Mike McCready

Author: Mike McCready

  • We Don’t Know Who Shot Charlie Kirk, So Let’s Be Wary of What We Say

    We Don’t Know Who Shot Charlie Kirk, So Let’s Be Wary of What We Say

    We don’t know who shot Charlie Kirk. We don’t know why. That hasn’t stopped social media from turning into a rumor carnival, with some voices — maybe bots, maybe just trolls — openly calling for civil war. And guess who loves that? Russia and China. They don’t have to fire a shot if they can convince Americans to do the dirty work themselves.

    The playbook is simple: flood the zone with fake suspects, doctored headlines, and AI-generated nonsense. Stoke fear, anger, and mistrust until we’re too busy hating each other to notice who’s lighting the match. Chaos is cheaper than tanks, and it travels faster on Wi-Fi.

    And sure, it’s not impossible that a foreign adversary had a hand in this. Iran has already been caught plotting assassinations on U.S. soil — from John Bolton to Donald Trump himself. Could Kirk have been a softer target? Maybe. But notice that word: maybe. Even saying it out loud is speculation, and speculation without evidence is just free labor for the disinformation machine.

    So here’s the ask: don’t do their work for them. Don’t share every outrage bait headline that confirms your darkest suspicions. Don’t treat speculation as gospel. If you really want to serve your country in this moment, the most patriotic thing you can do is… wait.

    Because foreign adversaries don’t need us to lose a war. They just need us to lose our heads.

  • What Charlie Kirk’s Assassination Means for America

    What Charlie Kirk’s Assassination Means for America

    (And why it should terrify us—not along party lines, but as citizens.)

    Charlie Kirk, was assassinated today at Utah Valley University. This comes just weeks after a shocking double assassination in Minnesota—two state legislators gunned down in what’s now being investigated as a politically motivated attack. You’d be forgiven for losing track. That’s how fast the temperature is rising.

    Before anything else, I want to express my deepest condolences to Charlie Kirk’s family, friends, and supporters. No matter where you stand politically, no one deserves this. And no country should normalize it.

    But what this isn’t—what this cannot ever be—is just another political tragedy we scroll past. This is unfiltered desperation and failure seeping into our public life.

    We’ve had assassination attempts before—on Trump, on members of Congress—but killing a political influencer in broad daylight on a campus? That’s crossing yet another line.

    We need to stop pretending that violence is a random accident or “outlier.” Hatred isn’t burbling under the surface—it’s flooding the streets. Killings like this don’t just raise eyebrows; they expose how far tribalism has eroded civility.

    Meanwhile, the very infrastructure meant to prevent this—our domestic terror intelligence—is being dismantled. The FBI has slashed staffing in its Domestic Terrorism Operations Section and shuttered its tracking database on hate crimes and school shootings. Prevention is now reactive.

    You feel the threat more clearly each day. You wonder: if someone like Charlie Kirk can be killed in public view, are you next? Are we?

    This wouldn’t be happening if people believed the system still worked. But they don’t. Polls show falling trust in elections, in the press, even in whether your vote matters. Add in constant messaging from the top that institutions are rigged—or worse, that they’re enemies.

    When people believe their voice can’t be heard they begin to feel violence is the message.

    I’ve seen people openly whisper and tweet about civil war. That used to sound unhinged. Now it sounds like something that could happen. And that’s the most dangerous whisper echoing across this country.

    So Where Do We Go from Here?

    If you want to say this is just “rhetoric,” know this: it is already worse than rhetoric. It’s violence.

    If you want to say the FBI or justice system can handle this alone, know this: they’re being de-funded and starved of resources.

    If you want to say elections still matter, ask yourself: what message are you sending when you don’t defend them?

    We need to demand more than prayers. We have to demand two simple things:

    1. Rebuild counterterrorism infrastructure. Money. Personnel. Tools. No more willful ignorance. Don’t allow this to be the beginning of events that give a certain someone the excuse he’s seeking to declare martial law.

    2. Restore faith in institutions. Hold elected officials accountable for their rhetoric. Defend objective fact. Support independent media.

    Because right now, we’re living in what feels like a slow-motion breakdown—not of ideas, but of the very architecture that held democracy together. And when that collapses, violence becomes communication.

