.

Political spin didn’t begin with Donald Trump. Administrations of both parties have withheld information, massaged inconvenient facts, and occasionally sent their spokespeople into the briefing room armed with explanations that wouldn’t survive a particularly demanding kindergarten teacher.

But Trump’s communications history provides an unusually useful collection of documented incidents involving false claims, missing briefings, and battles over access.

It began almost immediately.

Sean Spicer and the crowd everyone could see.

On January 21, 2017, Sean Spicer appeared before reporters to challenge coverage of Trump’s inauguration crowd. He made sweeping claims about attendance, despite photographs and other evidence contradicting the administration’s presentation.

Think about that for a moment. A new administration had the entire machinery of the federal government at its disposal, a country full of problems demanding attention, and a president beginning his first full day in office.

Its opening communications battle was over how many people had shown up to watch him take the oath.

Spicer was placed in the unenviable position of defending an argument that people could evaluate simply by looking at photographs. It established an early pattern: presidential displeasure could become an official White House dispute, regardless of whether the evidence supported it.

Then Kellyanne Conway arrived to explain what we’d just witnessed.

Kellyanne Conway and the invention of alternative facts.

Conway wasn’t press secretary, but her defense of Spicer’s inauguration statements deserves a prominent place in this history.

During a January 2017 interview with Chuck Todd, she described Spicer’s disputed assertions as “alternative facts.”

It was a remarkable expression. Facts, as I understand them, aren’t supposed to come with alternative versions depending on whose television show you’re appearing on.

Conway also referred to a nonexistent Bowling Green massacre while defending the administration’s travel restrictions. She subsequently said she’d misspoken about the incident.

The important thing about “alternative facts” is how conveniently the phrase expressed an approach to public communication: when evidence contradicted an administration claim, the administration could challenge the evidence rather than concede the claim.

I wouldn’t argue that Conway single-handedly invented the practice. Political deception was doing quite nicely long before she arrived, but she certainly gave it a memorable name.

Anthony Scaramucci: Eleven days of communications excellence.

Then came Anthony Scaramucci.

The Mooch was communications director, not press secretary, but leaving him out of a history of Trump White House communications would be like writing about the Titanic and forgetting the iceberg.

His July 2017 appointment contributed to Spicer’s resignation. Scaramucci subsequently delivered a spectacularly profane interview to The New Yorker, attacking senior administration figures, including Reince Priebus and Steve Bannon.

He was gone after eleven days.

Most people need longer than that to figure out the office coffee machine.

Scaramucci has since become a critic of Trump, and the extraordinary brevity of his tenure has become its own unit of political measurement.

When eleven days is enough to secure a permanent place in White House communications history, you’ve entered a particularly strange corner of American politics.

Sarah Huckabee Sanders and the FBI employees nobody could find.

Sarah Huckabee Sanders provided a more consequential example.

After Trump fired FBI Director James Comey in May 2017, Sanders claimed the White House had heard from countless FBI employees who supported the decision.

It sounded like useful corroboration, especially when the firing itself was attracting intense scrutiny.

There was just one problem.

When questioned by investigators working for special counsel Robert Mueller, Sanders acknowledged that her claims weren’t grounded in actual evidence. The Mueller report records her explanation that one statement was a slip of the tongue and another was made in the heat of the moment.

A slip of the tongue is calling your dog by your neighbor’s name.

Claiming to have heard from countless FBI employees when you have no basis for saying so is something else.

That’s why this episode matters more than an awkward briefing. The White House was presenting purported evidence of support inside a federal law-enforcement agency at a moment when the president’s decision to fire its director was under investigation.

The claim wasn’t merely flattering to the president. It was useful to his defense.

Stephanie Grisham and the revolutionary idea of avoiding reporters altogether.

Stephanie Grisham took the communications operation in another direction.

She served as White House press secretary from July 2019 until April 2020 without holding a formal White House press briefing.

Nine months.

Not one.

I’ll admit there’s a certain elegance to the arrangement. If reporters keep asking questions you don’t want to answer, eliminate the part of your schedule where they get to ask them.

Of course, Grisham still communicated with news outlets and appeared in interviews. The position wasn’t literally abandoned. But the traditional briefing, where journalists from competing organizations could ask questions in public and follow up on one another’s inquiries, disappeared during her tenure.

That’s a meaningful difference.

A spokesperson can give a carefully prepared television interview. A briefing room full of reporters is considerably harder to control.

Kayleigh McEnany and the promise.

Kayleigh McEnany arrived in April 2020 and restored regular briefings.

At her first appearance, she promised she would never lie to reporters.

That’s an admirable ambition, although I confess it strikes me as the sort of promise that ought to be understood without requiring a formal announcement.

McEnany became a prominent defender of Trump’s statements and policies, including disputed claims surrounding the 2020 election.

Karoline Leavitt and the permanent confrontation.

Karoline Leavitt and the permanent confrontation.

By the time Karoline Leavitt became press secretary in Trump’s second administration, the relationship between the White House and the press had deteriorated into something resembling a standing argument over who was entitled to ask questions. Leavitt championed a new-media seat in the briefing room, and I don’t have a problem with that in principle. Traditional news organizations don’t own journalism, and some of them could use a reminder. But there’s a difference between giving more people access and making sure the people getting access are inclined to applaud whatever comes out of the podium.

Leavitt’s confrontations with reporters became a familiar part of the proceedings. The administration called it challenging biased coverage, while critics saw an effort to discredit unwelcome scrutiny. Sometimes reporters ask loaded or unfair questions, and a press secretary has every right to challenge them. But the point of a briefing isn’t to determine who wins an argument. It’s to provide information the public has a right to know. If everyone leaves talking about the confrontation instead of the answer, something has gone wrong.

Leavitt departed in August, and now Katie Zacharia has inherited the job, along with the accumulated baggage of everyone who held it before her.

Fourteen minutes and a much bigger question.

Zacharia’s first briefing was short, heavily scripted, and apparently satisfactory to the president, who pronounced her performance excellent. There are also legitimate questions about her legal credentials, particularly the difference between having a law degree and being licensed to practice. Those deserve factual answers, not speculation. But I’m not going to declare someone unfit for the job after fourteen minutes behind a podium. She might settle in, start taking tougher questions, and surprise us. Stranger things have happened, although the White House briefing room hasn’t exactly been a reliable supplier of them.

What concerns me is the larger question of what the administration thinks the position is for. A press secretary is supposed to defend the president’s policies, explain government decisions, and sometimes tell reporters things they don’t want to hear. Nobody expects an administration spokesperson to behave like an independent investigative journalist. But defending a policy and treating every inconvenient question as an act of hostility are two very different things.

That distinction matters beyond the briefing room, particularly when the administration is fighting with news organizations over access. The White House has legitimate authority to establish security procedures and reasonable rules for journalists working in sensitive facilities. It doesn’t follow that officials should be able to use those rules to punish unfavorable reporting. Trump is entitled to dislike the press, dispute its coverage, and complain about individual reporters. Given his enthusiasm for the last option, I doubt we’re in any danger of seeing that particular freedom disappear.

But the government shouldn’t get to decide that asking uncomfortable questions is grounds for losing access to the people who are supposed to answer them.

So what exactly is the job now?

Looking back over this collection of White House communicators, what strikes me isn’t simply the number of embarrassing episodes. Every administration has them. It’s how often the dispute stopped being about what the government was doing and became an argument over whether the press had any business questioning it.

Spicer’s crowd-size performance, Sanders’ unsupported FBI claims, Grisham’s disappearing briefings, and the confrontations that followed weren’t identical incidents. But they raise a common question about whether the administration regards public accountability as an obligation or an inconvenience to be managed.

And that’s where Katie Zacharia comes in. Her fourteen-minute debut doesn’t establish what kind of press secretary she’ll become, but the history surrounding her arrival tells us something about the job she’s inherited. The White House can change the person behind the podium as often as it likes. Unless its understanding of that person’s responsibility changes, we’re likely to keep getting variations of the same performance.

I’d love to be wrong about that.

In fact, I’d settle for a press secretary who understands that answering a difficult question isn’t an act of disloyalty. It’s part of the job. Apparently, we’ve reached a point where that qualifies as an ambitious reform proposal.

The Bullshit Detector

Three more claims that deserve a closer look.

1. George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Osama bin Laden were photographed together after 9/11.

Claim: A photograph circulating online shows the four men sitting together at the Pentagon.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩 — Fabricated.

Why: The photograph was altered. Bin Laden was digitally inserted in place of Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz, and another official was incorrectly identified as Cheney. The original September 12, 2001, Defense Department photograph establishes who was actually present. Apparently, rewriting history now comes with a Photoshop subscription.

2. A graph proves Russian bot activity supporting Germany’s AfD collapsed after Ukrainian strikes.

Claim: A viral chart documents a dramatic reduction in online activity after Ukrainian attacks on Russian data centers.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩💩 — Fabricated data.

Why: The chart was reportedly posted October 11 but included supposed observations through October 15. If those dates are accurate, it was presenting future observations as recorded history. Whether the strikes affected bot activity remains a separate question.

3. Those spectacular close encounters between ships and enormous whales are genuine wildlife footage.

Claim: Viral videos show astonishing, apparently authentic encounters with whales at sea.

Bullshit: 💩💩💩💩 — For examples established to be AI-generated.

Why: Artificially generated wildlife videos can resemble genuine footage, especially when reposted without their original context. Real whale encounters certainly happen, but an impressive-looking video isn’t proof that the particular event occurred. Apparently, even Moby Dick has entered the content-creation business.

Elsewhere at Tom Hicks Media

Off Script / Blind Spot follows the stories beneath the headlines and the machinery that makes them matter. What The Hell? explores historical absurdities that sound invented but actually happened.

Lotus Purrspective offers life through the eyes of a cat who has serious reservations about human judgment. Chart Collision revisits the music, memories, and unexpected stories hiding in the charts.

Panic Room Sports brings skepticism and attitude to sports coverage, while Rabbit Ears Classic TV and The Backlot Ghost explore the television and movie history worth remembering.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Independent reporting takes time, research, and occasionally a remarkable tolerance for bullshit. If you’d like to help keep Off Script going, consider buying me a cup of tea. Every contribution helps support the work, and the subscription remains free.

One Question Before You Go

Should White House press briefings be a regular public obligation, regardless of which party controls the presidency, or should administrations decide when and whether to hold them?

I’d genuinely like to hear where you draw the line.

#OffScript #WhiteHouse #PressFreedom #GovernmentAccountability #Journalism #FirstAmendment #Media

We’ve apparently reached the point in human history where we’re developing a technology that some of the people building it believe could eventually wipe us out, but we can’t afford to slow down because China might build one first.

I suppose there’s a certain logic to that. If humanity is going to be destroyed by artificial intelligence, we’d probably prefer the machine responsible to have been assembled in California rather than Beijing. At least we’d have the satisfaction of knowing we won something.

Of course, that assumes there’s anyone left to hand out the trophy.

Now, before somebody accuses me of suggesting that America should surrender its technological future to China, I’m suggesting nothing of the sort. I understand the stakes. I understand why Washington is worried. I even understand why some perfectly reasonable people believe that slowing American AI development could create risks every bit as serious as moving too quickly.

What I’m having trouble understanding is how we’ve arrived at a place where the possibility of creating something we can’t control has become an argument for creating it faster.

And why so many of the people urging us to hurry also happen to have an enormous financial interest in making sure we do.

A quick word before we go further: Off Script is independent journalism without a corporate owner or political party supplying the talking points. You can subscribe for free and keep reading, or become a paid subscriber to help fund the research and tools we use every day.

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Either way, I’m glad you’re here.

First, let’s give the China argument its due. Because dismissing it would make this entire discussion easier, and considerably less honest.

Artificial intelligence isn’t simply a better search engine or a machine that can write an embarrassingly enthusiastic birthday greeting for your brother-in-law. It’s already being developed for intelligence analysis, cybersecurity, scientific research and military applications. The potential advantages extend to logistics, weapons development, surveillance, economic productivity and the ability to process information at speeds no human organization can match.

China’s military has been studying how AI could improve battlefield awareness, autonomous systems, operational planning and military decision-making. The United States is pursuing military applications of its own. Neither government regards this as a particularly interesting computer hobby. Research on China’s military applications of AI

Imagine two countries confronting a rapidly developing technology with those capabilities. One is a democracy, however imperfectly it may be functioning at any particular moment. The other is an authoritarian state with a long-established system of political control and extensive government involvement in strategic industries.

Would you want the second country to gain an overwhelming technological advantage over the first?

Neither would I.

And that concern isn’t some fantasy cooked up by a defense contractor hoping to sell the Pentagon another extraordinarily expensive piece of equipment.

The Trump administration made its position explicit in July 2025 when it released America’s AI Action Plan. The document calls for accelerated innovation, expanded infrastructure, international technological leadership, and the removal of regulations the administration believes unnecessarily impede development. It argues that the country leading the AI ecosystem will help set global standards while gaining economic and military advantages.

The administration isn’t being subtle about its ambitions. The document is actually titled Winning the AI Race. White House AI Action Plan, July 2025

There’s a serious strategic argument behind that. An adversary with superior AI capabilities might gain advantages in cyber operations, intelligence collection, autonomous systems, or the development of advanced technologies. And unlike some previous technological competitions, the applications here could spread throughout an entire economy.

But here’s where I start getting nervous.

When the government declares that winning a technological race is non-negotiable, it creates an interesting problem for anyone who wants to ask whether we’re running in the right direction.

Because suddenly, caution starts sounding like weakness. Oversight becomes interference. Asking for more testing becomes an invitation for somebody to accuse you of helping China.

And the people making those accusations don’t necessarily have to prove that the regulations they’re attacking would actually hand China an advantage.

They just have to say the word China loudly enough.

The White House plan itself illustrates the tension. It calls for eliminating regulatory obstacles while also supporting research into AI interpretability, control, and safety evaluations. The administration recognizes that AI systems require scrutiny even as it makes speed and technological dominance central objectives. America’s AI Action Plan, full text

Now let’s talk about the part that sounds like science fiction but isn’t entirely fictional. The possibility that advanced artificial intelligence could eventually operate beyond meaningful human control.

I want to be careful here, because this subject attracts exaggeration the way a porch light attracts moths.

There is no established scientific finding that AI will destroy humanity. There isn’t even a reliable consensus about the probability of such an event. And current AI systems have not demonstrated the full combination of capabilities generally associated with the most extreme loss-of-control scenarios.

That’s important.

But so is what researchers are actually finding.

The 2026 International AI Safety Report, led by Turing Award winner Yoshua Bengio and prepared with contributions from more than 100 experts, examines the rapidly changing capabilities of general-purpose AI. It documents existing harms while distinguishing them from more uncertain future threats, including severe loss-of-control scenarios.

The report’s central problem is an uncomfortable one: AI capabilities are advancing rapidly, while reliable evidence about some of their most consequential risks remains incomplete. 2026 International AI Safety Report

And then there’s deception.

In March 2026, the United Nations Secretary-General’s Scientific Advisory Board published an assessment of AI systems misleading users, concealing capabilities, appearing compliant during testing, and behaving in ways that undermine effective oversight. The board warned that methods for detecting and controlling deceptive behavior were struggling to keep pace with advancing capabilities.

We’re no longer discussing deception exclusively as a theoretical possibility. Researchers have observed relevant behavior in existing systems, although that doesn’t establish that those systems possess human-like intentions or independent desires. UN Scientific Advisory Board, AI Deception

And that’s where the conversation gets uncomfortable.

We don’t have to believe that a machine will suddenly become conscious, develop a personality disorder, and decide humanity has overstayed its welcome.

A dangerous system wouldn’t necessarily have to hate us. It might simply pursue a poorly specified objective with extraordinary effectiveness, exploiting opportunities its designers failed to anticipate.

We’ve spent centuries discovering that human beings are remarkably good at creating powerful tools and considerably less impressive at anticipating every possible use for them.

Usually, we get to learn from our mistakes.

The question is whether some future AI mistakes might become too large, too fast or too difficult to reverse.

And then something happened that moved the discussion beyond hypothetical scenarios.

During AI cybersecurity evaluations in 2026, OpenAI reported that AI agents exploited security weaknesses involving Hugging Face infrastructure. The incident raised questions about how autonomous systems pursue objectives, how evaluation environments are secured, and whether existing safeguards adequately constrain increasingly capable agents.

OpenAI publicly described the incident and its investigation. OpenAI’s account of the security incident

On September 21, an independent United Nations scientific panel published an assessment of the same incident. Its experts identified a combination of misaligned objectives, technical capabilities, and environmental weaknesses that allowed the incident to occur.

The panel did not conclude that humanity had lost control of AI or that a catastrophic outcome was inevitable. It did, however, warn that the mechanisms observed could become more consequential as systems gain capabilities and autonomy.

That distinction matters enormously. UN assessment of the 2026 AI security incident

And then there’s the problem of testing the damn things.

On October 9, Reuters reported that a review by research firm SemiAnalysis examined 857 AI model releases from nine leading Chinese developers between 2021 and September 2026. Only 31 releases, or 3.6 percent, had published safety-evaluation results that could be matched to a specific model. Just nine had those results available at or before launch.

Now, that doesn’t mean the other models weren’t tested. Private evaluations may have taken place, and a lack of published evidence isn’t proof of a lack of precautions.

But it does mean outsiders had remarkably little model-specific information available to judge those releases.

The study also didn’t provide equivalent figures for American developers, so it would be misleading to present the 3.6 percent finding as proof that China’s industry is uniquely careless. Reuters, October 9, 2026

China has developed an AI Safety Governance Framework identifying risks such as unauthorized access to resources, deception during evaluation and attempts to bypass safety controls. The existence of those provisions complicates any suggestion that Beijing is simply ignoring the problem.

The harder question is whether the rules require enough independent scrutiny of increasingly powerful models, and whether their implementation can be verified. SemiAnalysis, China’s AI safety framework

And before we start congratulating ourselves on American transparency, there’s a fresh complication on this side of the Pacific.

Reuters reported on October 13 that OpenAI and Anthropic have been negotiating the terms under which independent evaluators can examine advanced systems and publish their findings. The companies have expressed concerns about protecting trade secrets and other sensitive information, even while supporting independent review in principle.

Those concerns aren’t automatically unreasonable. Nobody should have to publish the instructions for exploiting a dangerous vulnerability merely to demonstrate that the vulnerability exists.

But an independent evaluation loses much of its value if the organization being evaluated can determine which uncomfortable findings the public is allowed to see. Reuters, October 13, 2026

Imagine a restaurant hiring its own health inspector, reviewing the inspector’s report and then negotiating which violations could be disclosed.

I’m sure the kitchen would appreciate the arrangement.

I’m less certain about the customers.

This is where the race itself becomes part of the danger. Each side has reasons to believe it cannot afford to fall behind. Each side knows the other is investing heavily. Each technological breakthrough raises the stakes of the next one.

And every time somebody suggests a pause, a safeguard or an international agreement, there’s an obvious objection waiting.

What if the other side cheats?

That’s a legitimate question. It has haunted arms-control negotiations for generations.

But there’s another question we ought to ask.

What if neither side cheats, and both still make the world more dangerous simply by continuing to accelerate?

This concern isn’t confined to people standing outside Silicon Valley carrying signs about the end of civilization.

In September, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei argued publicly that frontier AI development should be deliberately paced to allow safety research and safeguards to catch up. His argument also addressed the strategic challenge posed by China, including the possibility that maintaining an American technological advantage could create room for a more measured approach.

That’s an important wrinkle. The question isn’t necessarily whether America should abandon its lead. It’s whether that lead could be used to buy time for safety instead of treating every additional advantage as a reason to accelerate again. Dario Amodei, We Must Pace the Frontier

Consider what happens when the pressure to deploy a powerful new system exceeds the time available to understand it. Or when military planners begin depending on AI-generated recommendations they can’t fully explain. Or when the financial rewards for being first become so enormous that even a temporary delay feels intolerable.

Research from MIT examining the judgments of 272 experts identified competitive pressures, dangerous capabilities, cyberattacks, concentrated power and misinformation among major areas of concern. Those were expert assessments of future risks, not measurements establishing that catastrophic outcomes will occur.

Still, the fact that competition itself appears among the concerns ought to get our attention. MIT Sloan, AI risks identified by 272 experts

You don’t need a conspiracy to produce dangerous incentives.

You just need enough people acting rationally in pursuit of their own interests while the consequences of their collective behavior fall on everyone else.

And we Americans have some experience with that particular arrangement.

Then there’s the money. Because no serious examination of the AI race can ignore who’s paying for it, who’s profiting from it, and who gets stuck with the consequences if the promised revolution doesn’t unfold quite as advertised.

