My work has me traveling to other countries quite frequently (I am actually writing this from Iceland). I am proud to be an American, but it has become harder and harder to explain where we are at.
I have never read a more brutally honest assessment of who we are and what we’ve become.
OLIVER KORNETZKE
250 years. Two hundred and fifty fucking years of the most powerful, most resourced, most theoretically capable nation in the history of human civilization and here is what we have to show for it.
Forty million people on food stamps, thirty million without health insurance, the highest maternal mortality rate in the developed world, the highest incarceration rate on earth, an opioid crisis that has killed over half a million people and counting, a housing market so broken that working people cannot afford to live in the cities they work in, an education system that buries young people in debt before they earn their first dollar, infrastructure that is literally collapsing, a life expectancy that is going backwards, a political system so thoroughly purchased by concentrated wealth that the laws it produces bear almost no relationship to what the public actually wants or needs, a working class that has not seen meaningful real wage growth in thirty years, a mental health crisis so severe we normalized it, a gun violence epidemic so routine we don’t even act when preschoolers are slaughtered, and a climate hurtling toward catastrophe while the people paid to address it collect checks from the industry causing it.
Two hundred and fifty years of that. And to celebrate, we built a wrestling arena on the White House lawn.
Not a hospital, or a school, or a housing development. Not a single fucking thing that addresses a single goddamn item on the list above. A wrestling arena. With cranes and pyrotechnics and a steel arch that probably cost more than the annual budget of three rural counties combined, erected in front of the building where Lincoln and Roosevelt and every president who ever tried to make any of this mean something once lived and worked and in some cases died trying.
Truthfully, this is not a departure from American values. This is the fullest possible expression of them. Because this is what we chose. Every single time the choice was presented.
We built a culture where a football coach makes forty times what a physics professor makes and then express genuine bewilderment at the outcomes. Where a reality television star becomes president and a school district cuts its art program in the same fiscal year. Where children know every statistic of every player on their favorite sport team and cannot locate their own country on a map. Where scientific consensus on vaccines, climate, evolution, and basic nutrition gets weighed against a Facebook post and the Facebook post wins at the dinner table. Where the school that wins the state championship gets a parade and the school that produces a Nobel laureate gets a budget cut.
We chose the bomber over the teacher. The tank over the clinic. The aircraft carrier over the water treatment plant. We spend more on military than the next ten countries combined, including our allies, while veterans sleep on the streets of the cities they came back to. We built the most expensive killing apparatus in human history and then told the nurse she made too much money. We sent young men to die in wars that made defense contractors rich and called it freedom and put a yellow ribbon magnet on the back of the car and called that support. We made the soldier and the police officer into sacred untouchable symbols of national identity and then cut their benefits, denied their PTSD claims, let them die waiting for VA appointments, and sent them back for third and fourth tours because it was cheaper than taking care of them when they came home. We worshipped the uniform and neglected the human inside it because the uniform is a symbol and symbols are cheaper than healthcare and housing and the therapy that would actually help. We built bases in a hundred and fifty countries and could not build enough affordable housing in fifty states. We funded a military budget that could have ended homelessness and medical debt and student debt several times over and we did it with bipartisan enthusiasm and called the people who questioned it unserious.
We chose entertainment over education so many times and for so long and at every available level of society that we forgot there was a distinction worth making. Spectacle over substance, performance over policy, the aesthetics of greatness in place of the actual thing, and the feeling of winning instead of asking what was being won and who was paying for it and what it would cost the people who came next.
Rome had bread and circuses. We Americans have food stamps and a wrestling ring outside the Oval Office.
250 years. This is what we built. This is what we chose. This is what we are celebrating. And the most perfectly, catastrophically, irreducibly American thing about all of it is that anyone pointing at this image and asking what it means will be called unpatriotic by people watching it on a television they bought on credit they cannot afford to pay back, rooting for a sport they cannot explain, in a country they cannot describe, celebrating a birthday they cannot contextualize, for a nation that has spent two and a half centuries confusing the noise it makes with the work it never did, all while claiming to be the greatest country on Earth.
Happy Birthday America! You have never looked more like yourself!
Maybe It’s Not Trump Derangement Syndrome After All
Every time I criticize Donald Trump, someone inevitably tells me I suffer from “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”
The accusation usually goes something like this: “Why can’t you acknowledge the good things he’s done?”
Fair question.
As a business owner for more than three decades, a coach who has spent a lifetime teaching accountability, and a city councilor responsible for spending taxpayer dollars wisely, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. If someone does something well, I will say so. If a policy works, I will acknowledge it.
But leadership isn’t judged by a handful of talking points. It is judged by character, integrity, competence, and whether the person in charge is working for the people or for themselves.
That’s where my concerns begin.
Supporters often point to immigration enforcement, NATO spending, tariffs, or cultural issues as evidence of Trump’s success. We can have legitimate policy debates about any of those topics. Reasonable people can disagree.
What troubles me is something deeper.
It is the corruption.
It is the constant blurring of the line between public service and personal profit.
As a city councilor, if I voted on matters that directly enriched my business interests, people would rightly demand answers. If city contracts consistently benefited my friends, family, or financial partners, residents would be outraged. They should be.
The same standard should apply to the President of the United States.
Yet we have become numb to behavior that would be unacceptable from virtually any other elected official.
