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I’ve lost faith in too many people. I look around at people I have known my whole life—people I once knew to be good, decent, and kind—and I no longer recognize them. You now stand for things that I find abhorrent, things that even you would have been against ten years ago. I’ve realized that reasonable conversation is dead. Minds cannot be changed. This platform has become a toxic echo chamber, and frankly, I am tired. MAGA supporters tell me all the time that my "hatred" of one man causes me to go against what’s right. Here is my retort: Your love of one man has caused you to abandon your morals, your principles, and even your religion. When a man reveals who he is, but you refuse to believe it, something has changed inside your brain. Is it brainwashing? Is it a cult? Is it spiritual? I don’t know. But the evidence is overwhelming, and you choose to look away. He is a man who screwed over countless small businesses—roofers, masons, steelworkers—leaving them unpaid and forcing them to sue him, only for him to hide behind bankruptcy seven times. That’s who he is. He is a man who created a fake children’s charity to steal from and plunder. That’s who he is. He is a man who bragged about sexually assaulting women because he’s rich and famous. A man confirmed in court to have assaulted a woman—essentially rape—escaped only by outdated state definitions. That’s who he is. He is a man convicted of 42 felonies. That’s who he is. He is a man who was best friends with Jeffrey Epstein for 15 years, whose own documents show he sent female employees to him. A man who speaks inappropriately about his own daughter. That’s who he is. He is a man who says he doesn’t have to ask God for forgiveness. A man who scammed his own followers with a "shit coin" to make billions while they lost money. That’s who he is. I could go on for twenty minutes. The list is endless. But you love him so much you ignore it. Or worse, you defend it. I can’t do this anymore. My heart is broken by people I once knew to be ethical, moral Christians who have sold out to a charlatan. You claim faith, yet show no empathy for hungry children, single moms, immigrants, or the police officers bashed in the face by the very rioters this man pardoned. My heart is tired. Fascism is taking root, and half the nation is willfully blind to it. There is no excuse for ignorance today. The knowledge of the world is at your fingertips, yet you ignore that power to rely on partisan memes and the words of liars. When people choose to be willfully ignorant, hope is lost. When people choose the powerful over the powerless, hope is lost. When people choose the rapist over the raped, hope is lost. When people choose a cult of personality over the teachings of their religion, hope is lost. Finally, to those sending me threats: I see you. For years, since Covid and as recently as last week, my safety has been threatened. I have shared your private messages and profiles with friends and family. If something happens to me, the police will know exactly who to look for. I love you. And I love America. But I can’t anymore. Good luck.

Stop letting the rich gobble up the wealth in this country. You are literally giving it to them. Fight for yourself for a change.

We are the problem. All of us understanding that we are the problem is the first step to finding the solution. For being the solution. To change “we are the problem” to “we are the solution.”

A shocking look at pervs and predators on social media. Things I learned from going undercover in my free time to see how many perverts are following kids online. Channels mentioned in the pod: SOSA Undercover https://youtube.com/@sosaundercover?si=438A8bcT5EcpI-JG Kitboga https://youtube.com/@kitbogashow?si=YCYebnj4YYtKEJJZ Article on Ariel Winter https://www.foxnews.com/entert... Missing and Exploited Children https://www.missingkids.org/ho...