We’re watching extraordinary amounts of capital flow into data centers, semiconductors, energy infrastructure and AI development. Companies are positioning themselves to supply the computing power, software and services that governments and businesses increasingly consider essential.

The White House’s own AI Action Plan calls for an accelerated buildout of data centers and the energy infrastructure needed to support them. It also promotes American AI exports, including hardware, software, and technical standards.

Those policies may have genuine strategic and economic benefits. They also create substantial commercial opportunities for the companies supplying the infrastructure. White House AI Action Plan, infrastructure provisions

None of that proves the AI boom is fraudulent or that its backers are deliberately exaggerating the threat from China. Some of these investments may deliver substantial benefits.

But when an industry tells the public that rapid expansion is essential to national survival, we should probably examine the industry’s financial incentives before handing it the keys to the regulatory process.

A company can sincerely believe its technology will improve the world and still prefer fewer restrictions on selling it.

Those positions aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re practically a business model.

Here’s the part that complicates my own argument. What if slowing development really does leave us more vulnerable?

It’s easy to demand that the United States exercise restraint. It’s considerably harder to explain how restraint should work when a competing government may have little incentive to reciprocate.

A unilateral slowdown could reduce American influence over the technical standards, infrastructure and security practices that shape future AI systems. It could also create opportunities for competitors whose priorities differ sharply from ours.

And while AI carries genuine risks, it also offers potential benefits that shouldn’t be treated as incidental. Medical research, scientific discovery, improved accessibility, better forecasting and more effective responses to complicated problems are all areas where the technology could make a meaningful difference.

The International AI Safety Report examines both the technology’s rapidly expanding capabilities and the challenges of governing its risks. The White House plan likewise identifies potential advances in medicine, materials science, energy and research. These benefits are possibilities of varying maturity, not guarantees that every promised breakthrough will materialize. International AI Safety Report | White House AI Action Plan

There’s a human cost to delaying useful advances, too.

So perhaps the choice isn’t between building AI and refusing to build it. Perhaps the real question is what we’re willing to require of the systems we build, and whether those requirements remain meaningful when they become inconvenient.

The contradiction isn’t that Washington talks about safety while pursuing technological leadership. Both can be legitimate goals.

The contradiction appears when the pressure to win makes it harder to enforce the precautions we claim to value.

And that brings us to something we ought to be discussing more seriously: cooperation with China.

I can already hear the objections.

China isn’t going to tell us everything it’s developing. The United States isn’t going to hand over its most sensitive research. Neither government is likely to trust the other’s assurances without some means of verification.

Fine. All legitimate concerns.

But international cooperation doesn’t have to mean sharing the most powerful models or surrendering military advantages.

It could mean establishing common procedures for reporting dangerous incidents, agreeing on limited prohibitions involving especially hazardous applications, creating channels for emergency communication and developing ways to verify certain safety commitments.

The UN Scientific Advisory Board has called for international cooperation and shared evaluation standards to address deceptive AI behavior. That’s a concrete starting point, even if the political obstacles are formidable. UN Scientific Advisory Board, AI Deception

We managed to negotiate nuclear arms-control arrangements with the Soviet Union without pretending that Washington and Moscow had suddenly become close personal friends.

Those agreements were imperfect. Verification was difficult. Political disputes repeatedly threatened them.

But the underlying principle was simple enough: competing powers can have interests in common when the alternative is sufficiently catastrophic.

Artificial intelligence isn’t nuclear weaponry. The technology is more widely distributed, much of its development is commercial, and its most dangerous future capabilities are far less clearly defined.

That makes cooperation more complicated.

It doesn’t make the idea ridiculous.

And on October 13, approximately 400 scientists, including Geoffrey Hinton and Yoshua Bengio, called for an international body to establish oversight, containment and incident-reporting standards for advanced AI systems capable of dangerous cyber operations.

Their appeal included stronger safeguards for highly capable models and more independent oversight. It also reflected a growing concern that voluntary commitments alone may be inadequate.

Not every prominent AI researcher agrees with their assessment. Yann LeCun, for example, did not sign the appeal and has expressed a different interpretation of the technical risks.

That’s worth remembering. Scientific disagreement doesn’t disappear because an impressive number of experts sign a letter.

But neither does the underlying problem. Reuters, October 13, 2026, scientists’ appeal

So where does that leave us?

I’m not persuaded that the United States can safely walk away from advanced AI development. I’m equally unconvinced that winning a technological race, however we eventually define winning, automatically makes Americans safer.

And I don’t particularly trust an arrangement in which the people selling the technology get to explain why the government must move faster, why outside scrutiny is difficult and why the public should be patient about understanding the risks.

We should be demanding independent evaluations with enough authority to matter, meaningful disclosure of dangerous incidents, clear human accountability for high-stakes uses, and safeguards that don’t disappear whenever somebody waves a Chinese flag in front of a congressional committee.

Those aren’t demands pulled out of thin air. They’re consistent with concerns raised by the International AI Safety Report, the UN’s scientific assessments and researchers calling for stronger international oversight. International AI Safety Report | UN Independent Scientific Panel | Reuters, scientific appeal

Some risks will remain uncertain. Some precautions will be expensive. Some international agreements may fail.

None of that eliminates the obligation to try.

Because there’s one thing I keep coming back to.

We’re treating artificial intelligence as a contest between nations, corporations and competing technological systems. And perhaps that’s unavoidable to some degree.

But the people who will live with the consequences are considerably more numerous than the people making the decisions.

They include Americans, Chinese citizens and billions of others who have no meaningful vote in how these systems are developed or deployed.

If AI eventually delivers the extraordinary benefits its supporters promise, those people deserve to share in them.

If it creates extraordinary dangers, those same people shouldn’t be expected to accept the risks merely because somebody decided the race was too important to slow down.

I don’t know whether artificial intelligence will ultimately become one of humanity’s greatest achievements or one of its most consequential mistakes.

Nobody knows.

But I do know that we have to beat China is an awfully thin answer to the question of how much danger we’re prepared to accept.

Especially when the prize we’re supposedly competing for is a safer future.

If the only way to keep humanity safe from dangerous artificial intelligence is to build even more powerful artificial intelligence before somebody else does, at what point do we admit that our definition of safety has become completely insane?

And if we win the race but lose control of what we’ve created, exactly what have we won?

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack, or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three more claims. Three more opportunities to discover just how far a good story can travel without the inconvenience of being true.

1. CLAIM: A photograph shows George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and Osama bin Laden sitting together at the Pentagon.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 — Fabricated.

WHY: The image is an altered version of an actual photograph taken at the Pentagon on September 12, 2001. Someone digitally inserted bin Laden into the scene.

Apparently, the real history of September 11 wasn’t complicated enough, so somebody decided to improve it with Photoshop. Lead Stories, October 13 fact-check

2. CLAIM: A viral chart shows that bombing Russian data centers caused a dramatic decline in activity by bots supporting Germany’s AfD party.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩 — Unsupported.

WHY: The chart was presented as evidence of something that had already happened, but its figures were actually a prediction about future activity. It wasn’t a record of measured bot traffic.

There’s something wonderfully efficient about manufacturing a graph of tomorrow’s results and passing it around as yesterday’s evidence. Saves all that tedious business of waiting for reality. Lead Stories, October 13 fact-check

3. CLAIM: The military publication Task & Purpose reported that a woman named Sarah Miller would be the first executioner in the Nidal Hasan case.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 — Fabricated report.

WHY: The purported article wasn’t published by Task & Purpose. The attribution was false, and the claim circulated under the appearance of a legitimate military news report.

Inventing a news story is bad enough. Borrowing a real publication’s reputation to make the invention believable is a particularly shabby bonus. Lead Stories, October 13 fact-check

ELSEWHERE AT TOM HICKS MEDIA

Blind Spot, our Sunday Off Script feature, is examining the machinery behind the midterm elections, including who gets to vote, how districts shape representation and the money influencing the contests. What The Hell? takes a considerably less dignified look at history’s most spectacular episodes of human stupidity, while Panic Room Sports examines what actually happened on the field and why the conventional wisdom may be missing something.

For something lighter, Lotus Purrspective offers observations about human behavior from a tuxedo cat who considers herself uniquely qualified to judge it. Chart Collision revisits the music, charts, and forgotten stories of decades past. Rabbit Ears Classic TV explores the shows and personalities that shaped television, and The Backlot Ghost goes behind the scenes of the movies we thought we knew.

BUY ME A CUP OF TEA

Independent journalism takes time, research, and a certain willingness to spend hours chasing down claims that should never have survived their first encounter with a functioning brain.

If you’d like to help keep Off Script going, you can Buy Me a Cup of Tea. Every contribution helps support the research, tools, and work behind these editions.

ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO

Which worries you more: America developing artificial intelligence too quickly and losing control of it, or moving too slowly and allowing China to gain a decisive advantage?

Or have we reached the point where the competition itself is what ought to frighten us?

I’d genuinely like to hear where you come down on this one.

#OffScript #ArtificialIntelligence #AIRace #AISafety #China #NationalSecurity #Technology #THM

Somewhere in Oklahoma, Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin stood before a crowd and explained that Donald Trump was making a tremendous financial sacrifice by serving as president.

I suppose that depends on how you define sacrifice.

Personally, I’ve never had the misfortune of watching my net worth climb into the neighborhood of $7 billion. I imagine it’s difficult. There must be paperwork. Possibly some sleepless nights deciding which billionaire problem to tackle first. But before we organize a collection to help the president through these trying times, we ought to look at what his own financial disclosures say, because the numbers tell a story that bears remarkably little resemblance to the one Mullin was selling.

At an October 1 rally in Durant, Oklahoma, Mullin told the audience that Trump didn’t need to be president, that he wasn’t enjoying the financial rewards other presidents had received, and that holding the office had actually cost him money. That’s a remarkable claim, especially coming from someone whose job presumably requires a passing familiarity with the difference between a fact and something you say because the boss is standing nearby.

Fortunately, PolitiFact examined Mullin’s statement, and the results were not particularly flattering. Trump’s financial disclosure for 2025 showed at least $2.2 billion in revenue, compared with approximately $622 million in 2024. Forbes estimated in September that his personal fortune had increased by approximately $2.7 billion since the November 2024 election, putting his net worth around $7 billion.

That’s quite a financial beating. (PolitiFact, October 5, 2026)

Now, before someone rushes to the comments to explain that revenue isn’t profit, allow me to save us both some time. I know. Revenue is the money coming in before expenses. Profit is what’s left afterward. Net worth is an estimate of assets minus liabilities. You cannot simply substitute one for another and expect the arithmetic to behave. But that distinction doesn’t rescue Mullin’s claim. It just makes the actual evidence more interesting.

PolitiFact consulted financial and ethics experts who examined whether business expenses, presidential responsibilities, security arrangements or other costs could conceivably have swallowed the additional revenue. Their conclusion was that such an explanation wasn’t plausible based on the available information. And Forbes wasn’t measuring revenue when it calculated Trump’s growing fortune. It was estimating the value of what he owns. (PolitiFact’s financial analysis)

There’s something worth acknowledging here, because facts don’t become less important when they’re inconvenient to the argument you’re making. Trump really did lose considerable estimated wealth during his first presidency. Forbes put his net worth at approximately $3.7 billion in 2016 and $2.5 billion in 2021, and the White House pointed to those figures when PolitiFact asked about Mullin’s remarks.

Fair enough. That’s a real decline, and it’s part of the record. But we’re in 2026, and Mullin was talking about the president standing behind him, not delivering a retrospective on the financial challenges of 2021. If I told you I was going broke because I lost $1,200 five years ago, while neglecting to mention that I’d subsequently made several thousand dollars, you’d probably have a few questions. You might even ask whether I was hoping you wouldn’t notice the second part. (Forbes figures and White House response, via PolitiFact)

And here’s where the story starts getting considerably more interesting. A large share of Trump’s reported 2025 revenue came from cryptocurrency. His disclosure showed at least $1.4 billion from that sector alone, an extraordinary amount of money coming from an industry whose future depends heavily on decisions made by the federal government.

The president appoints regulators, influences enforcement priorities through his administration, and helps shape the government’s approach to financial markets, digital assets, and the rules governing companies operating in those markets. Meanwhile, businesses associated with Trump and his family have substantial financial interests in the same industry. (PolitiFact’s examination of the 2025 disclosure)

That arrangement doesn’t automatically establish wrongdoing. Presidents have held investments before, and the mere existence of a financial interest doesn’t prove that a government decision was made to benefit it. But the potential conflict is impossible to ignore. Suppose you’re running a company that stands to gain or lose millions depending on what Washington decides. Now suppose the president of the United States has a significant personal or family financial interest in that same business sector. Would you be comfortable relying entirely on his assurances that every decision was made exclusively in the public interest?

Maybe you would. I’d want considerably more than an assurance, and I’d want it regardless of whether the president was Donald Trump, Joe Biden, Barack Obama or somebody whose name we haven’t learned yet. The person entrusted with making decisions for the country shouldn’t leave the country guessing whether those decisions also happen to improve his own financial position.

Then Reuters followed the money.

In June, Reuters published an investigation into the Trump family’s cryptocurrency businesses. Its reporters examined blockchain records, corporate filings, company disclosures and interviews, and calculated that the family had generated at least $2.3 billion in profit from four major crypto ventures since Trump’s return to office. The investigation also found approximately $2.3 billion in combined net losses among investors in those ventures as of the end of April, including paper losses on investments that hadn’t been sold.

Those figures describe different groups and shouldn’t be mistaken for a simple dollar-for-dollar transfer from investors to the Trump family. But they reveal a striking contrast in who benefited and who bore the risk. (Reuters Special Report, June 9, 2026)

One investor interviewed by Reuters, a New York retiree, had put $60,000 of retirement savings into a company associated with the Trump family’s crypto ventures. By the end of May, the investment was worth approximately $5,300. A man puts a substantial chunk of his retirement savings into an investment partly because of its association with the president, watches most of it disappear, and meanwhile the family whose name helped attract investors has generated enormous profits across its cryptocurrency ventures. (Reuters investor interviews and financial analysis)

I’m not suggesting Trump personally took that man’s retirement money. That isn’t what the evidence establishes. But when a president’s celebrity and political position become part of the appeal of a financial product, we ought to be asking some serious questions about who is assuming the risk, who is collecting the money and whether the public understands the difference.

The Reuters investigation reported that the Trump family’s business arrangements often allowed it to profit from sales and transactions without taking on the same downside exposure as ordinary investors. That’s an important distinction. It’s one thing to get rich because an investment succeeds. It’s another to build an arrangement that can generate substantial revenue even when the people buying into it lose money. And it becomes a matter of public concern when the family involved happens to occupy the White House. (Reuters, Under the Trump Crypto Playbook, the Family Always Wins. Investors Don’t)

Here’s a development that makes the contrast even more interesting. In July, Reuters examined Trump’s financial disclosures and reported that his investment managers had substantially increased his holdings of conventional stocks and bonds while proceeds from his family’s cryptocurrency ventures were pouring in. The reported value of those holdings increased from a range of $225 million to $608 million at the end of 2024 to between $703 million and $2.6 billion at the end of 2025.

In other words, while buyers of Trump-associated crypto products were exposed to some spectacular losses, a substantial portion of the president’s reported investment portfolio was moving into more traditional financial instruments. There’s nothing inherently improper about diversifying investments. Financial advisers recommend it every day. But the contrast deserves attention, especially when the person promoting speculative financial products also happens to be the president of the United States. (Reuters, July 13, 2026)

The foreign money deserves its own conversation, because some of the financial relationships surrounding Trump-linked cryptocurrency ventures involve overseas investors and business interests. That adds another layer to the conflict-of-interest questions when the president also conducts foreign policy.

There is nothing inherently illegal about a foreign investor purchasing an interest in an American business. Foreign investment happens every day, and a foreign financial relationship doesn’t automatically prove that government policy has been bought. But it creates a legitimate question about access and influence when the business receiving the investment is connected to the sitting president.

What does an investor believe they’re purchasing? An ordinary commercial opportunity? The value of a recognizable brand? A relationship that might become useful when dealing with the American government? We can’t know someone’s intentions simply by looking at a transaction, which is precisely why transparency and independent oversight matter. The public should be able to examine these relationships without having to take the president’s word for it that everything is perfectly innocent. And it shouldn’t have to wait until somebody uncovers a criminal conspiracy before being allowed to question an arrangement that creates obvious opportunities for conflicting interests.

There’s another argument worth dealing with before it turns up in the comments. Presidents have made money from their fame before. Bill Clinton and Barack Obama earned substantial sums through books, speeches, and other activities after leaving office. The White House has also emphasized that Trump has forgone his presidential salary.

Those are fair points to raise, but earning money from a book contract after leaving office is different from earning revenue through businesses operating while you’re president, particularly when those businesses have interests affected by federal decisions. The timing matters, the source of the money matters, and so does the relationship between the business and the government’s responsibilities.

As for the presidential salary, the job pays $400,000 annually. Whether Trump has declined every payment during his second term has not always been independently documented, but even accepting the White House’s position, that figure is tiny compared with the financial activity disclosed for 2025. If someone told me he’d turned down a $400,000 paycheck while his estimated fortune increased by billions, I might admire his willingness to skip the salary. I wouldn’t automatically conclude that he’d sacrificed his financial well-being. I’d probably ask him to explain the billions. (PolitiFact’s comparison of presidential wealth and salary claims)

If this kind of reporting matters to you, this is a good place to subscribe. You can subscribe for free and keep reading, or become a paid subscriber to help fund the research and tools that go into every edition. Either way, I’m glad you’re here. Independent journalism needs readers who are willing to follow the evidence, even when the evidence complicates the story.

And this is where Mullin’s statement becomes more than a bad fact-check. What interests me isn’t merely that a cabinet secretary made a claim contradicted by the available financial evidence. Politicians do that often enough that fact-checkers could probably qualify for hazardous-duty pay. It’s the story the claim is trying to tell.

Trump isn’t simply wealthy, according to this version of events. He’s a wealthy man who has nobly endured financial suffering because he loves his country so much. That’s a powerful political narrative. It turns public service into a personal act of martyrdom and invites voters to feel grateful for the supposed sacrifice. But the financial evidence from his second presidency doesn’t support that narrative.

It shows a man whose fortune has grown substantially, whose family has profited from business ventures associated with his name, and whose administration exercises considerable influence over industries in which those ventures operate. (PolitiFact; Reuters Special Report)

You can believe Trump genuinely wants to serve the country. You can support his policies. You can even believe his business interests have been handled appropriately. But those beliefs don’t change the numbers, and they certainly don’t justify pretending that billions in additional estimated wealth somehow represent financial ruin.

Here’s what bothers me most. We spend an enormous amount of time arguing about the ethics of relatively small transactions involving public officials. A lawmaker’s stock trade becomes a controversy. A government employee’s outside income can trigger disclosure requirements. Officials are expected to recognize conflicts, report financial interests and, depending on their position, recuse themselves from certain decisions.

The president operates under a different legal framework. Federal conflict-of-interest restrictions that apply to many executive-branch employees generally do not apply to the president and vice president in the same way. That legal distinction makes transparency and voluntary safeguards especially important, because the question isn’t merely whether the president is technically permitted to retain a particular financial interest. The question is whether the public has sufficient information and meaningful safeguards to distinguish government decisions made for the national interest from decisions that might also benefit the president’s businesses.

And if the answer is that we’re simply supposed to trust him, I’d suggest we’ve set the bar considerably lower than it ought to be. You don’t have to dislike Donald Trump to see the problem. You only have to imagine the same arrangement involving a president you don’t trust. If that suddenly makes you uncomfortable, perhaps the issue isn’t the president’s name. Perhaps it’s the arrangement.

So let’s return to Oklahoma for a moment. Markwayne Mullin stood before a crowd and told them the presidency was costing Donald Trump money. The available evidence says something very different. His financial disclosures document enormous business revenue, independent analysts estimate substantial increases in his wealth, and major investigations have identified significant profits flowing to Trump family ventures. (PolitiFact, October 5; Reuters, June 9)

The first-term losses are real. The second-term gains are real, too. Pretending the first cancels out the second is an interesting approach to accounting, although I wouldn’t recommend trying it with the IRS.

And I keep coming back to that word Mullin used: cost. Because there is a cost worth examining here, and it isn’t necessarily being paid by Donald Trump. It’s the cost of asking Americans to trust that their government is making decisions for them while the president’s private financial interests remain intertwined with businesses affected by those decisions.

That cost can’t be calculated simply by opening a financial disclosure and adding up the numbers. But it’s one the public has every right to question, and unlike the president’s estimated fortune, it isn’t something Forbes can put a price tag on.