The Trump family has expanded its business interests while Trump occupies the Oval Office. Cryptocurrency ventures, real estate projects, private fundraising efforts, and relationships with wealthy donors all seem to intersect with public policy decisions in ways that should concern anyone who believes government should serve the public first.
This isn’t a Republican issue or a Democratic issue.
It’s an ethics issue.
It’s a leadership issue.
It’s an accountability issue.
What concerns me even more is the growing use of government power against perceived enemies. In America, we are supposed to settle political disagreements at the ballot box, not through investigations designed to intimidate critics or punish opponents.
One of the great strengths of our democracy has always been that no one is above the law—but equally important, no one should be beneath its protection.
The machinery of government should never become a personal weapon.
As a coach, I often tell athletes that character is revealed when nobody is watching.
As a businessman, I’ve learned that trust takes years to build and moments to destroy.
As a city councilor, I’ve learned that public confidence is fragile and must be earned every day.
Those same principles apply to presidents.
I understand why many Americans voted for Donald Trump. They were frustrated by rising costs, worried about immigration, concerned about national security, and convinced Washington wasn’t listening.
Those concerns are real.
But voting for someone to solve problems does not require blind loyalty.
In fact, patriotism demands the opposite.
We should expect results.
We should demand honesty.
We should insist on transparency.
And we should be willing to call out misconduct regardless of whether it comes from our political opponents or from people we supported.
That’s not Trump Derangement Syndrome.
That’s citizenship.
The real question isn’t why some of us continue to criticize Donald Trump.
The real question is why so many people have stopped holding him to the same standards they would apply to anyone else.
Last night, I attended the Dover High School graduation as a city councilor. As I watched those young men and women cross the stage, I found myself thinking less about today’s political battles and more about the world we are leaving them.
These graduates are entering adulthood at a time of declining trust in institutions, growing political division, and leaders too often focused on winning arguments instead of solving problems. Yet I left hopeful. Every generation inherits challenges. Mine inherited the Cold War, economic uncertainty, and environmental concerns. Today’s graduates face different problems, but they possess the same capacity for innovation, courage, and change.
What struck me most was that the future belongs to them, not the politicians dominating today’s headlines. They will be the entrepreneurs creating jobs, the teachers inspiring children, the healthcare workers saving lives, the public servants strengthening communities, and the citizens shaping America’s future.
That reality places a responsibility on us. We should model integrity, accountability, and respect for democratic institutions. We should show that public service is about serving others, not ourselves, and leave behind examples worth following.
Someday these graduates will sit in city council chambers, state legislatures, corporate boardrooms, and perhaps even the halls of Congress. The question is whether we are giving them a model of leadership worth inheriting.
There is a difference between political loyalty and political worship. One is healthy in a democracy. The other is dangerous.
What we are witnessing with Donald Trump and much of the MAGA movement no longer resembles normal politics. It resembles a cult of personality. Every failure is someone else’s fault. Every criticism is labeled “fake news.” Every warning from economists, generals, historians, judges, or former allies is dismissed as betrayal. The movement has become centered not around conservative principles, fiscal responsibility, or even patriotism—but around protecting one man’s ego.
And while the cheering crowds chant his name and wear the hats and wave the flags, ordinary Americans are getting poorer.
Trump was elected promising economic strength. Instead, families are watching grocery bills climb, paying painful prices at the gas pump, and struggling with the rising cost of basic goods. His reckless tariff obsessions drove up prices for consumers and businesses alike. His aggressive foreign policy rhetoric and impulsive leadership helped drag the country into another conflict after promising “NO MORE WARS.” Once again, working Americans pay the price while politicians and defense contractors profit.
This is the pattern of narcissistic leadership throughout history: the leader’s image always comes first.
While Americans worry about rent, mortgages, and retirement savings, Trump obsesses over monuments to himself. A ballroom project taxpayers will ultimately subsidize. Talk of a triumphal arch in Washington, D.C., as if America should imitate emperors instead of republics. Vanity projects nobody asked for while roads crumble, schools struggle, and healthcare costs bury families. Reports of unnecessary no-bid contracts handed to friends for cosmetic projects around Washington only reinforce what many Americans already suspect: this administration treats public money like a personal checking account for political loyalty and ego.
And yet his followers defend every bit of it.
Not because it helps them.
Not because their lives are improving.
But because cults require loyalty above reason.
A movement that once claimed to stand for fiscal conservatism now cheers deficit spending if Trump does it. A movement that once screamed about government overreach now applauds when law-abiding immigrants, students, or political opponents are targeted to feed outrage cycles on cable news and social media. A movement that once called itself anti-war now rationalizes another conflict because admitting failure would mean admitting Trump was wrong.
That is the power of narcissism when combined with political tribalism. Truth becomes secondary. Loyalty becomes everything.
The saddest part is this: Donald Trump has shown people exactly who he is for years. He has openly spoken about admiring wealth over service, loyalty over competence, spectacle over substance. He measures success by applause, television ratings, and personal enrichment. The country was supposed to become “great again,” but instead the focus became making sure one man never feels defeated, criticized, or held accountable.
Meanwhile, the American people keep footing the bill.
We are paying more.
We are divided more.
We are respected less internationally.
And we are once again watching America stumble into conflict while being told everything is “historic,” “beautiful,” and “the greatest ever.”
Real leadership is not about building monuments to yourself.
