Rancher, Half Fast Team Roper, Keto-Carnivore, Rancher
Western South Dakota Prairie
Joined January 2017
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Jody Brown retweeted
Selling 200 bred heifers at Ogallala Livestock Monday 11/16.
Top end sort here will be weighing 1050#. Completely forage developed!
Bred to LBW Black Angus Jorgensen bulls to calve for 30 days starting 2/25.
Make plans to attend today!
Respect.
The year is 5000 BC. You are a wild ass in the Nubian desert, small, grey, all ears. A herder's family has noticed that you can go three days without water and carry a third of your own weight while you do it. They put the tent on your back and the baby on top of the tent. You walk carefully. People have been able to leave since that morning.
The year is 1900 BC. You are one of 300 black donkeys walking out of the city of Assur under tin and cloth, bound for Anatolia, six weeks and 600 miles off. The merchants write home on clay about prices, debts and their wives. You are in the letters as a cost. It is the first long-distance trade on record and every ounce of it is on your spine. Nobody writes down your name, though the boy who walks beside you has one for you.
The year is somewhere before 600 BC, and a prophet called Balaam is riding you down a narrow road between two walls. You see what he cannot: an angel in the path with a drawn sword. You stop, and he beats you. You press against the wall to get him past it, and he beats you again. The third time you lie down under him, because there is nowhere left to go, and he takes his stick to you. Then you are given a voice for the only time in the story, and you do not curse him. You ask what you have ever done to him. You remind him that you have carried him all his life.
The year is 33 AD by their count, and a man who could have asked for a horse asks for you. A horse is what a king rides to war. He rides you into Jerusalem at walking pace with his feet nearly touching the ground, and the crowd lays its coats in the road for you to step on. You have never had anything laid down for you before. It lasts an afternoon.
The year is 79 AD. You are harnessed to a millstone in a bakery in Pompeii, blindfolded so that the circling does not turn your stomach, and you have walked the same eleven feet for six years. There is a second donkey on the next stone. You cannot see him. You know his breathing. They will dig the pair of you out 1,900 years later, still in the room.
The year is 1300. A man caught cheating his neighbours is sat on you backwards, holding your tail, and led through the town to be pelted. Some of it hits you. You are the instrument of his shame, and nobody in the square wonders what you did to deserve being that.
The year is 1883. An Italian writes a story in which boys who are lazy and stupid are turned, as punishment, into you. It sells in every language on earth, and children who have never met you learn what you are for.
The year is 1917. You are carrying water up a mountain in Italy under shellfire, on a path a mule refused and a lorry could not find. You are terrified, and you go because the man leading you is going. On the way down you carry what is left of somebody's son, and you do not stumble once.
The year is 1942. On the sands at Blackpool the town writes you a charter. It gives you set hours, a weight limit, a vet's inspection and every Friday off. In seven thousand years it is the first time anybody has put your rest in writing.
The year is 2026. Close to six million of you a year are killed for your skins, which are boiled down into a gelatine and sold as a beauty tonic. A woman in a village in Kenya wakes to find the yard empty and walks four hours for water with the can on her own back. You were stolen in the night for a face cream.
You bond to one friend for life, and when he is sold you stand at the fence and call for days. A horse that is frightened runs. You stand still and think. For seven thousand years that has been taken for stupidity by whoever was holding the stick.
You carried the tent, the tin, the grain, the wounded and the king. You asked Balaam one question and never got an answer.
You are still standing where they left the load.
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Jody Brown retweeted
The year is 8500 BC. You are an aurochs, six feet at the shoulder, and very little alive frightens you. Some people on the upper Euphrates have built a pen. About 80 of your mothers and sisters walk into it, and every cow that will ever live walks out. The bargain is simple. They keep the wolves off. You let them near the calf. It seems, on the day, like a fair exchange, and you keep your side of it for ten thousand years.
The year is 4000 BC. There is a beam across your neck and a pointed stick dragging behind. You lean into it because the man beside you is leaning too, and he talks to you the whole length of the furrow. He has given you a name. When you die his children will cry, and he will not eat that week. Every field on earth for the next six thousand years is opened this way, by the two of you.