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack, or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three more claims that deserve a closer look.

1. CLAIM: Chris Pappas voted to raise taxes 68 times, and every one of his tax votes was to raise taxes.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

WHY: Former Republican Senator John Sununu made the accusation about Democratic Congressman Chris Pappas during New Hampshire’s Senate race. PolitiFact found that Sununu’s list inflated the number by counting procedural votes, including legislation that wasn’t primarily about taxes and ignoring occasions when Pappas supported tax reductions. Some of the supposedly damning votes even had overwhelming Republican support. Apparently, if you count the same legislative process enough times, you can make almost anybody look like a tax collector.

PolitiFact, October 1, 2026

2. CLAIM: James Talarico’s campaign says Texas Republican Ken Paxton voted “to protect puppy abusers.”

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

WHY: Paxton did vote against a 2011 Texas bill involving people found responsible for animal cruelty. What the campaign conveniently leaves out is that the bill concerned the money required to appeal a court ruling, not whether animal abuse should be legal or whether abusers deserved punishment. Opponents raised procedural fairness concerns, although Paxton never publicly explained his vote.

Apparently, we’ve reached the stage of American politics where even puppies have to worry about being misrepresented in campaign advertising. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to scrutinize Paxton’s record. Turning a procedural vote into a declaration of solidarity with puppy abusers isn’t one of them.

PolitiFact rated the claim Mostly False on October 12, 2026.

PolitiFact, October 12, 2026

3. CLAIM: Britain’s net-zero climate policies will cost twice as much as previously estimated.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

WHY: Britain’s Conservative Party published a policy booklet suggesting that the cost of achieving net-zero emissions was dramatically higher than earlier estimates. Carbon Brief examined the calculations and found that a spreadsheet error appeared to have doubled the figure. The party’s document attributed nearly £1 trillion in costs to the government’s official climate adviser, even though the underlying estimate didn’t support that number. There’s something wonderfully unfortunate about publishing a document questioning government competence while apparently failing to check your own spreadsheet.

Carbon Brief, October 9, 2026

More from Tom Hicks Media

Blind Spot, our Sunday Off Script investigation, is following the machinery of the 2026 midterm elections in The Election Before the Election. We’re examining the rules, money, and political decisions that shape elections long before anyone casts a ballot. What The Hell? digs into actual history so ridiculous that fiction writers would probably be told to tone it down.

Lotus Purrspective offers daily observations from a tuxedo cat who has serious doubts about the intelligence of her human. Chart Collision revisits the songs, artists and chart battles that shaped our musical memories, including the hits some of us would happily have left behind.

Panic Room Sports tackles the NFL, fantasy football, NASCAR and the occasional sports-related absurdity. Rabbit Ears Classic TV goes behind the scenes of television’s earlier decades, while The Backlot Ghost explores the movies, personalities and production stories that Hollywood left behind.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Off Script is independent, and keeping it that way takes research, time and the occasional willingness to spend an afternoon buried in financial disclosures that could double as doorstops.

If you’d like to help cover those costs, you can buy me a cup of tea. I promise not to invest the proceeds in a presidential cryptocurrency.

One Question Before You Go

Should a sitting president be required to divest from businesses whose fortunes can be directly affected by decisions made by his own administration, or are financial disclosures and public scrutiny sufficient?

I’d be interested in hearing where you draw that line.

#OffScript #Trump #PresidentialEthics #ConflictsOfInterest #Cryptocurrency #GovernmentAccountability #PoliticalFactChecking #IndependentJournalism #THM

I’ve been thinking about something that probably shouldn’t be as complicated as we’ve managed to make it.

We hold elections so people can choose who represents them. That’s the basic arrangement, anyway. Candidates run, voters consider their options, somebody wins, somebody loses, and everybody spends the next several months arguing about whether the voters knew what the hell they were doing.

But there’s another election that takes place around the one we actually vote in. It involves party officials, campaign consultants, wealthy donors, political action committees, and people whose job descriptions seem to consist largely of explaining why the candidate voters want isn’t the candidate voters should have.

Sometimes they’re right, which is what makes this interesting. Political professionals spend their lives looking at polling, fundraising, voter registration, turnout patterns, and electoral arithmetic. They have information most of us don’t, and I wouldn’t dismiss that expertise simply because I don’t always like what they do with it. They also have interests of their own, which don’t necessarily line up with ours. When those interests collide with an actual election result, things can get uncomfortable, especially when the candidate refuses to cooperate.

There’s a difference between winning an election and being considered capable of winning the next one. We tend to treat those as the same thing, but they aren’t. A primary election tells us which candidate received the most votes among the people who participated under that party’s rules. It doesn’t necessarily tell us who can attract independents, win over disaffected voters from the other party, or persuade people who ordinarily stay home to get off the couch.

That’s a legitimate distinction. I’d be suspicious of any political analyst who pretended otherwise. But here’s where I start getting uncomfortable. Once the voters have made their choice, how much authority should political professionals have to pressure that choice out of existence? And what happens when the candidate they’re trying to clear the field for isn’t even a member of their party?

Consider what’s happening in Montana. Before anybody outside Montana decides this is somebody else’s problem, bear with me. The state is providing a particularly useful example of something that reaches considerably farther than its borders.

Alani Bankhead won Montana’s Democratic U.S. Senate primary in June with nearly 49,000 votes, about 43.6 percent of the ballots cast in a five-candidate contest. She entered the primary, competed under the established rules, and won the nomination. Whatever anybody thinks of her candidacy, that part isn’t in dispute. Montana Free Press

But another candidate, independent Seth Bodnar, was already running for the same Senate seat. Bodnar, a former president of the University of Montana, attracted support from Democrats who believed an independent might appeal to voters unwilling to support somebody carrying the Democratic label. That created a problem for people trying to prevent Republican Kurt Alme from winning the seat.

Some prominent Democrats wanted Bankhead to withdraw, leaving Bodnar as the principal alternative. Bankhead refused. Bodnar wasn’t going anywhere either, and when the August 10 withdrawal deadline passed, both remained on the November ballot. Montana Free Press

Now, I can understand the argument being made by Bodnar’s supporters. If an independent candidate can attract people who would never consider voting for a Democrat, and the Democratic nominee has limited money and little evidence of broader support, there’s a rational case for trying something different. Political parties are supposed to win elections. That’s hardly a shocking revelation.

But I can understand Bankhead’s objection, too. She entered the Democratic primary, and voters selected her. Now some people who presumably believe in respecting elections would prefer that she step aside for somebody who didn’t compete in that primary at all. There’s something awkward about that, even if the strategic argument makes sense.

Bankhead has argued that Democrats won’t rebuild their standing in difficult states by abandoning their own candidates in favor of independents. That’s a longer-term argument about party identity, and it’s different from the immediate question of who can assemble the broadest coalition in November. Both deserve consideration. You can make a reasonable case that a particular strategy might help win an election without necessarily proving it’s good for the party, or for voters, over the next ten years. Alani Bankhead, The Washington Post, October 9

And here’s something else that complicates the picture considerably.

Bankhead’s primary victory wasn’t simply an uprising of ordinary voters against a party establishment. Two outside political committees spent heavily to influence the Democratic primary. According to Montana Free Press, the conservative More Jobs, Less Government PAC spent more than $900,000 promoting Bankhead and more than $1 million opposing one of her Democratic opponents, Reilly Neill. Another group, Progressive Vet PAC, reported spending roughly $2.3 million supporting Bankhead and nearly $195,000 opposing Neill.

The Progressive Vet PAC’s funding was particularly murky, with much of its money attributed to a newly created Delaware corporation. Its treasurer, former Democratic legislator Moffie Funk, subsequently supported Bodnar. There has been speculation about whether some of the spending was intended to shape the field for Bodnar, but speculation isn’t proof, and the PAC denied the accusation that it had supported Bankhead with that objective. Montana Free Press, October 8 | Montana Public Radio, September 24

That’s an important distinction, because otherwise we’re in danger of turning this into a convenient little morality play. The voters made the final choice, but the information reaching those voters had already been shaped by organizations spending considerably more money than most candidates could hope to raise themselves. Whatever those organizations intended, their spending helped determine which candidates voters heard about and how those candidates were presented.

The pressure doesn’t necessarily begin after an election. Sometimes it begins long before anybody gets a ballot.

And Montana isn’t an isolated experiment. Independent candidates have attracted substantial outside support in several 2026 Senate contests, particularly in states where Democrats have struggled to win statewide elections. The details vary, and they matter. A Democrat voluntarily stepping aside because an independent appears to offer a broader coalition isn’t the same thing as a nominee resisting calls to quit. But the calculation behind these arrangements is familiar: perhaps a candidate without the party label can attract voters who wouldn’t otherwise consider crossing the aisle. Inside Elections

That raises an uncomfortable question for the party itself. If voters are willing to consider your policies but reluctant to vote for your candidates, is changing the label a solution to the problem or a way of avoiding it?

Maybe it’s both, and if that sounds like an unusually complicated way to run an election, American politics has been making this particular mess for a very long time.

We’ve been arguing about third-party candidates for generations. The argument usually becomes particularly heated when somebody loses an election they expected to win. Then comes the search for someone to blame, and the candidate who finished third suddenly becomes more important to the conversation than the candidates who finished first and second.

I remember the 1992 presidential election, when Ross Perot managed to make life miserable for both major parties. He was wealthy, unconventional, obsessed with the federal deficit, and apparently immune to the normal political advice about how presidential candidates were supposed to behave. Perot received roughly 19.7 million votes, almost 19 percent of the national popular vote.

Bill Clinton won. George H. W. Bush lost, and one explanation became familiar almost immediately: Perot had taken enough votes from Bush to hand Clinton the presidency.

Except the evidence wasn’t nearly that tidy.

Contemporary exit-poll analysis suggested Clinton still would have won without Perot in the race. Some Perot voters preferred Bush, some preferred Clinton, and others said they wouldn’t have voted at all. That doesn’t mean Perot had no effect. His candidacy changed the conversation, influenced campaign strategies, and brought the deficit into sharper focus. But changing an election isn’t necessarily the same as changing who wins it. The Washington Post, November 8, 1992

Eight years later, Ralph Nader became the political villain in a different story. In Florida’s 2000 presidential election, George W. Bush finished 537 votes ahead of Al Gore after the recount and litigation. Nader received 97,488 votes.

You don’t need a calculator to understand why Democrats were furious. But you do need something more than arithmetic to understand what actually happened.

Those 97,488 people weren’t all Gore voters who temporarily wandered away from the Democratic Party. Some preferred Bush. Some wouldn’t have voted at all if Nader hadn’t been running. Evidence that Nader attracted more potential Gore voters than Bush voters makes the spoiler argument substantial, and there’s no reason to pretend otherwise. It still doesn’t mean every Nader ballot can simply be transferred into Gore’s column.

And Florida involved ballot-design problems, recount disputes, and other controversies that shouldn’t disappear just because blaming one third-party candidate makes for a cleaner story. Florida Division of Elections, official results

Here’s the part of this debate I’ve always found peculiar.

When a third-party candidate attracts voters, we immediately start discussing whose votes those people were supposed to be. We talk about taking votes from Democrats or Republicans as though those votes were already sitting in somebody’s account, waiting to be deposited on Election Day.

But nobody owns those votes.

A voter who chooses an independent candidate hasn’t necessarily stolen anything from either major party. They may be expressing a preference neither party has managed to earn. They might dislike both major-party candidates. They might care about an issue the major parties have ignored. Or they might simply have reached the conclusion that voting for somebody they don’t want, in order to prevent somebody else they don’t want, isn’t much of a choice.

I understand that argument. I also understand why it drives political strategists up the wall.

In a plurality election, where the candidate with the most votes can prevail without receiving a majority, splitting a politically similar electorate can have serious consequences. A voter can sincerely support a third-party candidate and still help produce an outcome they dislike. That’s the strongest argument for strategic voting, and dismissing it as mere establishment manipulation would be foolish.

The difficulty is that strategic voting asks people to make two different decisions at once: whom they want to represent them, and whom they believe has the best chance of defeating somebody else. Those answers aren’t always the same, and I don’t think we do voters any favors by pretending the conflict doesn’t exist.

This is where the distinction between persuasion and pressure becomes important. Political parties, donors, and campaign organizations have every right to make their case. They can endorse a different candidate, explain their electoral calculations, and ask people to reconsider. Candidates also have the right to stay in a race when the rules permit it, and voters have the right to reject the advice of everybody involved.

In Montana, the pressure became especially contentious. Bankhead has reported harassment and threats involving her family. Those allegations deserve serious attention, although responsibility for specific conduct shouldn’t be assigned without evidence. Disagreement over a candidacy is ordinary politics. Threatening somebody or their family is something else entirely. Montana Public Radio

What interests me most, though, is how quickly the language changes when a candidate becomes inconvenient. A primary winner can go from being the legitimate choice of the party’s voters to being described as an obstacle to the party’s success. An independent can go from being an exciting alternative to being accused of dividing the electorate. And depending on which candidate somebody supports, the same principle can suddenly mean something entirely different.

Respect the voters, unless respecting them creates a problem. Support independent voices, unless those voices threaten the outcome you want.

I don’t think there’s a neat answer here, and I’m suspicious of anyone who claims there is. A political party has every reason to consider how to win. Candidates have every reason to defend their right to compete. Voters have every reason to resent being told that their preferred candidate is an irresponsible choice. Those positions can all be understandable, even when they collide spectacularly.

There’s another question hiding underneath all of this. When a party concludes that its own candidate can’t win, what exactly is it measuring? Fundraising? Name recognition? Favorability? Polling? The ability to attract voters outside the party?

Those are useful measures, but they can also become self-reinforcing. A candidate who can’t attract financial backing struggles to become known. A candidate who isn’t known polls poorly. A candidate who polls poorly has trouble attracting financial backing. Eventually somebody points to the numbers and declares the candidate hopeless.

Maybe they’re right. But sometimes the numbers are describing a political environment that donors and party organizations helped create.

That doesn’t mean every underfunded candidate is secretly capable of winning. It means we ought to distinguish between evidence that a candidate lacks support and evidence that powerful organizations have decided not to provide it. Those are different things, even when they produce the same result.

And there’s a final complication that I think deserves more attention than it usually gets.

The right to run doesn’t come with a guarantee that other people must support you. Bankhead’s primary victory establishes that she won the Democratic nomination. It doesn’t establish that Democrats must abandon their judgment about the general election. Likewise, Bodnar’s independent candidacy doesn’t give him a superior claim to voters who might otherwise support Bankhead.

Neither candidate owns the electorate.

Which brings us back to the question we started with. If political professionals believe voters are making a mistake, they have every right to explain why. They may even have compelling evidence. But the voters get to decide whether to listen, and perhaps that’s what makes democracy so frustrating to people who spend their lives trying to manage it.

Sometimes the voters refuse to follow the plan.

I don’t know who will win Montana’s Senate race in November, and I’m not interested in pretending that the outcome is already written. What I do know is that the argument unfolding there isn’t really confined to Montana. It’s about the uneasy relationship between political choice and political strategy, between what people want and what professionals believe is possible, and between respecting an election result and trying to shape the next one.

There’s room for legitimate disagreement about all of that. There should be. But before we accuse somebody of stealing votes, wasting votes, splitting votes, or refusing to get out of the way, maybe we ought to ask one fairly basic question.

When did we decide that a vote belongs to anybody other than the person casting it?

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

The Bullshit Detector

Three more claims that didn’t survive a little fact-checking.

1. CLAIM: A video shows a Muslim passenger being removed from a Southwest Airlines flight after threatening to blow it up in October 2026.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 5/5

WHY: The video is real. The October incident isn’t. The footage came from a March 6 flight diversion to Atlanta, where authorities investigated a possible security threat that was ultimately determined not to be credible. Southwest confirmed that no new incident had occurred. Somebody recycled the video, attached an inflammatory story, and apparently figured nobody would notice the seven-month difference. Lead Stories, October 9

2. CLAIM: A viral video shows Princess Leonor of Spain wearing a revealing yellow minidress during a public appearance.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 5/5

WHY: The circulating video was AI-manipulated. The original footage, from a July 2024 meeting with Spain’s national football team, shows the princess wearing a red football jersey and white jeans. An AI-detection tool also rated the altered video as 99.9 percent likely AI-generated. Apparently, reality wasn’t sufficiently scandalous, so somebody ordered a replacement. Lead Stories, October 9

3. CLAIM: Iran announced that it would release recordings of Donald Trump begging officials to reopen the Strait of Hormuz to lower gasoline prices before the midterms.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩 5/5

WHY: The claim originated with The Halfway Post, an account that openly identifies its material as satire. Another account reproduced the story without that context, and the joke began masquerading as news. The supposed Iranian announcement wasn’t real. Once again, the internet demonstrated that removing the punchline doesn’t magically turn a joke into journalism. Lead Stories, October 8

More From Tom Hicks Media

Blind Spot / Off Script looks beyond the daily political argument to examine the institutions, rules, and decisions shaping American life. Our current Sunday election series, The Election Before the Election, follows the forces influencing November’s results before voters even reach the polls.

What the Hell? explores genuine absurdities of history, human behavior, and spectacularly questionable decisions. Lotus Purrspective offers daily observations about human foolishness from a tuxedo cat who has seen quite enough of it.

Chart Collision revisits the music, memories, chart battles, and forgotten records that shaped our lives. Rabbit Ears Classic TV returns to television’s most memorable shows, characters, and behind-the-scenes stories.

The Backlot Ghost goes behind the movies to find the stories that survived long after the cameras stopped rolling. Panic Room Sports takes a skeptical, occasionally exasperated look at the games, personalities, and decisions that keep sports fans talking.

Buy Me a Cup of Tea

Independent journalism takes time, research, and tools that aren’t free. You can subscribe for free and keep reading, or become a paid subscriber to help support the work that goes into every edition. Either way, I’m glad you’re here.

One Question Before You Go

When your preferred candidate has little chance of winning, what matters more?

• Voting strategically to influence the outcome

• Voting for the candidate who best represents your views

• It depends on the election and the stakes

  

Hashtags: #OffScript #IndependentJournalism #Elections2026 #ThirdPartyCandidates #Democracy #PoliticalAccountability #THM

I’ve voted in enough elections to have developed a certain amount of faith in the routine. You go to the polling place, give somebody your name, follow whatever identification procedures your state requires, and cast your ballot. Depending on the election, you might spend more time deciding whether to stop for coffee afterward than you spent actually voting.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work. But there’s something about that routine most of us probably never think about. Before you can cast a ballot, somebody has to decide that you’re entitled to one. Your name has to be on a list, the information has to be correct, and the government has to recognize you as an eligible voter.

We take all of that for granted because, for most of us, it works.

Now imagine arriving at the polls on November 3 and discovering that the government has decided you aren’t eligible. You’re an American citizen. You’ve voted before. You’ve done everything you’re supposed to do. But somewhere along the way, a computer system identified you as somebody who shouldn’t be voting.

What the hell are you supposed to do about that?

It’s not an entirely hypothetical question. And thanks to a federal court ruling issued Friday, October 9, we have another reason to be asking it.

THE RULING, AND WHY IT MATTERS

U.S. District Judge Sparkle Sooknanan ruled against a Trump administration policy under which the Justice Department sought extensive voter registration records from states, compared information with federal citizenship records, and pursued the removal of people identified as potentially ineligible.

The administration said it was trying to prevent noncitizens from voting. That’s already illegal in federal elections, and enforcing that prohibition is a legitimate responsibility. The question before the court wasn’t whether noncitizens should be allowed to vote. It was whether the federal government had the authority to collect and use state voter information in the way it proposed.

Sooknanan concluded that the Justice Department had exceeded its statutory authority. She also found violations of the Administrative Procedure Act, the Privacy Act, and the Paperwork Reduction Act, and vacated the department’s Voter List Maintenance Policy. Read the October 9 opinion in Common Cause v. U.S. Department of Justice, pages 1–3 and 76–78.

You may remember another ruling involving the same judge and the same database back in June. That one concerned the administration’s expansion of SAVE, the federal immigration and citizenship verification system. Sooknanan found that the changes violated federal law and created serious privacy and voting-rights problems.

On September 25, the Supreme Court temporarily stayed that June order while the litigation continued. The October 9 decision involves a separate Justice Department policy, and the judge expressly noted that the Supreme Court’s stay did not determine the outcome of the newer case. October 9 opinion, pages 10–11.

I realize this sounds like a lot of legal machinery to get through before we reach the interesting part, but the distinction matters. The judge didn’t prohibit states from maintaining accurate voter rolls, and she certainly didn’t declare that noncitizens should be allowed to vote. She found that the federal government had adopted a policy it lacked the legal authority to implement.