It is not about humiliating enemies or demanding constant praise.
Real leadership is sacrifice. Restraint. Competence. Humility. It is putting the country ahead of your own ego.
America was founded rejecting kings, emperors, and dear leaders.
Somewhere along the way, too many people forgot that.
In a world that feels impossibly loud right now—war headlines out of Iran, a tumbling economy, the city budget, unstable national leadership, the constant churn of scandal and speculation, it is easy to feel like everything is closing in.
The noise is relentless.
And then, if you let yourself… you stop.
You step outside.
You shut it all off.
And you look up.
Somewhere above us, beyond the noise, beyond the arguments and the fear, Artemis II is making its way home having traveled farther than any humans have ever gone, looping around the Moon, seeing what few ever will: the far side, the quiet side, the side that reminds us just how small our conflicts really are.
There is something profoundly humbling about that.
NASA has always understood the power of naming of poetry in the face of science. The Sea of Tranquility. The Ocean of Storms. And now, Artemis.
Artemis: goddess of the hunt, of wilderness, of wild things untamed. Sister to Apollo. A protector. A force. A presence tied to the Moon itself. Her name carries the idea of being safe, unharmed, resilient.
What a perfect name for this moment.
Because while we argue, while we divide, while we question whether our leaders will escalate the next conflict or stumble into something we cannot undo… there are human beings floating in the vast silence of space. Not as Americans. Not as political factions. But as representatives of all of us.
Of humanity.
Think about that.
At the very moment we are looking up at the night sky, searching for perspective, they may be looking back AT US. At a fragile blue planet that holds everything we’ve ever loved, fought for, built, and broken.
And from that distance, none of our noise matters.
Only the question does:
What are we going to do with this place?
We have always been capable of greatness. We have built impossible things. We have crossed oceans, cured diseases, created art that stops time, and sent people to the edge of existence itself.
We are still those people.
But somewhere along the way, we got smaller. Louder. More consumed by the immediate and the trivial.
Artemis II is a reminder that we don’t have to stay that way.
It is a reminder that we are at our best when we are reaching not fighting. When we are exploring not retreating. When we are united by curiosity instead of divided by fear.
So tonight, step away from the headlines.
Look up.
Find the Moon.
And know that above all the noise, something extraordinary is happening. Something hopeful. Something that belongs not to one nation, but to all of us.
As Artemis makes her way home, may she return safely.
And may we, down here, find our way back to something better.
Big Ag Has Corrupted Our Food System. Here’s How We Can Rebuild — An Introduction
There are certain truths in this country that cut across party lines, geography, and ideology. One of them is this: our food system is broken.
For decades, Big Agriculture has consolidated power, squeezed out family farms, degraded our soil and waterways, and flooded our communities with highly processed food that is cheap at the checkout counter but devastatingly expensive to our long-term health. Meanwhile, small farmers struggle to survive, rural communities hollow out, and consumers are left wondering why food is both unaffordable and lower in quality than ever.
This didn’t happen by accident. It happened because policy choices — made in Washington and echoed in statehouses across the country — consistently favored consolidation over competition, scale over sustainability, and corporate profit over public health. When a handful of massive companies control seed, fertilizer, processing, and distribution, the system stops serving people and starts serving shareholders.
As a business owner, I understand efficiency. As a city councilor, I understand budgets and infrastructure. But as someone who cares deeply about community health and long-term resilience, I also understand that a system designed purely for short-term profit is not sustainable. Not for farmers. Not for consumers. And certainly not for the next generation.
Rebuilding our food system isn’t about nostalgia for some imagined past. It’s about creating a modern, resilient, and fair system that supports local agriculture, protects our environment, and ensures that the food on our tables actually nourishes the people eating it.
The following piece lays out how Big Ag helped create the mess we’re in — and, more importantly, how we can begin to fix it.
Big Ag Has Corrupted Our Food System. Here’s How We Can Rebuild.
Austin Frerick explains how eaters and farmers can unite to fix our broken food system
I first came across Austin Frerick inThe American Conservativein 2019.His story,“To Revive Rural America, We Must Fix Our Broken Food System,” with its plain-spoken, factual description of how Big Ag conglomerates have held hostage and defrauded farmers for generations, was an awakening.
Not since Osha Gray Davidson published his 1990 Broken Heartland: The Rise of America’s Rural Ghettohad I read someone who could break beyond a liberal audience to expose our country’s failed agricultural policy and its impact on rural communities. Both Frerick and Davidson help those from rural places understand what happened to us over the last half-century under the influence of “get big or get out”—the advice Nixon’s Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz gave U.S. farmers in 1973
Like Davidson, Frerick delivers a warning that transcends the politicization of farming: Big Ag monopolies, and the policies that allowed them to thrive, have failed our rural communities and country’s food system, leaving them vulnerable to epic failures. The urgency of that message has even spooked the government officials and powerful industry leaders who helped create the farming crisis we face today. On February 3 former U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) officials from the Bush and Reagan administrations, as well as former heads of industry groups representing corn and soybean farmers,sent a letter to Congresswarning of “a widespread collapse of American agriculture” should current economic conditions and Trump administration policies continue.
But Frerick also sees bold possibilities to disrupt the Big Ag status quo. In his conversation withBarn Raiser, Frerick considers ways to dismantle monopolies and solutions to transform food policy to support small farmers. He invites us to entertain what is possible if we face the crisis in agriculture with strategic action instead of apathy.