    So, yeah: Civil war talk? It’s not crazy anymore. It’s proof that our political ecosystem is cracked open.

    And if that isn’t a moment when decent people across all divides come together—voting, organizing, standing in unified outrage—then what exactly were we saving democracy for?

  • Gen X: We Were Supposed to Be Too Sharp for This Sh*t

    Gen X: We Were Supposed to Be Too Sharp for This Sh*t

    There’s a very specific kind of shame in watching a country fall apart and realizing your generation was supposed to stop it.

    We were the skeptical kids. The “don’t fall for it” crowd. We grew up with irony, sarcasm, and a healthy distrust of institutions. We made fun of cults. We rolled our eyes at televangelists. We knew better.

    At least, we thought we did.

    We were the last analog generation—and the first digital one. We knew how to rewind a cassette and reboot a modem. We brought the internet into being, and with it, the promise of better information, smarter systems, and a more connected world.

    We gave the world Google, Amazon, YouTube.

    We gave it Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, the Wu-Tang Clan.

    We built the platforms. Designed the interfaces.

    We were supposed to be the bridge between what was and what could be.

    But now?

    We’re watching the whole thing buckle—and pretending we’re just observers.

    We post memes about how great it was to grow up drinking from hoses, while an entire generation can’t afford rent, let alone a mortgage.

    We forward videos about “the good old days” while Gen Z drowns in debt, climate fear, and medical bills for anxiety disorders they inherited from watching us lose the plot.

    And who’s in charge now?

    Trump. Again.

    President 2.0.

    This time with fewer guardrails, more power, and even less shame.

    And standing right behind him, RFK Jr.—now Secretary of Health—gutting the CDC, firing career scientists, and rebuilding America’s public health policy around gut feelings and internet comment sections.

    We used to point at the USSR and say, “Those poor people don’t get real news—just government propaganda.”

    Now we’ve got half the country cheering for our own state-run media, rage-bait headlines, and “alternative facts,” while willingly ignoring everything they know is true.

    We’re not living in 1984. We’re living in something dumber.

    A self-inflicted propaganda state where people know it’s bullshit—and eat it up anyway.

    And Gen X?

    We were supposed to be immune to this.

    Too jaded. Too sharp. Too allergic to fascism.

    We were supposed to be the firewall.

    But we ghosted.

    No Gen X president because the boomers.

    No major Gen X political movement.

    No defining generational stand.

    We just kept scrolling.

    Kept reposting.

    Kept telling ourselves we were “above it.”

    But the truth is—we’re blowing it.

    We were there when the rot was setting in.

    And we didn’t stop it.

    We let the dumbest grifter of our lifetime sell America a cheap hat and a fake war on reality.

    We watched as housing became a luxury, healthcare became a subscription plan, and truth became a punchline.

    We let RFK Jr. cosplay as a truth-teller while he dismantled actual science.

    And now, with AI about to automate our jobs, scrape our souls, and deepfake us into oblivion, we’re busy sharing memes about the 80s while billionaires plug themselves into immortality servers.

    We were supposed to be the generation that didn’t fall for bs.

    Instead, we’re managing the collapse like theme park actors refusing to break character while the rollercoaster catches fire.

    And yeah, I’m a bit crispy about all of this.

    Not just at Trump. Not just at RFK Jr.

    But at us.

    We were supposed to be too sharp for this sh*t.

    We were supposed to know better.

    We were supposed to do better.

    And if we don’t wake up—right now—history won’t even remember our failure.

    It’ll be too busy documenting the fallout.

    So come on Gen X. It’s time!

  • Trump Fired the Jobs Report Lady. Because the Jobs Report Was Bad.

    Trump Fired the Jobs Report Lady. Because the Jobs Report Was Bad.

    Well, that didn’t take long.

    The July jobs report came in soft—only seventy-three thousand jobs added—and within hours, Donald Trump did what any authoritarian cosplay enthusiast does when reality offends him: he fired the person who reported it.

    Erika McEntarfer, the now-former Commissioner of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, was escorted out because she made the grave mistake of… doing her job. She didn’t cook the numbers, she didn’t fudge the data, and she didn’t go rogue. She simply released the same kind of carefully collected employment figures the BLS has been publishing, without scandal, for over a hundred years.