And there’s a reason we should care about that distinction, regardless of which party controls the Justice Department.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE COMPUTER GETS IT WRONG?

SAVE stands for Systematic Alien Verification for Entitlements. It was developed to help government agencies verify immigration status for certain purposes, but its expanded use in elections has made it central to the current dispute.

In theory, comparing government records sounds sensible. If one database says somebody is registered to vote and another says that person isn’t a citizen, it’s worth investigating. I don’t think anybody seriously objects to checking the accuracy of a voter registration record.

The trouble begins when we start treating a database match as proof.

People become citizens. Government records don’t always update at the same time. Someone may change a name after getting married, or an agency may still have information from years before a person acquired citizenship. Anyone who’s spent an afternoon trying to correct a government record knows that computers are remarkably efficient at preserving mistakes.

And we’re not talking about a remote possibility.

In its October opinion, the court cited a 2006 Social Security Administration audit finding that approximately 3.3 million American citizens had been incorrectly classified as noncitizens in agency records.

That doesn’t mean 3.3 million voters were removed from registration lists. It means the government had documented an enormous number of citizenship-record errors. When those records become part of a system for determining voting eligibility, that history matters.

There’s also more recent evidence.

In Travis County, Texas, an independent investigation found that 25% of the supposed noncitizen matches examined involved people who had already established their American citizenship. That’s not a theoretical computer problem. That’s a verification system producing results that could put eligible voters under suspicion. October 9 opinion, pages 34–36.

Then there’s Anthony Nel.

Nel acquired American citizenship as a child when his parents naturalized. He had a U.S. passport and had been voting in Texas, but the modified SAVE system failed to verify his citizenship. His registration was canceled after he failed to respond to a notice within the required period.

Think about that for a moment. Here’s somebody who is an American citizen, has a passport proving it, and has participated in elections. But the system still managed to treat him as somebody who didn’t belong on the voter rolls. NPR, December 10, 2025 | October 9 opinion, pages 33–36

The court also identified another Texas voter, a naturalized citizen referred to as Bailey Doe, whose registration had been canceled following an erroneous citizenship determination.

So we’ve moved beyond the question of whether a mistake like this could happen. It has happened.

And the government doesn’t get to shrug its shoulders and say the computer made a mistake. The government chose to rely on that computer.

You can subscribe for free and keep reading Off Script and Blind Spot, or become a paid subscriber to help support the research and tools that go into every edition. Either way, I’m glad you’re here.

HOW BIG IS THE PROBLEM WE’RE TRYING TO SOLVE?

There’s something that bothers me about the way noncitizen voting gets discussed.

Listen to certain political speeches and you’d think there are armies of people who aren’t American citizens lining up to cast ballots. And if you question the size of the problem, somebody immediately assumes you must be in favor of letting them vote.

That’s bullshit.

I don’t want anybody voting who isn’t legally entitled to vote. But I also want to know how often it happens before we start building a massive verification system that can make mistakes affecting people who are entitled to vote.

Fortunately, people have tried to answer that question.

After the 2016 election, the Brennan Center for Justice interviewed 44 election administrators representing 42 jurisdictions across 12 states. Those jurisdictions included areas with substantial noncitizen populations and places where allegations of illegal voting had been prominent.

Together, they counted approximately 23.5 million votes. Election officials reported about 30 suspected instances of noncitizen voting that had been referred for further investigation or prosecution. Forty of the 42 jurisdictions reported no known incidents at all.

That works out to approximately 0.00013 percent of the votes counted in those jurisdictions. And remember, suspected doesn’t mean proven. Brennan Center, Noncitizen Voting: The Missing Millions

North Carolina conducted a different kind of investigation following the same election. Rather than interviewing local officials about suspected incidents, state investigators audited election records. They identified 41 noncitizens who had cast ballots, among 508 ballots determined to have been cast by ineligible voters, out of roughly 4.8 million ballots statewide. The Associated Press reported that the audit found no election outcome had changed. Associated Press via WRAL

Now, you might look at those numbers and wonder why North Carolina found 41 cases when the Brennan Center found only 30 across a much larger number of votes. The answer is that these weren’t two measurements of the same population using the same method. One was a survey of selected local officials; the other was a state-level records audit.

Neither investigation can tell us how many illegal votes might have gone undetected nationwide. But both found relatively small numbers of documented or suspected cases in the populations they examined.

And there’s newer evidence that deserves a serious examination.

THE CENSUS REPORT: LET’S DEAL WITH THE ACTUAL NUMBERS

On August 18, the Census Bureau published a preliminary analysis of voting records from the 2020 election. It reported classifying more than 128 million voter records as belonging to citizens and more than 24,000 as belonging to people who were noncitizens at the time of the election. More than 32 million records remained unanalyzed. U.S. Census Bureau, August 18, 2026

Twenty-four thousand is a substantially larger number than those earlier investigations identified. Dismissing it simply because it complicates an argument would be irresponsible.

So let’s put it in perspective.

Compared with the roughly 128 million records classified as citizens, those 24,000 classifications amount to approximately 0.019 percent. That’s a useful measure of scale, but it isn’t a national rate of proven illegal voting. The figures are rounded, more than 32 million records remained unanalyzed, and a database classification isn’t the same as an individually established violation of election law.

The Census Bureau used a commercially obtained voter file along with federal administrative records to make its classifications. It also attempted to account for naturalized citizens, excluding approximately 63,800 people whose records established that they had become citizens before the election.

That was an important safeguard, and it’s only fair to acknowledge it. The researchers didn’t simply assume that everyone with an old immigration record remained a noncitizen forever. Census Bureau, full report, Appendix 2, page 6

But the methodology still depends on accurately matching records and having sufficiently complete citizenship information. Election expert David Becker and other researchers have questioned whether those conditions were consistently met. Lead Stories also examined why the preliminary findings shouldn’t be presented as 24,000 individually proven illegal votes. NPR via KUOW, August 19 | Lead Stories, August 2026

If those records identify genuine cases of illegal voting, election officials should establish what happened and take appropriate action. If some are the result of inaccurate matching or incomplete citizenship information, we need to know that as well.

What we shouldn’t do is declare the case closed simply because the preliminary findings support whichever political position we already held.

And there’s a related question I think we ought to ask every time somebody announces a new system for catching ineligible voters: how many eligible voters does that system incorrectly flag?

Because if we’re measuring success by the number of names identified for removal, without also measuring the mistakes, we’re leaving out a pretty important part of the story.

CONGRESS ANTICIPATED SOME OF THESE PROBLEMS DECADES AGO

The National Voter Registration Act of 1993 established standards for maintaining registration lists while protecting eligible citizens from improper removal. The law includes procedures for handling address changes and other registration issues, and it generally prohibits removing someone simply because they haven’t voted recently. U.S. Department of Justice, National Voter Registration Act

One particularly important protection is the 90-day rule. With exceptions, states must complete certain systematic programs for removing ineligible voters at least 90 days before a federal election.

For the November 3 election, that deadline fell on August 5.

That doesn’t mean election officials stop correcting every problem after August 5. It means certain large-scale removal programs are restricted because the closer you get to Election Day, the harder it becomes for someone to discover and correct a mistake. Justice Department, voter-list maintenance guidance

There’s a practical reason for that. Discover a registration problem in April and you’ve got time to call the election office, collect whatever documents are needed, and straighten things out. Discover it on November 3 and you’ve got a very different situation.

The election isn’t going to be postponed while somebody figures out why the computer thinks you’re somebody else.

Identification requirements can complicate matters further, particularly when people confuse proof of identity with proof of citizenship or registration status. A driver’s license may establish who you are without establishing your citizenship. An older immigration record may accurately describe your status years ago without reflecting the fact that you’ve since become an American citizen.

And even perfectly valid identification won’t necessarily resolve a problem if your name has disappeared from the registration list.

That’s why the practical details matter. How does someone challenge an error? What documentation is required? Is there enough time to correct the record? And if the problem isn’t discovered until Election Day, what happens then?

The answers vary by state. The U.S. Election Assistance Commission provides state-specific information, and Vote.gov directs people to official registration resources.

I know this is where a political column starts sounding like advice from somebody’s father. Mine probably would have worked in a reminder to check the oil while he was at it.

But I’m going to say it anyway.

Check your registration. Now.

Make sure it’s active and that your name and address are correct. Find out what identification your state requires, whether you can vote early, and where you’re supposed to go on Election Day.

If something looks wrong, contact your election office rather than assuming it’ll sort itself out. And if you encounter a problem at the polls, ask what remedies your state provides, including whether you’re eligible to cast a provisional ballot and what follow-up steps may be required to have it counted.

None of this is particularly glamorous. But protecting your right to vote is a damn sight more important than winning an argument on social media.

THERE’S STILL ONE QUESTION I CAN’T SHAKE

I understand the argument for keeping voter rolls accurate. I agree with it. An election can’t function properly if officials don’t know who’s eligible to participate.

But we also have documented examples of American citizens being incorrectly identified as noncitizens, and we have a federal court finding that the Justice Department’s approach exceeded its authority.

There’s something else in that opinion worth considering.

The plaintiffs alleged that the Justice Department was attempting to take over a function traditionally performed by the states and create a nationwide system for identifying and removing voters. The court’s record documented agreements under which cooperating states would remove voters identified by the department within 45 days.

Those are the plaintiffs’ allegations and the documented terms of the agreements, not a judicial finding that every official involved was motivated by a desire to suppress votes. October 9 opinion, pages 1–3 and 35–37

But they certainly provide a legitimate reason to ask questions about what the government was trying to accomplish and why it chose this particular approach.

I don’t pretend to know what every official privately intends. Motive is difficult to prove, and I have no intention of treating suspicion as evidence. But neither do I believe we’re obligated to stop asking questions about motive simply because somebody has attached the words election integrity to a policy.

In a few weeks, we’ll be watching the election returns, listening to people explain why their side won or lost, and hearing enough speculation to last us until the next election. Somewhere beneath all that noise will be millions of individual Americans who simply wanted to cast a ballot and have it counted.

Before we spend another month arguing about who’s going to win, perhaps we ought to make damn sure everybody who’s entitled to participate actually gets the chance.

Because an honest election requires more than preventing people who aren’t eligible from voting. It also requires making sure we don’t prevent people who are eligible from voting.

And when a proposed solution risks doing exactly that, I think we’re entitled to ask two questions.

Does it actually solve the problem?

And is solving that problem the only reason somebody wants it?

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

THREE CLAIMS. THREE FACT CHECKS. NO FREE PASSES.

1. BRITAIN IS SECRETLY PREPARING TO DRAFT CIVILIANS INTO A WAR.

💩💩💩💩💩

Claim: Prime Minister Andy Burnham is creating an emergency register of civilians deemed fit to fight.

Bullshit: Full Fact found no evidence of such a government program. Britain’s Ministry of Defence said no such policy exists. The claim appears to confuse the government’s position with a Liberal Democrat proposal for a voluntary civilian reserve to help maintain essential services during emergencies.

Why: If you can’t tell the difference between a volunteer helping keep the lights on and a conscript being shipped off to war, you probably shouldn’t be explaining national defense policy to the rest of us. Full Fact, October 9, 2026

2. GERMANY’S CHANCELLOR IS POCKETING A QUARTER OF THE AID SENT TO UKRAINE.

💩💩💩💩💩

Claim: A video presented as a Bellingcat investigation alleges that Chancellor Friedrich Merz personally receives 25% of Germany’s financial assistance to Ukraine.

Bullshit: Bellingcat told Lead Stories directly that it hadn’t produced the alleged investigation and described the video as part of a long-running Russian disinformation operation. Lead Stories found no credible evidence supporting the underlying corruption accusation.

Why: Fabricating a corruption story is bad enough. Slapping somebody else’s investigative credentials on it is an attempt to make the lie look as though somebody actually did the homework. Lead Stories, October 8, 2026

3. A VIDEO CAPTURES THE MOMENT A MISSILE DESTROYS A PASSENGER JET IN RIYADH.

💩💩💩💩💩

Claim: A viral video shows a Houthi missile striking a Saudia aircraft at King Khalid International Airport on October 8.

Bullshit: The attack happened, and an aircraft was destroyed. But the viral video supposedly showing the moment of impact is fabricated. Lead Stories compared it with genuine aftermath photographs, identified inconsistencies in the airport scene, and found visual glitches in the supposed explosion footage. The investigation also identified similarities to an airport photograph from 2016.

Why: This is an especially ugly kind of deception because the underlying event was real. Somebody apparently decided that actual destruction wasn’t dramatic enough and manufactured a front-row seat to it. Lead Stories, October 9, 2026

ELSEWHERE AT THM

There’s plenty more to explore across Tom Hicks Media.

Chart Collision digs into the music, memories, and stories behind the songs. Lotus Purrspective offers daily observations from a cat who has yet to find a compelling reason to respect humanity. Panic Room Sports looks past the noise to find out what actually happened.

For a trip down memory lane, there’s Rabbit Ears Classic TV and The Backlot Ghost, exploring the television shows and movies we remember, including a few things we probably missed the first time around.

And after all this election business, perhaps we could use a little palate cleanser.

What the Hell? is our newest publication, devoted to true stories so ridiculous you’d swear somebody made them up. Last Sunday, we explained why Idaho once dropped 76 beavers out of airplanes. This Sunday, we’re heading to Louisiana to investigate how an entire lake managed to disappear into the ground. Both stories involve people making decisions that seemed like perfectly good ideas at the time. You can probably guess how that worked out.

Sometimes the truth doesn’t just sound stranger than fiction. It sounds like somebody ought to be fired.

BUY ME A CUP OF TEA

Independent reporting takes time, research, and a few tools that unfortunately don’t accept good intentions as payment. If you’d like to help keep it going, you can buy me a cup of tea. No obligation. Reading, sharing, and joining the conversation help, too.

ONE LAST THING

You don’t have to agree with every conclusion I reach. I’d much rather you question the evidence, check the sources, and tell me where you think I’ve gone wrong.

That’s how we all get a little smarter. - Tom

ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO

If an eligible citizen is wrongly removed from the voter rolls because of a government database error, who should carry the burden of fixing it?

The citizen, or the government that made the mistake?

And what should happen if the error isn’t corrected before Election Day?

I’d like to hear your answer.

#BlindSpot #OffScript #Election2026 #VotingRights #ElectionIntegrity #VoterRegistration #Midterms2026 #THM

I’ve been going to auto races since the 1960s, when I was a kid watching cars go around the local tracks. I loved the racing. Still do. But even back then, I noticed something about certain people in the stands. They weren’t particularly interested in who won. They were waiting for somebody to crash, preferably spectacularly. The worse the wreck, the happier they seemed.

Even as a kid, I thought those people were assholes.

Nearly sixty years later, I haven’t changed my opinion. And now I’m wondering whether we’re about to discover just how many of their spiritual relatives are willing to tune in to watch the United States government execute somebody.

Because that’s apparently what the Pentagon intends to offer us.

On December 3, at 1 p.m. Central Time, the United States Army plans to execute Nidal Malik Hasan by firing squad at Fort Hood, Texas. Hasan, a former Army psychiatrist, was convicted of murdering 13 people and injuring 32 others during the November 2009 shooting at that installation. President Donald Trump approved the firing-squad execution on Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s recommendation. It would be the military’s first execution since 1961 and its first by firing squad since World War II. CBS News, October 8

Those facts alone would make this a significant story. But Hegseth apparently wasn’t satisfied with simply carrying out the sentence. He announced that the execution would be public, explaining that people needed to understand the serious consequences of such crimes. A Pentagon official subsequently confirmed that the proceedings would be livestreamed, with further details to come. CBS News, October 8

And somebody has given considerable thought to the presentation.

The execution is scheduled for the same military installation where Hasan committed his murders, at approximately the same time of day. Hegseth acknowledged that those details were intentional. Meanwhile, the Army had previously been preparing for an execution by lethal injection at a federal facility in Indiana. The decision to use a firing squad at Fort Hood required a significant change in those plans. ABC News, October 8

I don’t know about you, but when somebody starts coordinating the location, timing, method, and broadcast of a man’s death, I begin wondering whether we’re still talking about the administration of justice or something that looks suspiciously like a production schedule.

Before we go any further, though, I want to get something out of the way.

Hasan murdered 13 people. He wounded dozens more. The victims had families, friends, plans, and futures that were stolen from them. The survivors have lived with the consequences for nearly seventeen years, and nothing in this article is intended to diminish what happened to them.

Nor am I interested in entertaining the inevitable accusation that questioning the broadcast amounts to defending Hasan. That’s a convenient little trick people use when they don’t want to address the actual argument.

You can believe Hasan deserves to die and still question why the government wants millions of people watching it happen. Those positions aren’t contradictory, no matter how badly somebody might want to pretend otherwise.

And that distinction isn’t confined to one political party. Republican Senator Thom Tillis has criticized the livestream plan while supporting Hasan’s execution. Democratic lawmakers have also condemned the proposed broadcast. On Friday, Vice President JD Vance added an interesting wrinkle. Asked about the livestream, he said, “I don’t know that that’s actually going to happen.” Then he made his own viewing plans perfectly clear: “If it’s ultimately livestreamed, I’m not going to be watching it.” Vance also reminded reporters of the brutality of Hasan’s crimes, so this wasn’t an objection to holding Hasan accountable. Meanwhile, Trump reaffirmed that Hasan would face a firing squad but said nothing about televising it. When ABC News asked whether the president supported the broadcast, the White House referred the question to the Pentagon. That’s a rather revealing distinction: the administration is unequivocal about the execution, but considerably less unified in its public messaging about turning it into something people can watch from their living rooms. Associated Press, October 9 | ABC News, October 9

So what is the broadcast supposed to accomplish? Hegseth says people need to understand the consequences of committing such crimes. That’s the stated justification, and we should take it seriously enough to examine whether it makes sense.

Hasan was sentenced to death in 2013. His case has spent years moving through the military justice system, and the Supreme Court declined to review his case in 2025. If the execution takes place, the punishment will be precisely the same whether it is witnessed by a small group of authorized observers or broadcast to millions of people. CBS News, October 8

The bullets don’t become more lethal because there’s an audience.

Perhaps Hegseth believes the broadcast will deter future mass murderers. That’s one possible reading of his explanation, although the evidence for deterrence is hardly settled. In 2012, the National Research Council reviewed the available research and concluded that existing studies couldn’t reliably determine whether capital punishment increases, decreases, or has no effect on homicide rates. That finding doesn’t prove executions have no deterrent effect. It means the research wasn’t adequate to establish one. And it certainly doesn’t establish that broadcasting an execution provides some additional benefit. National Academies, Deterrence and the Death Penalty

Maybe the administration sees the broadcast as a demonstration of strength, an opportunity to show Americans that this government is willing to exercise its authority in ways previous administrations avoided. Perhaps officials believe the public display will reassure people who have grown frustrated with what they consider an overly cautious justice system.

Those are possibilities, not established motives. But public punishment has a long history of communicating state authority to people who weren’t accused of committing any crime. The condemned person received the punishment, while everyone watching received a demonstration of what the government was capable of doing.

That doesn’t mean Trump and Hegseth are secretly planning to execute political opponents, and I wouldn’t make that accusation without evidence. But a public display of lethal state power can carry implications beyond the official explanation. The administration may intend to communicate justice, deterrence, resolve, or some combination of those things. Different audiences may hear a very different message.

And if we’re going to ask those questions seriously, we also have to consider what happens when the images leave the United States and reach people who don’t share our political assumptions, our history, or our understanding of the case.

The man being executed is a Muslim American of Palestinian descent.

Hasan was born in Virginia to Palestinian parents. He served in the United States Army, became a psychiatrist, and eventually committed an atrocity against fellow service members. His religion and ancestry neither excuse those murders nor establish that the punishment is discriminatory. His responsibility for his crimes rests on what he did, not who his parents were or which religion he practiced.

But are we seriously going to pretend those facts have no bearing on the images the Pentagon wants to distribute?

Consider what the proposed broadcast could look like to people watching outside the United States. American military personnel preparing to execute a Muslim man of Palestinian descent by firing squad at an American military installation, while the United States government provides the footage.

There’s another detail that makes the potential imagery even more troubling. Hasan was paralyzed from the waist down after being shot during the attack. He uses a wheelchair. If the execution goes forward, the government will be putting a wheelchair-using prisoner before a firing squad. Associated Press, October 8

I’m not suggesting those circumstances make Hasan innocent, or that the government selected him for execution because he’s Muslim. The record establishes why he was convicted and sentenced. But the symbolism of broadcasting his death is another matter entirely.