Frerick, a seventh generation Iowan, is an expert in antitrust law and agricultural policy. He’s lead projects at the Open Markets Institute and he’s published research and analysis for tax journals, theNew York Times, and at the U.S. Department of Treasury. He served as a co-chair on the Biden campaign’s Agriculture Antitrust Policy Committee. His 2024 book,Barons: Money, Power, and the Corruption of America’s Food Industryexposes the families who control America’s agricultural monopolies.
This is the first of a two-part interview with Frerick.
The last time I talked to you was back in September when the Arkansas farmers were raising alarm bells. At a hearing with the House Agriculture, Forestry and Natural Resources subcommittee, Arkansas lenders and farmers warned that1 in 3 farms could closewithout federal aid because of how Trump’s tariffs had upended export markets. How are you making sense of the moment we find ourselves in?
What’s happening with farmers says everything about this moment. Last week, theNew York Timesran a story saying farmers are going to let theircrops rotbecause the prices are so bad. At the same time, we’re having a food affordability crisis. That juxtaposition captures how broken our food system is, where farmers are letting crops rot and they’re barely getting by as Americans are paying more and more for food in the stores.
On January 1, the U.S. Department of Agriculture began implementing a new rule requiring that “Product of U.S.A.” labeling on meat only apply to livestock born, processed, finished in the United States. Is this a win for farmers and eaters?
No, and here’s why. I’m so sick of giving gold stars for doing basic things. When Americans buy meat that says “made in America,” it should mean made in America. This debate has been going on for more than a decade. To me, this is a good example of the incompetency of the USDA: You don’t get a reward for doing your job.
It’s embarrassing more than anything that it took them this long to make the “Product of U.S.A” label mean something.
The scariest thing to me right now in the beef market is this: Normally in moments like this where prices are high and herd populations are low, ranchers expand the herd. But they’re not doing that. We’re not seeing herd expansion.
And what this is telling me is these markets have been so tight for so long. They don’t trust the USDA to police these markets and they don’t think they’ll get a good price in the future. So they’re essentially letting the American herd shrink. That means more and more of our beef will have to be imported. What’s going on in the beef markets is a good example of just how hard it is to farm in America anymore.
I want to talk about pricing for a second. In 2019, the cost for a pound of hamburger was just under four dollars. Today it’s more like six and a half dollars. Many eaters can’t afford hamburger anymore. So, who’s making the money for the last seven years?
The Big Four meatpackers (Tyson, JBS, Cargill and National Beef). R-CALF USA is a great cattlemen’s organization and they have a chart I love to show in my presentations. For the longest time, what Americans spend for beef and the dollars ranchers get in return has been closely correlated. What happened in 2015 is a significant divergence started to occur. Today that gap is wider than ever. And that to me is a story of monopoly. You’re seeing Americans spend record prices for beef, but that’s not going to the farmer. It’s all going to the four largest meatpackers.
The largest meatpacker in America (JBS) is owned by a cartoonishly corrupt Brazilian family, the Batistas. They were also Trump’s largest inauguration donor. So it’s all going to them.
Think of what this means for rural communities. You’re seeing the wealth of rural America being hollowed out. Farmers are producing the most they’ve ever produced, but that wealth is not staying in their community. And so Americans are paying more and a secretive family, whether it is the Cargills of Cargill or the Batistas of JBS, is capturing all that.
And on top of it, you’re seeing a lot of corners being cut. Beef imported from Brazil is just not as good. Something I realized in the last few years is this whole system is making bad tasting food.
I get chicken through a local farmer right here in southwest Virginia. When you start eating locally, like chicken that’s raised on a normal farm, the difference is amazing compared to the Tyson chicken you buy in a chain store. Eaters have no idea.
It’s also that the farmer doing it right, managing their operation locally, is not playing on a level playing field. The local farmer is not getting government subsidies. These industrial big corporations are. It’s just not fair.
My favorite example to illustrate this is butter. Butter in America is awful. It’s white. It’s hard. It doesn’t spread well.
Most of the butter in America now comes from Bakersfield, California. It’s cows on a feedlot next to an oil rig, being fed corn. On the other hand, Kerrygold is now the second largest branded butter in America. Irish butter. People love it. Here’s the thing: That’s the way butter used to be in America. But now it’s a premium. Now it’s only for the yuppie class, which just shows you how many corners are being cut.
We’ve chosen to subsidize this really bad system. And most of the subsidies are just being captured by a few rich oligarchs or robber barons.
Tyson Foods announced in January that they’re cutting 5,000 employees in their industry. They cut a line in Amarillo, Texas, with about 1,700 employees losing their jobs. And then in Lexington, Nebraska, they’re closing a whole beef processing plant. That’s 3,200 employees who are losing their jobs. Lexington, in Dawson County, has a population of 10,348. So about a third of the whole community is facing unemployment. But for Tyson, this is just business as usual.
The reason Tyson gave is it expected to lose $250-$500 million in its beef segment, so they are deciding to scale back operations. Yet the United States right now is not producing enough beef to meet demand. What is happening here, and why is Tyson closing domestic processing plants?
It’s a few things. As I mentioned earlier, our beef supply chain is moving offshore. But Tyson’s also in a weird pickle. Other big beef packers like JBS are state-backed monopolies. Tyson doesn’t have these Brazilian operations like they do.