    But this time, the report was politically inconvenient. And in Trump World, truth isn’t just optional—it’s punishable.

    Let’s pause for a second to explain what the BLS actually is. It’s not a partisan think tank. It’s not the communications arm of the DNC. It’s a statistical agency, filled with career economists and data nerds who live for things like seasonal adjustments and response rates. The BLS is where accuracy goes to get its shoes dirty.

    And yes, they revise the numbers—they always have. The initial jobs report is based on partial survey responses. As more data trickles in—especially from late-reporting firms and federal agencies—the numbers get updated. This happens every month. It’s not fraud. It’s not bias. It’s just… math. But try explaining “statistical methodology” to a guy who thinks windmills cause cancer.

    Here’s the real danger: this isn’t just about one firing. It’s about trust. The kind of trust that global markets, rating agencies, and foreign debt holders depend on when they decide whether to keep parking trillions in U.S. Treasuries. They’re not doing that out of charity. They’re doing it because they believe U.S. institutions are solid. Apolitical. Professional. Uncorrupted by whoever happens to be yelling on television that day.

    But if we start firing data officials every time a chart slopes the wrong way, we’re not a stable country anymore. We’re a banana republic in a red baseball cap.

    The BLS has survived wars, recessions, financial crises, and even past Republican administrations that knew better than to meddle with the scorekeeper. But now? Now we’re here—treating unemployment figures like fake news and gutting statistical integrity because the numbers don’t flatter the guy in the gold elevator.

    What happens next? Do we rehire her if next month’s numbers are better? Do we demand she “find” more jobs next time? Do we just stop counting altogether and replace the report with vibes?

    This isn’t funny. But I’m laughing anyway, because that’s what you do when the country starts playing Russian roulette with its credibility.

    We don’t have to agree on the right economic policy. But we have to agree that facts are still allowed to exist.

    Because if we lose that, it’s not just the jobs report that gets revised downward. It’s our future.

  • The long goodbye just hit fast-forward

    The long goodbye just hit fast-forward

    For years, the ’70s and ’80s have been quietly slipping out the side door—one icon at a time, one memory faded into static. But this week felt different. Like the universe suddenly couldn’t wait any longer to clear a bit more of the stage.

    We didn’t just lose famous names—we lost pieces of the soundtrack, the laugh track, the strange and beautiful chaos that raised us.

  • From Beacon to Bully: America’s New Foreign Policy

    From Beacon to Bully: America’s New Foreign Policy

    There was a time when American leadership meant something more than military might or economic muscle. It meant moral weight. A compass. At our best, we didn’t just throw our power around—we tried to stand for something.

    That version of America—the one that championed democracy, human rights, and the rule of law—is fading fast. What’s replacing it is colder. Meaner. And much more transactional.

    We used to build alliances. Now we issue ultimatums.
    We used to welcome the tired, the poor, the huddled masses. Now we fast-track visas for white South Africans and detain brown migrants in outsourced Central American prisons.
    We once told autocrats they couldn’t jail dissidents without consequences. Now we tell them we admire their strength—and ask for cheaper oil.

    And when the world asks what happened, the answer is simple: America stopped leading with its values. We started leading with threats. With muscle. With grievance.

    We became the kind of country that guts its diplomatic corps in the middle of a global crisis. That fires 1,300 career foreign service professionals in a single week, like they’re office temps, not the architects of American influence abroad.

    And the man carrying out that purge? Marco Rubio.

    Yes, that Marco Rubio. The same one who once gave eloquent speeches about human dignity and moral clarity. The son of Cuban immigrants who defended foreign aid, democracy promotion, and immigration reform. The rising star who called Donald Trump a “con artist” for demonizing the very people Rubio claimed to represent.

    Today, that man is dismantling the very institutions he once praised. He’s torched USAID, shuttered human rights programs, defunded diplomatic broadcasting, pulled the U.S. out of UNESCO, and labeled peaceful protesters “lunatics.” He’s implemented social media surveillance for visa applicants, fast-tracked refugee status for the far-right’s pet narratives, and signed deals with authoritarian regimes to incarcerate migrants off-site.

