Latest posts
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“Make Me President, Daddy”: A Spin Doctor’s Descent Through the American Spectacle
Read now on Kindle UnlimitedExplore more of my work: Amazon Author Page I didn’t write Make Me President, Daddy to mock a man. He does that to himself. I wrote it to eulogize a country that laughed its way into the grave. This book started as a scream I couldn’t get out during the first
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Bill Maher Debates John Leguizamo About Immigration, Forgets Who Had an Actual Immigration Story
In the latest episode of “Bill Maher Gets Confused About Being Edgy,” the longtime contrarian invited actor, playwright, and walking cultural syllabus John Leguizamo onto his podcast to discuss immigration—because nothing screams ‘nuanced dialogue’ like a millionaire comedian sparring with a Latino icon over border policy. Spoiler: It went about as well as you’d expect
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I Didn’t Believe in Elon. I Believed in His Grift. And Now My Retirement Is Circling the Drain in a Cybertruck.
Let’s be clear: I didn’t invest in Tesla because I thought Elon Musk was a genius. I invested because I thought he was shameless. Here was a man who could sit in a press conference sounding like a malfunctioning TED Talk chatbot, then turn around and wink at Trump and watch the stock price soar.
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Silicon Fever Dreams: Tech Titans, Quantum Chaos, and the Dawn of AI Interviewers Who Judge Your Vibe
Somewhere between the release of a quantum chip named like your aunt’s dog (hi, Willow) and the quiet pivot from “ban AI in hiring” to “please, AI, hire someone,” the tech world decided it was time to let its mask slip. Not the innovation mask. The sanity one. This week’s round-up in Techgeddon 2025™ offers
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Opera, Trade, and Deportation Roulette: A Week in the Trump Administration That Somehow All Makes Sense
It’s hard to say what week we’re in—politically, cosmically, or narratively—but it’s clear the Trump administration is back on its greatest-hits tour. Only this time, the album’s scratched, the vocals are louder, and the backup dancers are Congressional interns filing ethics waivers. In just a few days, we’ve seen an opera house rebranded like a
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Rest Easy, Prince of Darkness: A Farewell to Ozzy Osbourne
I wasn’t a diehard fan. I didn’t memorize lyrics or follow every twist in his tour dates or tattoos. I didn’t grow up with Black Sabbath posters on my walls or devil horns in the air. But when I heard the news—Ozzy Osbourne has passed away—I felt something cave in anyway. That’s what happens when
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Trump Shares AI Mugshots of Obama After Declassified Docs Drop, Nation Wonders If Reality Has Been PARDONED
This week, reality got redacted, deepfaked, and re-released as a partisan reboot. Newly declassified documents—courtesy of Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, who has apparently pivoted from anti-war progressive to cosplay intelligence officer—suggest that elements of the Obama administration allegedly ‘manufactured’ intelligence to justify the Trump-Russia probe in 2016. The documents are already being hailed
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Unpacking the “One Big Beautiful Bill”: How Congress Plans to Save You (and By You, We Mean Billionaires)
Ah, the smell of freshly printed legislation. Notes of performative optimism, charred loopholes, and a faint aftertaste of lobbyist cologne. Congress has emerged from its biannual nap to deliver what they’re calling the “One Big Beautiful Bill”—a tax and spending package so shiny, so sweeping, it’s practically Botox for the economy. But like most things
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Forecast: 100% Chance of Deletion – The Trump Archive Fire Sale
Once upon a timeline glitch, somewhere between the invention of Aqua Net and the third indictment, the Trump administration decided the best way to tackle climate change was… to pretend it didn’t exist. And by “tackle,” we mean delete, obscure, and casually yeet any congressionally mandated climate report off government websites like a shady teen
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This Isn’t the Breakdown We Paid For: The American Concert Experience, Now With Bonus Trauma
There was a time—not long ago—when you could attend a live show and expect nothing more than $18 beers, overpriced parking, and the existential dread of being the oldest person in the crowd wearing glitter. That was the pact. You show up, the band plays, you lose your voice, maybe your dignity, and you limp