Donald Trump is a salesman. But what is he selling? It’s not hope, innovation, or positivity? It’s insidious. Donald Trump handed the American right the most dangerous weapon in modern history—manufactured doubt. And he didn’t invent it. He stole it from Big Tobacco’s most insidious playbook. “Doubt is our product.” That was the chilling strategy cigarette companies adopted once science exposed their deadly lie. They couldn’t disprove the truth, so they buried it beneath a mountain of confusion. Pay off doctors. Cherry-pick data. Question the research. Sow just enough uncertainty to paralyze the public. And it worked—for decades. Trump saw that and ran with it. But he didn’t just weaponize doubt—he fused it with something far older and more primal. Tool One: Tribalism Evolution wired humans to distrust outsiders. Trump pulled that ancient instinct to the surface and sharpened it into a political blade. From day one, he cast immigrants as criminals and threats—rapists, murderers, thieves. His followers, primed by fear and fed a steady diet of blame, didn’t resist. They embraced it. And then he expanded the target: Democrats. Scientists. Journalists. Judges. It wasn’t a political strategy. It was mass psychological warfare. Tool Two: Doubt He repeated one line like gospel: “Fake news.” Every time a truth threatened him, he cast it as a lie. No need to disprove it. Just label it. Mock it. Question it. And do it loudly, constantly, relentlessly. His base—already locked in tribal loyalty—didn’t need evidence. Just reinforcement. From there, doubt spread like a virus: -Doubt science -Doubt medical professionals -Doubt vaccines -Doubt experts in every field -Doubt the research -Doubt the cops -Doubt the judges -Doubt the prosecutors -Doubt the juries -Doubt the verdicts -Doubt the voting machines -Doubt the voters -Doubt the voting officials -Doubt the ballots -Doubt the election -Doubt democracy -Doubt Everything that doesn’t come from my mouth There was no proof. There never is. But he didn’t need it. He just needed repetition and conviction. A lie repeated a thousand times becomes not truth, but something more powerful—belief. And now? Millions believe only what he says. No source is trusted unless it bows to him. He is their truth. Their reality. Their god. Trump isn’t dumb. He’s dangerous. Not because he’s insightful—but because he understands the power of manipulation at scale. He didn’t create a political movement. He created a cult of disbelief—and he’s selling doubt like it’s salvation. Doubt is the product. You’re the customer. And the cost? Your country.

Today I’m going to talk about trade and tariffs in a way that even a 5 year old can understand if. Now I know, that probably sounds dry. But if you stick around, I promise you’ll end this episode knowing more about trade and the global economy than most politicians—and certainly more than the President of the United States. And I’m not even trying to be edgy with that. It’s just… true. Here’s the reality: A trade surplus or trade deficit is just the difference between what a country exports and what it imports. That’s it. It’s not a win-or-lose scoreboard. It’s not a sign of national strength or weakness. It’s an accounting detail. A symptom—not a diagnosis. And cutting off trade with another country? That doesn’t “save” us money. It doesn’t “bring back jobs.” What it actually does is shrink the economy. It limits product availability. It raises prices for everything from cars to cornflakes. It triggers inflation. It makes everyone poorer. Period. This isn’t new information. We’ve known it for a long time. And if you need proof, let’s roll the tape back to one of the dumbest trade blunders in U.S. history: the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of the 1930s. Congress—bless their hearts—thought slapping tariffs on imported goods would protect American farmers and manufacturers during the Great Depression. Instead, what happened? Other countries retaliated. Exports plummeted by over 60%. Trade collapsed. Jobs vanished. The global economy cratered even further. Now here’s the fun part: if that name—Smoot-Hawley—rings a bell, maybe you remember it from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Yeah. A teen comedy from 1986 explained it better than most modern politicians. Ben Stein, in his iconic deadpan role as the economics teacher, delivers this legendary scene: “In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the… uh… anyone? Anyone?… the Great Depression, passed the… anyone?… Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act, which… anyone?… raised or lowered?… raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue. Did it work?… Anyone?… It did not work, and the United States sank deeper into the Great Depression.” It’s played for laughs—but it’s also spot-on. It didn’t work. And yet, nearly a century later, we’ve got people pushing the exact same crap with new branding. Fast forward to the U.S.-China trade war under Trump. We jacked up tariffs on Chinese goods. China retaliated—hard—by targeting U.S. agriculture. Soybeans. Pork. Wheat. Farmers across the Midwest got wrecked. Prices dropped. Exports dried up. So what did we do? We bailed them out with tens of billions of taxpayer dollars. Let that sink in. The government caused the problem, then used your money to patch over the hole they blew in the boat. That’s not economic strategy—that’s political arson followed by very expensive fire trucks. And this isn’t just a U.S. issue. Let’s look globally. In 2010, Japan got into a diplomatic spat with China. As leverage, they restricted exports of rare earth minerals—critical materials used in smartphones, electric vehicles, wind turbines, even missiles. The result? Panic. Supply chains trembled. Prices exploded. The entire tech and manufacturing sector around the world felt the aftershocks. It was a reminder: global trade isn’t just about profit—it’s about stability. Or take Russia in 2022, cutting off natural gas supplies to Europe in response to sanctions over Ukraine. What happened? Prices for electricity and heating fuel in countries like Germany and Italy soared—by over 500% in some cases. Factories shut down. Steel, fertilizer, aluminum production—all scaled back or halted. Inflation soared. Food prices, rent, basic goods—everything went up. Because when trade breaks, everything breaks. There are a million more examples. And every time, it’s the same story. Politicians sell you a fairy tale about protecting the economy, about bringing jobs home, about “America First” or whatever slogan they’re workshopping this week. But in reality? You get screwed. You pay more at the grocery store. You pay more for fuel. You lose job opportunities. You live in an economy that’s slower, more expensive, and less competitive. That’s the price of economic ignorance. Trade isn’t some abstract Wall Street concept. It’s what keeps your shelves stocked, your bills manageable, and your paycheck worth something. Trade supports competition. That’s what keeps prices low. It drives innovation. That’s what keeps companies from getting lazy. It creates connections. That’s what builds resilience in times of crisis. Cutting it off doesn’t “protect” us—it isolates us. It weakens us. It leaves us more vulnerable. And who pays? You do. Every time. Not the president. Not the billionaire donor class. Not the lobbyists. You. Because you’re the one paying $5 for eggs. You’re the one whose factory job didn’t come back. You’re the one stuck choosing between overpriced groceries or a busted car you can’t afford to fix. Trade is not a zero-sum game. It’s not about dominance. It’s about growth—mutual growth. And if the people in charge can’t understand that, if they’d rather posture than learn economics 101, then maybe we need to start electing people who can.

