Every time I hear the beginning of that unforgettable piano riff, I stop what I’m doing to listen. And as the years have gone by, I find myself paying less attention to the melody and more attention to the lyrics. Bruce Hornsby wasn’t simply describing injustice; he was exposing one of the most dangerous responses to it: RESIGNATION.

“That's just the way it is”

It’s a phrase we’ve all heard. Sometimes we’ve even said it ourselves. Perhaps you’ve said the phrase with a small shrug of your shoulders. At first blush, it sounds harmless enough until you realize how often those words have been used to justify the unjustifiable.

Segregation? That’s just the way it is.

Women don't have equal rights? That’s just the way it is.

People of color prevented from voting? That’s just the way it is.

Discrimination in housing, employment, education? That’s just the way it is.

History is littered with examples of people accepting the wrongs of inequality simply because it had become familiar and the usual. But familiarity has never made injustice acceptable. It just made it easier to ignore.

Read more

I love you. I don’t say that with blind devotion nor do I say it for purposes of performative patriotism because it’s your birthday. I truly mean it.

I’m telling you this because I’m reading articles about how so many people doubt you. So I want you to hear directly from me why you’re so great and why I will always fight for you.

So where do I begin? Let’s start with your food. Honestly, America? It’s unhinged. And I mean that as the highest compliment possible.

Your airports — places of chaos and anxiety — can smell like heaven because somewhere there is an Auntie Anne’s pretzel calling out to the hurried masses yearning for their flight to just be on time for once. Dripping with enough butter to shorten a human’s life expectancy. And if you get that side of - I think it’s cheese because the label says it’s cheese - cheese sauce? Now you’re talking, baby.

But wait…is that a Cinnabon I see by the dawn’s early light? Oh, there’s nothing modest about that thing; it’s the size of a truck tire. Indeed, one marvels that our country has created a menu item that can cover an adult’s daily caloric needs in one sitting. Let the French have their boulangeries; we have a rotating fleet of warm dough vendors operating adjacent to a Hudson News and a charging station.^[i]

America, I love that you don’t do anything small. Other countries have regular-sized things. You look at regular-sized things and ask: “But what if it were much, MUCH bigger?” Our sodas come in sizes that require the bottom of the cup to be markedly smaller just so it can fit in our already oversized cupholder in our already oversized car. Heck, you exhibit your love for all things large in all kinds of ways. Your movies, for example. Their budgets are now nearing the size of the annual GDP for a small island nation. And say what you want about Tom Cruise, but I’ll tell you what: that man makes sure you are ENTERTAINED. I watch the first two minutes of a Top Gun film, and I’m picturing myself in aviator glasses and a leather bomber jacket, launching off a carrier somewhere in the ocean – call sign “Widowmaker” – to take on an unknown enemy.

I love baseball. With all due respect to football, baseball is quintessentially you, America. It’s not the fastest sport; it deliberately operates at a leisurely pace. A manager will walk to the mound, exchange a few words, and then walk back to the dugout without the 30,000 people in attendance thinking that was strange.

But baseball actually captures something else about you: your eternal optimism. Every spring begins with each team and its fanbase believing this year will be different. Yet, come August, disappointment likely takes over. But you know what? There’s always next year. And this process will repeat for years, if not decades. Don’t believe me? I watched my husband cry early in the morning in November 2016, as the Cubs finally broke the curse and won the World Series. He kept screaming, “You were wrong, Zadie Max! They ain’t bums!”^[ii] Bottom-line, you’re always looking to tomorrow and unafraid to reinvent yourself along the way.

But let’s get serious, America. I love that somewhere right now, there is a young person sketching out a business idea on a napkin at breakfast, incorporating a company by lunchtime, opening a bank account in the afternoon and waking up tomorrow to embark on a dream. Think about that for a moment. For most of human history, starting a business required permission: from a king, a guild, or someone else in authority. Don’t believe me? When I left MSNBC, all I had was the burning ember of something bigger than me. A year later, I’d like to think that WE are building an army of people that have got your back, America.

I love that your music tells the story of your progress sometimes better than a history book. Don’t believe me? Your song — “The Star-Spangled Banner” — was written by Francis Scott Key, a man who owned slaves and who actively opposed efforts to end slavery. He opposed abolition and favored the idea of colonization. But he watched the battle at Fort McHenry from a ship and then wrote a poem that became your theme song.

And, in 1983, Marvin Gaye walked up to the microphone at the NBA All-Star Game and sang your song in a way nobody had ever heard before. He didn’t just perform it; he transformed it and made it all his own. He took the words of a slaveowner and wrapped them into something that was uniquely…Marvin Gaye:^[iii]

And then the incomparable legend, Whitney Houston, stood before 70,000 plus people at the Super Bowl in January 1991, lifted a microphone, and sang those same words with such a breathtaking, otherworldly power that her performance became the standard by which all others are judged.^[iv] And although many have come close, no one has ever surpassed her:

But talent aside, what matters is that although the song never changed, you sure did, America. The descendants of a race of people that were enslaved took a song written by a slave owner and made it all their own. Whitney Houston and Marvin Gaye picked up those words and sang something so powerful that the original author became a footnote. Thank you, America, for your willingness to change for the better.

And that brings me to what I love about you the most: I love what is the real driver of your exceptionalism. It’s not your geography, Constitution, or resources. Yes, those things matter, but it’s not the real answer. The real answer is that you are a nation largely built by the world’s outcasts. Think about who’s come here: it’s not the comfortable ones or the people who already had a seat at the table or a fancy title or family name that meant something. Squeezed out, starved out, or persecuted out. These people showed up with little else than the clothes on their backs and a fiery determination to prove the old world wrong.

And remember what you said to them? "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” THAT is a radical proposition, America. At bottom, you didn’t weigh them down with a thousand years of history about where they came from and why they weren’t acceptable. Don’t believe me? Well, I remind you about my own family, how you graciously accepted us, and gave us the chance to do great things. I will never forget that about you, America. It’s your greatest quality.

Yes, America, you’ve got some flaws. But honestly, it’s not you; it’s us. Beyond our sometimes tacky confidence that borders on the irrational, you have so much to offer the rest of the world. We need to do a better job of sharing that and not the ugliness we’ve seen over the past few years.

So on your 250^th birthday — did I tell you that you still look so youthful!? — I just want to remind you that you are loved, America. Because despite the noise, the arguments, and the imperfections, I know you are the greatest ongoing democratic experiment in human history. I still believe in your promise and your unwavering dedication to what we can be.

^[i] I know there are many other food items that can be mentioned. But, for now, I’ll give a shout-out to a few honorable mentions that didn’t make the final cut: Fried Oreos, the Monte Cristo sandwich at Bennigan’s, and the entire menu at The Cheesecake Factory.

^[ii] The backstory, as told by my husband: My grandfather, Max (about 5’6’’ and weighing 110 pounds), was an unbelievably tough man who grew up in the Russian Empire before coming to the United States at the age of twelve. He came to America to escape the pogroms and the viciousness of that part of the world. But because of where he grew up, he had no illusions about people and never put much stock in words such as “hope” or “optimism.” Anyway, in 1989, the Cubs had a magical season. Jerome Walton was electric, Mark Grace’s swing was a natural wonder of the world, and the pitching staff was elite. It was early October and we took my grandfather out for Mexican food because, even though he was a curmudgeonly 91-year-old Russian Jew, he loved quesadillas (no joke). Dinner ran a bit late, so on the drive home, we turned on the radio to listen to Game 1 of the playoff series between the Cubs and the San Francisco Giants. We were playing at Wrigley with Greg Maddux, the greatest modern-era pitcher, and it was a night game, so the crowd was electric. And then Will Clark just ANNIHILATED us. By the top of the fourth inning, he already hit a double and a homer. But then he stepped up to the plate, got down to business and crushed a grand slam (I’m still unsure if the ball ever landed). It was such a punch in the face that twelve-year-old me began to tear up. My grandfather immediately pulled the car over on Milwaukee Avenue (yes, he still drove at 91), turned off the radio, looked at me and said, “Jonathan, they are bums and will never win anything. I didn’t cry at twelve. Grow up.” We then proceeded to drive home in silence, my father and I too afraid to say another word to him. I am almost fifty years old and still remember that night like it was yesterday.