    In short, he’s become a blunt instrument for Trump’s foreign policy—one that replaces values with vengeance, and diplomacy with dominance.

    It’s not that America’s interests have changed. It’s that we’ve stopped pretending they’re tied to our ideals. Human rights only matter when they serve us. Democracy is optional. And if you’re a dictator with oil or leverage, congratulations—you’re invited to the table.

    Rubio didn’t start this trend. But he’s riding it hard. Because somewhere along the line, ambition replaced principle. The man who once wept talking about immigrant families now uses the word “invasion.” The man who warned against tyrants now enables them. The boyish idealist who once seemed like the future of a better GOP now exists to prove it never really existed.

    And look—he’s not alone. Plenty of politicians lose themselves chasing power. But Rubio’s transformation is more than personal. It’s symbolic.

    Because if even he couldn’t hold the line—if even someone who spoke so fluently about America’s promise could be seduced into bulldozing it—then we’re not just dealing with a few bad actors.

    We’re dealing with a culture shift.

    We’ve stopped asking, “What’s right?” and started asking, “What can we get away with?”

    We’ve stopped inspiring the world—and started threatening it.

    And unless we course-correct soon, the country that once lit the way for others may find itself not just feared—but forgotten.

  • The Tulsi Diversion: A Case Study in Gullibility

    The Tulsi Diversion: A Case Study in Gullibility

    Let’s talk about how weak-minded you have to be to fall for Tulsi Gabbard’s latest stunt—a breathless declaration that the entire Russia investigation was a “hoax,” complete with a memo she declassified like it’s the Rosetta Stone of victimhood.

    Except it’s not. It’s theater.

    And for anyone paying attention over the last eight years, it’s also nonsense.

    Let’s do what Tulsi and her followers refuse to do: look at the actual facts.

    The Mueller Report—the result of a two-year investigation led by a lifelong Republican, by the way—found that:

    • Russia interfered “in sweeping and systematic fashion” in the 2016 election.
    • The Russian government’s goal was to help Trump and hurt Clinton.
    • The Trump campaign welcomed the interference and, in multiple cases, had contact with Russian operatives.
    • Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign chairman, handed over internal polling data to Konstantin Kilimnik, a man the FBI identified as having ties to Russian intelligence.
    • Trump himself tried to obstruct the investigation on multiple occasions—ten, to be exact. Mueller didn’t charge him only because a sitting president couldn’t be indicted under DOJ guidelines.

    Then came the Senate Intelligence Committee report—and let’s be clear here: this wasn’t the Democrats’ spin.

    It was a bipartisan investigation led by Republican Senator Richard Burr. It ran for over three years, produced more than 1,000 pages of findings, and concluded—unanimously—that Russia did, in fact, interfere in the 2016 election and that Trump associates posed counterintelligence threats.

    You don’t have to love Hillary Clinton. You don’t have to love the FBI. But you do have to completely ignore all evidence—and I mean every shred of documented reality—to believe Tulsi Gabbard’s narrative.

    She’s not uncovering some hidden truth. She’s throwing a smoke bomb into the room so no one notices the fire.

    It’s no coincidence this memo dropped just as Trump faces backlash for allegedly burying the Epstein files. When in doubt, blame Obama. Distract. Project. Repeat.

    Tulsi isn’t exposing a crime. She’s providing cover for one.

    So if you find yourself nodding along with this latest fever dream, maybe ask yourself: how many lies have you been fed—and how many more are you willing to swallow just to keep your illusions intact?

    Because this isn’t about justice. It’s about erasure. It’s about rewriting history to protect a man who’s never faced accountability in his life.

    And Tulsi Gabbard is just the latest volunteer in the cleanup crew.

  • After Late-Stage Capitalism: Where Do We Go From Here?

    After Late-Stage Capitalism: Where Do We Go From Here?

    You don’t need a PhD in economics to feel that something’s off.

    Groceries cost more, jobs feel more fragile, housing looks like a luxury product, and half the tech CEOs sound like they’re pitching a video game plot instead of running real-world companies. Meanwhile, billionaires are racing each other to space while your rent races you into a corner.