My Three Moms Today, I want to honor not one, but three extraordinary women. I only ever had one mom. Brenda. The most amazing mom anyone could ask for. But the universe knew I’d need more. And He sent two remarkable women who became mothers to me in every way that mattered—when it mattered most. This is a tribute to my three moms. Let me start with my Aunt Helen. She was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known—heart as wide as the sky. She named me. Literally. My parents couldn’t decide, and it was her suggestion they finally chose. She cut my hair through my teens—never took a dime. She let me crash at her house anytime, no questions asked. She taught me card games—spades, boo ray, and more—and not just how to play, but how to enjoy the little moments. And when I got kicked out of my dad’s house—I deserved it, too—she took me in. No rent. No judgment. Just love, food, and a warm place to be. She didn’t just only help me. She treated every kid like they mattered. Because to her, they did. Then there’s my Aunt Margaret. She lived right next door. And growing up, she became my home away from home. We didn’t have TV at my house, so every night I was at her place, laying in the floor, eyes glued to her screen watching the dukes of hazard and other favorites, till 9 p.m which was my strict curfew. And then I was out the door, run across the lawn to our house, and get ready for bed. And she never once made me feel like a burden. I always felt at home. She fed me. Put up with me. Took me on family fishing trips, vacations, field days. She made sure I didn’t miss out just because we didn’t have much. My dad wasn’t really a get out and do things kind of dad. He was always working at work, or working at home. And my aunt Margaret (and uncle Melvin) included me in so many family trips and activities I never felt like I missed out on much. But the greatest act of love came after the worst day of my life. When my mom passed away. It was just me, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Helen in that hospital room. In the wee hours of the morning. I had been in that room for weeks. Not leaving moms side unless I had too. And in those final days of the final week there was three of us in that room. Right up until my mom took her last breath. The three of us, me, Aunt Helen, and Aunt Margaret, their love and strength holding me up in the silence. In the years that followed my mom’s passing, Aunt Margaret literally saved me. She called or texted me every single day for at least two years. Some days, her voice or text was the only thing that reminded me life was still worth living. Dinner invites, holiday invites, “I love you” texts. And simple Gentle check-ins that didn’t let me disappear. I will never forget that. Ever. And then there’s my mom. Let me focus on her for the rest of this tribute. My mom Brenda. Or as my dad often called her “sue.” Or as the members of her church and the young girls she loved to mentor called her “sister Brenda.” My first love. A woman that could never be matched in my eyes. My first safe place. My lifeline safe place. There has never been a more selfless person. She gave without asking. She hurt quietly, forgave fiercely, and loved unconditionally. She was frugal, but so generous. With her time, her prayers, her acts of caring. She prayed for people who hurt her. She checked in on the sick. She cooked for the hungry. She volunteered at church, the fire department, the election polls, and in countless other little ways. She held pain in so others wouldn’t have to. She always put others first. Even to her own detriment. I often thing of the lean days of my childhood. When dinner every night seemed to be Lima beans with a big ham bone in it. Very little actual ham. And biscuits. Every night it was remarkable that my mom revealed she didn’t really like ham all that much. And what was there found its way on mine and my dad’s plate. Interestingly enough she would always often reveal she didn’t really like beans that much. Not as much as the soup. So those would find their on mine and dads plate. And she would take a biscuit and sop it in the bean soup. And say how full she was. She was a devout Christian in the most sincere sense—not in show, but in spirit. She played piano like a virtuoso. She taught piano like a maestro, teaching me to play. She sang like an angel. She lived her faith with quiet grace and tireless devotion. She never judged me—even when I was at my worst. She just loved me. And prayed for me. Mom passed in 2017. And not long after, Aunt Helen passed too. But Aunt Margaret is still here. Still showing up. Still texting, still calling, still mothering. Even with everything she carries in her own life—she never forgets to check in. So this Mother’s Day, I say this with a full heart: I was blessed with one incredible mom. And then I was blessed again. Twice more. Three women. Three hearts. Three lives that wrapped themselves around mine when I needed it most. This is for Brenda, Helen, and Margaret. My three moms. I love you. And to my mom Brenda. I haven’t stopped missing you for one single second since the day that you left. The pain is relentless. Never ending. I miss you more than you could possible ever imagine. I love you.