^[iii] One of my favorite comments in the YouTube video I linked is: “The National Anthem smoked a cigarette after Marvin was done making love to it.”

^[iv] Yes, I know she lip-synched the song – and so did Marvin Gaye – because there were concerns about potential audio problems during a live performance. I don’t know about Marvin Gaye, but the story about Whitney Houston is that she pre-taped in ONE TAKE. And the fact that they both lip-synched the song doesn’t change how life-altering their performances were.

SCOTUS did right by E. Jean in rejecting Convicted Felon Donald Trump’s attempts to have the highest court in the land hear his bullshit appeal of the $5 million judgment against him for his sexual abuse and defamation of E. Jean.

In this video, Joyce and I explain the outcome and the other case E. Jean won against Trump and its current status.

Thank you , , , , , and many others for tuning into my live video with ! Join me for my next live video in the app.

Get more from Katie Phang in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

And nothing could be more true than with Felon Trump Production’s latest entry in the Iran Deals franchise. Nobody wanted more of this crap. The franchise has never been beloved or infamous enough to become a cult favorite. It was just...there.

And yet here we are, with 2026’s “The Idiots Strike Back: Tehran Draft Edition” lumbering into theaters. What is it? A shit-pots of money sequel – rumors say it ran a $200+ billion budget – and a script – if that’s what you want to call it – that fits neatly on a cocktail napkin. The result is loud, expensive, and hollow at every level. Or put another way, the usual fare from Felon Trump Productions.

But let’s go back in time to understand why this sequel is the type of stuff you never want to see on the bottom of your shoe when walking through a cow farm:

Back in 2015, a quieter, genteel, and classy studio – Obama Pictures, in association with the P5+1 Consortium – released “The Iran Deal: JCPOA.” It was not a hidden gem or the kind of film that created buzz, so that by the time awards season rolled around, you started pestering your significant other about seeing it “in theaters” or searching through all your subscription services for a streaming option.

Yes, the film had a handful of decent moments — a tense inspection-regime subplot and who could forget the centrifuge espionage montage? — but mostly it was a long, dry sit. And the acting wasn’t spicy. John Kerry, with his New England aloofness, was never going to inspire confidence, and Barack Obama wasn’t particularly dynamic either, which was disappointing considering he was just coming off his mega hit “Obama’s Eleven: The Osama Takedown.” I guess what you could say is that nobody walked out of “The Iran Deal: JCPOA” whooping. But nobody walked out furious either…ok, maybe that lifetime curmudgeon of a critic Bibi did, but that’s his default setting. In the end, you knew who had which weapons-grade material, who was watching it, and what happened if anyone cheated. That’s about the nicest and meanest thing you could say for the film.

But here comes the sequel. Trump’s entry into the Iran Deals franchise opens the way every unwanted sequel does: By blowing up a movie nobody had strong feelings about to then manufacture absurd stakes nobody ever wanted. Where the first film spent two years in tense, boring but competent negotiating rooms, this one opens with Trump at the White House making an idiotic speech about how he’s defending the free world by ripping up the JCPOA and providing no alternative.

And it only gets worse from there. Cue the heavy-duty military hardware! The missiles start flying and the bombs start dropping because apparently “negotiation scenes” tested poorly with the MAGA focus groups. The Strait of Hormuz — previously just a location mentioned in the original film — gets a full action-sequence montage alongside an animated chart showing wild swings in the oil market and global growth projections going haywire. The accompanying Kid Rock soundtrack makes you want to throw up in your mouth, but I digress. And then it all comes to a screeching halt and the screen goes black with some rambling JD Vance monologue (which is addressed below). That’s the film.

Sidenote: I’m often asked where I go to do research for my reporting. One of the main research tools I use is called Ground News. Ground News shows me how stories are being covered from different political perspectives, and it highlights “blindspots” where only left-wing or right-wing media is covering a story.

Ground News has been a great sponsor of my YouTube channel, and they’re now sponsoring this post as well. I worked out a deal with them: if you go to ground.news/phang, you can get 40% off Ground News’ top-tier Vantage plan, which gives you unlimited access to all the research tools I use.

Ground News is subscriber-funded, so they don’t rely on ads that could introduce bias.

By subscribing, you support both our channel and their independent team working to keep the media transparent.

Now back to where I left off.

If the plot sounds weak it’s because the acting is weak. Our lead – overplayed by Convicted Felon Donald Trump – opens the film with the franchise’s big quotable line: “No missiles, no nukes, no negotiations with these psychos.” This is meant to signal the character’s North Star. But fast forward to the end, and we see him at the signing table alongside the smiling mullahs – the very folks he said he would never deal with – capitulating on ALL of his points. At no point do the writers ever explain Trump’s turn. No scene where he changes his mind; no monologue of realization or even contemplation. Instead, he simply ends up in the opposite place from where he started and the movie expects the audience to never notice. Perhaps for good reason. By now, the writers at Trump Productions are well aware of Trump’s limitations, particularly his inability to remember lines that contain words like Person, Woman, Man, Camera, TV.

But the remainder of the D-List cast is worse if that can be believed. First, Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner. Once again, they play “Senior Nuclear Diplomats.” We, of course, know these guys didn’t get top billing because they trained for the role, auditioned for the role, or have any prior credits – not even community theatre! – in the genre. Rather, they got the job because one is the boss’s longtime golf buddy and the other is the idiot son-in-law. In any other franchise, the studio owner’s son-in-law showing up as the lead negotiator would be a punchline. But here it’s the actual plot. Regardless, watching them work a nuclear negotiation is like watching a modern rendition of the Keystone Cops with the stakes being oh so much higher. And if you think I’m asking Trump Productions to reboot that franchise, no, I’m not. Indeed, my sources tell me that real-life foreign ministries are reportedly using the Witty/Kush scenes in training sessions for junior diplomats to teach them what NOT to do in negotiations.

Routine names from Trump Productions’ other franchises, namely Marco Rubio, either play little to no role in the film due to the scriptwriters’ decision on how to end it, or were simply not capable enough – I am looking at you, Pete Kegsbreath – to ever convince audiences they ever belonged. And although not in the credits, the so-called “Memorandum of Understanding” plays a starring role in the film. It’s the barely one-and-a-half-page document that promises the bad guys sanctions relief and a $300 billion slush, I mean, reconstruction fund, all in exchange for a reopened Strait of Hormuz, which is already closed again. What the document does not promise is almost everything that made the original film coherent: there are no enrichment limits, no inspection regime, you know, real details. Rather, all we get is a pinky promise to keep talking for sixty days. Did I mention that children negotiate better deals in the lunchroom than our lead protagonist does in this film? They do; I’ve seen it based on the wrappers in my daughter’s lunch box when she comes home from school.

Which then brings us to JD Vance, cast in the role of “Hype Man.” His entire role is – surprise!?!? - to tell the audience at the end with unflinching confidence that everything you just saw with your own eyes happened differently than it did. It’s a remarkable performance, really, one that Vance has perfected over the past few years in his newfound love for all things Trump. At this point, I think it’s fair to say that Vance is surpassing Ted Cruz in the “totally spineless human being that will say anything if it advances his standing in life” category. Congrats, JD, on your accomplishment of abject humiliation!

Final Verdict:

I give this movie the MIDDLE FINGER. Put politely, what’s missing is everything that made the original film, with all of its flaws, an actual finished product. The original had a verification mechanism; this one has a vibe. The original had specificity, i.e., bury Iran’s enriched stockpile under tons of concrete, ship it overseas, monitor it continuously; this one has a promise to “discuss” enrichment at some unspecified future point, alongside “other mutually agreed matters.” If that last sentence gives you pause, it’s because it should. It screams, brace yourself, YET ANOTHER SHITTY SEQUEL!