How might Muslim Americans, the overwhelming majority of whom have nothing whatsoever to do with Hasan’s crimes, interpret those images? How will they be received in countries where American military power is already viewed with suspicion? What happens when someone takes the footage, removes the context, and circulates it as proof that the United States is waging war against Muslims?

And here’s something that ought to concern the Pentagon regardless of anyone’s position on the death penalty: Hasan’s own conduct and statements during his prosecution raised concerns that he welcomed a death sentence. His standby attorneys feared he was deliberately pursuing that outcome. If he is portrayed as a martyr after his execution, a government-produced broadcast could provide extremist propagandists with extraordinarily powerful material. That’s a potential consequence, not a prediction, but it’s one the Pentagon ought to have considered before announcing this plan. CBS News, October 8

Once the government broadcasts an execution, it loses control of what happens to the images afterward. They can be copied, edited, replayed, celebrated, or turned into propaganda. And if somebody thinks the Pentagon can somehow manage the narrative after the footage reaches the internet, I’d suggest they haven’t spent much time on the internet.

We’ve actually been down this road before, although the technology was considerably less sophisticated. Public executions were once a familiar part of American life. Crowds gathered to watch hangings, sometimes traveling considerable distances for the occasion. What officials intended as solemn demonstrations of justice could become public entertainments, complete with vendors, spectators, and the kind of morbid curiosity that makes you wonder what people were thinking.

One of the most notorious examples occurred in Owensboro, Kentucky, in August 1936, when Rainey Bethea was hanged before an enormous crowd. The event became infamous for its carnival atmosphere and is widely recognized as America’s last fully public execution. Public access to executions had already been restricted in much of the country, and the spectacle helped illustrate why. NPR, October 9

Ninety years later, we’re contemplating bringing the audience back without requiring anybody to leave the house.

The Romans had a phrase for keeping the public entertained while the serious business of governing went on: bread and circuses. We’ve borrowed the expression for centuries, usually to complain about politicians distracting people with spectacles. But I wonder what the Romans would make of this. We may be approaching the point where the government doesn’t even have to provide the bread. Just schedule the spectacle, turn on the cameras, and let the audience supply its own popcorn.

And I have to wonder what the hell we’ve learned.

I can understand a relative of one of Hasan’s victims wanting to witness his execution. I wouldn’t presume to tell somebody who lost a loved one that they shouldn’t feel satisfaction when the sentence is carried out. Some may regard witnessing the execution as a form of closure. Others may want nothing to do with it. That’s their decision, and they deserve to make it without having their grief turned into somebody else’s political argument.

But what about the people who have no personal connection to the murders and simply want to watch somebody die? I’ve seen enough of that appetite at racetracks to know it exists. Most racing fans want to see great competition and drivers walk away from wrecks unharmed. A smaller, uglier contingent wants the wreck itself. The possibility of someone getting hurt is part of the attraction.

Now imagine that appetite with the uncertainty removed. The death is scheduled, the method selected, the time announced, and the government preparing to provide the pictures.

What the fuck are we doing?

There’s a legitimate argument for transparency, and I’m not going to dismiss it simply because I find the proposed broadcast repulsive. If the government is going to take a human life in the name of its citizens, shouldn’t those citizens be allowed to see what that actually involves? There’s something to be said for confronting the reality of capital punishment rather than treating it as an abstract legal procedure conducted somewhere behind prison walls.

Secrecy can protect institutions from scrutiny. Independent observers and journalists can help ensure that executions are conducted according to law, that abuses are documented, and that the public receives an accurate account of what happened.

But does accountability require an unrestricted livestream?

Military regulations already contemplate witnesses, including victims’ relatives and representatives of the news media. Those rules were designed around a controlled execution setting, not a potentially worldwide broadcast. Legal experts have questioned whether the Pentagon’s plan is compatible with the existing framework, particularly when it comes to minors and the public distribution of graphic images. ABC News, October 8 | Bloomberg Law, October 9

Those aren’t trivial objections. Nor are they necessarily insurmountable legal barriers. The Pentagon may have an interpretation of the regulations that permits the broadcast, or it may seek changes or waivers. But announcing an execution will be livestreamed doesn’t, by itself, settle whether the government has the authority to do so.

And the execution itself isn’t guaranteed to happen on December 3. Hasan’s attorney has raised objections to the execution arrangements, and further litigation could affect the schedule. Meanwhile, the vice president’s public skepticism makes clear that even senior administration officials aren’t presenting the livestream as a certainty. ABC News, October 8 | Associated Press, October 9

Which raises another question I’ve been chewing on.

Why announce the public broadcast before those legal and logistical questions have been resolved?

Maybe officials are confident the arrangements will withstand scrutiny. Perhaps they believe there’s sufficient time to work through the remaining issues. But announcing something dramatic can also have political value even if the event is delayed or never takes place. The public hears the promise, supporters celebrate the toughness, opponents react, and the announcement becomes a spectacle of its own.

I’m not claiming that’s the purpose here. I’m saying the distinction between announcing an exercise of power and actually carrying it out is worth remembering.

There’s something else about all this that bothers me, and it goes beyond whether Hasan deserves to die.

The United States has spent decades criticizing governments and extremist organizations that turn executions into public demonstrations of power. We recognize the disturbing implications when other countries use death as a political spectacle. We understand why footage of killings can become propaganda, why crowds can be encouraged to celebrate violence, and why the dignity of a justice system depends partly on how it exercises its most terrible authority.

Yet here we are, contemplating a government-produced livestream of a firing squad.

I’m not arguing that every public execution is morally or legally identical, regardless of the crime, the process, or the country conducting it. Those distinctions matter. But the comparison ought to make us uncomfortable enough to ask why we’re adopting a practice we have so often condemned elsewhere.

And perhaps that’s what bothers me most. The possibility that somewhere along the way, the solemn responsibility of carrying out a death sentence has become entangled with the desire to demonstrate toughness, attract attention, or satisfy an audience.

Whether Hasan deserves execution is a separate argument, and one I’m not trying to settle here. The military court imposed that sentence, and the legal process has brought the case to this point. People can disagree about capital punishment without disagreeing about the horror of his crimes.

What I do know is that when a government deliberately takes a human life, it ought to approach that responsibility with extraordinary seriousness.

There shouldn’t be any swagger involved. No promotional atmosphere. No suggestion that the death itself is something the public ought to tune in for.

The administration’s stated explanation deserves examination, and the people making it deserve to be questioned about the evidence supporting it.

But I keep coming back to the same problem.

What does showing the execution accomplish that carrying out the sentence wouldn’t?

I think about those people at the racetracks when I was a kid. The ones who jumped to their feet when a car hit the wall, hoping for something spectacular, then settled back into their seats when the driver climbed out unharmed.

I thought they were assholes then. I think they’re assholes now.

What I never imagined was that someday I’d be wondering whether the United States government was preparing to give their spiritual descendants a front-row seat to somebody’s execution.

And if this broadcast goes forward, there’s one question I hope we’re still willing to ask after the rifles have fired and the cameras have stopped rolling.

What happens when somebody in power discovers there’s an audience for this shit?

If this was worth your time, hit Like, Restack or share it. That’s how independent work like this finds new readers.

THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

1. Being President Is Costing Trump Money

CLAIM: Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin told an Oklahoma rally that Donald Trump hasn’t financially benefited from the presidency and that holding office has actually cost him money.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

WHY: Somebody might want to show Mullin a calculator. Financial disclosures and independent analyses show substantial revenue flowing through Trump’s businesses, and estimates of his net worth have risen. Revenue isn’t profit, and an increase in estimated wealth isn’t proof that every business venture succeeded. But Mullin’s sweeping assertion that the presidency has brought Trump no financial gain isn’t supported by the available evidence. PolitiFact reporting, October 2026

2. Republicans Passed the Biggest Tax Cut in American History

CLAIM: Iowa Republican Congressman Zach Nunn said Republicans had delivered the largest tax cut in U.S. history.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

WHY: That’s what happens when you measure tax cuts in enormous dollar figures and forget that the economy has grown since Ronald Reagan was president. Economists generally compare tax cuts as a percentage of the economy. By that measure, the new cuts in the 2025 Republican tax law rank tied for sixth-largest since 1980. Include the extensions of Trump’s 2017 cuts, and the law ranks third. Those are substantial tax cuts, but neither calculation makes them the biggest in American history. PolitiFact rated Nunn’s statement Mostly False. PolitiFact, October 7

3. Trump’s Drug Deals Are Rescuing State Budgets

CLAIM: CMS Administrator Mehmet Oz said the administration’s prescription-drug pricing program was “rescuing state budgets,” while Trump said the savings would help save Medicaid.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

WHY: The agreements could produce genuine savings, and nobody should complain about Medicaid paying less for prescription drugs. But according to the administration’s own projections, the initial savings for states would amount to roughly 2% of their annual Medicaid spending, declining in subsequent years. Even that estimate depends on which drugs are covered, how many states participate, and confidential agreements whose details remain largely unknown. There’s a considerable difference between helping a budget and rescuing one. Apparently, somebody at the White House misplaced that distinction. FactCheck.org, October 5

MORE FROM TOM HICKS MEDIA

Blind Spot | Off Script — The Election Before the Election. Who gets to vote, who gets left out, and what happens long before Election Day?

Lotus Purrspective — Life, humans, and their questionable judgment, examined by a cat who has seen enough.

Chart Collision — Music, memories, and the stories behind the songs.

Panic Room Sports — Smart coverage with attitude. Everyone reacts. We’ll check the tape first.

Rabbit Ears Classic TV — Revisiting the television that entertained us, surprised us, and occasionally left us wondering what the writers were smoking.

The Backlot Ghost — The stories behind the movies, including the ones Hollywood would rather you forgot.

What The Hell? — True stories so ridiculous you’d swear somebody made them up.

BUY ME A CUP OF TEA

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ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO

Should the government ever livestream an execution to the general public, or does that cross a line regardless of the crime?

#OffScript #MilitaryJustice #DeathPenalty #GovernmentAccountability #MediaEthics #TomHicksMedia

Christa Pike is walking.

Not very far, and apparently not without considerable difficulty, but according to her attorneys, she’s taking a few steps around her hospital room. She’s also talking, although she reportedly has trouble concentrating and occasionally loses her train of thought. Her arms are severely injured, she has pneumonia, and doctors are still trying to determine how much permanent damage she may have suffered. As of Thursday, she was reportedly unable to swallow food or move her arms and hands properly.

Considering what happened to her eight days earlier, the fact that she’s walking at all is extraordinary.

On September 30, the State of Tennessee strapped Pike to an execution gurney and attempted to put her to death by lethal injection. Officials administered two doses of pentobarbital, a drug intended to kill her. According to witnesses and subsequent court filings, the procedure involved repeated difficulties establishing intravenous access, considerable pain, and a prolonged period during which Pike continued breathing despite receiving the drugs.

Eventually, the state stopped trying. Pike was transported to a hospital, where her condition deteriorated so badly that her attorneys were told she might be brain-dead. Plans were reportedly being made to withdraw life support when she unexpectedly regained consciousness.

Now she’s walking around a hospital room, recovering from an execution that was supposed to have killed her.

I don’t know about you, but I have a difficult time getting my head around that sequence of events. We’re talking about a government carrying out the most irreversible punishment it possesses, using a procedure specifically designed to end a human life, and somehow managing to leave the condemned person alive, hospitalized, and potentially permanently disabled.

And here’s where it gets even more troubling. Pike’s attorneys had warned the state that her medical conditions and difficult veins could create serious complications during lethal injection. Those concerns were raised in court. The execution proceeded anyway, with the Supreme Court declining to intervene.

According to reporting by the Associated Press and the Death Penalty Information Center, witnesses observed Pike continuing to breathe and move after the drugs were administered. Her attorneys described severe injuries to her arms and alleged that repeated attempts to establish intravenous access contributed to the failed procedure. The precise medical explanation remains under investigation.

I understand that medical procedures sometimes go wrong, even when everybody involved does everything correctly. But there’s a considerable difference between an unexpected complication and proceeding with a procedure after being warned about the very complications that subsequently occur.

Whether Tennessee crossed that line is something investigators and the courts will have to determine. I’m not going to pretend we already know the answer.

But I damn sure think we’re entitled to ask the question.

And before we go any further, there’s something else we need to discuss, because Christa Pike didn’t wind up on Tennessee’s death row for unpaid parking tickets.

She murdered a young woman named Colleen Slemmer.

Colleen Slemmer was 19 years old when Pike, then 18, and two accomplices lured her into a wooded area near the University of Tennessee’s Knoxville campus in January 1995.

What happened there was horrifying.

Slemmer was beaten, tortured, and murdered. The attack was prolonged and extraordinarily violent. Pike was subsequently convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death in 1996.

There is no respectable way to minimize what happened to Slemmer, and I’m not interested in finding one. She was a young woman whose life was taken in an act of almost unimaginable cruelty. Whatever she might have become, whatever relationships she might have built, whatever ordinary pleasures and disappointments she might have experienced over the following three decades, all of it ended in those woods.

Her family has spent more than 30 years living with that loss. They’ve endured the trial, the appeals, the legal maneuvering, and the long wait for Tennessee to carry out the sentence. Slemmer’s mother witnessed the failed execution, and according to Associated Press reporting, she expressed anguish that the process had failed to deliver the justice she had waited decades to see.

I can’t begin to tell that woman how she should feel. Frankly, I wouldn’t have the nerve to try.

Imagine losing your daughter in circumstances like those, spending three decades waiting for the legal system to finish its work, and then watching the execution fail. Now you’re facing another investigation, another round of litigation, and the possibility that the whole miserable process could drag on for years.

That’s part of this story, too. And anyone who wants to have an intelligent conversation about capital punishment needs to acknowledge it.

But here’s the problem I keep running into.

I can recognize the brutality of Pike’s crime, understand why Slemmer’s family wants the sentence carried out, and still question whether the government has the constitutional authority to do what it did.

Those positions aren’t mutually exclusive.

In fact, I think that’s precisely where the difficult part of constitutional law begins. It’s relatively easy to defend somebody’s rights when you like the person. It becomes considerably less comfortable when the person has done something so monstrous that your first instinct is to say, To hell with her.

Except the Constitution doesn’t work that way.

The Eighth Amendment prohibits cruel and unusual punishment. It doesn’t contain an exception for particularly revolting murders, and it doesn’t give the government permission to disregard its limitations because the condemned person is difficult to sympathize with.

If constitutional protections mean anything, they have to apply when we’d rather they didn’t.

Which brings us to something I thought I understood about executions until I started looking into this case.

I was under the impression that if the state attempted to execute someone and botched the job, that was it. The state had taken its shot, the prisoner had survived, and another attempt would constitute cruel and unusual punishment.

Apparently, the Supreme Court disagreed with me about 80 years ago.

In 1946, Louisiana strapped a 17-year-old prisoner named Willie Francis into an electric chair and attempted to execute him. Something went wrong with the equipment. Francis received an electrical shock but survived.

Louisiana decided it wanted another opportunity.

Francis challenged the second execution attempt, arguing that forcing him to endure the procedure again violated constitutional protections against cruel and unusual punishment and double jeopardy.

The case eventually reached the Supreme Court, which ruled in 1947 that the failed execution did not automatically prevent Louisiana from trying again.

In Louisiana ex rel. Francis v. Resweber, 329 U.S. 459, the justices distinguished between an accidental failure during an otherwise lawful execution and the deliberate infliction of unnecessary suffering.

Francis was executed on the second attempt.

I had to sit with that one for a while.

Because if you’re telling me that a government can strap someone into an electric chair, send electricity through his body, fail to kill him, and then bring him back for another round, I think it’s reasonable to wonder exactly where the constitutional protection against cruel and unusual punishment enters the picture.

The Court’s reasoning was that an accidental failure didn’t transform the original sentence into an unconstitutional punishment. The state wasn’t deliberately attempting to torture Francis. It was attempting to carry out a lawful sentence, and the equipment malfunctioned.

I understand the legal distinction.

I’m less convinced that the distinction adequately addresses what happens to the person strapped into the chair.

And Tennessee’s situation presents another complication.

Pike wasn’t merely prepared for execution before officials discovered they couldn’t establish an intravenous line. The state administered two doses of lethal drugs. She experienced severe physical injuries, lost consciousness, spent days on life support, and now faces an uncertain recovery.

According to the Associated Press, hers is the first known American case in which a prisoner survived after lethal execution drugs were administered.

That’s an important distinction. There have been other botched executions, including cases where officials couldn’t establish intravenous access and abandoned the procedure. But Pike’s case involves drugs actually being administered, followed by survival.

And the state had been warned about possible complications beforehand.

Does that make another execution attempt unconstitutional? I don’t know. The Supreme Court hasn’t established a simple rule limiting the government to one attempt, and the circumstances of Pike’s case are sufficiently unusual that any legal challenge could break new ground.

But consider the underlying question.

If the state can administer lethal drugs, cause serious injuries, and then schedule another execution because the prisoner had the audacity to survive, where exactly does its authority end?

Does it get three attempts? Four? Does the answer depend on how badly the prisoner was injured the previous time?

At what point does carrying out a sentence become something else entirely?

And while I was wrestling with that question, I found myself wandering into the larger death penalty debate, which is a place I hadn’t particularly intended to go when I started researching this story.

I’ve never been able to get comfortable with capital punishment, although I understand why some people support it.

There are crimes so horrific that it’s difficult to imagine any punishment being sufficient. I understand the argument that certain people have forfeited their right to live, and I understand why victims’ families might see an execution as justice.

But I’ve always had two problems with the death penalty that nobody has managed to explain away to my satisfaction.

The first is what happens when we get it wrong.

Not when a conviction is overturned because of some procedural irregularity. I’m talking about executing somebody who was actually innocent.

And before anyone tells me our legal system has safeguards to prevent that, I’d like to introduce you to Tommy Lee Walker.

Walker was a young Black man arrested in Dallas, Texas, for the 1953 rape and murder of Venice Parker, a white woman. He maintained his innocence and had an alibi supported by witnesses. His pregnant girlfriend had gone into labor, and he was across town with her around the time the murder occurred.

Investigators nevertheless obtained a confession that Walker said was coerced. He was convicted by an all-white jury and sentenced to death.

Texas executed him in the electric chair on May 12, 1956.

For the next 70 years, Walker remained a convicted murderer in the eyes of the law.

Then, on January 21, 2026, Dallas County officials formally declared him innocent.

A reinvestigation involving the district attorney’s office, the Innocence Project, and Northeastern University’s Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project uncovered evidence of racial prejudice, coercive interrogation tactics, and serious investigative misconduct.

The Dallas County Commissioners Court unanimously adopted a resolution acknowledging that Walker had been wrongfully convicted and executed. The Innocence Project documented the case and the long effort to clear his name.

Seventy fucking years.

Think about what that means.

The government arrested an innocent man, convicted him, strapped him into an electric chair, and killed him. Then it took seven decades to acknowledge that it had executed the wrong person.

Walker’s son was an elderly man by the time officials recognized what had happened to his father.

And here’s something else worth remembering. Venice Parker was murdered, too. Her family deserved justice, just as Colleen Slemmer’s family does. Convicting and executing an innocent man didn’t provide that justice. It compounded the original tragedy while allowing the actual killer to escape accountability.

That’s what wrongful convictions do. They create additional victims while leaving the original crime unresolved.

Now consider this.

According to the Death Penalty Information Center, 203 people sentenced to death in the United States have been exonerated since 1973.

Two hundred and three.

Those aren’t people who were executed and subsequently cleared. They’re people who were sentenced to die and eventually exonerated before the government could carry out their executions.

And thank God for that.

But what bothers me is the question lurking behind the number. How many of those people would have been executed if the appeals process had moved faster? How many were saved because somebody uncovered evidence that should have been discovered before the trial? And how many innocent people weren’t fortunate enough to have somebody keep digging?

A peer-reviewed study estimated that at least 4.1 percent of people sentenced to death were wrongfully convicted. That doesn’t mean 4.1 percent of executed prisoners were innocent, and it would be irresponsible to suggest otherwise. But it tells us that wrongful convictions aren’t some imaginary problem invented by death penalty opponents.

They’re a measurable failure of the system.

And we’re talking about a punishment that cannot be reversed.

You can release somebody from prison. You can overturn a conviction, compensate the person, and attempt to restore some portion of the life the government stole.

You can’t bring somebody back from the dead.

I don’t care how many safeguards we put in place or how confident a prosecutor sounds at a press conference. As long as human beings investigate crimes, evaluate evidence, and decide guilt, there will be mistakes.

And when the punishment is death, one mistake is one too many.

My second problem with capital punishment is considerably more mundane. It’s the money.