The year is 2500 BC. In a temple in Sumer they carve you into the wall in white limestone: the priests milking you, the churn rocking, the butter poured into jars. You are washed every morning and counted every night. You are the most valuable thing the city owns and you are treated like it. Nobody carves the barley.
The year is 1200. You haul stone up the hill at Laon, a load at a time, for a cathedral you will never be let inside. When the towers are finished the masons carve sixteen of you, life-size, and set you at the very top, looking out over France. The bishop gets a slab in the floor. Somebody remembered who did the lifting.
The year is 1750. You come down off the Alp in September with flowers woven round your horns and a bell the size of a bucket, and the whole village is standing in the street in its best clothes to watch you pass. The finest milker walks at the front. She knows it.
The year is 1852. You are one of six in front of a wagon in Missouri, with a family's whole life behind you and two thousand miles ahead. The children ride on the tailboard, and by Nebraska the youngest has named all of you. When the grass fails you are fed last and you pull anyway. A country is walked into existence at two miles an hour, which is your pace.
The year is 1922. In Toronto a boy of 14 is dying of diabetes. He weighs 65 pounds and has days left. They inject him with an extract of your pancreas and he gets up and goes home. For the next sixty years every diabetic alive is alive because of you. Not one of them ever learns which of you it was.
The year is 1946. Britain has just weighed and measured its children for a war and seen what the ones without you looked like. A bottle of your milk goes on every school desk in the country, by Act of Parliament.
That is where you stand in 1946. You are named, garlanded, carved on cathedrals and written into law. Hold that thought.
The year is 2006. A report comes out of Rome with your shadow on the cover. It says that you, stood in a field, are doing more harm to the sky than every car, lorry, ship and aeroplane on earth. The sum counted everything about you from the fertiliser to the fridge, and only the exhaust pipe of the car. The authors admit as much. By then the sentence is on a billion screens.
The year is 2019. Thirty-seven experts publish the diet that will save the planet. Your share is a quarter of an ounce a day, one small burger a fortnight. A child comes home from school and asks her grandfather, who has got up at five to milk you for fifty years, why he is hurting the world.
The year is 2023. The Dutch government is paying farmers to be rid of you for good, on condition they never keep you again. A paper on a minister's desk in Dublin costs out the removal of 200,000 of you from Ireland, the island that counted its kings' wealth in your heads.
The year is 2026. Denmark has passed a law to tax your breath. There is a powder in your feed to stop you belching. A carton of oat water in the fridge says it is like your milk but made for humans. In a steel tank in California they are growing the thing that is meant to finish you off, and they feed it on corn.
You ploughed every field they ever sowed. You hauled their cathedrals and carried their children across a continent. You fed their orphans and kept their diabetics breathing. In return you asked for grass and somebody to watch for wolves.
You are still giving all of it. This morning, in the rain, on ground no plough could use, you gave it to people who have been taught to be ashamed of taking it.
You know none of this. You know the gate, the voice, and the hand on your flank at five in the morning.
He has read the report. He came anyway.
Do it.
I’ve always liked South Dakota. Maybe I’ll buy a cabin and some land up there and primary @LeaderJohnThune
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Jody Brown retweeted
In December 1960 the most famous writer in the world was checked into the Mayo Clinic under his own doctor's name, officially for his blood pressure, and given up to fifteen rounds of electric shock to the brain, and when he came out he could no longer write a sentence, and six months later he was dead.
Ernest Hemingway was 61. He had the Nobel Prize, the Pulitzer, the houses in Cuba and Idaho, and a head that had been battered more times than anyone could count. He had been blown up by a mortar in Italy in 1918, split his skull open in a London car crash in 1944, been thrown from a motorcycle by a shell in France the same year, and walked away from two plane crashes in Africa on consecutive days in 1954, the second leaving fluid leaking from his skull. He drank enormously. By 1960 he was paranoid, convinced the FBI was following him, unable to finish the Paris memoir he had nearly completed.
The Mayo psychiatrist, Howard Rome, treated it as depression and gave him the treatment of the day. Electroconvulsive therapy was the modern answer in 1960, quicker than analysis and tidier than the lobotomy it had replaced. Hemingway went home to Ketchum in January.