    This is what people mean when they talk about late-stage capitalism. It’s not an end date on a calendar. It’s a mood. A vibe. A phase in the life cycle of an economic system that feels increasingly disconnected from reality.

    So What Is Late-Stage Capitalism, Really?

    It’s the point in a system’s evolution where:

    • Markets are no longer free, just engineered
    • Wages stagnate while productivity and profits soar
    • Basic needs become “subscription services”
    • Work is precarious, but shareholders are thrilled
    • Governments serve markets instead of citizens
    • Every crisis gets monetized—healthcare, climate, war, education

    It’s Uber drivers with master’s degrees. Teachers driving DoorDash. People crowdfunding insulin while the stock market hits record highs. It’s burnout, hustle, and “grindset” culture masquerading as freedom. It’s a society that treats rest like laziness and wealth like morality.

    In short: it’s the moment when the system stops pretending it’s for everyone.

    So What Comes Next?

    That’s the question. And we’re all going to have to answer it—whether we want to or not. Because systems don’t last forever. They evolve. They collapse. They mutate. Or, sometimes, they’re dragged kicking and screaming into something new.

    Here are five directions we might be headed:

    1. State Capitalism

    Same market, new driver.

    In this version, governments take a more active role—not to help you, but to strategically control markets. Think China’s model: heavy surveillance, controlled growth, and national champions in tech and energy. Markets are tools, not ideals.

    Upside: Infrastructure might actually get built.
    Downside: Dissent gets a lot more expensive.

    2. Technocratic Feudalism

    You’ll own nothing—and still pay monthly fees.

    Imagine a future where democracy erodes, but Amazon has great customer service. Where mega-corporations are the de facto governments, and your social credit score determines what you can access.

    Think: smart homes, dumb laws, and “Terms of Service” that rule your life.

    Upside: Efficiency. Innovation. Personalized everything.
    Downside: No exit button. No real power.

    3. Eco-Social Capitalism

    Capitalism with a conscience—and a carbon cap.

    This is the idealists’ version: a restructured economy that prioritizes sustainability, equity, and long-term thinking. Maybe we get universal basic income. Maybe we regulate tech. Maybe we stop treating the planet like an ATM.

    Upside: Human dignity. Ecological survival.
    Downside: Short-term disruption. Lots of angry billionaires.

    4. Decentralized Utopia

    Crypto, co-ops, and code-based governance.

    This one’s for the web3 dreamers. Power moves from central institutions to decentralized networks. DAOs replace corporations. You vote with tokens, earn through participation, and store your wealth outside the banks.

    Upside: Radical autonomy and transparency.
    Downside: Scams, fragmentation, and the occasional rug pull.

    5. Collapse or Authoritarianism

    When the lights flicker and the flags get darker.

    Not the feel-good option, but one we can’t ignore. If inequality keeps widening, climate shocks intensify, and trust erodes further, we could see the rise of hard borders, strongmen, and failing institutions.

    Upside: None.
    Downside: All of them.

    What Do You Want to Come Next?

    This isn’t just an academic exercise. What comes after late-stage capitalism depends on us. On the stories we tell, the systems we build, and the power we choose to either accept or reject.

    You don’t have to be a policy wonk to start imagining alternatives. You just have to look at the world around you and ask: Is this working? And if it’s not, what would?

    Because the next chapter is being written right now—by corporations, by governments, by you, and by me. And the question isn’t just what comes next.

    It’s who gets to decide.

  • The Dog That Caught the Car

    The Dog That Caught the Car

    You know the stories.

    The Russia hoax.
    The 2020 election fraud.
    The Biden “autopen scandal.”
    The Epstein deep-state ring.
    COVID conspiracies.
    The Benghazi “cover-up.”
    The laptop. The raid. The pedophile cabal.
    The “real criminals” behind Jan 6.

    MAGA world has been screaming about these things for years.
    Outrage. Investigations. Meme-laced sermons about how the deep state would all be brought to justice once the right people were in charge.

    Well… they’re in charge now.

    Trump is back in power.
    The DOJ is his.
    Kash Patel is making moves.
    Dan Bongino is on the inside.
    Congress is red. The courts are rigged. The machine is theirs.