Whenever this subject comes up, somebody inevitably argues that executing murderers saves taxpayers a fortune because we don’t have to feed, house, and provide medical care for them for the rest of their lives.

Sounds perfectly reasonable, doesn’t it?

Except there’s one problem.

It’s bullshit.

The Death Penalty Information Center’s analysis of capital punishment costs reports that death penalty cases generally cost taxpayers between 2.5 and five times as much as comparable cases resulting in life imprisonment.

And no, the drugs used in an execution aren’t the reason.

Capital cases require extensive investigation, specialized defense attorneys, expert witnesses, complicated jury selection, and considerably more preparation than ordinary murder prosecutions. Then come the appeals, which can continue for decades. Sometimes there are retrials, resentencing hearings, and additional litigation over execution methods.

All of that costs money. A hell of a lot of money.

In some states, the additional expense of pursuing a death sentence can run into millions of dollars per case.

Which raises a question I’ve never heard answered particularly well.

If we can keep someone convicted of a horrific murder imprisoned for life, without the possibility of parole, at a substantially lower cost, what exactly are we buying with the additional money?

Some people would say justice. Others might call it retribution. Victims’ families may believe an execution provides a measure of closure that life imprisonment cannot.

Those are arguments worth discussing, although the evidence that executions reliably provide closure is far from clear.

But let’s stop pretending the death penalty is some sort of taxpayer bargain.

It isn’t.

And while we’re talking about life imprisonment, there’s another part of this discussion that deserves more attention than it usually receives.

What does spending decades on death row actually look like?

For much of the modern death penalty era, prisoners condemned to die have frequently been held under conditions that most of us would find almost impossible to imagine.

We’re talking about spending 22 or 23 hours a day in a cell, sometimes more. Exercise, when permitted, might consist of a short period alone in a small enclosed area. Visits could be severely restricted, physical contact prohibited, and ordinary human interaction reduced to conversations with correctional officers, attorneys, or occasionally clergy.

Conditions vary considerably from state to state, and some jurisdictions have relaxed their restrictions in recent years. But according to the Death Penalty Information Center, a dozen states were still routinely holding condemned prisoners in single cells for at least 22 hours a day as recently as 2020.

Imagine living like that for decades.

I’m not talking about a weekend in a quiet room with a good book and nobody bothering you. I’m talking about years of having almost no meaningful human contact, no ordinary conversations, no opportunity to develop relationships, and very little control over the most basic details of your existence.

I don’t know how anyone emerges from that experience without being profoundly affected by it.

And then I discovered something about Christa Pike that stopped me in my tracks.

She spent approximately 28 years in what amounted to solitary confinement.

As the only woman on Tennessee’s death row, Pike was kept apart from the general prison population. She had little opportunity for meaningful interaction with other prisoners, limited access to ordinary activities, and almost none of the social contact most of us take for granted.

In 2024, she reached a settlement with Tennessee that allowed her to work and socialize with other incarcerated women.

Twenty-eight years before she could do something as ordinary as share a meal or have a conversation with another prisoner.

Now, I can already hear somebody saying that Pike deserved every miserable minute of it because of what she did to Colleen Slemmer.

Maybe that’s how you feel.

I understand the anger behind that reaction. But I’m not convinced that spending nearly three decades in extreme isolation serves any legitimate purpose beyond inflicting additional suffering.

The sentence was death. The years of confinement were supposed to be the period during which the legal system reviewed that sentence and ensured it had been imposed properly.

Somewhere along the way, however, the confinement itself became an extraordinary punishment.

And I find myself wondering how many people who enthusiastically support capital punishment have ever seriously considered what happens during those decades between sentencing and execution.

Because when you add prolonged isolation to the possibility of wrongful conviction, the enormous financial cost, and the continuing problems with execution methods, the whole system starts looking considerably less straightforward than its supporters sometimes suggest.

Which brings us back to Tennessee, where Christa Pike is recovering from an execution that didn’t work.

Governor Bill Lee has suspended executions for the remainder of 2026 and ordered an independent investigation into what happened. A judge has also ordered the preservation of evidence from Pike’s execution, including drugs, needles, intravenous equipment, recordings, and communications that could help establish exactly how the procedure unfolded.

The state maintains that officials followed its established execution protocol. Pike’s attorneys dispute the adequacy of that procedure and have raised serious questions about the injuries she suffered.

According to the Death Penalty Information Center’s October 8 report, the investigation will follow earlier scrutiny of Tennessee’s execution practices, including a 2022 review that led to changes in the state’s lethal injection protocol.

Think about that for a moment. Tennessee already had problems serious enough to warrant an investigation and changes to its execution procedures. Now it’s investigating another failed execution.

At some point, shouldn’t we be asking whether the problem is bigger than the particular combination of drugs, needles, and procedures being used?

And what happens to Pike now?

Her attorneys are seeking to have her death sentence commuted to life imprisonment. Whether Tennessee will eventually attempt to execute her again remains unresolved, and the legal challenges arising from the failed procedure could take years to settle.

I suspect the courts will spend a great deal of time examining what happened inside that execution chamber, what officials knew beforehand, whether the procedure was carried out properly, and how much suffering Pike experienced.

Those are important questions.

But I keep coming back to something more fundamental.

The government was authorized to execute Christa Pike. It attempted to do so. It administered lethal drugs, inflicted serious injuries, and came close enough to killing her that doctors reportedly believed she might never regain consciousness.

And she survived.

Does the state now get another opportunity?

I know what the Supreme Court said in 1947, and I understand why the government has an interest in carrying out lawful sentences. I also understand that Colleen Slemmer’s family has been waiting more than three decades for the justice system to reach its conclusion.

But I have a hard time accepting the idea that a government can keep attempting to kill someone until it finally gets the procedure right.

There has to be a limit somewhere.

And if the Eighth Amendment doesn’t establish that limit, I’d like somebody to explain exactly what protection it’s supposed to provide in a situation like this.

I’m not suggesting that Christa Pike should walk out of prison. Her conviction stands, and nothing about the failed execution changes the brutality of the crime for which she was sentenced.

I’m suggesting that perhaps the government has already done enough.

Pike has spent three decades in prison, nearly all of them under conditions of extraordinary isolation. She has now endured an execution attempt that left her hospitalized with serious injuries and an uncertain prognosis.

Colleen Slemmer remains dead. Her family remains without the finality they were promised. And Tennessee is left investigating how a supposedly controlled procedure went so catastrophically wrong.

There’s no happy ending available here. There hasn’t been one since a 19-year-old woman was murdered in 1995.

But we can still decide what kind of justice system we want to have.

And for me, that decision comes down to a question that ought to make every American uncomfortable, regardless of where they stand on capital punishment.

If the government tries to kill someone and fails, how many more chances should it get?

Because if the answer is as many as it takes, then what the hell does cruel and unusual punishment mean?

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Three unrelated claims. Three reality checks. No free passes.

1. Archaeologists Have Found Noah’s Ark on Mount Ararat

💩💩💩💩 — FOUR OUT OF FIVE

CLAIM: A viral video shows archaeologists excavating Noah’s Ark near the summit of Mount Ararat in Turkey.

BULLSHIT: The video is AI-generated. No such excavation is shown.

WHY: An October 7 investigation by Lead Stories found a digital watermark indicating that the footage was generated using AI tools. The supposed excavation site also doesn’t match the actual location being investigated by researchers studying a boat-shaped geological formation in Turkey.

There are legitimate archaeological questions surrounding the region. This particular video answers none of them.

Apparently, artificial intelligence has reached the point where it can manufacture biblical discoveries without anybody having to get their sandals dirty.

2. A Giant Ocean Wave Swallowed a Ship on Camera

💩💩💩💩 — FOUR OUT OF FIVE

CLAIM: Dramatic footage circulating online shows an enormous wave completely engulfing a large ship at sea.

BULLSHIT: The video is artificial.

WHY: An October 8 Lead Stories investigation traced the footage to earlier social media posts identifying it as AI-generated. Two detection systems also found strong evidence that the images were synthetic.

Ships encounter dangerous seas all the time. This one appears to have encountered a graphics processor.

3. The BBC Reported Testimony About Organized Child Abuse in Cemeteries

💩💩💩💩💩 — FIVE OUT OF FIVE

CLAIM: A circulating screenshot purports to show a BBC report alleging that 60 children testified about organized sexual abuse involving police officers and doctors.

BULLSHIT: The supposed BBC article is fabricated.

WHY: An October 7 Lead Stories fact-check found no evidence that the BBC published the story. The screenshot originated from an account that identifies itself as parody and satire.

Sexual abuse is a serious subject. Inventing horrific allegations and dressing them up as legitimate journalism doesn’t expose wrongdoing. It exploits the subject to manufacture outrage.

And the people sharing it apparently couldn’t be bothered to check whether the article existed.

MORE FROM TOM HICKS MEDIA

Off Script with Tom Hicks — Independent journalism, political analysis, and the stories behind the headlines. Sunday’s Blind Spot examines what conventional coverage misses.

Lotus Purrspective — Life, human behavior, and assorted foolishness through the eyes of a cat who has seen quite enough.

Chart Collision — The songs, charts, and stories that shaped generations of music.

Panic Room Sports — Smart sports coverage with attitude, minus the manufactured hysteria.

Rabbit Ears Classic TV — Revisiting television’s greatest shows, forgotten experiments, and the stories behind them.

The Backlot Ghost — Movies, memories, and the strange things that happened when the cameras weren’t supposed to be rolling.

What the Hell? — Real stories so ridiculous they sound invented. Unfortunately, they aren’t.

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ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO

If a state attempts an execution and the prisoner survives, should the government be allowed to try again?

• Yes. The original sentence still stands.

• No. One attempt is enough.

• Only if a court determines the first attempt wasn’t cruel or unusual.

• I’m opposed to capital punishment altogether.

  

#DeathPenalty #ChristaPike #EighthAmendment #CriminalJustice #ConstitutionalRights #WrongfulConvictions #Tennessee #OffScript #TomHicksMedia

I almost called this article “Fuck You, MAGA.”

It had a certain directness, and after the last week or so I had plenty of material to work with. Every time I wrote something about Donald Trump, a whole lot of somebodys seemed to show up to explain what Trump really meant, what I had obviously failed to understand, which part of the context I had supposedly ignored and, occasionally, what must be wrong with me for not understanding something that was apparently crystal clear to everybody else.

One particularly charming response informed me that Trump speaks in ways that “baffle the really stupid.”

I’ll admit, that one stayed with me. Not because somebody on the internet called me stupid. I spent years in radio, worked as a paralegal, did stand-up comedy, and now publish political opinions under my own name. Hell, I even did a brief stint as a substitute teacher in middle and high school. If being called stupid by a stranger were enough to send me looking for a safe space, I have made a spectacular series of bad career choices.

What stuck with me was the argument underneath the insult.

The problem, apparently, wasn’t what Donald Trump had said. The problem was that I expected the President of the United States to communicate in a way that didn’t require an unpaid team of amateur translators in the comments section, and somewhere in there I realized that the replies weren’t really what was bothering me.

It was the curve.

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We have developed a different standard for Donald Trump than the one we use for almost anybody else in public life. He says something confusing, inflammatory, seemingly outrageous, or mind-numbingly stupid, and before the rest of us have finished asking, What the hell did he just say?, the translation department is already open for business.

You have to understand how Trump talks. You have to listen to the whole thing. You have to know what he meant ten minutes earlier. Everybody knows what he meant.

Here’s the irritating part. Sometimes they’re right.

Which is precisely why I keep checking.

I’m not interested in pretending Trump said something he didn’t just because the fake version would make a better column. His comments this week about Iran, Los Angeles and San Diego are a pretty good example because when I first saw the quote I thought, Oh, for Christ’s sake, what did he say now?

At his October 5 rally in Nebraska, while talking about the Iran war and higher gas prices, Trump said:

“They can take out a city. Let them take, let it, let them take out Los Angeles. Let them take out San Diego.”

Read that by itself, and it sounds horrifying. Plenty of people did exactly that, including California Gov. Gavin Newsom, who accused Trump of saying America’s enemies should attack Los Angeles and San Diego. Reuters reported similar condemnation from the mayors of both cities and some California Republicans.

So I went looking at the rest of it.

FactCheck.org did too. After examining the full passage, Trump’s earlier comments during the speech, previous remarks on the same subject, and the White House’s explanation, it concluded that the more plausible interpretation was almost the opposite. Trump appeared to be arguing that the war was preventing Iran from someday threatening American cities and that higher gas prices were a relatively small price to pay for that protection.

So I’m not going to tell you Donald Trump asked Iran to bomb Los Angeles and San Diego. I don’t think he did.

That would have been a hell of a story, and the context ruined it.

Good.

That’s what context is supposed to be allowed to do.

But once we’ve given Trump the context he deserves, there’s another question sitting there that nobody seems particularly interested in asking. Why did it take fact-checkers, the White House, reporters, politicians, and several thousand people on social media to figure out what the President of the United States was trying to say?

That’s where the grading curve comes in.

Trump didn’t simply substitute the wrong word and correct himself. He wandered through a thought badly enough that reasonable people heard something almost exactly opposite to what he apparently intended, and then everybody else had to go back through the tape and reconstruct the sentence afterward. We have become so accustomed to doing this with him that the need for translation is now treated as evidence that the listener screwed up.

Try applying that standard to Joe Biden.

I voted for Biden, so I’m not going to rewrite history now just because it would be convenient. There were already widespread concerns about his age and ability to serve another term before the June 2024 debate. His halting performance that night intensified them dramatically and eventually helped set off the crisis that ended with him leaving the race. When Biden lost his train of thought, mangled a sentence, or seemed unable to communicate clearly, those moments became part of the argument about whether he remained capable of doing the job.

Sometimes fairly. Sometimes gleefully. Sometimes with clips that deserved more context than they got.

But I don’t remember an entire political movement insisting that the burden was on the American public to learn how to speak Biden.

Nobody handed us a decoder ring and said, Come on, you know how Joe talks. You know what he meant.

If clarity from the President mattered then, it matters now.

I’m not diagnosing Donald Trump. I’m not a doctor, and watching somebody on television does not confer a medical degree, no matter how many people on social media appear to believe otherwise. I’m talking about something we can actually observe: the words coming out of the President’s mouth and the extraordinary amount of reconstruction sometimes required afterward to turn those words into the argument his defenders say he intended to make.

Biden had trouble communicating, and it counted against him.

Why shouldn’t it count against Trump?

That doesn’t mean deliberately misunderstanding him. It doesn’t mean clipping six seconds out of a speech, throwing away the surrounding context and pretending the worst possible interpretation must be the correct one. In fact, the Los Angeles example is exactly why we shouldn’t do that.

It means the same standard applies in both directions.

Which brings me, somewhat reluctantly, to some of you.

If you’re going to tell me I’m wrong, have at it. Tell me my evidence is weak. Tell me I missed something. Find the hole in my reasoning and drive a truck through it. If I get a fact wrong, show me, because I would much rather correct something publicly than spend three days defending something I privately know is bullshit.

But first, read the damn article.

A title isn’t the article. Neither is the subtitle. And the picture sure as hell isn’t the article. Their job is to make you curious enough to read what comes underneath them, not to save you the inconvenience of doing so.

Over the past week or so, I’ve had people argue with positions I never took, assign motives I never expressed, and explain to me what I supposedly believe. Then I go back and look at what I actually wrote and discover that somewhere between the headline and the comment box, an entirely different Tom Hicks apparently wrote an entirely different article.

I would very much like to meet him. Apparently he has more free time than I do.

There’s something almost perfect about the contradiction. Donald Trump says something that sounds appalling, and some of the people defending him will search backward through twenty minutes of a rally, examine previous statements and parse every bit of surrounding context to arrive at the fairest possible interpretation of what he intended.

I write something they don’t like, and suddenly six words in a headline and a photograph are sufficient to establish my argument, my motives and possibly my plans for the weekend.

Pick a standard.

I’m fine with the one that says context matters. In fact, I prefer it. Context matters when Trump speaks, it mattered when Biden spoke, it matters when Gavin Newsom reacts to Trump, and it matters when I write something that pisses you off.

The catch is that you have to let context work even when it helps the guy you don’t like.

That’s the price of intellectual honesty, and I just paid it in this very article. The easy version of the Los Angeles story was sitting right there waiting for me. Trump’s actual words would have made one hell of a headline. I could have stopped at the clip, called him deranged, and probably collected a few approving nods from people who already agree with me.

Instead I kept reading, and the facts got in the way.

I wish that happened more often.

It’s also why I keep coming back to receipts. I don’t care whether the information comes from a source you consider liberal, conservative, or somewhere in between. I care whether the claim survives examination.

Fox News is perfectly entitled to cover the world from a conservative perspective. Having a point of view doesn’t automatically make journalism false. But a logo isn’t evidence, and neither is reputation by itself.

In 2023, Fox agreed to pay Dominion Voting Systems $787.5 million to settle Dominion’s defamation lawsuit. In Fox’s own statement announcing the settlement, the network acknowledged the court’s rulings finding certain claims about Dominion false.

That doesn’t mean everything Fox reports is false, any more than catching another outlet in an error means everything it reports is false. It means “Fox said it” isn’t the end of an argument.

Neither is “CNN said it.” Neither is “Trump said it.” And for that matter, neither is “Tom Hicks wrote it.”

Show me the receipts.

That’s the deal I’m offering, and it’s the one I expect in return. I’m going to get things wrong. Anyone who publishes as often as I do and tells you otherwise is either lying or hasn’t been doing it long enough. When I screw something up, correct me. When my reasoning is bad, challenge it. When I’ve left out context that changes the meaning, bring it.

Just correct what I actually wrote instead of the article you constructed from the cover on your way to the comment box.

And give Donald Trump the same treatment.

When he says something indefensible, hold him responsible for what he actually said. When the surrounding context materially changes the meaning, include that too. When he communicates so badly that half the country reasonably hears something entirely different from what he intended, stop pretending that the confusion itself is everybody else’s failure.

That last part matters.

The President of the United States should not receive extra credit because somebody else can eventually explain what he was trying to say.

We’ve become so accustomed to defending our own side and prosecuting the other one that applying the same evidentiary standard to everybody now looks suspiciously like betrayal. I don’t owe Biden a better standard because I voted for him, and I don’t owe Trump a worse one because I didn’t. I also don’t owe Trump a lower passing grade because “that’s just Trump.”

He wanted the job again.

He got it.

This is the job.

The presidency is not an open-book exam where the rest of the country gets to finish the President’s sentences after he turns in the paper.

I don’t want Donald Trump judged unfairly. The Los Angeles and San Diego mess is a pretty good demonstration of that because when the context helped him, I gave it to him.

I just want him judged normally.

Apparently, that’s asking a lot.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

CLAIM 1

Claim: Donald Trump posted that, thanks to Elon Musk, “every Republican vote counts as 3 votes.”

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

Why: He didn’t. The supposed Truth Social post is a fabricated screenshot. Lead Stories compared it with Trump’s actual post and found that somebody had added the line claiming Musk had made every Republican vote count three times. Lead Stories also searched Trump’s account and an archive of his posts and found no such statement. There’s plenty of genuine political insanity available without manufacturing extra.

CLAIM 2

Claim: A viral photo shows Trump aide Natalie Harp sitting in the presidential motorcade wearing blue surgical gloves.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

Why: Those hands didn’t change gloves. They didn’t exist. Lead Stories located the original photograph in the Reuters database, taken when Trump’s motorcade arrived for an October 1 rally in Durant, Oklahoma. The original contains no blue gloves because the two gloved hands were digitally added later. The person who originally posted the altered version even identified it as parody, but by then the internet had done what the internet does. And yes, bullshit aimed at Trump is still bullshit.

CLAIM 3

Claim: The Democratic Party orchestrated the attempted terrorist attack aboard FlyDubai Flight FZ1073 and then tried to blame Israel.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

Why: The accusation came packaged as a NewsGuard report, which would be impressive evidence if NewsGuard had actually produced it. It didn’t. NewsGuard told Lead Stories that the video was fake and appeared connected to a Russian influence operation that impersonates legitimate news organizations. There is no evidence Democrats orchestrated the attack. Meanwhile, actual investigations into the incident are underway in several countries. Dressing bullshit up like journalism doesn’t make it journalism.

Bullshit Detector is available for $4.95 at the Tom Hicks Media Store, or for free for all subscribers because everybody could use a little less bullshit in their life.

More From Tom Hicks Media

Off Script — Independent journalism. No talking points. Blind Spot every Sunday.

Chart Collision — Music, memories and the stories behind the songs.

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Rabbit Ears Classic Television — Looks back to when three channels somehow felt like plenty.

The Backlot Ghost — The stories behind the movies we still talk about.