***

The Idiots Strike Back: Tehran Drift Edition

Director: Convicted Felon Donald Trump

Written By: A collective group of fools

Stars: Convicted Felon Donald Trump, Steve “Please Pay in Unmarked Bills” Witkoff, Jared “The Intern” Kushner, JD “Spineless” Vance, and the Ghost of Marco Rubio

Rating: R for insanely graphic scenes of stupidity

Run Time: Too damn long

Genre: Tragedy; dark comedy

__________________________________________________________________________

Convicted Felon Donald Trump (CFDT): Hello?? Bibi, you there? It’s me, Donald!

Bibi Netanyahu (BN): Good evening Mr. President, I wanted to discuss…

CFDT: Bibi, did you hear about the fights we’re gonna have at the White House this weekend? Many people are saying it’s the hottest ticket in the world!

BN: Mr. President, the Iranians…

CFDT (interrupting Netanyahu): It’s going to be SO hot. The fighters. And the ring girls! Not as sexy as Ivanka, but, hey, my friend Jeff would tell you…

First Unknown White House Official (urgently whispering to Trump): Umm, Mr. President, we don’t talk about Jeffrey Ep—

Second Unknown White House Official (yelling): IT’S BRUNO, YOU DUMBASS, WE DON’T USE THE OTHER NAME ANYMORE!

First Unknown White House Official (whispering slowly): That’s right, Mr. President, we don’t talk about Bruno.

CFDT: Whatever. Anyway, Bibi, it’s gonna be hot. I’ve got the best poll results with the UFC crowd; those losers love me! I can raise their living costs and take away their healthcare and they’ll still stand by me while I give tax breaks to me and my billionaire buddies! So dumb. And do you know about the coins??

BN: Mr. President, our intelligence is telling us that the Iranians…

CFDT: Dammit, Bibi. Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. I tell YOU what to do; you don't tell ME!

CFDT (turns to First Unknown White House Official and whispers): I DO tell Bibi what to do, right?

First Unknown White House Official: Yes, Mr. President, you did put your big boy britches on today!

CFDT (whispering): OK. But what about Bruno? Do I tell him what to do?

First Unknown White House Official: Mr. President, umm, Bruno is dead.

CFDT: What?? My wingman?? I bet you that Biden Crime Family is behind it. Get Ka$h in here right now!

[K$sh Patel (KP) proceeds to pull his head out of CFDT’s ass]

KP (saluting CFDT): Reporting for duty, Mr. President, sir. You tell me who to arrest. I’m on it! And I will see you in Valhalla!

First Unknown White House Official: Mr. President, Bruno died in federal custody during your first term, not during the Biden presidency. I’m really not sure who we could arrest…

KP (interrupting): Who cares!! Let’s arrest these enemies of the state. And I will see you in Valhalla!

[Todd Blanche (TB) then proceeds to pull his head out of CFDT’s ass]

TB (grinning and says in a playful tone): Did somebody say…INDICTMENT?

CFDT (yelling extra loud to the people in the Oval Office): Shut up, everybody!! This is getting boring! Where’s my Sharpie??

CFDT (turning back to the phone speaker): Bibi, the coins! They are going to be hot, I tell you. Do you want one? I’m charging $12,000 a pop, but I can probably get you a good deal on a few.

CFDT (looking around): Where is that dumbass Donnie Jr. when you need him? Can someone send Bibi my Venmo?

BN: Mr. President, the Iranians have been arming missiles…

CFDT: Jesus Christ, Bibi. All you talk about is missiles! What’s with you and missiles? And, by the way, about Jesus Christ: that loser, Tucker Carlson, is blaming you for killing him. If it weren’t for me, no one would like you.

BN: Mr. President, that is an age-old antisemitic trope…

CFDT: I’ve seen the videos, Bibi. I saw them on X.

First Unknown White House Official: Mr. President, those are deepfakes. Jesus Christ died over two thousand years ago.

CFDT: Really?? I bet you those two Corinthians had something to do with it. What does Jeff, I mean Bruno, think about it?

First Unknown White House Official: Again, Mr. President, um, Bruno is dead.

CFDT (whispering): What?! Too bad. I had a party once and we had such a good time...

CFDT (distractedly turning back to phone receiver): Coins, Bibi. With my picture on them! So hot. So hot. Anyway, listen, this fight is costing $60 million, while Americans are getting taxed out the wazoo by this war…

Second Unknown White House Official (gently interrupting and speaking slowly for comprehension): Mr. President, sir, remember we do not call it a “war.” It’s a “military operation.”

CFDT (turning back to phone receiver): Oh, yeah. Ummm…war operation. I mean, military war. I mean, dammit, all that shooting we are doing with the planes and stuff, yeah, that’s hot! While all that’s happening and prices are skyrocketing, we got UFC Fight Night, Bibi! Did I tell you many people are saying it’s the hottest?

[Elon Musk (EM) proceeds to pull his head out of CFDT’s ass]

EM: Mr. President, it’s your first buddy, remember me? I just want to tell you that my bros at DOGE have informed me that the $60 million of taxpayer money you’re wasting here is NOT waste, fraud, or abuse!

CFDT (turning back to the phone): You hear that, Bibi?? We got the green light from the richest man in the world! It’s going to be HUGE! Many, many people are saying it’s bigger than when the gladiator fought the emperor…So, Bibi, about that stuff over there…

BN: The Iranians are arming…

CFDT: God, you and the Iranians, Shmanians. Anyway, Bibi, listen, I’m sending Witty and my idiot son-in-law over there to wrap up the deal.

BN (confused): Deal?! What deal?...

CFDT: Yeah, a deal. It’s great. It’s sexy. We are going to give the Iranians a bunch of money, the Horny Strait opens, and the nuclear stuff…that’s not important; we can talk about that later. I’m such an amazing negotiator. Many people are saying I am the greatest negotiator in the history of the world. I’m such a great negotiator, right Bibi?

CFDT (whispering to First Unknown White House Official): Hey, send Bibi a signed copy of the “Art of the Deal.” Write “Bibi, Thank me later for all I’ve done for you. Your buddy, Donald. PS – Don’t eat yellow snow.”

BN: Mr. President, Barack Obama signed a better deal with the Iranians than yours, and we convinced you to…

CFDT: Wait. I beat that guy in 2020. Everyone knows that. It was just election fraud! And lemme tell you, that guy is…

Second Unknown White House Official (speaking hurriedly): Mr. President, whatever you’re about to say, just don’t, please. We already took a lot of heat a few months ago with that video you posted about Obama and his wife.

CFDT: Whatever Melania is so much hotter. Did you know she did tasteful nudes? So hot. Bruno saw.

First Unknown White House Official (whispering): Mr. President, let’s just not go there. We’re really trying hard to avoid saying anything about the files.

CFDT (nods approvingly and then turns back to the phone receiver): So, Bibi, here’s where we are: we settled Iran. I’ll get a deal for you on some coins, but I don’t have tickets for you and the crew for Fight Night.

Bibi: Mr. President, we must…

CFDT (abruptly): Gotta go, Bibi. Bye bye.

CFDT (turning to people in Oval Office): That Bibi is such a loser, he doesn’t have his own coin!

First Unknown White House Official (whispering): Mr. President, you didn’t hang up the phone. The Prime Minister can still hear you…

CFDT (nodding approvingly): Oh, okay I got this.

CFDT (turns back to the phone receiver and says in robotic voice): TO LEAVE A MESSAGE, PLEASE PRESS ONE. TO RE-RECORD YOUR MESSAGE, PLEASE PRESS TWO. BYE BYE.

Late into many evenings, my husband and I will sit side by side working on our respective projects. As a distraction, we will put something familiar on television as background noise. When my husband gets a chance to choose – which is not often^[i] – he will sometimes pick a season from HBO’s The Wire and hit play before I get a chance to steal the remote.

The Wire is great TV – some say it’s the greatest show of all time – with compelling narratives and memorable characters and moments. At its core, The Wire chronicles the decay of civic institutions and the consequences that follow. Depressing stuff at times and frankly, it’s intended to be sobering.