You also can’t deny the climate crisis here.
A lot of former beef packing regions are getting too hot and the aquifers are getting too low. A few years ago, in western Kansas, thousands of cattle died because of a heat wave.
At the same time the ethanol mandate has essentially pushed a lot of cattle ranchers off the land. Ranchers are in this weird pickle where they have less land because of the climate crisis, but then corn being grown from ethanol subsidies is taking over a lot more land too. They just can’t compete for land against ethanol. And on top of it, margins are getting tight because of the price squeezes they’re getting from the big meatpackers. And a lot of them ranchers are just saying it’s not worth it.
When you look at the situation in Lexington, Nebraska, is a disaster for a small town and rural area around it. When these corporations come in, they sell an area on job creation, they invest and that increases the tax base, and then they up and close, they leave. It’s like a death sentence. Can you talk about that?
My perspective on this is shaped by Newton, Iowa. Newton used to be home to Maytag appliances, where the company was founded in 1893. The town even used to be called the “Washing Machine Capital of the World.” Maytag’s last factory closed in 2006. I went to college down the road in Grinnell, Iowa, and Maytag’s closing was like watching a slow death. Because you don’t realize it overnight.
What tends to happen is you can’t sell your home when these things close, and your home is everything in America. That’s your wealth. Some people just take a loss, try to restart elsewhere. Others start doing long commutes. So in the case of Newton, people start driving like an hour to Des Moines for new jobs, making a fraction of what they used to.
Think about what that does for the local community of Newton, Iowa. People have less time to be active in their communities. On top of it, they have less money. This is how the slow decay of the community begins. Don’t get me wrong, Newton has tried really hard since to recreate itself. The town has tried to get back on its feet, but it’s not the same as it used to be. What was unique in Newton’s case is they also lost a white-collar workforce. A lot of the workers in Maytag would live in the town, like the ad people, and all that’s gone.
The scary thing in the case of Tyson closing its plant in Lexington, Nebraska, is it’s pretty remote. There’s not a lot of job options nearby. And so I think it’s going to hurt the community even more because you just can’t drive two hours for a job. Some people might, but a lot of people will probably just take a big financial hit and try to restart somewhere else. I think an underappreciated thing of consolidation are all the towns that are hollowed out because of it.
Austin, you’re an expert in antitrust law. What do you see as the future of antitrust legislation and the enforcement?
First of all, fun little fact: The first antitrust laws in the world come out of Iowa. It was Iowa farmers mad against the railroads and grain elevators. So they organized the Iowa legislative body to pass the first antitrust laws in the world. Then a few states copied it. And then eventually D.C. copied it as well. I love telling this story because it’s ingrained in me the notion that D.C. is always the last to know. Change in America always starts locally.
The New Deal didn’t just happen in D.C. A lot of the New Deal actually came out of Wisconsin, where the state legislature created several measures that have now been called the “little New Deal.” These ideas are always incubated in small towns and states in America. And it’s also part of the Iowa culture of fairness. The joke is that usually the richest person in Iowa is an old farmer in the back with overalls on.
There’s a humbleness I’ve always respected. And I think that’s why a lot of Iowans gravitate towards anti-monopoly stuff.
But to your question in the future of antitrust. Honestly, the reason why I love antitrust issues the most is it’s one of most bipartisan things right now in America. Everyone’s feeling like they’re being shortchanged for different reasons, and it’s unifying.
My whole thing is: Don’t blame the immigrant, blame Tyson. People have a right to feel their anger, but we need to redirect it to productive means. I also view this whole thing as cyclical. The goal of any corporate executive is monopoly. That’s where profits are.
Corporate people don’t want competitive markets. Government wants competitive markets because that’s good for innovation, it’s good for workers, it’s good for farmers. So you have a natural tension between the two. We’re at a new laissez-faire moment in American history where business has captured government and things have gone too far. We need to usher in a reform era.
So what should we do? What should a well-regulated meat market look like? You can only be angry for so long. I really want to focus on articulating hope, what things could be.
The beauty of a family farm a diversified operation because it makes you resilient. Diversity breeds resiliency. The system we have now pushes people to one or two crops, which makes you very fragile. One bad thing happens and it can wipe you out. It also makes it really expensive.
Look at bird flu, for example. When you have that many genetically similar cows living in the same confined area, you’re just asking for trouble.
And then we have this expensive, fragile, broken system that makes bad tasting food.
How do we think about antitrust enforcement as our food production moves international? Does legislation like the Packers and Stockyards Act, which was meant to reign in meat monopolies, apply?
That is the key question here. The short answer is: No.
Trade agreements, have essentially moved our produce system offshore, especially anything that’s labor intensive. Look at California. California used to produce a lot of produce. Today, it’s mostly nuts, because that’s more mechanical work. The second agriculture production moves offshore, labor and environmental standards collapse. In Barons, I talk about Driscoll’s. Driscoll’s is my berry baron. They sell one in three berries globally.
A lot of their berry production has now moved to Baja, California. These are essentially modern-day plantations. And it’s very, hard to inspect them. As a journalist, you’re putting yourself at risk if you want to go investigate them. And on top of it, the USDA’s Food Inspection Service has been gutted by the Trump administration, which would inspect food imported to this country. So it’s a Wild West. You cannot compete on price against a berry picked by a child in Latin America. And it undermines the growers doing it here domestically.