He was worse. Asked to write a single line for a presentation volume for the new President Kennedy, he sat at his desk for a week, could not do it, and wept that it just won't come anymore. In April his wife Mary found him in a state that terrified her, and he was flown back to Rochester for another course of shocks.
At the Mayo he told his friend A.E. Hotchner what the treatment had done. His memory was his capital, he said, the thing his whole trade was built on, and they had wiped it and put him out of business. "It was a brilliant cure but we lost the patient."
The clinic discharged him at the end of June as improved. On the morning of 2 July 1961, at home in Ketchum, he took his own life.
The psychiatrist who has studied his head injuries most closely, Andrew Farah, argues that the man in Rome's office was not simply depressed but living in a brain wrecked by a lifetime of concussions and drink, and that electricity was the last thing it needed. The FBI files released in the 1980s showed he really had been watched for years, which is a hard way to learn that a patient's paranoia was partly a report.
None of that got a hearing in 1960. The diagnosis was in the textbook, the treatment was in the textbook, and the patient's complaint that it was taking his mind was in the textbook too, listed as a side effect, expected and temporary.
They treated the most observant man in American letters for being wrong about what he was seeing, and the last thing he saw clearly was what they had done to him.
Jody Brown retweeted
I'm Japanese. Watching your midterm results roll in on Tuesday night broke my heart.
Republicans lost ground. A wave of Muslim and radical leftists just won seats across your country.
Since Tuesday, my American friends keep asking me the same question.
How did Japan stay Japan?
In Tokyo, trains leave on the exact second.
Leave your phone on a cafe table, and it is still waiting an hour later. Every year, people in Tokyo turn in over 4 billion yen in lost cash to the police.
We didn't keep this by accident.
When warships forced Japan open in 1853, our ancestors made a vow. Japanese spirit, Western technique.
Take the steel, the railways, and the factories. Leave the self-hatred at the dock.
After 1945, leftists tried to make us hate our history. We refused.
We never let guilt become a state religion the way your universities did. Nobody taught our kids that our ancestors were evil, or that the family was a crime.
Foreigners are still just 3 percent of Japan. When globalists called us closed, we didn't care. We went back to work.
A border isn't just a wall. It is a people who refuse to apologize for who they are.
But you need to hear the second half of our story before it is too late.
Japan kept its culture. Yet we are dying anyway.
In 1949, 2.7 million Japanese babies were born. Last year, it dropped below 700,000.
The left didn't do this to us. Weak conservatives did.
For thirty years, our politicians protected zombie corporations and old voters while crushing young working men. You cannot raise a family on a part-time contract.
When young Japanese stopped having kids, our rural towns simply went quiet and empty.
In America, empty spaces do not stay empty.
Your system priced young Americans out of homes, marriage, and children. Your schools taught them to be ashamed of their own heritage.
At the exact same time, you opened the gates.
You brought in millions from the Islamic world who do not share your values. They have big families, and they have zero intention of assimilating.
They do not apologize for their religion or their culture. They are fiercely proud of it. And they vote as a tribe.
Once that happens, elections stop being about tax cuts.
Elections become a headcount.
A proud culture that has children will always outvote and replace an aging culture that hates itself.
Look at Tuesday night's map. That isn't just a bad midterm cycle. That is your country slipping away in real time.
Stop letting spineless politicians sell out your young people for cheap foreign labor and corporate donors.
You don't save a nation just by praising the past.
You save it by locking the gates, fighting for your own young families, and having children to hand your country to.
Jody Brown retweeted
From another friend:
JFK'S Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, was in France in the early 60's when DeGaulle decided to pull out of NATO. DeGaulle said he wanted all US military out of France as soon as possible. Rusk responded, "Does that include those who are buried here?"
DeGaulle did not respond. You could have heard a pin drop.
When in England, at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of 'empire building' by George Bush. He answered by saying, "Over the years, the United States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those who did not return."
You could have heard a pin drop.
There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American. During a break, one of the French engineers came back into the room saying, "Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What does he intend to do, bomb them?" A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: "Our carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred people; they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical power to shore facilities; they have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day, they can produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day, and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships. How many does France have?"