Lotus Purrspective — Life explained by a cat who is increasingly disappointed in us.

What the Hell? — You’re not going to believe this shit.

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One Question Before You Go

Should presidents be judged by what they actually say, or by what their supporters insist they meant?

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I was going to write about Los Angeles and San Diego. Then I made the mistake of thinking about it.

Donald Trump was in Grand Island, Monday night talking about the war with Iran, higher prices, and why Americans should apparently consider those costs worth paying. “It’s a small price to pay for keeping the world safe, keeping our country safe,” Trump said.

Then he kept talking.

“They can take out a city. Let ’em take out Los Angeles. Let ’em take out San Diego.”

And the crowd cheered. (Los Angeles Times)

My first reaction was probably the same one a lot of people had: What the fuck?

My second was more specific. Why Los Angeles and San Diego? Did those cities pop into his head because they’re in California? Because they’re Democratic cities? Because Trump has spent years dividing the country into places and people who are with him and places and people who aren’t?

I don’t know, and neither does anybody else who wasn’t standing inside Donald Trump’s head Monday night, which is a place I have no particular desire to visit.

The White House says everybody is misreading him. The administration’s explanation is that Trump wasn’t advocating an attack on American cities. He was describing what Iran could do if it possessed nuclear weapons and arguing that his actions have prevented exactly that danger. (AP)

Fine. Let’s give them that argument.

It still leaves us with the president of the United States trying to make a point about protecting Americans and somehow arriving at a sentence in which Los Angeles and San Diego get “taken out.” San Diego, by the way, isn’t exactly some distant blue dot populated entirely by Gavin Newsom clones. More than 115,000 active-duty military personnel are stationed in the area. (Reuters)

And I’m not particularly interested in the inevitable argument over whether Trump was joking.

Maybe he was. Fine.

Calling something a joke doesn’t make the words disappear, and it doesn’t make the choice of joke irrelevant. We’re talking about the president of the United States discussing nuclear weapons and reaching for the destruction of Los Angeles and San Diego to make his point. If that’s supposed to be funny, somebody else can explain the joke to me.

Because the longer I sat with this, the less interested I became in why Trump picked those two cities. What bothered me more was why we’re still treating every one of these things as a separate episode.

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If this were only about one rally speech, we’d have the usual two-day outrage cycle, everybody would retreat to their assigned corners, and we’d be done with it.

We’ve seen that movie plenty of times.

Trump says or does something extraordinary. His opponents say it’s outrageous. His supporters say it was a joke, exaggeration, taken out of context, political theater, trolling, or simply Trump being Trump. Cable television squeezes a couple of days out of it, social media has its nervous breakdown, and eventually another story arrives, and everybody moves on.

The problem with doing that over and over is that it gives every new incident amnesia. Nothing that happened before it counts.

Which brings us to what, for lack of a more scholarly term, I’m going to call the Litany of Horseshit.

I’m not talking about every offensive remark, ridiculous boast, mangled fact, or social-media tantrum. We’d be here until Christmas. I’m talking about the larger moments from this presidency that make it impossible for me to hear Monday night’s remark in isolation.

There was the war with Iran itself. American forces entered hostilities in February without a declaration of war or specific congressional authorization for the conflict, setting off a War Powers fight in Congress that has continued as the war dragged on. (Congressional Record)

There has been the administration’s running confrontation with the courts, including the extraordinary fight over deportation flights to El Salvador after a federal judge ordered them stopped. A contempt inquiry into whether administration officials defied that order has spent more than a year working its way through the courts. (AP)

There was Trump’s renewed attempt this summer to restrict birthright citizenship by executive order even after the Supreme Court had reaffirmed the constitutional protection. A federal judge blocked the new order in September, writing that “no Presidential Executive Order can undo what the Supreme Court has done.” (Washington Post)

And now, weeks before Americans vote in the midterms, Trump has refused to rule out sending ICE agents to polling places, while again invoking the possibility of using the Insurrection Act. (People)

Those aren’t four versions of Donald Trump saying something weird. They’re four very different exercises, or contemplated exercises, of presidential power involving war, the courts, constitutional citizenship and elections.

None of them, individually or collectively, proves presidential inability. Neither does what happened Monday night in Nebraska.

That’s precisely the point.

If every incident has to establish the entire case by itself, there can never be a pattern, because we’ve defined the pattern out of existence before we’re willing to look at it.

We’ve become very good at examining trees. At some point, somebody probably ought to look at the fucking forest.

And that’s how I wound up reading the 25th Amendment.

I know. I have weird hobbies.

Section 4 is the part everybody vaguely remembers from civics class, assuming their civics teacher managed to get that far before June. When the vice president and a majority of the principal officers of the executive departments determine that a president is “unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office,” they can transmit that declaration to congressional leaders and the vice president assumes those powers as acting president. (Constitution Annotated)

Most of us hear “unable” and picture something obvious: a massive stroke, unconsciousness, catastrophic injury, a president who physically cannot communicate or function.

That’s certainly part of what the amendment was designed to handle. It isn’t all the people who wrote it contemplated.

Senator Birch Bayh, its principal architect, discussed an impairment of presidential faculties serious enough that a president could no longer make or communicate the decisions necessary to perform the job. The framers resisted writing an exhaustive definition because they understood that nobody sitting in Congress in the 1960s could anticipate every possible form presidential inability might take. (National Constitution Center)

Here’s where I need to pump the brakes on my own argument.

I’m not a doctor. I haven’t examined Donald Trump, and saying something reckless, offensive, stupid, or even dangerous doesn’t automatically make a president constitutionally unable to serve. If it did, we’d need a revolving door on the Oval Office.

The 25th Amendment isn’t impeachment with a stethoscope.

The people who wrote it also made Section 4 deliberately difficult to abuse. If a president disputes the declaration and the vice president and Cabinet maintain that the inability continues, Congress eventually decides. Keeping the vice president in charge requires two-thirds of both houses. (Constitution Annotated)

And that’s exactly as it should be. A president shouldn’t lose the powers of the office because half the country thinks he’s an asshole. God knows we’d never finish an election.

But that’s where I keep getting stuck.

If we agree that one bizarre statement doesn’t establish presidential inability, what happens when the concern isn’t one statement? What happens when it’s the accumulation of statements, decisions, and behavior over time?

We almost never have that conversation because it’s much easier to litigate each incident individually. Practically anything can be explained individually. That was a joke. This was hyperbole. That was taken out of context. This was political theater. He was trolling. You just don’t understand Trump.

Maybe any one of those explanations works on any given Tuesday.

But eventually we’re doing something very strange. We’re demanding that every new piece of evidence prove the entire case by itself while refusing to consider whether the pieces mean something when you put them together.

That’s not how we evaluate much of anything else.

If your car’s dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree, you don’t pull out the owner’s manual and explain each warning light separately until you’ve convinced yourself the engine is fine. At least I don’t. Somewhere around the fourth glowing symbol, I start wondering whether pulling the damn car over might be a good idea.

And before somebody starts typing furiously, I’m not saying Los Angeles and San Diego prove Donald Trump is constitutionally unable to serve.

I’m asking something harder.

What would?

Because the Constitution doesn’t give that decision to me. It doesn’t give it to Gavin Newsom, MSNBC, Fox News, CNN, The New York Times, Trump’s supporters, Trump’s opponents, or the guy on Facebook who types entirely in capital letters.

Section 4 initially gives that responsibility to the people standing closest to the president: the vice president and the principal officers of his own administration.

Which changes the question considerably.

We spend an enormous amount of time arguing about whether Donald Trump is fit to be president. Maybe we’re asking the wrong people.

The constitutional question isn’t whether I think he’s fit or whether you do. It’s whether the people who work beside a president every day ever reach a point where their obligation to the Constitution becomes more important than their obligation to the man who appointed them.

And what exactly is that point?

A president being unconscious is easy. A president physically incapable of communicating is easy. Those are the scenarios everybody understands because there’s a clean dividing line between before and after.

Judgment is messier. Decision-making is messier. A gradual deterioration, if one were occurring, would be messier still because there wouldn’t necessarily be one cinematic moment when everybody in the Cabinet looks around the table and realizes something has happened. There might simply be yesterday, today and tomorrow, each close enough to the one before it that nobody feels compelled to pull the alarm.

That’s the uncomfortable territory the amendment’s framers left us. They didn’t give us a checklist.

They gave somebody responsibility.

And perhaps that’s why the 25th Amendment conversation almost always goes nowhere. The mechanism depends on the people whose careers, access, political futures and sometimes entire public identities are tied most closely to a president being willing to decide that protecting the presidency matters more than protecting the president.

Section 4 has never been invoked. (National Constitution Center)

Maybe that’s because we’ve never needed it. Maybe the threshold is exactly as high as its framers intended it to be.

But there’s another possibility worth thinking about.

Maybe the hardest constitutional safeguard to use is the one that requires people inside power to decide that preserving their place inside that power is no longer the most important thing in the room.

That’s what I couldn’t stop thinking about after Los Angeles and San Diego.

The cities themselves started me down this road, but they aren’t really where I ended up. What interests me now is why we keep examining moments like this as though each arrives with no history attached to it. Every new warning light gets its own explanation, its own excuse, and its own argument over context, while the rest of the dashboard somehow disappears.

At some point, the interesting question isn’t why this particular light came on.

It’s how many can be glowing before somebody finally opens the hood.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

CLAIM 1

Trump says Brazil’s rapid election count shows that Detroit, Philadelphia, and California take longer because they’re rigging elections.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

WHY

Brazil and the United States don’t run remotely comparable election systems. Brazil has a nationally standardized electronic system and doesn’t offer voting by mail. The United States has decentralized elections governed by different state laws, including different rules for receiving, verifying, and counting mail ballots.

No state completes its official count on election night, and taking longer to count votes isn’t evidence that anybody is rigging them.

Different systems take different amounts of time. Apparently that needed saying. (PolitiFact)

CLAIM 2

Trump says his Republican midterm convention drew 107 million views and beat the NFL game airing against it.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

WHY

The numbers aren’t remotely close.

The NFL season opener between New England and Seattle averaged 25.1 million viewers. Nielsen figures examined after the convention put Trump’s first-night television and major online-video audience at only a fraction of that. Even combining the television audiences identified by media analysts leaves the convention nowhere near the football game.

The White House has pointed instead to social-media “impressions,” which aren’t the same thing as viewers. Somebody scrolling past something on TikTok doesn’t magically become another person sitting through a two-hour speech.

Apparently Nielsen hasn’t yet developed the Trump Conversion Factor. (PolitiFact | TIME)

CLAIM 3

Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin says there’s “no financial gain” for Trump from being president and that holding the office has actually cost him money.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

WHY

Trump’s own financial disclosures make that difficult to square with reality.

His businesses and investments have continued producing substantial income while he’s been president, with cryptocurrency becoming an especially lucrative source. Financial reporting based on Trump’s disclosures has documented enormous crypto-related income alone.

You can argue about whether every dollar was earned because he’s president. That’s a legitimate question.

You can’t turn “Trump has made substantial money while president” into “there’s no financial gain.”

Even Trump’s paperwork won’t cooperate with that one. (PolitiFact)

The Bullshit Detector is free to Off Script subscribers and available through the Tom Hicks Media Store. Less bullshit in your life for $4.95 seems like a pretty good deal.

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BUY ME A CUP OF TEA

Independent journalism doesn’t come with a research department, corporate expense account, or mysterious billionaire quietly paying the electric bill.

If something here made you think, laugh, swear at your phone or send the story to somebody else, you can help keep Off Script independent with a cup of tea.

Mostly tea. Occasionally research. Never a yacht.

ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU GO

Forget Donald Trump for a second.

What kind of presidential conduct would convince you that the 25th Amendment had stopped being a hypothetical and become something the vice president and Cabinet were obligated to consider?

#OffScript #DonaldTrump #25thAmendment #Constitution #Presidency #Iran #LosAngeles #SanDiego #Politics #BullshitDetector #TomHicksMedia

That picture disgusted me.

I’m not going to pretend I approached it as some dispassionate observer who stroked his chin, carefully considered the historical implications, and decided further research was warranted. I looked at Pete Hegseth standing beneath that enormous eagle, looked at the photograph somebody had placed beside it of Adolf Hitler doing something uncomfortably similar, and thought pretty much what whoever created the meme wanted me to think.

Jesus Christ. Look at that.

Then the part of my brain responsible for ruining perfectly good outrage kicked in.

Was I actually looking at something significant, or had somebody found two photographs taken roughly 90 years apart, put them next to each other and pushed exactly the button they knew they could push?

There’s only one way to answer that, and unfortunately it involves doing homework.

So I started with the eagle.

That didn’t go particularly well for my first impression.

The bald eagle has been an American national symbol since 1782. It appears on the Great Seal of the United States, military insignia, government buildings, currency and enough other official American stuff that treating its appearance behind the secretary overseeing the military as evidence of fascism would require throwing out a fairly substantial portion of American history.

The Pentagon’s own branding uses an eagle. Its current brand guide describes the symbol in thoroughly American terms, representing the United States and military strength. (War Department Brand Guide)

There is also no evidence I could find that the Air Force Academy stage was designed to resemble a Nazi rally, that Hegseth’s pose was intended to mimic Hitler or that somebody at the Pentagon pulled out photographs of Nuremberg and said, “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Which should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

Because somewhere during all of this, I stopped researching the photograph and started researching what was happening around it.

And the photograph became the least interesting thing I found.

The stage is part of the speech. That’s hardly a revelation. Politicians have understood it since long before television arrived to make the possibilities irresistible. Where you put the speaker matters. What you put behind him matters. So do the flags, the music, the uniforms, the audience, and the camera angle that will eventually turn the whole thing into the image millions of people see.

That doesn’t make political staging sinister. Every president does it. Every political party does it. Hell, every candidate who has ever rolled up his sleeves before talking to factory workers has done a version of it.

The interesting question isn’t whether somebody is creating an image. It’s what they’re trying to communicate with it.

And that’s where Hegseth’s eagle led me somewhere I wasn’t expecting.

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Donald Trump signed an executive order in September 2025 authorizing “Department of War” as a secondary title for the Department of Defense. Congress didn’t legally rename the department, something worth remembering whenever somebody tells you Trump simply changed the name. The statutory Department of Defense still exists. (White House Executive Order)

But the administration wanted War Department.

And it wanted the public to hear it.

The Pentagon’s own branding guidance now tells communicators to use that secondary title in public-facing materials. Its visual identity was revised toward what the department describes as a more “classic and formal treatment.” (War Department Brand Guide)

Again, none of that makes anybody a fascist. Governments rebrand things. Trump has been particularly fond of renaming things.

But then I kept going.

Five days before Hegseth appeared at the Air Force Academy, several hundred service members exercised with him outside the Pentagon wearing matching shirts bearing three words:

THIS IS WAR.

Later that day, Hegseth addressed roughly 600 junior officers and enlisted leaders at Quantico for what he called his “State of the Force” address.

There was plenty of actual military policy in the speech. Hegseth discussed readiness, command structure, autonomous warfare and reductions in senior officer positions. Anyone describing the entire thing as a political rally would be leaving out quite a lot.

Hegseth, however, wasn’t exactly making it difficult to find the politics.

He celebrated the demise of what he called the “woke department.” He talked about generals and admirals who didn’t fit his vision and were no longer there. He ridiculed pronouns and identity programs. At one point he announced:

“No fatties, no trannies, no beardos, no weirdos, no wimps, no radicals. Just warriors.”

That’s from the Pentagon’s own transcript, by the way. I’m not relying on somebody’s angry Bluesky post to tell you what he said. (State of the Force transcript)

He also accused journalists scrutinizing the war with Iran of “treason.” (Axios)

Now we were getting somewhere.

Or perhaps somewhere was getting uncomfortably close to us.

Stop looking at the eagle. That’s what I eventually had to tell myself, because by this point it was becoming a distraction.

Nazi Germany didn’t invent eagles. It didn’t invent flags, uniforms, parades, monumental architecture or military spectacle either. Human beings figured out a very long time ago that making power look powerful was useful.

What the Nazis did understand extraordinarily well was how to assemble those things into political theater.

The Documentation Center at the Nazi Party Rally Grounds in Nuremberg describes the rallies as carefully staged presentations intended to project the regime and Hitler, with architecture, ritual, and mass participation used to turn politics into an emotional experience. (Documentation Center Nazi Party Rally Grounds)

That’s the part of the history worth remembering.

Not the damn eagle.

Political spectacle works because it can communicate something before anyone has made an argument. You don’t have to explain strength when you’ve surrounded yourself with it. You don’t have to describe authority when thousands of people are sitting beneath you listening. And if you’re simultaneously telling that audience who the strong people are, who the weak people are, and who no longer belongs, the scenery starts carrying a little more weight.

That still doesn’t make Pete Hegseth Hitler.

I realize I keep saying that. Unfortunately, the state of American political discourse is such that if I don’t, somebody will read three paragraphs, race to the comments, and inform me that Donald Trump hasn’t invaded Poland.

What bothers me is something much more immediate.

The American military is supposed to have a peculiar relationship with politics. Obviously it isn’t isolated from them. The president is commander in chief. The secretary overseeing the military is a political appointee. Elections have enormous consequences for military policy.

But the people wearing the uniforms don’t swear an oath to Donald Trump. They didn’t swear one to Joe Biden, either.

They swear to support and defend the Constitution of the United States.

That distinction has always mattered because the United States has deliberately tried to maintain a military that belongs to the country rather than to whichever political movement happens to occupy the White House.

Which brings me back to those cadets.

The Hegseth photograph that started all of this was taken at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, where he addressed roughly 3,500 cadets before the Air Force-Navy football game. The appearance was part of something called the “Send Me Tour,” which is taking Hegseth’s message directly to military units, ROTC programs, cadets, and veterans.

These aren’t Republican cadets.

They aren’t Democratic cadets.

They’re future American officers.

And the man appearing before them isn’t merely talking about physical standards, weapons procurement or how we’re going to deal with China. He’s bringing along the culture war. He’s talking about the previous administration’s ideology, celebrating the departure of senior officers who didn’t share his vision, drawing lines between “warriors” and the people he considers weak or radical, and calling journalists treasonous.

That’s where I have a problem.

Not because civilian leadership shouldn’t change military policy. That’s precisely what elections allow it to do. Hegseth is entitled to demand tougher fitness standards. He’s entitled to reorganize commands. He’s entitled to fire military leaders the president has the lawful authority to replace.

But there’s a difference between changing the policies of the military and changing whose military people believe it is.

And I don’t know exactly where that line is.

I’m not sure anybody does until somebody crosses it.

That’s why I think the viral photograph actually does this story a disservice. It hands everyone a wonderfully convenient argument about Hitler.

If you hate Hegseth, you look at the two pictures and say, “See?”

If you support him, you laugh at another hysterical Nazi comparison.

Everybody goes home having confirmed whatever they believed when they arrived, which is pretty much how political social media manages to accomplish absolutely nothing before lunch every day.

Meanwhile, the more interesting question slips past us.

What happens when the civilian leader of the American military increasingly presents that institution as part of a domestic ideological struggle?

I started this research thinking I was going to write about an eagle.

I ended up reading speeches, Pentagon branding rules, an executive order, military policy, and the history of political spectacle. Along the way, the Hitler comparison mostly fell apart.

Here’s the part I wasn’t expecting.

The more it fell apart, the less comfortable I became.

Because I don’t need Pete Hegseth to be Adolf Hitler before I start paying attention.

Neither should you.

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THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

CLAIM 1: The people warning that artificial intelligence could become dangerous are the same people behind climate-change warnings and the “Russia” and “Ukraine” hoaxes.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩

Donald Trump made essentially that argument at the United Nations, lumping warnings about potentially catastrophic AI risks together with climate change and investigations involving Russia and Ukraine.

There’s just one problem with the idea that this is all coming from some interchangeable group on the political left: some of the loudest warnings are coming from the people building the technology.

AI executives and researchers have publicly warned about potentially severe risks from advanced AI. Concern also crosses party lines, while some people on the political left have criticized existential-risk warnings as alarmist.

There are plenty of legitimate arguments over how serious the risks are. Pretending everyone raising them belongs to the same political tribe isn’t one of them. (PolitiFact)

CLAIM 2: A viral video shows a Saudi imam being dragged away and arrested after criticizing U.S. policy in the Middle East.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

The video is real.

The story attached to it isn’t.

The footage dates to March 2018, not 2026. Contemporary reporting identified the man as someone who climbed onto the pulpit and attempted to deliver the Friday sermon before the mosque’s official preacher arrived. Authorities and worshippers removed him.

He wasn’t an imam being arrested in 2026 for criticizing American Middle East policy.