Going back to the issue of taste: When your produce is coming from Chile, it’s not going to taste good. That produce is engineered for durability, not for taste.
I’ve followed your work for a few years, and I see you navigating some polarized political scenes concerning agriculture and farming. On the one side, Barons received good reviews from publications like The American Conservative. And on another end, you’re also speaking at events like the Real Organic Project at Churchtown Dairy, in Hudson, New York. Do you see agriculture as a polarized issue in today’s politics?
In the same month this past summer I keynoted one of the largest cattle conferences and I also keynoted one of the largest vegan food festivals. I love being able to tell people that. I’m a big believer that things get done when you have a big tent approach and weird bedfellows get together.
Because who isn’t happy after a good meal? I always like to redirect the conversation there.
Neither party really has a vision here. An undercurrent in Barons is my dislike of Tom Vilsack [the former Iowa Governor and Secretary of Agriculture under Obama and Biden].
To me, there’s nothing worse for a democracy than when a politician pretends to be your friend, and they undermine you. A lot of people over the years have been galvanized in Iowa fighting these industrial animal facilities, fighting these Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) wanting to break up Big Ag. A lot of farmers went on a limb, testified. Not only did Vilsack not do anything, he made all the situations worse. That’s how people lose their faith in government.
How do we get out of the situation we’re in? We actually know what to do here. We’ve addressed the concentration crisis in the meat packing before, such as with policies like the Packers and Stockyards Act. The question right now is political courage.
In New Hampshire, we pride ourselves on thrift, accountability, and a deep skepticism of wasteful government. “Live within your means” isn’t a slogan here—it’s a way of life. Which is exactly why what’s happening in Washington should infuriate every Granite Stater, regardless of party.
One of the biggest drivers of unnecessary federal spending is rarely said out loud: Donald Trump’s immigration policies and the unchecked expansion of ICE enforcement. These policies cost taxpayers billions of dollars every year. Not billions spent fixing a broken immigration system. Not billions spent making communities safer. Billions spent on cruelty, chaos, and political theater.
And the human cost matters.
Our tax dollars paid for the killing of two U.S. citizens on the streets of Minneapolis.
Our tax dollars paid for an untold number of people dying in federal detention facilities.
Our tax dollars paid for families to be separated—children taken from parents with no plan, no tracking, and no accountability.
That is not law enforcement. That is state-funded harm.
Granite Staters are constantly told there’s no money. No money for infrastructure. No money for housing. No money for public safety officers. No money for working families who are already stretched thin.
Yet somehow, there is always money for ICE expansion.
Always money for detention contracts.
Always money for cruelty dressed up as “border security.”
And when it comes time to pass spending bills, Congress stalls—not to protect taxpayers, but to protect politicians. Senator Lindsey Graham has openly acknowledged holding up legislation so certain Republican senators could secure protections and payouts tied to the preservation of their phone records after January 6.
Let that sink in.
There is money to protect politicians from embarrassment.
There is money for federal enforcement overreach.
But there is no money for the Capitol Police officers who were beaten and injured while defending our democracy.
That is not fiscal responsibility. That is moral bankruptcy.
New Hampshire didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t agree to fund violence, family separation, or political cover-ups. We didn’t agree to higher taxes so Washington could reward bad behavior and call it “security.”
If New Hampshire families are expected to balance their budgets, Washington should be held to the same standard—starting by ending wasteful, brutal policies that betray both our wallets and our values.
Good morning everyone. My name is Tony Retrosi. I’m here wearing two hats today.
I’m a small business owner. My wife and I own Atlantic Gymnastics Training Center, with two locations here in New Hampshire. We employ dozens of people. We heat two big buildings in Dover and Portsmouth. We keep the lights on from early morning until late at night. We run on thin margins, tight schedules, and a deep responsibility to our staff and families.
And I’m also a Dover City Councilor. I spend a lot of my time listening to residents. And more and more, the same issue keeps coming up at doors, at meetings, and in emails: utility costs. Heating. Electricity. Gas. The basic cost of keeping your home livable.
Last Thursday, those two worlds collided in a pretty sobering way.
Because of a faulty gas meter, one of my facilities had to close that day. No heat. No safe way to operate. We had to shut the doors until it could be fixed and the tank refilled.
That’s a disruption for my business. It’s lost revenue. It’s canceled classes. It’s staff sent home. It’s parents scrambling.
But here’s the part that really hit me:
As stressful as that was for my business, I knew we’d figure it out. We had options. We made calls. We solved the problem.
Now imagine if that wasn’t my business.
Imagine if that was your home.
Imagine if you were a parent walking into the coldest stretch of winter, your heat suddenly gone, your tank empty, and your only question is: What do I not pay so I can pay this? Rent? Groceries? Medication?
That is not a hypothetical. That is the reality for too many people in New Hampshire right now under Kelly Ayotte and Donald Trump.
As a business owner, I see how rising utility costs squeeze everything: wages, expansion, stability, and long-term planning.
As a city councilor, I hear the same thing from residents. Fixed-income seniors. Young families. Middle-class Granite Staters who never imagined they’d be one emergency away from a financial cliff.
People are not asking for luxury.
They are asking to be warm.
They are asking to keep the lights on.