    So—serious question—where are the arrests?

    We were told for years that these weren’t just political differences—they were crimes.
    High crimes. Historic crimes. Crimes against the nation, the children, the Constitution, and probably the guy live-streaming from his truck in the Wendy’s parking lot.

    And now? Nothing.

    Hear me out. Could it be—just maybe—that none of it was ever real?
    That the conspiracy was the point?
    That it was always just a sales pitch dressed in patriot drag?

    Here’s the part that stings:
    If you’re still on board with Trump after all this, you’re in one of two camps.

    Camp 1: You always knew it was a lie. You helped tell it. You were fine with bending the truth to manipulate people into voting for your guy. That’s not fighting for truth. That’s fighting for your team—Fox News style—truth optional.

    Camp 2: You got suckered. Fooled by Camp 1. You genuinely believed the lies. That’s not your fault—but it becomes your fault if you keep believing them now.

    There is no third option.

    Because the dog caught the car. The power is his. The levers are in reach. And the arrests?
    They’re not coming.

    Because the truth never needed them.

    Only the lie did.

  • The Amazing Donald Trump

    The Amazing Donald Trump

    For Independence Day, I’m going to talk about the amazing things about Donald Trump. Now, “amazing” is one of those words. It’s usually used as a positive. But in reality it just means something amazes you, and that’s where I’m coming from today.

    Trumps is… kind of amazing. And so are my friends who remain loyal to him.

    No, seriously. You’ve got to hand it to him—what he’s pulled off is something no politician in my lifetime has managed. The guy took over an entire political party and convinced its memebers to completely change their values. That’s not easy.

    He got the party of Reagan to dump free markets and start rooting for tariffs like they’d just discovered Lenin.

    He got the law-and-order crowd to throw their arms around a convicted felon—and not just any felon, but one who encouraged his fans to beat up cops while waving Blue Lives Matter flags. You can’t make that up. And I know many of his followers think the justice system was weaponized against him, and getting them to believe THAT is another weak-mind bender.

    He got “family values” voters to shrug off hush money payments to a porn star—while his wife was home with their newborn—because hey, at least he’s not Biden?

    He got millions of women to vote for him after he publicly bragged about grabbing them like a broken claw machine.

    He got the “Epstein was a deep-state op” crowd to look at the one guy who was literally in the photos, on the plane, at the parties, and say, “Nah, he’s clean.”

    He got evangelicals—people who once lost their minds over Obama wearing a tan suit—to go all-in for a man who couldn’t name a single Bible verse and probably thinks Leviticus is a cologne.

    And now, after years of branding every Democrat a warmonger, he’s got MAGA influencers practically begging for war in the Middle East, because this time it’s their guy saying so.

    But he’s not a salesman. A salesman gives you something—cheap steaks, an ugly hat, a framed certificate for your timeshare in hell. Trump? Trump takes. He takes your money, your dignity, your critical thinking—and leaves you with a bumper sticker and a court date.

    What did he actually deliver?

    A wall? Nope.

    Mexico paying for it? Nope.

    Obamacare repealed? Nope.

    Muslim ban? Not really.

    Budget balanced? Not even close.

    National debt reduced? Ha.

    Cheaper groceries? Come on.

    Foreign wars ended? Insert laugh track.

    Did he “Make America Great Again”?

    Or just turn it into an international punch line?

    And here’s the part that really messes with me—the part that genuinely breaks my heart: I know people. Smart people. Kind people. People I care about. Some of them are still on board. They think Biden was destroying America while Trump actually does it before their eyes.

    It didn’t happen all at once. It never does. It was a slow, creeping thing. Like the boiling frog—you don’t realize how far you’ve slipped until the water’s already at a rolling boil and someone’s telling you to blame the deep state for the heat.

    And maybe you don’t want to admit it. Maybe it’s too hard to say, “Yeah… I got conned.” I get that. But that’s what happened. You didn’t vote for a movement. You bought into a scam.

    And Trump? He’s not done. Conmen don’t stop until there’s nothing left to take.

    If this offends you, by all means—let me have it. But before you do, ask yourself:

    What exactly are you still defending?