You could have heard a pin drop.
A U.S. Navy admiral was attending a naval conference that included admirals from the U.S., English, Canadian, Australian, and French navies at a cocktail reception. He found himself standing with a large group of officers that included personnel from most of those countries. Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks when a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then asked, "Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather than speaking French?" Without hesitating, the American admiral replied, "Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians, Aussies, and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German."
You could have heard a pin drop.
AND THIS STORY FITS RIGHT IN WITH THE ABOVE...
Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane. At French customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on. "You have been to France before, monsieur?" the customs officer asked sarcastically. Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously. "Then you should know enough to have your passport ready." The American said, "The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it." "Impossible. Americans always have to show their passports on arrival in France!" The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, ''Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen to show a passport to."
You could have heard a pin drop.
I am proud to be an American, and proud of this God given heritage!
Jody Brown retweeted
Buzz's Bedtime Stories: “Clinton White House Staffers Behaving Badly”
Tonight’s “Buzz’s Bedtime Story” is an embarrassing tale, not for me personally but for us as Americans. Prepare to be outraged.
In the summer of 1997, I accompanied Bill Clinton on a European trip. One of our several stops was Denmark and meetings with the Danish Queen Margrethe II.
We landed on Air Force One at the airport in Copenhagen and boarded Marine One for a nighttime tour of the coast en route to Kronborg Castle (for Shakespeare, the place he used as his “Hamlet’s home.”
It was a beautiful summer night, and the castle was lit spectacularly. Marine One circled at about 500 feet. We did a couple of circuits around the castle while Bill and Hillary, the doctor, Secret Service agents, and I gazed out Marine One’s windows. It was breathtaking.
After our sightseeing tour was complete, we flew directly to the Queen’s summer refuge, the Marselisborg Palace. We landed at around midnight on the castle grounds and were welcomed with open arms by the Queen and her staff.
A procession of Danish military guards accompanied us to the castle. It is beautiful and historic, and yet another incredible experience seeing the world. I'd been to Denmark before as an Air Force pilot, but not like this!
I made sure POTUS was down for the evening, said goodnight to the senior staff, and went to bed.
The Danes put me up in the “Scottish Military suite.” It was stunning. As an Air Force guy who was normally used to substandard hotels and the occasional tent, I was floored. It was a beautiful room that they’d fully stocked with a spread of meats, cheeses, breads, fruit, and a full bar. I couldn’t drink, but the options were incredible.
All served, of course, with fine china and crystal. I honestly have no clue what the association was with the Danish and the Scottish military, but I wasn’t asking any questions!
I called my wife to say goodnight, and she couldn’t believe I was calling from a Danish castle. She told me to never complain again. 🤣
The next morning, the Queen had a breakfast spread for the Clintons and staff. Again, everything was first class. Nothing was spared. A Danish breakfast served on fine china and crystal, served by uniformed butlers. Again, very impressive.
As we headed to the motorcade to leave for an event and the long flight home, I was pulled aside by the Danish military aide. We’d become fairly close during our short stay. “Buzz, we have a problem,” he said. “Your staff stole liquor, china, and crystal from their rooms. And took other things as well.”
I was stunned and chagrined. Talk about feeling like the ugly American. I apologized profusely and told him I’d handle it. I talked with the White House Chief of Staff Erskine Bowles, and told him what had happened.
I liked Erskine. He was previously enlisted in the Coast Guard, and we’d share war stories from time to time. Erskine just shrugged his shoulders.
They didn’t work for me; they worked for him. Bill.
Ultimately, there would be no apology. Nobody would be held accountable. Nobody called on the carpet. No repayment to Denmark.
Just another day in the Clinton White House.
Jody Brown retweeted
The woman who taught America to cook was 6ft 2, used butter by the pound on public television for 40 years, and outlived most of the people who told her to stop.
Julia Child was born in California in 1912. She could not cook until she was 36. Then her husband was posted to Paris, she ate a sole fried in butter in Rouen, and that was that.
If you were in America in the 1960s, you remember her. Black and white, a voice like a trombone, dropping things and carrying on. She put a whole chicken on the board, rubbed it with butter, and told you to do the same. Cream went into the sauce. The fat stayed on the roast.