Some of the characters and narratives on that show particularly resonate with me. In this instance, I focus on Augustus “Gus” Haynes, played by American-Canadian actor, Clark Johnson.

We are introduced to Gus in Season 5 of the show: he is the veteran, chain-smoking city editor for the fictional struggling newspaper, The Baltimore Sun. The storyline surrounding Gus and the paper is about the people whose job it is to understand how the city functions and report it to everyone else. Importantly, the collapse of this institution – the local paper – leaves the viewer understanding that the city’s residents are worse off.

Like all of the characters in The Wire, Gus has some great scenes. When he reminisces at the bar with another reporter from the paper – Roger Twigg – about why they became journalists, it brings a bittersweet smile to my face and probably to a lot of you as well, about our parents, the world we grew up in, and the role of the physical newspaper:

Gus: And every morning before [my father] went to work, he’d sit at the table reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee and no one could interrupt him for that 15 minutes before he walked out the door. And I remember watching him and thinking what the hell is so important about the damn paper. And I want to be part of that . . ..

Twigg: There was this man on the downtown bus, folding his broadsheet just so. The way that man folded that paper, and concentrated on reading those pages, it made him look like the smartest son of a bitch on the bus. It was just one of those moments.

Another memorable Gus moment in the show – and relevant to this post – is when Gus asks a young reporter about a scoop Gus receives about the appointment of a relatively unknown police officer to the top job of Commissioner of the Baltimore Police Department. The young reporter is clueless about the police officer, but when Gus asks Twigg – who is about to depart the paper via “voluntary” buyout – Twigg spews off a concise biography of the police officer’s entire career. Twiggs then gets the story. Put simply, the veteran beat reporter knew his beat well.

This scene came to mind as I recently read an article in The Wall Street Journal written by Arian Campo Flores about the Port of Miami (which is known as PortMiami) titled “Miami’s Wealthiest ZIP Code Is Fighting to Evict Its Least Glamorous Neighbor.” The article describes a very expensive dispute involving the fuel terminal on Fisher Island that supports PortMiami’s operations.

But first, some background:

First, if you have ever been to Miami Beach, you can’t miss the port: Massive cruise ships are lined up waiting to depart with thousands of people that fly in weekly from all over the world for all you can eat buffets and sunburn. But PortMiami is not just a cruise port; it also functions as the “Cargo Gateway of the Americas.” According to a recent economic impact study, PortMiami generates approximately $60 billion in annual economic activity, supports more than 340,000 jobs statewide, including nearly 30,000 direct local jobs, and accounts for almost 4% of Florida’s GDP. In short, PortMiami is a critical piece of South Florida’s economic infrastructure whose success ripples through local, statewide, national, and foreign economies.

Second, Fisher Island sits adjacent to PortMiami, separated only by a narrow stretch of water. It also happens to be the second wealthiest zip code in the United States, with homes and condominiums priced in the tens of millions of dollars. It is so exclusive that you can’t even drive there; rather, you have to get on a ferry and hitch a ride across the waterway. And since Covid-19, Miami Beach — Fisher Island in particular — has seen a huge influx of the ultra-wealthy moving in, while locals are being priced out.

With this background, let’s get into the dispute: The owners of the fuel terminal were looking to sell the property in 2024. The desire to sell wasn’t a secret; rather, the property was openly on the market. But as is the case with Miami, its politicians, and their ability to act timely and competently, the county government only learned about a potential sale late in the game. When the county failed to stop the sale or make a better bid, developers – including two prominent local Miami players – swooped in to acquire the property for $180 million with plans to replace the fuel terminal with what? You guessed it: More luxury condominiums.

Of course, Fisher Island residents rejoiced because it would increase the value of their property all while getting rid of an eyesore commercial property. But the county and the cruise operators? Not so much. The county undertook a study to determine how the fuel terminal could be replaced and came to the “Oh, shit!!” realization that there was no viable economic alternative. You read that right: PortMiami NEEDS the fuel terminal. So the county – caught with its pants down – belatedly jumped into action, authorizing the county manager and port director to negotiate a deal with the developer group.

The purported deal? The county would buy the fuel terminal from the developer group for a collective sum of…$400 million.^[ii] For those keeping score, that’s $220 million more than what the developer group purchased the property for just 18 months ago. Or stated cynically, in a county where the cost of housing is leading to an exodus of the young and working class, our elected politicians decided to burn hundreds of millions of dollars to fix their original sin.^[iii] Separately, the county threw a legal “Hail Mary” in the form of an eminent domain lawsuit in which nobody can credibly predict how it will all play out. The residents of Fisher Island – of course well-funded – hired their own fancy lawyers to put the kibosh on the county’s plans and stop any sale by the developer group.

And since publication of Campo Flores’ article, things have only gotten more interesting. The city manager and port director resigned or were fired – depends on who you ask – and the county mayor is now rejecting the current negotiated $400 million deal that she asked her underlings to go get. In other words, a colossal mess.

Now, I’m not here to complain about greedy developers or the .1% that are destroying our city and country. That story is well-told and if anything, their collective motivation is always transparent: My needs always come ahead of the collective good. That’s the American Way according to this crowd. Nor am I here to complain – or at least not too much – about the ineptitude of local government.

Instead, in reading the article, I was struck by the source. Or put more simply: Why the hell was one of the most important local stories in South Florida broken by The Wall Street Journal and not by, I don’t know, the MIAMI HERALD?

No matter how you look at it, this story is not about a national political controversy or federal agency. It’s about Miami-Dade County, PortMiami, Fisher Island, local taxpayers, local officials, and local developers. It was all happening in plain sight. And yet I, along with many Miami residents, am learning for the first time about the scope and incompetence of our local government through a newspaper headquartered in…New York City. Yes, the author of the article – Campo Flores – is Miami-based, but doesn’t that make it even worse? In a global ocean of information from which to report, Campo Flores decided to work a story that was right in front of our faces.

Up until recently, major metropolitan newspapers employed reporters whose careers revolved around understanding their local governments. These reporters attended meetings that nobody else attended and developed sources over years and sometimes decades. They learned which public officials were competent, which agencies consistently struggled, which local business leaders had influence, and which proposals didn’t pass the smell test. They acquired the sort of institutional memory that only comes from spending years watching the same people make decisions and then living long enough to see the consequences.

In doing the job, lots of their reporting didn’t focus on corruption, but rather, good ole’ fashioned competence or lack thereof. Heck, if given the opportunity, my husband will sing the praises of Mike Royko and his daily biting columns about the alderboobs, er, the Chicago aldermen, or how then Illinois Senator Carol Moseley Braun botched the recipe of the classical Chicago style hot dog and lost an election in the process.^[iv] The point is that the local paper informed voters about the job performance of their elected pols.

Here, if the fuel terminal is as important as public officials now admit, why was its vulnerability not addressed years ago? If the facility was essential to the long-term operation of one of the region’s most important economic assets, why does it appear that the county is now reacting to events rather than planning for them? If taxpayers may ultimately be asked to spend extraordinary sums – either directly or indirectly – to preserve critical infrastructure, why did the issue not become the subject of broader public debate before private parties acquired leverage over the county?

I’d like to think that in a different era, my local paper would’ve been the tip of the spear in smoking out this story and asking questions like the above months, if not years ago. Instead, the Miami Herald is only now beginning to report about this debacle, presumably in reaction to Campo Flores’ reporting. And if you think I’m here to knock the Miami Herald, you are wrong. I have friends at that paper that I dearly respect both personally and professionally. If anything, the whole affair just saddens me. When my LOCAL paper flat out misses the biggest LOCAL news story, it makes me think what else is happening that isn’t getting reported because the resources are no longer there? For the past twenty years, the decline of local newspapers is often discussed as a business story. But what receives less attention is that our communities are losing the people with the institutional memory to know what to look for, what questions to ask, and who to pose them to. We are losing our Guses and Twiggs.