Want to talk trade deficits, imports, tariffs, manufacturing? Let’s dispense with the b******t: Foreigners didn’t steal your job. You weren’t taken advantage of by evil Mexicans . You weren’t outsmarted by China. You weren’t out-hustled by India. You were betrayed—gutted from the inside—by your own country. IT WAS AN INSIDE JOB! American corporations didn’t lose a war. They committed treason. They looked at you—your life, your labor, your family—and decided you were too expensive. Too demanding. Too human. A burden on their lifestyle. So they cashed you in. Like a used car with too many miles. THE MURDER ON THE PHONE WAS IN YOUR HOUSE THE WHOLE TIME! You think some dude in a rice paddy undercut you? No. It was a CEO in a penthouse with a calculator and a dead conscience. It was the boardroom full of sociopaths who saw a 12-year-old working barefoot in a Cambodian sweatshop and said, “Perfect.” You didn’t lose your job—you were sacrificed. For stock prices. For dividends. For a bigger f*****g yacht. Who were the perpetrators? One of them was the billionaire you elected that now sits in the Oval Office . His cabinet is filled with 12 more of them. Billionaires. Men that sacrificed people like you and me to buy their 5th yacht. And while your manufacturing town withered, your factory shut down, and your family scraped by, those same executives popped champagne, bought another mansion, and sent their kids to Ivy League schools with the money they saved by shipping your livelihood overseas. And Congress? They were the pimps in the corner nodding along. “Global trade,” they said. “Free markets,” they said. What they meant was: bend over, America. We already got paid. They sold you out like livestock. And you keep re-electing them like good little sheep. Then came Trump—the orange mouthpiece for billionaire interests, pretending to be your savior. He talks tough about China while he’s slurping down corporate cash and cutting taxes for the very bastards who killed your job in the first place. He’s not a warrior. He’s a mascot. A bloated clown for the oligarchy. And the worst part? You bought it. You waved the flag. You wore the hat. You screamed “America First!” while getting stabbed in the goddamn back by your own. This wasn’t globalization. This was domestic economic genocide. And you weren’t the victim of some foreign enemy. You were the casualty of capitalism gone rabid—of a system that chews up working people and wipes its ass with the Constitution. So don’t cry about lost jobs. Don’t point at China. Look in the mirror. Look at your ballot. Look at your boss. That’s who did this. And no, it’s not going to change—because no one’s lining up to work 14-hour days for crumbs while billionaires get richer for doing less than nothing. So yeah—good luck, America. You didn’t get robbed. You got sold out. And now you’re too damn proud to admit it. And you’re trusting in the billionaire president surrounded by the billionaires who played you, thinking they will now save you.