Kelly Ayotte is unwilling to tackle this issue. She slashed investments in clean energy projects, which would help provide savings for communities, school districts, and small businesses like mine. And she hasn’t pushed back against Trump’s toxic agenda, which has started to remove cheaper, cleaner energy sources from the grid and driven up utility bills by 13%.
Governor Ayotte should be doing the job she was elected to do and taking this affordability crisis seriously.
Last Thursday, my gym was cold and quiet.
Too many homes are feeling the same way.
And that should be unacceptable to all of us—and most especially Kelly Ayotte.
Trump repeatedly said he would keep the United States out of foreign entanglements and end “endless wars.”
Done:
• Expanded drone strikes dramatically
• Authorized airstrikes in Syria
• Assassinated Iranian General Qasem Soleimani, nearly triggering a regional war
• Bombed Venezuelan vessels and openly threatened regime change
• Increased U.S. military presence in the Middle East at multiple points
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“America First” (Not Billionaires First)
Promised:
Trump claimed he would fight for working Americans and stop elites from rigging the system.
Done:
• Passed a massive tax cut where the largest benefits went to corporations and the wealthy
• Oversaw record stock buybacks instead of wage growth
• Left working families with temporary tax cuts while corporate cuts were permanent
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“Drain the Swamp”
Promised:
Trump vowed to eliminate corruption, lobbyists, and insider politics in Washington.
Done:
• Appointed more former lobbyists to senior roles than previous administrations
• Installed family members in powerful White House positions
• Used the presidency to enrich Trump-branded properties through official events
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“Law and Order”
Promised:
Trump said he would restore respect for the law and uphold American institutions.
Done:
• Pressured the Justice Department to investigate political opponents
• Pardoned political allies and donors
• Encouraged disregard for court rulings and legal norms
• Undermined trust in elections without evidence
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“Protect Social Security and Medicare”
Promised:
Trump repeatedly said he would not cut Social Security or Medicare.
Done:
• Proposed budgets that reduced Medicare spending
• Supported payroll tax changes that threatened Social Security funding
• Backed Republican efforts to privatize or weaken entitlement programs
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“Support the Troops”
Promised:
Trump said he would be the strongest president for the military.
Done:
• Diverted military funds to build a border wall
• Reportedly disparaged fallen service members
• Politicized the armed forces for domestic purposes
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“Bring Manufacturing Back”
Promised:
Trump claimed factories and jobs would return to American soil.
Done:
• Manufacturing entered recession before COVID
• Trade wars hurt farmers and manufacturers alike
• Jobs lost to automation and outsourcing were not replaced
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“Fix Health Care”
Promised:
Trump promised a “better, cheaper” health care plan that would cover everyone.
Done:
• No replacement plan was ever produced
• Attempted repeatedly to repeal the ACA without a viable alternative
• Millions remained uninsured or underinsured
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“Respect the Constitution”
Promised:
Trump swore to uphold and defend the Constitution.
Done:
• Attacked the free press as “the enemy of the people”
• Threatened to suspend parts of the Constitution
• Encouraged efforts to overturn certified election results
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“Unite the Country”
Promised:
Trump claimed he would bring Americans together.
Done:
• Governed through division and grievance
• Used race, immigration, and fear as political tools
• Deepened distrust in democratic institutions
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The Pattern
Trump’s presidency was not defined by broken promises due to complexity or compromise.
It was defined by saying one thing and doing the opposite — often loudly, often proudly.
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“Strong Leadership” (Also Known as Mandatory Praise Night)
Promised:
Trump promised strong, decisive leadership surrounded by “the best people.”
Delivered:
A federal government run like a televised loyalty audition.
• Cabinet meetings looked less like policy discussions and more like an episode of America’s Got Talent: Authoritarian Edition
• Secretaries took turns thanking him for the honor of being allowed to sit at the table
• Praise was not optional. It was survival
• Facts were negotiable. Ego was not
• Competence was secondary to enthusiasm
At one point, senior officials were practically tripping over each other to say, “Thank you, Mr. President, for your historic, visionary, unmatched leadership.”
If you closed your eyes, you couldn’t tell whether you were watching the U.S. Cabinet or North Korean state television.
This wasn’t confidence.
It was insecurity with a microphone.
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The Cult, Not the Cabinet
In a healthy democracy, advisors challenge the president.
In Trump’s White House, they praised first, governed second.
• Tell the truth? Fired.
• Disagree politely? Labeled “weak” or “disloyal.”
• Break the law for him? Congratulations, you’re “very brave.”
The message was crystal clear:
Your job was not to serve the country. Your job was to serve the man.
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When leaders demand flattery, bad news stops traveling upward.
Warnings get buried.
Reality gets filtered.
That’s how you get:
• Policy made on impulse
• National security decisions driven by cable news
• A government afraid of telling its boss he’s wrong
Strong leaders don’t need applause.
Authoritarians do.
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We didn’t watch a president command respect. We watched grown adults audition for approval.
And the scary part isn’t that it happened.
It’s how many people are pretending it was normal.
⸻
I honestly feel sorry for many of our neighbors who voted for Trump—not out of condescension, but out of empathy. They were promised prosperity, safety, and stability, and their hopes were real and understandable. Instead, we all lived through chaos, division, and a constant sense that the country was one impulse away from crisis. Our communities weren’t made safer, our costs didn’t go down, and our lives didn’t suddenly get easier. What was sold as strength turned out to be spectacle; what was promised as protection delivered uncertainty. Being misled is not a moral failure—but pretending the damage didn’t happen is how we ensure it happens again.