Yes, I know that newspapers – at least as we all knew them growing up – cannot be resurrected. The issue is who performs the function going forward and works the beat. There are promising leads: not for profit journalism, independent journalism, and paid subscription models. But I don’t know if any of these are a perfect substitute for what we used to have when it comes to stories like this. Honestly, I don’t have a solution I can offer that will leave you with a warm and fuzzy feeling as you read this. Rather, what we have is a story involving a local issue with enormous repercussions that required a national newspaper to discover and explain it to the local residents. That’s huge a red flag. When the watchdog function in the form of the local paper fails, the spotlight arrives late, and accountability of our pols becomes reactive rather than preventive. Ugh.

^[i] At this point in my life, I am certain my husband has forced me to watch The Godfather I & II, The Dirty Dozen, The Hunt for Red October, and Heat at least twenty times. There are other films on this list – don’t get me started with all the Westerns – as well.

^[ii] Per my calculator, the rate of return on this deal seems to be between 20% to 30% a year. Considering that Miami-Dade County has a relatively strong credit rating – the county pays interest on its long-term debt between 3 to 6 percent – this is an outrageous rate of return for the investor group relative to the risk they are supposedly taking.

^[iii] The counterpoint that county officials will undoubtedly argue is that the cost of this entire exercise will be borne by cruise and cargo operators that pay fees to PortMiami. But if you need to jack up fees to make these payments to the developer group, then these operators will start looking for alternative cheaper ports.

^[iv] In 1995, Moseley-Braun, along with other U.S. senators, were invited to submit recipes for hot dogs as part of a recipe collection. Moseley-Braun submitted a recipe for a “Chicago hot dog” that included ketchup. For those in the know, ketchup is absolutely verboten on the Chicago-style hot dog. Indeed, folks in Chicago would tell you ketchup on a hot dog is a declaration of war. Royko, in his customary acerbic tone, gutted Moseley-Braun for being a poser. In 1998, Moseley-Braun lost her re-election campaign. My husband will say it’s because of ketchup, but I suspect it’s because she had a lot of other baggage as a candidate. Either way, you can find Royko’s column here.

I was so inspired by the story of Joan of Arc and by the stunning statue I saw in her honor when I was last in Paris, I wrote the Substack piece, “Are YOU the next Joan of Arc?” earlier this year. My message is clear: leadership doesn’t require glamour or privileged birth. The fabric of our democracy is varied and unique simply because we, the people, are varied and unique.

As these times remain dark, I am reupping my prior Substack piece now, in the hopes that you can be just as inspired by Joan of Arc’s fierce and dogged determination:

History loves resistance heroes who “look” the part: usually born into privilege, trained by institutions, and wrapped in a narrative that makes their leadership feel…inevitable.

Joan of Arc was none of those things. She was a teenage peasant girl from a farming village. No noble lineage and no formal education. No military experience. No political connections.

Joan was born around 1412 in the village of Domrémy, in northeastern France. Her family were farmers—neither destitute nor powerful, just ordinary rural people trying to survive in a country ravaged by war. Like most peasant girls of her time, Joan had no exposure to education, formal or otherwise. She was illiterate and had little knowledge of the wider world, let alone politics.

And yet, in one of the most desperate moments in French history, Joan of Arc changed the trajectory of a war that had been grinding France into dust for nearly a century. That fact alone should make us rethink what leadership actually looks like.

Read more

The story I’m telling isn’t unique to me; I’m certain many of you do and experience exactly the same thing. But there is something else I do: I read the headstones near my father’s grave. A cemetery, after all, is a history lesson written in stone. In the aggregate, the headstones tell the story of a birth of a nation and its communities; the waves of immigrants from places that rejected them, but came here and built something better. Individually, the headstones tell the story of family, suffering, and accomplishment. The headstones also sometimes tell the story of war.

A year ago, I did a video about my experience walking the beaches of Normandy and visiting the Normandy American Cemetery. Grief, gratitude, and history collapse together in that small corner of the world. But today, I discuss someone and something else.

Near my father’s grave is a headstone dedicated to a young man that died in World War II. The story told on his headstone is one of a man cut down in his youth. He was an aviator in a bomber shot down over Europe. His body was never recovered, but his family decided to consecrate a small piece of ground thousands of miles from where he died to honor his sacrifice almost eighty years ago. I am engrossed by this young man who I never knew. I want to know his story. What motivated him to join the fight like so many others back then? Why did he volunteer to take on such a dangerous role?^[i] Did he love? How did his family and friends cope after his tragic death at such a young age? I also think about what he could have accomplished if only he had survived those terrible years.

His headstone also reduces war to a basic question: Did our country have a good enough reason to ask him to sacrifice his life for something bigger? As Americans, we all know the social contract between our government and the men and women who serve. If the government decides to put them in harm’s way, it is (supposed to be) done reluctantly and only when necessary.

With World War II, I have no doubt this contract was kept. No matter all of the lies and attempts at revisionist history, Tucker Carlson and his Nazi apologist “historian” friends can’t talk themselves out of the reality that humanity was well-served by the courage and willingness of the free world to fight and die in a war against evil. To borrow from Sir Winston Churchill – who Carlson and other similar fools hold in particular contempt because, gosh forbid, he stood up to Hitler – this was one of the free world’s finest hours.

I have come to believe that over the past two decades the contract has been breached. Regardless of intention, our leaders have all too often been willing to risk the lives of our service-members without clear intention, purpose, or necessity. The justifications – and trillions of dollars expended in the process – are usually couched in abstract terminology such as “regional stability” or “national interests,” but for the most part, they don’t withstand strict scrutiny. More worrisome, the costs of these forever wars are being borne by a small number of Americans who put their lives on hold and volunteer for the fight.

And this continues to the present. On this Memorial Day, our men and women in uniform are still in danger. But this time, it is at the hands of a lawless administration.

One thing any intellectually honest person can admit is that Convicted Felon Donald Trump honors no contract. He is a “head’s I win, tails I win” kind of guy. For Trump supporters, the lies they tell themselves to justify his dishonesty is that “he’s a fighter” or “he is a smart businessman,” even though they remain lies. But importantly, if you think that when it comes to our military, Cadet “Bone Spurs” Trump acts and feels differently, you’d be mistaken. This is the guy who reportedly called our dead soldiers and prisoners of war “losers” and “suckers” and questioned why they ever volunteered to fight in the first place. At bottom, Felon Trump couldn’t care less about putting our men and women in uniform in harm’s way. Rather, the United States military is just another toy for him.

The illegal war against Iran – regardless of whatever foolish name DUI-hire Pete Kegsbreath asked ChatGPT to call it – has never been authorized in compliance with the Constitution or the War Powers Act. But in the face of this outright disregard for our laws, where is the GOP that possesses a power trifecta in DC? Nowhere to be found. That the Republican-controlled Congress let this happen in direct disregard of the actual will of the American people is alarming and more proof of their total abdication to Trump. Poll after poll shows deep exhaustion with endless war. Americans across ideological lines have watched twenty years of blood and trillions of dollars produce instability, trauma, and cemeteries filled with young people who never got to grow old. Yet somehow, once again, a small minority of political actors who never seem personally at risk when the bill comes due are pulling us down into quicksand.

That alone should enrage us. But what is even more maddening is what is now coming into focus: The likely end game for all this Trump-branded stupidity is the very agreement Trump abandoned during his first administration. The Obama-era Iran nuclear deal went into effect in 2016. The agreement was imperfect and oversold in many respects. But viewed narrowly, the agreement imposed constraints on Iran’s nuclear program and created mechanisms for international monitoring. Trump rejected the agreement when he first came to office – not because he had a superior replacement – but simply because it bore Obama’s name. Now, after years of instability and performative toughness, Trump has circled back to the same basic framework that Obama put in place a decade ago. This is not just madness, this is tragedy when you consider the lives lost – both American and others – over the past ten years.