Is America taking its last gasp? Has all ability to reason vanished? Have we taken the last step away from self reliance, self observation, and chosen to just relinquish all of our concerns to the whims of a single man?

America is in decline. And while politicians are doing everything they can to assist in the decline, ultimately the fault lies at the feet of the American people.

It’s become apparent that MAGA and a large percentage of Americans don’t have a clue about what has happened in Ukraine, or the supposed peace deal. I’m here to help out. Resources: https://www.csis.org/analysis/... https://www.dw.com/en/ukraine-... https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wik...

Today, we’re diving into something that’s been simmering in the background of global politics and economics for a while now, but it’s starting to boil over in ways that could seriously impact the U.S. economy. And, of course, it ties back to everyone’s favorite orange-hued, tariff-loving president: Donald Trump. Yep, we’re talking about Trump’s tariffs, the rise of BRICS+, and what happens when the U.S. decides to play hardball with global trade. Buckle up, because this is gonna get spicy. Okay, let’s start with the basics. Trump is slapping tariffs on China, Mexico, Canada, and basically anyone who isn’t kissing his ring? Yeah. The idea is to “protect American jobs” and “bring manufacturing back to the U.S.” Sounds great in theory, right? But here’s the thing: tariffs are like a boomerang. You throw them out there, and eventually, they come back and smack you in the face. And guess what? That boomerang is heading straight for us. Now, Imagine this scenario: Canada and Mexico—yes, our neighbors to the north and south—decide to join BRICS+. Wait, what’s BRICS+? I know, I know, it’s not exactly dinner table conversation unless you’re a total geopolitics nerd. But stick with me, because this is huge. BRICS+ is basically a coalition of some of the biggest emerging economies in the world: Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa. The “+” is for the new countries joining the club, like Saudi Arabia, Iran, Egypt, Ethiopia, and the United Arab Emirates. Together, these countries represent 40% of global trade, 50% of the world’s population, and a staggering $600 billion of all U.S. imports. That’s not chump change, folks. Now, if Canada and Mexico—two of our largest trading partners—decide to join BRICS+, it’s game over for the U.S. in terms of maintaining its economic dominance. Why? Because BRICS+ is all about creating an alternative to the U.S.-dominated global financial system. They’re talking about trading in their own currencies, bypassing the U.S. dollar, and basically telling the U.S. to take its tariffs and shove ‘em. And let’s be real, this didn’t happen in a vacuum. Trump’s tariffs were like throwing gasoline on a fire. They pissed off our allies, alienated our trading partners, and made the U.S. look like the schoolyard bully who thinks he can push everyone around. But here’s the thing about bullies: eventually, the other kids get tired of getting pushed around and band together to fight back. That’s exactly what’s happening with BRICS+. And when the “f*** around and find out” moment comes home to roost, who do you think the MAGA crowd is gonna blame? Obama? Nancy Pelosi? CNN? Or maybe DEI—because apparently, that’s the new scapegoat for everything these days. Of course they will. That is who they have been conditioned to blame. But here’s the truth: this will be a self-inflicted wound. Protectionist, isolationist, antagonistic trade policies don’t make a country stronger—they make it weaker. They shrink economies, stifle innovation, and create a whole lot of bad blood with the rest of the world. Now, I know some of you are thinking, “But hey, tariffs feel good in the moment, right?” We are taking action. We are putting America first! Sure, if you’re the bully picking on someone because you’ve got low self-esteem, no genuine plan. It feels powerful to flex your muscles and say, “We’re not gonna take it anymore!” But that feeling is short-lived. Eventually, the other kids stop playing with you, and you’re left sitting alone at the lunch table. And that’s where we’re headed if we don’t course-correct. Free trade expands the economic interests of everyone involved. It creates jobs, lowers prices for consumers, and fosters innovation. Protectionism does the opposite. It’s like building a wall around your economy and hoping no one notices that the rest of the world is moving on without you. So, what’s the takeaway here? Well, for starters, we need to stop pretending that tariffs are some kind of magic bullet for economic growth. They’re not. They’re a blunt instrument that does more harm than good in the long run. And we need to start paying attention to what’s happening with BRICS+. This isn’t just some abstract geopolitical concept—it’s a real threat to U.S. economic dominance. And finally, we need to stop blaming everyone else for our problems. Obama didn’t do this. Nancy Pelosi didn’t do this. CNN didn’t do this. This is on us. We voted for the guy who thought tariffs were a good idea, and now we’re going to reap what we sow. So, good luck, America! We’re gonna need it. Because if Canada and Mexico decide to join BRICS+, it’s gonna be a whole new world out there. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure we’re ready for it. Thanks for tuning in, everyone. If you enjoyed this episode, don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe. And hey, if you’ve got thoughts on tariffs, BRICS+, or anything else we talked about today, drop us a comment. Brett Mason Media on X and Facebook. I’d love to hear from you. Until next time, stay curious, stay informed, and stay awesome. Peace out!