Let’s be honest: the GOP’s latest panic attack over the newly elected mayor of New York City, Zohran Mamdani, has nothing to do with fear of failure. They’re not afraid he’ll run the city into the ground.
They’re afraid he’ll prove that a government that actually works for people can still exist in America.
The Same Old Playbook
For decades, the Republican playbook has been the same:
1️⃣ Cut taxes for the ultra-wealthy.
2️⃣ Deregulate everything that keeps corporations from acting like feudal lords.
3️⃣ Tell the rest of us to “work harder” while we foot the bill for their subsidies, bailouts, and golden parachutes.
And when things inevitably collapse under the weight of their greed?
They turn around and blame “socialism.”
What Mamdani Represents
Mamdani represents something fundamentally threatening to them — a government that prioritizes workers, tenants, public transit, and the people who actually make a city function.
If he succeeds, he doesn’t just fix New York — he shatters the myth that progressive leadership is inherently doomed to fail.
If Mamdani can clean up the mess left behind by decades of corporate giveaways, make housing affordable, keep the trains running, and show that a city can be both compassionate and efficient — that’s a blueprint.
And blueprints spread.
The GOP’s Policy Problem
If Mamdani’s policies work, the GOP will have to admit the unthinkable: that they have no working ideas or policies of their own.
They’ve had over a decade to show us their “great new health insurance plan” — and all they’ve offered is the same tired promise, still missing in action.
The only things the modern GOP has consistently delivered are outrage, culture wars, and tax cuts for people who already own more houses than you have pairs of shoes.
The Real Fear
What terrifies them isn’t a failed progressive.
It’s a successful one.
Because success exposes the lie.
Success proves that you can govern with fairness, fund social programs, pay workers, and still have a thriving economy.
It proves that the sky doesn’t fall when people are treated with dignity.
So no, they’re not afraid Mamdani will destroy New York.
They’re afraid he’ll build something better — and that the rest of us will notice.
Breaking news: democracy works.
The GOP just hates when it’s working for everyone else.
What If Modern Billionaires Followed the Carnegie and Rockefeller Playbook?
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, men like Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller reshaped not only industry but society itself. When their business empires matured, they turned their focus toward public good — funding libraries, universities, and foundations that would outlast them by generations.
Now, as the 21st century unfolds, a new class of billionaires — Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, and others — command resources that dwarf even those Gilded Age fortunes. It’s worth asking: what would happen if today’s titans of technology took the same long-term, public-minded approach?
Looking Back: How Carnegie and Rockefeller Built a Legacy
Andrew Carnegie believed that “the man who dies rich dies disgraced.” He devoted his fortune to expanding knowledge and opportunity, building over 2,500 public libraries and endowing universities and cultural institutions.
John D. Rockefeller, meanwhile, revolutionized philanthropy through systemic giving: founding the University of Chicago, Rockefeller University, and major foundations that advanced medical research and global public health.
They didn’t just donate — they built infrastructure for human progress.
What That Might Look Like Today
If modern billionaires followed their lead, their “libraries” and “universities” wouldn’t necessarily be buildings of stone and steel. They’d be digital, global, and future-focused.
Billionaire
Possible Modern Legacy Projects
Elon Musk
Global renewable energy networks, open-access AI education, interplanetary research institutes
Jeff Bezos
Climate restoration, affordable space access, global logistics for disaster relief
Bill Gates(already doing this)
Public health, sanitation, vaccines, and disease eradication
Mark Zuckerberg
Open educational platforms, equitable internet access
Larry Page & Sergey Brin
Open-source AI safety and ethics institutions
In essence, they could create the public goods of the digital age — tools and knowledge that empower millions, just as Carnegie’s libraries once did.
The Ripple Effects
Even if a fraction of their wealth — say, 10–20% — were directed to long-term public institutions, the results could be staggering:
Education: Free, high-quality learning available globally.
Health: Major breakthroughs in medicine and disease prevention.
Climate: Private investment driving the transition to a sustainable planet.
Trust: A rebalancing of the public’s perception of extreme wealth and its purpose.
This kind of philanthropy wouldn’t just give back; it would build forward.
The Challenges of Modern Philanthropy
Of course, today’s world is more complex than Carnegie’s or Rockefeller’s. Modern billionaires operate under intense public scrutiny and global interdependence.
Their businesses are still active, blurring the line between philanthropy and corporate strategy.
Globalization raises questions: Who should benefit? Which regions?
In an era of inequality, public skepticism runs high—people question whether such power can ever be truly altruistic.
For philanthropy to earn lasting legitimacy, it must emphasize transparency, collaboration, and open access rather than control.
A New Age of Public Good?
Imagine if Musk funded a Global Energy Commons, or Bezos launched a Climate Restoration Foundation as ambitious as Amazon itself. Picture open AI universities in every language, accessible to anyone with an internet connection.
If the world’s wealthiest individuals took up this challenge — building institutions, not monuments — their impact could echo for centuries, just as Carnegie’s libraries and Rockefeller’s foundations still do today.
Maybe the next great era of progress won’t come from governments or markets alone, but from a revival of philanthropy with purpose.