So, on this Memorial Day, our feckless friends on the Right are confronted by an uncomfortable reality: If the end result was always going to be what was achieved in 2016, then why were the lives of our service-members put at risk - AND LOST - with untold billions of dollars burned? You will never get a truthful answer from these losers. So I return to the young man at the beginning of my story. His headstone, aside from leaving me with unanswered questions, also serves as a blunt warning: Do not waste us or let our lives be lost in vain.

^[i] During World War II, bomber crews suffered some of the highest casualty rates of any Allied service members. In the European theater, the U.S. Eighth Air Force lost more than 26,000 airmen, while RAF Bomber Command suffered approximately 55,000 deaths, representing roughly 44% of its aircrew. During the height of the bombing campaign in 1943, American bomber crews often faced casualty rates so severe that completing a 25-mission tour was nearly impossible.

On May 14, 2026, Governor Josh Green signed Senate Bill 2471 into law. Now called Act 011, the law states that corporations and other artificial entities created under Hawaii’s state laws do NOT have the power to spend money or contribute anything of value to influence elections or ballot measures. Instead, these business entities possess only the powers that are “necessary or convenient to carry out their lawful business or organizational purposes.”

This law is an in-your-face challenge to the post-Citizens United world where corporations have been playing God with our elections. What Hawaii basically said was: Corporations are NOT people, and we’re not letting them hijack our democracy anymore. And as a trial lawyer who spent years in courtrooms fighting for real accountability, I love this approach. It’s clever, constitutionally sound, and long overdue.

Just a quick refresher: in 2010, the United States Supreme Court shoved Citizens United v. FEC in our faces. In a 5-4 decision, the Court decided that corporations, labor unions, and nonprofit organizations have a First Amendment right to spend unlimited amounts of money on independent political speech. That ruling gutted key parts of campaign finance reform and unleashed Super PACs, dark money nonprofits, and a flood of undisclosed cash into our elections, corrupting our political process.

Billions upon billions poured into races, often from hidden corporate interests. In Hawaii, that meant big developers, tourism conglomerates, and out-of-state money having the ability to shape policy that affected everyday residents in critical issues like housing and environmental protections. Nationwide polls show that the overwhelming majority of Americans, regardless of party affiliation, hate Citizens United. Yet here we are, still living in the wreckage of that terrible SCOTUS decision.

But, Act 011 flips the script: it doesn’t try to regulate speech. Instead, it goes to the systemic root of the issue: because corporations are artificial “persons” created by the state, if the state charters them then the state gets to define exactly what powers those artificial “persons” get to have. This law is powerful in how straightforward it is. It reaffirms that corporations, LLCs, partnerships, nonprofits — basically any artificial entity formed under the laws of the state of Hawaii — only have the powers “necessary or convenient” for their legitimate business purposes. Influencing elections, funding ballot measures, bankrolling candidates or PACs? Definitely NOT on the list of “necessary or convenient business purposes.”

Sidenote: I’m often asked where I go to do research for my reporting. One of the main research tools I use is called Ground News. Ground News shows me how stories are being covered from different political perspectives, and it highlights “blindspots” where only left-wing or right-wing media is covering a story.

Ground News has been a great sponsor of my YouTube channel, and they’re now sponsoring this post as well. I worked out a deal with them: if you go to ground.news/phang, you can get 40% off Ground News’ top-tier Vantage plan, which gives you unlimited access to all the research tools I use.

Ground News is subscriber-funded, so they don’t rely on ads that could introduce bias. By subscribing, you support both our channel and their independent team working to keep the media transparent.

Now back to where I left off.

Here are a few key highlights of Act 011:

• It applies not only to Hawaii-chartered entities, but also to out-of-state companies that do business in the islands. Imagine how many companies that is!

• Individuals keep all of their First Amendment rights intact so no one is silenced.

• Violations can lead to suspension of the business’ operations, loss of contracts, tax status revocation, or even dissolution.

What is really impressive is that even in Hawaii’s heavily Democratic legislature, SB 2471 passed with strong Republican backing, too. In fact, the votes were unanimous in the Senate and near-unanimous in the House. Why? Because legislators from both sides of the aisle recognized the problem of unchecked corporate influence.

Nationally, this spectacular new law can become ammunition in the November Midterms. Expect it to be cited in ads, debates, and op-eds in battleground states. It signals to other legislatures that state-level corporate power resets are viable, potentially accelerating similar bills elsewhere and keeping campaign finance reform in the spotlight as voters head to the polls. Because it doesn’t take effect until July 1, 2027, lawsuits will almost certainly drop soon and early court skirmishes could generate headlines through the fall, but that will just highlight the David v. Goliath/People v. Big Money Corporations battle and I believe it’ll inspire others to fight harder. It could energize grassroots turnout, boost progressive and anti-corruption candidates who campaign on cleaning up elections, and put pressure on incumbents to distance themselves from Big Money donors.

States have tools. People have power. As someone who fights every day for accountability in our legal and political systems, I see SB 2471 as a masterclass in strategic resistance. It’s exactly the kind of savvy move we need more of if we’re serious about reclaiming our democracy.

All of America should watch Hawaii closely because if one state can pull this off, others can do the same. And that’s how REAL change starts.

Marian was born on February 27, 1897, in South Philadelphia, the eldest of three daughters in a devout Baptist family. At age 12, her father died as a result of a workplace accident. Her family squeezed into a single room shared with relatives while her mother took in laundry. The Union Baptist Church became her conservatory. By age six, Marian — nicknamed “Baby Contralto” — was singing in the junior choir, her incredible three-octave voice turning heads. She performed for pennies at local events, taught herself piano on the one her late father had scraped money together to buy, and she learned African-American spirituals that would later become a unique and defining part of her repertoire.

You know the phrase: “It takes a village”? Well, in Marian’s instance, it took a community stepping in where opportunities could not. Community leaders and church members, recognizing her rare talent, raised funds for private lessons and school tuition. Renowned voice teacher, Giuseppe Boghetti, was so moved by her audition of “Deep River” that he taught Marian for free.

After graduating from high school, Marian applied to the all-white Philadelphia Music Academy, which refused her admission. In 1925, Marian stunned judges at a New York Philharmonic competition, winning a solo with the orchestra. She was so exceptional the judges halted auditions after her performance and awarded her the prize on the spot. Carnegie Hall soon followed. But America’s racism was ironclad: venues were segregated, hotels refused to give her a room, and managers hesitated to help her grow. So Marian Anderson did what many brilliant black artists of her generation did: she looked east to Europe.

Europe in the 1930s became Marian’s artistic liberation and she took Europe, South America, and even the former Soviet Union by storm. Supported by a Julius Rosenwald Fund fellowship, she studied in Germany and earned accolades all over the world. She met pianist, Kosti Vehanen, who became her longtime accompanist and coach. Finnish composer, Jean Sibelius, welcomed her into his home, dedicating music to her. In integrated halls with adoring audiences, Marian’s talent flowed without barriers.

In 1935, Marian returned to America for Town Hall recitals, touring with up to 70 concerts a year, while navigating Jim Crow laws across the country. In one famous anecdote, Albert Einstein had to host her after a Princeton hotel denied her a room because she was black.

Then, in 1939, Howard University invited Marian to sing as a part of their concert series and the school needed a large enough venue, like Constitution Hall, to accommodate the performance. But, the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) owned the segregated Hall and refused to allow Marian to perform, citing a white-artist-only clause in its contracts. Protests erupted and the NAACP, Howard University, and the Marian Anderson Citizens’ Committee mobilized.

First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, a member of the DAR, resigned in protest, writing she was “in complete disagreement with the attitude taken in refusing Constitution Hall to a great artist”:

The federal government stepped up and offered the Lincoln Memorial as the venue for Marian’s free, open-air performance. Then-Secretary of the Interior, Harold L. Ickes, arranged the outdoor concert to take place on Easter Sunday, April 9, 1939. When Ickes introduced Marian, he said: "In this great auditorium under the sky, all of us are free. Genius, like justice, is blind. Genius draws no color lines."