Then the 1980s arrived and the country was ordered onto margarine, skimmed milk and chicken breast with the skin off. Cookery writers fell into line overnight. Julia would not. She said the fear of food was doing more harm than the food. She carried on with the butter, in front of the cameras, while the nutritionists wrote to the network.
She was mocked for it as a relic.
She worked into her 80s, lived on her own, and died in 2004, 2 days short of her 92nd birthday.
The people who built the low fat pyramid have been quietly taking it apart ever since. This January the American government finally turned it upside down.
She did not live to see herself proved right. She just went on cooking as if it had never been in doubt.
Jody Brown retweeted
108 years ago today, a red-headed farmer from Pall Mall, Tennessee did something in the Argonne Forest that still doesn't seem real.
Alvin York grew up dirt poor, a hard drinker and brawler, until a religious conversion in his twenties changed his whole life. When the draft notice came in 1917, he asked to be exempted as a conscientious objector. His church opposed war and so did he. The Army said no.
His battalion commander spent hours going through the Bible with him, trying to convince him that a man could fight and still be right with God. York went home on leave, prayed on it for two days on a mountainside, and came back ready.
On the morning of October 8, 1918, York was one of 17 men sent to slip behind German lines and knock out machine guns near Chatel-Chehery, France. They surprised a group of Germans and captured them. Then the machine guns on the ridge above opened up. Six Americans were killed instantly and three more went down wounded, including the sergeant in charge.
That left Cpl. York in command of seven men, most of them pinned flat guarding prisoners.
So York went to work. Every time a German gunner raised his head to fire, York shot him. He'd been shooting turkeys in the Tennessee hills since he was a kid and he was not missing at that range. When six Germans charged him with bayonets, he drew his pistol and dropped all six, starting with the last man and working forward, so the ones in front wouldn't realize what was happening.
A German officer, Lt. Paul Vollmer, emptied his pistol at York and missed every shot. Watching his men fall one after another, Vollmer finally called out in English and offered to surrender the whole position if York would stop shooting.
York agreed. Then he used Vollmer to order other German positions to give up as they marched back through the woods.
By the time he reached American lines, York had killed 25 men and was herding 132 prisoners in front of him with a handful of survivors.
When a general told him he'd heard York captured the whole German army, York said "No sir. I got only 132."
He was promoted to sergeant and received the Medal of Honor. New York threw him a ticker tape parade. Companies offered him a fortune to endorse their products and he turned almost all of it down. He went home to Tennessee, married his sweetheart, and spent years raising money to build a school for kids in the mountains who had no shot at an education.
When Hollywood finally made his story in 1941, he agreed partly to fund a Bible school. Gary Cooper won the Oscar for playing him.
The man who didn't want to go to war became the most famous American soldier of it.
Jody Brown retweeted
The Greatest Story Never Told - Trump’s economy has produced all-time record household income and an all-time record-low poverty rate. Now the Atlanta Fed predicts 5 percent GDP growth. You’d think somebody would notice.
According to the latest from the Census Bureau, the poverty rate just hit its lowest level in U.S. history.
Read that again.
That’s not all. America just also hit its highest real median household income in history. The Atlanta Fed estimates that the economy is growing at an incredible 5 percent annual rate. That’s after years of Democrats promising us that 1.6 percent was “the new normal.” It’s also after barely more than a year and a half of Trump back in office.
It gets even better. Child poverty fell to just 13.4 percent, the lowest official rate ever recorded. Hispanic poverty fell to a record low 13.9 percent. Real weekly earnings for blue-collar manufacturing workers are up 4.1 percent since January 2025; construction workers’ earnings are up an even higher 5 percent.
It’s kind of a miracle. And it’s gathering steam.
Yet to hear the Enemedia — and some conservatives — talk, the exact opposite is true. To them it’s all “muh gas prices.” Which is funny since the average gas price under Joe Biden was higher than the average during Trump’s second term, even with the war.
Something is seriously amiss.