The Republican Party, particularly its MAGA faction, has become a case study in cognitive dissonance and moral bankruptcy, a collective psyche so fractured and contradictory that it defies reason. Their rhetoric oscillates between outrage and absurdity, a cacophony of grievances that reveals not just a lack of coherence, but a profound disdain for humanity itself. Take their obsession with welfare and entitlement programs. They rail against the idea of their tax dollars supporting those who don’t work, framing it as a moral failing of the individual rather than a systemic issue. Yet, when Democrats propose initiatives to empower people—those with disabilities, the marginalized, the overlooked—to enter the workforce and contribute meaningfully, Republicans recoil in horror. Suddenly, the very idea of employment for the disabled becomes a lightning rod for their vitriol. They twist it into a caricature, as if hiring a blind person to work in a call center is tantamount to putting them in charge of air traffic control. The absurdity is staggering. No one is suggesting that individuals be placed in roles they are incapable of performing. The goal is simple: to ensure that those who *can* work—who are qualified, capable, and eager—are not systematically excluded because of prejudice or ignorance. It’s about creating opportunities, not lowering standards. But nuance is lost on those who thrive on fear and division. And then there’s the MAGA obsession with scapegoating. Every disaster, every misfortune, every act of God is somehow the fault of the disabled, or Black and brown people, or immigrants. It’s a worldview built on paranoia and bigotry, a desperate attempt to deflect blame from the systemic failures they themselves perpetuate. The irony is almost poetic. They demand self-sufficiency, yet recoil when steps are taken to enable it. They claim to value hard work, yet vilify those who seek it. They cry foul at the idea of “handouts,” yet reject any effort to level the playing field. It’s a cycle of contradiction and hypocrisy so profound that it borders on pathological. MAGA has become the political embodiment of perpetual victimhood, a movement defined by its endless whining and manufactured outrage. There is no pleasing them because their grievances are not rooted in reality—they are a performance, a spectacle designed to distract from their own moral and intellectual bankruptcy. And yet, despite their theatrics, the truth remains: initiatives to empower the disabled, to create opportunities for the marginalized, to build a more inclusive society—these are not just good things. They are necessary things. They are the mark of a civilization that values dignity and equity over fear and division. But for the MAGA faithful, even this is too much to bear. They would sooner poison their own soup and blame it on someone else than admit that compassion and progress are not threats to their existence. The Trump brain rot has seeped too deep, twisting their worldview into something unrecognizable. And for that, there may be no cure.

When is a cake just a list of ingredients. And when is it the finished product. This is a diffusion about abortion and the beginning of life.

While I’m not a believer I do have times where I’m jealous or envious of those who believe in the afterlife and supernatural.