Before an integrated crowd of 75,000 people, US Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black, and with millions tuning in live over NBC Radio, Marian performed seven songs, a mix of American Spirituals and classical music. She opened with “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” and then went on to sing “O Mio Fernando,” “Ave Maria,” “Gospel Train,” “Trampin’,” “My Soul Is Anchored in the Lord,” and the encore, “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.”

While singing “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee,” Marian changed the lyric "of thee I sing" to "to thee we sing.” When asked why she did that, she explained: "We cannot live alone. And the thing that made this moment possible for you and for me, has been brought about by many people whom we will never know."

Listening on the radio to Marian was a 10-year-old little boy by the name of Martin Luther King, Jr. He was so inspired by her performance that at age 15, he won an oration contest after referencing it. Marian later reflected in her autobiography, My Lord, What a Morning (1956): “I had become, whether I liked it or not, a symbol.”

The Lincoln Memorial concert was filmed for newsreels and later preserved in the National Film Registry. I have embedded here a wonderful excerpt on YouTube from the PBS documentary about Marian’s life: “Voice of Freedom.” I invite you to watch the entire documentary as it is phenomenal.

Here is a video of Marian performing “Ave Maria” on the Ed Sullivan show:

At 58 years old, Marian became the first African American to sing a leading role at the Metropolitan Opera; the audience gave a standing ovation before she sang. This broke one of classical music’s last major color barriers. She served as a UN delegate and sang the national anthem at President Eisenhower’s (1957) and President Kennedy’s (1961) inaugurations. In 1963, she performed “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” at the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom — right after Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

Marian’s story is not just a footnote in American music history; it is a masterclass in perseverance during times of tumult and an urgent reminder that progress can often be realized on the wings of music and art when legal and political safeguards falter.

During these treacherous and scary times, we should rediscover Marian Anderson’s inspirational life. She didn’t litigate in the courts; she took her battle to the streets and she sang. And in singing with unparalleled grace and integrity, she forced a segregated nation to see the beauty of her gift. A gift that “awakened America.”

“Quintili Vare, legiones redde!”

(“Quinctilius Varus, give me back my legions!”)

In 9 A.D., a Roman general named Publius Quinctilius Varus marched three legions—the most lethal fighting force of that era—into the dense forests of Germania. Varus was no fool on paper; by this point in his career, he had governed provinces, knew how to collect taxes, and otherwise looked and acted the part of Roman authority. But governing is one thing; commanding an army in hostile territory is another. Or put more bluntly: even when you look and act the part, you may still not be the part.

Things ended badly for Varus and the Gang. He walked his legions into an ambush, and over three days, they were slaughtered by the Germanic tribes. When it was over, and Varus realized the scale of destruction, he fell on his sword. The quote above? Attributable to Emperor Augustus, who, upon hearing about Varus’ epic fail, was allegedly so distraught he banged his head against the walls and kept repeating the line over and over. To this day, archaeologists still find bits and pieces – spear tips, swords, coins … and bone fragments – of the slaughter of Romans that occurred two thousand years ago.

But Varus’ story – known today as the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest - is quite common. History is littered with instances of leaders who were not up to snuff to solve the major events of their time. Indeed, the business world – as it often does – has coined a phrase for this particular type of incompetence: the Peter Principle.

The Peter Principle states that people in hierarchical organizations are promoted based on their success in their current or prior roles until they reach a level in the organization at which they are no longer competent.^[i] And once they reach that level, they are no longer promoted because their incompetence can’t be hidden any longer. It’s loosely similar to the legal disclaimer we all know too well: “Past performance is not indicative of future results.”

Where the real world and the business world perhaps diverge is that incompetence in real life tends to lead to brutal, deadly outcomes for the masses. See Varus: He wasn’t a battlefield commander, but Rome promoted him as one, and that cost everyone involved dearly.

Which brings us to the present day and the topic of this Substack: Pamela Jo Bondi.

Now out of the gate, I admit the Peter Principle could apply to almost all of Convicted Felon Donald Trump’s cabinet and political appointees. Pick a name, ANY NAME, and one would be hard-pressed to explain how any of their past “successes” – I’m being gracious here – would justify elevation to their current roles and responsibilities unless you consider this administration to be a RICO enterprise (which it is). Heck, I wrote a lengthy article a few months ago about Daniel Rosen, the bumbling fool of a U.S. Attorney for Minnesota. But I’m going to focus on Rosen’s (now former) boss, Pamela Jo. Why care about her? Whereas the incompetence of some of these Trump bootlickers makes for a good laugh, the incompetence of folks like Pamela Jo has grotesque consequences for us all and this country we love.

Pamela Jo’s backstory is known, but let’s review the highlights. We start from the ground up. She was an assistant state attorney in Hillsborough County. I know this job well: I did it for 9+ years of my life. As an entry-level prosecutor, you’re handed a stack of misdemeanor files and told to go figure it out. You grind, try cases, and learn how to be a real lawyer. It is an invaluable experience, both professionally and personally.

Bondi was successful in this role and was promoted to a senior prosecutor role. I know this job, too: I was a Division Chief. Bigger responsibilities mean even higher stakes. Think violent crimes that receive both local, statewide, and sometimes even national media attention. Not only do you have to be good in the courtroom, but you also must have good on-camera instincts. You don’t want to look like a fool when you’re on the news talking about your prosecution of a murderer.

By all generous accounts, Pamela Jo did well in this role and it vaulted her to a statewide elected office: Florida Attorney General. Now I have yet to serve in that particular role, but I know enough about it to say the skill set definitely changes. You are no longer fighting in the courtroom on the daily, advocating in front of a judge or jury on behalf of the state and its citizens. Instead, the role requires managerial, political, and media skills.

And here’s where the Peter Principle starts to kick in. It’s hard to know whether Bondi actually was good at the job. Seriously. Yes, she used the office to get as much media attention as she could to promote her brand. There likely wasn’t a week that went by when you didn’t see her screaming into the camera on some Fox News show about some liberal policy that got her knickers in a bunch. So on that metric? Success perhaps. But whether she ran a large legal office with civil, criminal, and consumer protection divisions competently? Tough to say in a state where she had political cover due to Republicans controlling the legislature and Governor’s Office. Perhaps if she hadn’t done the job well and Florida’s politics were different, any incompetence would have come to light and saved us all from the present-day shitshow, but I digress.

After finishing as the Florida AG, she eventually found her way into the massive grift universe of Convicted Felon Donald Trump. Here’s where there’s really only one skill set necessary to be successful: Bend the knee and at all times profess loyalty to, and express the greatness of, Führer Trump, no matter how stupid you look or sound in doing so. I won’t waste my time or yours talking about what she actually did for Trump. What matters is whatever she did, she did it amazingly well in Trump’s little brain so that when Matt Gaetz – REMEMBER THAT DOUCHEY LOOKING POS?!? – couldn’t pass muster with a Republican controlled Senate to become the highest-ranking law enforcement officer of our country, Pamela Jo was waiting in the wings, ready to go!

Although she may have been ready and willing to take on the job, we know she sure as shit wasn’t able. Bondi’s performance from day one is proof positive that success in one lane should never be mistaken for universal competence.

Let’s talk about fitness for the job. Although the title may sound similar, being the U.S. Attorney General is an entirely different creature than being a state attorney general. You oversee the largest law firm in the world – The Department of Justice – a law enforcement institution that wields immense power and costs $40 billion a year to operate. In its employ are thousands of federal prosecutors that represent the U.S. in federal courts and law enforcement personnel at the FBI, DEA and ATF. The Department is entrusted with the enforcement of our laws and Constitution. So subject matter expertise and management competency are a must. But probably the most important skill is the ability to exercise institutional independence from political pressure because your decisions can implicate the executive branch itself. Put simply, sometimes you must be able to say no to POTUS for the betterment of the country, both now and for the future.^[ii]

On this last point, we knew at the outset Pamela Jo had no business being considered for the job. During her Senate testimony, she lied when she said she’d call balls and strikes fairly if given the top job. Years of TV appearances made clear she was a Trump sycophant and would do Trump’s bidding, our democracy and laws be damned. But did the Republicans (and John Fetterman, the sole foolish Democrat who voted for her) give a damn? No. They all bent the knee. I really do love this quote from Chuck Grassley: “Her record and her testimony showed the American people that she will follow and enforce the law fairly, without fear or favor.” Really, Chuck? You were either lying to us or you’re a card-carrying member of the galactically stupid. Perhaps both.