If incomes are rising faster than prices, it isn’t affordability. It certainly isn’t household wealth. The income figure measures the household in the middle. Elon Musk getting richer can’t drag it upward the way he could an average. And the $2,250 gain in 2025 alone is what remains after adjusting for higher prices.
People who spent years watching inflation eat their raises are finally getting ahead. Dismissing that isn’t showing concern for working families: it’s just myopic. And electing the people who gave you all that inflation — and promised to “skyrocket” energy prices to force everyone into an EV — isn’t even sane.
That GDP number is especially striking. Remember that much ballyhooed 1.5 percent second-quarter headline that had the pundits celebrating Trump’s “failure?” I told you then: they were looking at the wrong number. What they were seeing wasn’t a slowdown in growth but a capex boom: the private economy spending its output to buy the equipment that would create an industrial supercycle.
It’s happening.
The ever-brilliant Larry Kudlow calls the burgeoning boom “the greatest story never told.” Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent says we’ve entered the “acceleration phase,” as the tax changes and deregulation start to produce the results they were literally designed to produce.
I’ve been explaining that process since early 2025. Yet conservatives continue to buy the left’s lies.
It’s time to stop.
Working Families Are Getting Ahead
Starting with Bill Clinton, America’s ruling class told us manufacturing was gone forever. China would build; we would consume. Russia and the Middle East would supply the energy. Europe would regulate. America would borrow, import, and manage its “inevitable” decline and displacement by more dynamic powers.
Trump rejected every part of that nonsense.
The workers now getting those bigger paychecks have every reason to be glad he did. Their employers aren’t just buying equipment and building new factories: they're bidding up the price of the people who know how to use them. They’re training even more.
Nor is the capex boom ending anytime soon. Trump went out and recruited an incredible $18 trillion of investment into the United States in his first months in office. Equipment shipments have risen at an 18.9 percent annual rate in just the latest three months. And just yesterday, the President announced the largest steel plant in American history, a $15 billion titan set to begin construction in Iowa.
The President also negotiated trade deals that pried open foreign markets to U.S. manufacturers; he also exempted foreign companies from tariffs if they begin building plants here. And as a condition of those trade deals — now finalized with countries representing 67 percent of global GDP — he forced countless countries accustomed to buying their energy from Russia and the Persian Gulf to buy it from the Gulf of America instead.
The construction workers are building the plants and refineries. The roughnecks are drilling the wells. There will be years of work completing them, and much, much more work running them thereafter.
How did that happen? Trump changed the tax code, and thus the incentives for investment. His One Big Beautiful Bill made immediate business expensing permanent for equipment, and added full expensing for qualifying American production facilities. Combined with unprecedented deregulation plus the trade deals, suddenly there’s no better place to build a factory than right here.
Meanwhile, no taxes on tips, no taxes on overtime, and no taxes on Social Security (and what sort of obscenity is taxing Social Security anyway?!) help the bottom rung even more than the top.
“Those jobs are never coming back” was a lie, calculated to cover for (intentional) Democrat failures.
There was a time when an American family could live on one breadwinner’s blue-collar wages. That day is coming back, fast. An economy “growing” at Obama’s stultifying 1.6 percent takes nearly half a century to double. Young people can’t find jobs because they’re already taken: they’re locked out of their futures for half their lifetimes, and locked into dependency on the socialists. That is, after all, the goal.
But an economy growing at 5 percent doubles in size in just 14 years. That translates into so much hiring so fast that labor shortages have to be cured by ever-higher wages. It also translates into so much tax revenue, even at lower rates, that you don’t just reduce the deficit: you start paying off the debt, as we did for four straight years before 9/11.
Folks, this ain’t rocket science. This is the difference between Jimmy Carter’s economy and Ronald Reagan’s. It’s not like we haven’t seen this play before.
Bessent calls it “parallel prosperity.” Wall Street and Main Street can both do well at once. A profitable company is sustainable: it expands, hires people, trains them, and pays them more. An unprofitable company does none of those things. Yet the “Democratic Socialist” treats the profits that make prosperity possible as an offense, one that must be crushed in the name of “social justice.”
That’s the choice on November’s ballot.