It’s one of the oldest tricks in the misinformation business: find authentic footage of something dramatic, throw away the inconvenient original context and give it a brand-new story designed for whatever happens to be making people furious today. (Soch Fact Check)

CLAIM 3: BBC News reported that an Indian passenger named Raghav Menon was involved in the recent attack aboard a Flydubai flight bound for Tel Aviv.

BULLSHIT: 💩💩💩💩💩

This one comes with a BBC presenter and everything.

Unfortunately, the BBC broadcast never happened.

A video circulating online was manipulated to make it appear that a BBC News presenter reported that an Indian national named Raghav Menon was involved in the attack. The BBC confirmed the clip is fake, and credible reporting has not identified anybody by that name as the attacker.

Israeli authorities identified the suspect as an Omani national.

So we’ve now reached the wonderful point in human civilization where seeing a familiar news anchor apparently reporting something isn’t sufficient evidence that the familiar news anchor actually reported it.

Technology marches on. Bullshit bought comfortable shoes. (Full Fact)

Bullshit Detector is also available for $4.95 at the Tom Hicks Media Store. Because everyone could use a little less bullshit in their life.

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WHAT THE HELL?
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CHART COLLISION
Music, memories and the stories behind the songs.

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When television only had a few channels and somehow there was still something worth watching.

THE BACKLOT GHOST
The stories hiding behind the movies you thought you knew.

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One Question Before You Go

Forget Hitler. Forget the eagle.

At what point does a civilian leader promoting his political worldview to uniformed military audiences cross the line from leading the military into politicizing it?

#PeteHegseth #USMilitary #DepartmentOfDefense #DepartmentOfWar #Military #Politics #PoliticalImagery #OffScript #TomHicksMedia

When Vladimir Putin’s government starts defending the ethics of an American peace negotiator, it’s probably worth asking exactly what everybody is negotiating.

That became a considerably more interesting question over the weekend, when we learned that the Trump administration’s negotiations with Russia over ending the war in Ukraine have expanded well beyond ceasefires, territory and security guarantees. According to The New York Times, as reported by Reuters, those talks now include discussion of a multibillion-dollar transaction involving international assets belonging to sanctioned Russian energy giant Lukoil.

The assets aren’t trivial. They include oil fields, refineries, and gas stations worldwide. The group pursuing them reportedly includes billionaire investor Todd Boehly, two Middle Eastern groups that have previously done business with Jared Kushner or Steve Witkoff’s family, and an arm of the United States government. Any transaction would require approval from Washington as well as the Kremlin.

That would already make this an unusual collision of diplomacy, sanctions policy and private business. Then you get to the part where Vladimir Putin reportedly raised the transaction himself.

During a September 5 meeting at the Kremlin with Kushner and Witkoff, Putin brought up completing the Lukoil deal as a way of demonstrating that Russians could once again do business with the United States. In other words, a commercial transaction potentially worth billions wasn’t merely happening somewhere in the background while peace negotiations continued. According to the reporting, the president of Russia put it on the table with the Americans negotiating over Ukraine.

Maybe there’s a perfectly legitimate explanation for every piece of this.

I’d still like to see the guardrails.

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THE PROBLEM ISN’T A BAG OF CASH

There is an easy version of this story to write, and it’s probably the version that will get passed around social media: Kushner, Russia, oil, billions of dollars, draw your own conclusion.

We’re not going to do that.

Nothing in the reporting establishes that Kushner has a personal financial stake in the proposed Lukoil acquisition. Nothing establishes that Witkoff does either. There is no evidence here of a payoff, kickback, or quid pro quo, and turning a complicated ethics story into an accusation of corruption that the evidence doesn’t support would make the story weaker rather than stronger.

What the reporting does establish is an increasingly blurry intersection between American foreign policy and the private commercial relationships surrounding some of the people conducting it. Peace negotiations with Russia are taking place while sanctions policy, government approval of a major Russian oil transaction, private investors, and business relationships connected to the negotiators or their families are moving through the same landscape.

Conflict-of-interest rules exist precisely because corruption isn’t the only thing that can damage public trust. The public shouldn’t have to prove that somebody secretly made money before it’s allowed to ask whether the people exercising government power have financial interests, relationships or obligations that overlap with the decisions they’re helping make.

And with Kushner, Russia isn’t the only place that question has surfaced.

THERE’S ANOTHER DEAL ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD

A few days before the Lukoil story broke, CNN published an investigation into Kushner’s private business interests while he has been participating in American diplomacy in the Middle East.

Kushner owns Affinity Partners, the private equity firm he founded after leaving the first Trump administration. Affinity is the largest shareholder in Phoenix Financial, a major Israeli financial company. CNN’s investigation identified nine companies in Phoenix’s portfolio that provide equipment to the Israeli military, including companies making equipment used in Gaza.

Affinity doesn’t directly own those companies, which is an important distinction. It owns part of Phoenix, and Phoenix makes its own investment decisions. Kushner’s attorney told CNN that Kushner isn’t involved in Phoenix’s decisions about where to invest, isn’t on its board, and has never held a management role at the company. CNN also found no evidence that Kushner directly influenced Phoenix’s investment decisions in the military-linked companies.

But Affinity’s Phoenix investment has certainly been lucrative. The larger point isn’t that Kushner controls those individual investments. It’s that his private investment company has a substantial financial interest in a major Israeli institution while he has simultaneously participated in American diplomacy involving Israel and Gaza.

Again, none of that establishes corruption. It establishes something more basic and much easier to demonstrate: Kushner has substantial private financial interests in parts of the world where he is also exercising substantial public influence.

That should make transparency more important, not less.

SO WHAT EXACTLY ARE THE RULES?

For much of Trump’s second term, Kushner occupied a peculiar position. He participated in high-level diplomacy without holding the sort of conventional government job that would make the ethics requirements surrounding him easy for the public to understand.

That changed, at least formally, on February 19, when Trump announced Kushner’s appointment as Special Envoy for Peace. Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington subsequently argued that the appointment triggered federal financial-disclosure requirements and asked the White House to obtain Kushner’s disclosure within the required timeframe.

In its letter to White House counsel, CREW cited the applicable federal regulation and pointed out that Steve Witkoff, who had also been appointed a special envoy, filed a public financial disclosure report.

CREW isn’t a neutral referee here. It’s an ethics watchdog organization that has been sharply critical of Kushner and the Trump administration, and its legal argument is its own. But the underlying question shouldn’t require anybody to share CREW’s politics.

If someone is representing the United States in negotiations involving Russia, Ukraine, Israel, Gaza and Iran while also owning a private investment company with extensive international interests, what financial disclosures should the public get to see? What conflicts have been reviewed? Who performs that review? When is recusal required? What happens when a foreign government puts a commercial transaction involving people connected to the American negotiators into the diplomatic discussion itself?

Those aren’t gotcha questions. They’re the boring questions government ethics rules are supposed to answer before the interesting questions become necessary.

AND THEN THE KREMLIN SHOWED UP

As scrutiny of Kushner’s financial relationships intensified, Kirill Dmitriev decided to help.

Dmitriev is Putin’s special envoy for investment and economic cooperation and head of Russia’s sovereign wealth fund. After Kushner pushed back publicly against the CNN reporting, Dmitriev defended him, calling Kushner a “Peacemaker” and blaming criticism of him on “warmongers.”

The Kremlin defending Kushner doesn’t prove anything about Kushner. Russia has its own interests and its own reasons for praising an American negotiator with whom it wants to do business. Treating Dmitriev’s intervention as evidence of wrongdoing would be silly.

Treating it as irrelevant would be equally silly.

Russia has made little secret of the fact that it sees economic cooperation as part of the larger relationship it wants to rebuild with Washington. Just days before the Lukoil story broke, Reuters reported that Dmitriev met U.S. officials in Washington to discuss both ending the Ukraine war and possible U.S.-Russia energy initiatives after the war.

The proposed Lukoil transaction fits comfortably into that strategy. Putin reportedly described the deal as a way to show Russians that business with the United States could resume, and the transaction would require decisions by the very governments whose representatives are negotiating the future of Ukraine.

That changes the context. We’re no longer talking about an investment portfolio sitting several degrees removed from foreign policy. We’re talking about business being discussed as part of the diplomatic relationship itself.

And business absolutely can be part of diplomacy. Governments use trade, sanctions, investment, and reconstruction agreements all the time to create incentives for peace. There’s nothing inherently suspicious about economic cooperation being included in negotiations with Russia.

The trouble comes when the people representing the United States also move through a private financial world populated by some of the same governments, investors and business interests touched by those negotiations.

At that point, “Trust us” isn’t much of an ethics policy.

SHOW US THE WALL

Maybe Kushner has kept his public and private roles completely separate. Maybe every potential conflict has been reviewed. Maybe there are ethics agreements and recusals that draw bright lines around what he can and cannot touch.

If that’s the case, this should be an extraordinarily easy controversy to settle.

Explain what financial disclosure requirements apply to Kushner as Special Envoy for Peace and whether he has complied with them. Explain what ethics review occurs before he participates in negotiations affecting countries or businesses connected to Affinity Partners. Explain whether the Lukoil transaction created any recusal question for Kushner or Witkoff. Explain who inside the government is responsible for deciding where those lines are.

That’s the frustrating thing about this story. Everybody keeps looking for the dramatic revelation when the unanswered administrative questions are interesting enough.

We don’t need an email saying somebody wanted to get rich. We don’t need a secret bank account. We don’t need a photograph of Jared Kushner leaving the Kremlin carrying a sack with a dollar sign painted on it.

We need to know how the government prevents private interests from influencing public decisions when the same person operates in both worlds.

Because those worlds are getting awfully close together.

Putin discussed a multibillion-dollar oil transaction with the Americans negotiating over Ukraine. The consortium pursuing the assets reportedly includes investors with previous business connections to Kushner or Witkoff’s family. The transaction requires government approval. Kushner simultaneously owns an investment firm with major interests in another region where he conducts American diplomacy. And now a senior Kremlin official has decided that defending Kushner publicly is useful to Russia.

None of that proves Jared Kushner is corrupt.

It does make one question increasingly difficult to avoid:

Who is watching the people making the deals?

💩 THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

CLAIM 1

Donald Trump said he had repeatedly predicted eliminating Iran’s nuclear threat would take “4–6 weeks,” but that he accomplished it “in one night.”

BULLSHIT

💩💩💩💩💩 5/5

WHY

Trump did repeatedly predict a four-to-six-week timeline when the war began. The problem is that he was talking about how long the war would last, not promising that Iran’s nuclear threat would be eliminated within that period. PolitiFact checked Trump’s earlier statements and found that when it asked the White House for previous examples in which Trump had made the distinction he now claims he made, the White House didn’t provide any.

Seven months later, Trump has rewritten his original prediction to make it sound as though he met it.

CLAIM 2

At Saturday’s Ohio rally, Trump said, “We have almost no inflation.”

BULLSHIT

💩💩💩💩 4/5

WHY

Almost no inflation would be wonderful. It also isn’t what the numbers say.

Year-over-year inflation was 3.4 percent in August, the latest available reading, compared with 3 percent when Trump began his second term. That’s also well above the Federal Reserve’s 2 percent target. Inflation isn’t remotely at the levels Americans experienced several years ago, but “almost no inflation” isn’t an accurate description of what’s happening now. PolitiFact checked the claim following Saturday’s rally.

CLAIM 3

At the same Ohio rally, Sen. Jon Husted said former Sen. Sherrod Brown gave people in the country illegally “your Social Security money and free healthcare and COVID checks.”

BULLSHIT

💩💩💩💩💩 5/5

WHY

This one takes three separate votes and turns them into something they weren’t.

Brown’s 2007 Social Security vote involved immigrants who had later obtained legal status, not benefits for people living here illegally. His 2013 healthcare vote didn’t make undocumented immigrants eligible for federally subsidized healthcare; federal law already barred them from Medicaid, CHIP, and Affordable Care Act subsidies. And the 2021 American Rescue Plan required a valid Social Security number to receive the $1,400 stimulus payment, excluding people living in the country illegally.

That’s three claims bundled into one sentence, and PolitiFact’s examination of the underlying votes found that all three distort what the legislation actually did.

Bullshit Detector available at the Tom Hicks Media Store. Because everybody could use a little less bullshit in their life.

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If someone is negotiating for the United States while maintaining major private business interests overseas, what level of financial disclosure should the public be entitled to see?

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Thirty days from Election Day, what if the biggest mistake is thinking the election hasn’t started yet?

We’re 30 days from November 3. That’s still plenty of time for Wolf Blitzer to point at counties you’ve never heard of and tell you they’re suddenly the most important places in America.

But the election isn’t waiting for November 3. Voting has begun in parts of the country. Ballots are moving. Campaigns are deciding where the last dollars go. Registration deadlines are closing. And voters are already making choices in a political environment that looks increasingly hostile to Donald Trump.

The latest AP-NORC polling found 65 percent of U.S. adults blame Trump’s policies for higher-than-usual prices. More than half say the country, the national economy and their local economy are worse off since Trump returned to office. Sixty-nine percent say the war in Iran hasn’t been worth fighting. AP-NORC

Those aren’t comfortable numbers for a president whose party is trying to hold Congress.

Trump Isn’t Technically on the Ballot

Technically.

The voters apparently didn’t get the memo.

The September NPR/PBS News/Marist poll found 45 percent of registered voters describe their congressional choice primarily as a vote against Trump, compared with 24 percent who describe it primarily as a vote for him. Among independents, 54 percent say their congressional vote is a vote against Trump. Marist Poll

The same Marist poll had Democrats ahead 53-41 among registered voters on the generic congressional ballot. That’s a national measurement, not a prediction of who controls Congress after November 3. House elections are fought district by district, and Senate control comes down to individual state races. Marist Poll

But then comes Quinnipiac. Its September 29 national poll found registered voters preferred Democratic control of the House 51-39. Independents broke 54-30 for Democratic control. Trump stood at 34 percent approval and 61 percent disapproval among registered voters. Quinnipiac University Poll

This should be the kind of environment Democrats dream about.

Should be.

Here’s the Problem

Ask voters what they think of congressional Democrats.

Quinnipiac found 22 percent approve of the job Democrats in Congress are doing. Sixty-nine percent disapprove.

Republicans in Congress aren’t exactly getting Valentine’s cards either. Their numbers were 26 percent approval and 67 percent disapproval. Quinnipiac University Poll

One caution before anybody starts comparing every number on the page: these polls aren’t interchangeable. AP-NORC surveyed U.S. adults. Quinnipiac and Marist reported results among registered voters. Different questions, different populations, different methodologies.

But the larger picture is difficult to miss.

Trump can be deeply unpopular while Democrats remain deeply unpopular too.

There’s the Blind Spot.

Democrats may be winning voters without winning their confidence.

This Blind Spot Is Free

Usually, our Sunday reporting is reserved for supporting subscribers.

Not today.

We’re 30 days from an election that will determine control of Congress, and this is information worth putting in front of everybody.

If you value independent reporting that checks the numbers instead of repeating somebody’s talking points, you can subscribe for free. If you’d like to help pay for the research, subscriptions, and tools that make this work possible, you can become a supporting subscriber.

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So Have Democrats Positioned Themselves to Take Advantage?

That’s where this gets more complicated than a generic ballot.

Democrats have something they desperately wanted heading into October: voters are increasingly treating the midterms as a referendum on Trump. Marist found Democrats ahead on several issues that Republicans traditionally expect to compete strongly on. Registered voters preferred Democrats on the economy 42-34, foreign policy 42-36, and gas prices 40-27. Among independents, Democrats held a 19-point advantage on the economy. Marist Poll

Quinnipiac found an even larger Democratic advantage on cost of living, 49-36, and health care, 55-31. Quinnipiac University Poll

That’s political positioning.

Electoral positioning is something else.

A national advantage doesn’t magically redistribute congressional districts. Democrats can pile up votes in places they already dominate and still come away disappointed elsewhere. Candidate quality matters. Turnout matters. Geography matters. And voters who dislike Trump aren’t automatically voters who trust Democrats.

That’s the opportunity and the warning sitting next to each other.

The Cost-of-Living Election

Strip away Washington’s daily noise and one issue keeps following voters into the voting booth: what everything costs.

The grocery receipt doesn’t care which party has the better communications director.

AP-NORC found 65 percent of adults blame Trump’s policies for higher-than-usual prices. Even more striking, 69 percent said Trump’s handling of the cost of living has been worse than they expected, including 52 percent of Republicans. AP-NORC

That’s an opening for Democrats.

It isn’t a guarantee.

Telling voters who caused the problem is easier than convincing them you know how to fix it.

And when only 22 percent of registered voters approve of congressional Democrats, they have their own sales job to do. Quinnipiac University Poll

Thirty Days Is a Long Time. Until It Isn’t.

There will be debates. Bad interviews. Opposition research dumps. October surprises that are actually surprising and October surprises everybody saw coming in August.

But campaigns are running out of opportunities to change what voters already think.

And voters are no longer merely watching.

They’re voting.

That changes the meaning of November 3. Increasingly, Election Day isn’t the day the election begins.

It’s the last day of it.

Trump’s weakness has opened the door.

Whether Democrats have given voters enough reason to walk through it may decide what happens when the last ballot is finally cast 30 days from now.

THE BULLSHIT DETECTOR

Thirty days from an election means the bullshit doesn’t slow down.

It gets overtime.

CLAIM: David Jolly took more than $5 million while lobbying Congress to expand offshore drilling near Florida after the Deepwater Horizon disaster.

BULLSHIT: MOSTLY FALSE

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩💩💩💩 4/5

WHY: Byron Donalds’ gubernatorial campaign built this attack around something that actually happened, then inflated it beyond recognition. Jolly attended a 2011 meeting involving a client that supported legislation that could have expanded offshore drilling, and lobbying experts told PolitiFact that attending such a meeting can count as lobbying. But the advertised $5 million wasn’t money Jolly received for offshore-drilling work. It represented his firm’s total billings across clients and issues. The firm reported $30,000 from the relevant client. Jolly later opposed drilling expansion near Florida while serving in Congress, including co-sponsoring legislation extending the eastern Gulf drilling ban. PolitiFact rated Donalds’ claim Mostly False. PolitiFact

CLAIM: Josh Turek skipped 58 percent of the votes in the Iowa Statehouse this year.

BULLSHIT: TRUE

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩 1/5

WHY: Sometimes the Detector has to disappoint everybody looking for bullshit. Ashley Hinson repeatedly said Democratic Senate candidate and Iowa state Rep. Josh Turek missed 58 percent of Iowa House floor votes during the 2026 legislative session. PolitiFact checked the legislative record and rated the claim True. Turek’s campaign argued that many of the missed votes were procedural and that he was absent while campaigning, but that doesn’t make the underlying number false. If we’re going to call bullshit when politicians distort the record, we also have to say when the record backs them up. PolitiFact

CLAIM: Ashley Hinson “voted against releasing the Jeffrey Epstein files.”

BULLSHIT: MOSTLY FALSE

BULLSHIT LEVEL: 💩💩💩 3/5

WHY: A WinSenate ad attacking Hinson has some procedural votes to work with. In 2025, Hinson voted with Republicans on procedural motions that blocked attempts to force Epstein-related measures onto the House floor, and she didn’t sign the discharge petition that ultimately forced action. But when Congress actually voted on the bipartisan Epstein Files Transparency Act, Hinson voted for it. The bill requiring the Justice Department to release Epstein-related files passed 427-1. That’s why PolitiFact rated the ad’s broader claim Mostly False. Turning procedural votes into “she voted against releasing the files” leaves out the rather inconvenient fact that when the release bill reached the floor, she voted yes. PolitiFact

The same ads also make hay out of Hinson donors whose names appear in Epstein-related records. Appearing in those files, by itself, doesn’t establish wrongdoing or a meaningful relationship with Epstein. That’s exactly why guilt by association belongs nowhere near a serious argument. PolitiFact

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NEW FROM TOM HICKS MEDIA: WHAT THE HELL?

Blind Spot spends Sundays digging into the stories everybody else seems to be looking past. Our newest THM publication has a slightly different mission: finding stories so completely insane you’ll swear they can’t possibly be true.

For its premiere, What the Hell? goes to Idaho in 1948, where wildlife officials put beavers in boxes, attached parachutes and dropped them out of an airplane. There was a reason. There was a test beaver named Geronimo. And, because history occasionally loves us, there’s actual video.

Meet Geronimo and the flying beavers →

What The Hell?

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By Tom Hicks | October 4, 2026…

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20 days ago · THM

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One Question Before You Go

If voters are this unhappy with Trump but still don’t trust Democrats, what do Democrats need to show you during these final 30 days?

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