Anyway, it only took a few months to make clear that Bondi was always a modern-day Varus. But out of all the horrible things she did to prove as much, it was Jeffrey Epstein that led to her downfall.

The first big screwup? February 21, 2025. In a now-infamous TV appearance on friendly Fox News, Pamela Jo claimed the famous Epstein List was “sitting on her desk right now to review.” A few days later, on February 27, 2025, Bondi released her much vaunted Epstein Files Phase One to a group of MAGA influencers. The problem? Notwithstanding the PR blitz, there was no client list or meaningful new information. The whiplash in the MAGA universe was quick and severe: Dopey MAGA influencers turned on Bondi and called out her bullshit. I mean, when Laura Loomer calls you a “total liar,” isn’t that rock bottom for MAGA-types?

But Bondi kept doubling down on stupid. In April 2025, she said “there are tens of thousands of videos of Epstein with children or child porn” and claimed the FBI needed to review all of it. The suggestion being that the “client list” was still forthcoming if everyone would just be patient with her. But in July 2025, Bondi reversed course and said that after a thorough review of all Epstein-related material, no “client list” existed, there was no evidence that Epstein blackmailed “prominent individuals,” and no new investigations or charges should be brought. The problem for Bondi? Epstein was a runaway train, and she had ZERO CREDIBILITY.

Although she didn’t know it then, her coup de grace came on February 11, 2026, almost a year after her claim that the “client list” was “sitting on my desk.” By then, Democrats, along with the help of FOUR Republicans, passed the Epstein Files Transparency Act, in large part due to the schizophrenic nature of the statements coming from Bondi and her underlings. ^[iii] Passage of the Act was intended to force accountability from the DOJ. And we all know that when it comes to the MAGA-verse, accountability is a terrifying word.

Pamela Jo’s recent House testimony was a train wreck by any measure. It was the antithesis of accountability. I don’t like the sexist trope of the “hysterical woman,” but the truth is that Bondi came across as a completely hysterical dingbat woman and I’m being generous with that characterization. She said nothing substantive, demeaned her office, and most importantly, insulted the very people –victims of Epstein’s crimes – she was charged with protecting. Although performing for one person – Convicted Felon Donald Trump – the problem for Bondi was that her testimony created liability for every Republican running for office in November. That happenstance could no longer be tolerated. So when Trump dumped her several weeks later, it was a political mercy killing.

So I go back to the question I asked above and answer it better: Why care about Pamela Jo? Let’s return to Varus and draw a contrast. When Varus led his legions to slaughter, it didn’t mean the end of the Roman Empire right then and there. To the contrary, Rome continued to thrive and become the dominant power in Europe. Maybe Varus’ failure had long-term consequences. Germania remained independent, and the tribes there evolved and grew stronger alongside Rome. Centuries later, those tribes crossed into the Empire, and it eventually fell. But during the 300+ years after Varus’ screw-up, there were many intervening events that historians cite to in explaining the collapse of Rome. Put simply, Varus’ incompetence led to his death and the deaths of tens of thousands of others, but the Empire? Likely not.

For Bondi, the same doesn’t hold true. Rather, it’s far easier to draw a straight line from her incompetence to the immediate harm it’s causing all of US that cannot be recovered from any time soon. And the incompetence goes well beyond her handling of the Epstein Files scandal.

I’ve watched over the past year one of the finest institutions in our government – the Department of Justice – be decimated while Pamela Jo was at the helm. At bottom, there has never been a better time to be a white-collar criminal.^[iv] Ask the folks who know – lawyers and judges – and they will tell you an impressive group of career law enforcement has been fired or walked out the door since Convicted Felon Donald Trump came back to office. These folks weren’t doing the job for glory or money; rather, from a sense of mission and love for Country. And these folks are not coming back. Not now or in any future administration, whether Democrat or Republican.

What’s left is a rudderless department whose ability to investigate and prosecute complicated criminal and civil cases is evaporating in plain sight.^[v] And even if an investigation and successful prosecution occur, a pardon is always for sale. Doubt me? Go look at the Department of Justice’s running list of pardons and commutations. It will make you sick.

I guess when Democrats tried to make the case in 2024 that democracy was in peril, this is what was meant. It’s not some esoteric concept lacking real-world examples; we are now staring at it in real time: A crippled and corrupt Justice Department that cannot be fixed anytime soon, if ever. Throw out the rule of law – or our society’s belief that there is rule of law – and suddenly things start getting scary. And this all happened on Pamela Jo’s watch with the full blessing of the Republican controlled government. So Pamela Jo: If the repercussions of your conduct weren’t so serious, I’d say thanks for the laughs in making a fool of yourself over the past year. But unfortunately, your incompetence has fucked us all. Hopefully, the door hits your ass and knocks you down on the way out.

^[i] Per Wikipedia:

The Peter Principle is a concept in management developed by Laurence J. Peter which observes that people in a hierarchy tend to rise to “a level of respective incompetence”: employees are promoted based on their success in previous jobs until they reach a level at which they are no longer competent, as skills in one job do not necessarily translate to another.

The concept was explained in the 1969 book “The Peter Principle” (William Morrow and Company) by Laurence Peter and Raymond Hull. Hull wrote the text, which was based on Peter’s research. Peter and Hull intended the book to be satire, but it became popular as it was seen to make a serious point about the shortcomings of how people are promoted within hierarchical organizations.

^[ii] One of the more amusing stories of Trump Version 1.0 was when Trump threw a tantrum after losing fair and square to Joe Biden in 2020. Jeff Clark - a Trump bootlicker if there ever was one - was working as an environmental attorney for DOJ and tried to convince Trump of a harebrained scheme to overturn the election. At a meeting on January 3, 2021, including Trump, Clark, then acting U.S. Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen and Rosen’s deputy Richard Donoghue, Clark argued that Trump should dump Rosen and hire him to lead the charge on bogus election fraud claims. Donoghue apparently turned to Clark and said, “You’re an environmental lawyer, we’ll call you when there’s an oil spill.”

^[iii] Yes, I know that the vote on the Epstein Files Transparency Act was technically 427-1. But all those Republicans who voted in favor of the Act deserve NO credit. Instead, only four Republicans, along with ALL Democrats, voted in favor of the discharge petition that forced a vote on the Act. Only then did Republicans know they couldn’t avoid holding child rapists accountable and voted for passage of the Act. Spineless losers, the lot of them.

^[v] Since 2011, there has been a long-term decline in white-collar prosecutions under Democratic and Republican administrations. See https://tracreports.org/reports/760/. Under the current administration, the decline continues and will likely accelerate due to the current brain drain. But what’s deeply troubling now is the pardons – sometimes issued almost immediately after a successful conviction is obtained – that render years of work meaningless.

But, Clause 6 failed to clarify whether the Vice President actually becomes THE President upon those conditions occurring OR the Vice President merely assumes the “powers and duties” of the office. That uncertainty lingered for nearly two centuries, but only in the academic sense because the clause and concept had yet to be tested in “real life.”

Enter John Tyler. Tyler was Vice President to President William Henry Harrison. Harrison died on April 4, 1841, just 31 days after assuming the office of the presidency. [Sidenote: Interestingly, Harrison’s advanced age and questionable health status was not kept a secret during the campaign, but he was elected nonetheless.]. Within an hour of Harrison’s death, the Cabinet at the time named Tyler the “vice-president acting president.” I mean, what a name. However, Tyler felt differently and confidently asserted that he assumed the full title AND all of the powers/duties that came with it. No court ruling, no statute, just raw political muscle. He got himself sworn into office immediately and then moved into the White House. That power play became known as the Tyler Precedent.

Read more