More Production, Less Inflation
Nowhere is that point more obvious than deregulation, anathema to the Democrats. Trump has eliminated 129 regulations for every new one: there’s nothing like it in history. Which party do you think issued most of those in the first place? Not ours.
A company wants to build; it has customers waiting; it can raise the money. But then it spends years waiting for government to let it proceed. Supposedly the delay protects us. But from what is it protecting us exactly? More goods? Better jobs? The possibility that somebody might make a profit?
In the midst of the Depression, the Empire State Building was completed in just 13 months. Good luck getting a permit in even twice that time in today’s New York.
A process that makes it prohibitively expensive to produce in America sends that production somewhere else. It doesn’t abolish the need for the product. Americans still buy it, but workers in some other country collect the paychecks.
Democrats piled on regulations — and taxes — year after year, amounting to a multi-trillion-dollar burden on the U.S. economy and those pathetic “growth” rates that steal young people’s futures. Trump is rolling them back.
Leftwing economists have long fretted (as they have about global warming, and global cooling, and global overpopulation, and the Ozone hole, and “Peak Oil”, and “two weeks to flatten the curve”) that all this new production will cause inflation. But this Phillips Curve nonsense was discredited 50 years ago: the truth is exactly the opposite.
Production isn’t the enemy of price stability: it’s the means by which supply catches demand. The answer to a shortage of something Americans need is to make more of it. And if supply is plentiful, prices fall.
Likewise, the “expert” class assured us that we needed to lower our expectations, that a “mature economy” can only grow at a lower rate: all the dynamic gains must come from developing economies like China’s. Yet what the heck is a mature economy? If you’d asked anyone in 1900, they’d have said they had one, just before nearly everything we have was invented.
We are entering another such period, with AI and countless other new technologies promising productivity gains beyond anything we’ve ever seen. A worker with better tools can produce much more in the same hour, earning a higher wage without increasing the labor cost of each item he produces.
And like Reagan before him, President Trump has laid a foundation that sets America up to dominate the next half century.
Go Tell Our Story: The Election Is On You
So why aren’t Republicans making this case every day? And no, I don’t mean “the Republicans” in Washington. Trump’s doing more than any President before him. Congress, however flawed, has enacted much of his legislation. The leaders aren’t the problem.
We are.
Historically, the President’s party — whichever President’s party — loses the midterms. But they don’t have to. Midterms are low-turnout elections, which means “every little thing we do is magic.” No need to appeal to the middle, no need to persuade the socialists. Just talk to your own friends and physically take them to the polls.
To keep the majority, all we need is 1,000 extra votes in 20 House races — just four extra votes per precinct. Want to make a difference? You can. But that also means that if you don’t, you’re responsible.
Republicans need to stop acting like entitled children, and start taking responsibility for their neighbors and their futures. It’s time to tell our story, over and over again.
Record real household income and record-low poverty are a pretty great story to tell. So is the lowest murder rate in 126 years, a 99.9 percent reduction in illegal border crossings, or a thousand other things. Five percent GDP growth is exactly the boom Trump promised. And the equipment arriving at new American factories gives us every reason to expect more.
This is nothing else but the greatest story never told.
So go and tell it.
Jody Brown retweeted
SOME OF YOU NEED TO HEAR THIS:
President Trump is the President. He is not your personal financial manager.
It's not President Trump's fault that you:
• Bought a $70K truck on an 84-month loan you couldn't afford.
• Carry $15K in credit-card debt buying wants instead of needs.
• DoorDash dinner while complaining groceries are expensive.
• Upgrade your $1,200 phone every two years.
• Pay for 7 subscriptions you barely use.
• Took a mortgage at the absolute limit the bank would approve.
• Spend thousands every year on alcohol, vaping, gambling or other habits.
• Take vacations on credit and pay for them for the next 18 months.
• Never built an emergency fund when times were good.
• Increased your lifestyle every time your income increased instead of building assets.
Yes, housing is expensive. Groceries are expensive. Insurance is expensive. Healthcare is expensive.
Government policy matters.
But PERSONAL DECISIONS matter too.
No President can sign an Executive Order fixing 20 years of your financial habits.
Sometimes Washington needs accountability.
Sometimes the person in the mirror does too.