MAMAW’S PORCH N POLITICS

mamawsporchnpolitics

Contemporary issues and interviews through the lens of a Progressive Appalachian Mamaw. Mamaw enlightens those who listen with insight to the issues in rural America. We are more complex than "flyover" country.

  1. 19h ago

    They Were Old Enough to Die, But Too Young to Drink

    Why Farmer & Sniper: A Vietnam Love Story Is Different—and Why America Needs to Read It Now By LJ Parker — Mamaw’s Porch n Politics There's something I want you to think about. Imagine being seventeen years old. You're barely out of high school. You haven't figured out what you want to do with your life. Maybe you've never been in love. Maybe you've never kissed somebody who made your knees weak. Maybe you've never been farther from home than the next county. You can't legally buy a beer in much of America. But somebody hands you a rifle, puts you on an airplane, and sends you halfway around the world to kill people—or be killed. Welcome to Vietnam. And bless your heart, if you think those kids came home the same people they were when they left, you haven't been paying attention. War Has Always Had a Class Problem With the possibility of another war—and renewed conversations about a military draft—I want Americans to understand something. The burden of war has never fallen equally on everybody. During Vietnam, college deferments, occupational exemptions, and other provisions allowed many young men to avoid or postpone being drafted. Those opportunities weren't distributed equally. Families with money, education, connections, and knowledge of the system often had advantages that working-class families didn't. Not every privileged young man escaped service. Not every poor young man was drafted. And many Americans from every background volunteered and served honorably. But the system was not the great equalizer some people like to imagine. A young man from a struggling family in southern Ohio didn't necessarily have the same choices as the son of a wealthy family with college tuition already paid. One could be sitting in a university classroom. The other could be crawling through a Vietnamese jungle, wondering whether he'd live to see his nineteenth birthday. And here's something else people forget: volunteering didn't necessarily mean having a meaningful choice. For some young men, military service offered a paycheck, training, a way out of poverty, or the possibility of a better future. For others, volunteering offered some control over when and how they entered a war they feared they would be drafted into anyway. Today's all-volunteer military is a different institution, with different training, educational opportunities, and a generally older force than the teenagers at the center of my story. But economic opportunity still shapes who serves. So before anybody starts beating the drums for another war, I'd like to know whose children they're expecting to fight it. Because I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be the children of the people pounding those drums the loudest. That's Why I Wrote Farmer & Sniper I've read war stories. I've watched war movies. We see the firefights, the explosions, the bravery, the sacrifice. And those stories deserve to be told. But I wanted to tell another story. What happened to the kids who hadn't even finished becoming adults before war demanded that they become soldiers? My novel, Farmer & Sniper: A Vietnam Love Story, follows Jacob Bowman, an eighteen-year-old combat engineer from Scioto County, Ohio, and Tina Meadows, a nineteen-year-old Army woman from neighboring Jackson County. They grew up practically next door to each other. But they had to travel halfway around the world, into a war zone, to find each other. And there, surrounded by death, absurdity, exhaustion, fear, and the daily possibility of never seeing tomorrow, they fell in love. Not some sanitized Hollywood romance. Real young love. The awkwardness. The teasing. The laughter. The discovery of another person's body and heart. The excitement of realizing somebody understands you. And the terror of knowing that person could be gone tomorrow. I wanted readers to understand something that rarely gets enough attention in war stories. Thousands of young people went to war before they ever had the chance to experience the ordinary milestones of adulthood. Some never knew romantic love. Some never experienced the intimacy of being held by somebody who loved them. Some never got to grow old enough to discover who they might have become. Their lives ended before they had really begun. That is a loss we cannot measure simply by counting the dead. Sometimes War Is So Absurd You Have to Laugh Now, anybody who has served in the military knows something civilians might find strange. Some of the funniest things you'll ever witness happen in the military. And sometimes they happen in the middle of the worst circumstances imaginable. Young soldiers are ridiculous. They're sarcastic. They're competitive. They tell terrible jokes. They play practical jokes on each other. They complain about everything. And they laugh. Lord, do they laugh. Sometimes because something is genuinely funny. Sometimes because if they don't laugh, they might start screaming. That's part of Farmer & Sniper, too. I didn't want every page to be solemn and tragic. Because those young men and women weren't solemn and tragic every minute of their lives. They were teenagers! They teased each other. They played cards. They fell in love. They did foolish things. Then, sometimes within minutes, they were forced to confront death. That's what made Vietnam so cruel. Childhood and combat existed side by side. A boy could be laughing with his buddies one minute and helping carry one of them away the next. And somehow he was expected to make sense of both. The War Didn't End When They Came Home Here's where I believe my story becomes different from many traditional war stories. I'm not interested only in what happened to Farmer and Sniper in Vietnam. I'm interested in what happened afterward. Because the military can teach a young person how to survive a war. It cannot guarantee that person will know how to survive the peace. Farmer is terribly wounded by a land mine. He comes home with a damaged body and memories that refuse to leave him alone. The young man who once laughed so easily has to learn how to live with pain, guilt, and the feeling that some part of him was left behind in Vietnam. And like so many veterans, he discovers that people don't necessarily want to hear what happened. They want him to get better. Get a job. Be a husband. Be productive. Be normal. Normal? What the hell is normal to a young man who has watched his friends die? What does normal mean to somebody who wakes up in the middle of the night because a sound, a smell, or a flash of light has carried him straight back into a war zone? And what happens when the people closest to him don't understand the person who came home? The Armor They Found This is something I especially wanted to explore in the novel. Veterans don't all hide their wounds the same way. Some put on another uniform. They become police officers, firefighters, first responders, or career military professionals. A uniform provides structure. Rules. Responsibility. A mission. Sometimes it also provides a place to hide. Some turn to a bottle. Alcohol can quiet the memories for a little while. Until it doesn't. Some struggle with addiction. Some throw themselves into work. Some become angry. Some become emotionally distant. And some build walls so high around their hearts that even the people who love them can't get inside. Those responses aren't inevitable, and they don't describe every veteran. But they are among the ways people try to live with pain they haven't been able to process. Farmer builds his walls. He learns to conceal his scars, physically and emotionally. He becomes capable, disciplined, and outwardly strong. But strength and healing aren't the same thing. Sometimes the toughest-looking person in the room is the one working hardest to keep from falling apart. And Tina? She has her own battles. She must learn how to carry the memory of the young man she loved without allowing that loss to consume her future. She must find a way to live, not merely survive. Neither of them gets through the years untouched. Neither of them becomes the person they once expected to be. And that's the point. We Sent Them Home Without Teaching Them How to Come Home I want you to consider the difference between leaving for war and returning from it. When a young person entered the military, there was training. There were instructors. There was a chain of command. There were expectations and procedures. But for many Vietnam veterans, returning to civilian life was painfully abrupt. One day, a soldier could be in a combat environment. Soon afterward, he could be standing in an American airport, expected to rejoin a society that had continued without him. No gradual adjustment to ordinary life. No assurance that family and friends would understand. No guarantee that anybody would even want to listen. And although not every Vietnam veteran was personally mistreated, many returned to an America bitterly divided over the war, where public anger and indifference could leave them feeling isolated. Let me make something perfectly clear. You can oppose a war without turning your back on the people ordered to fight it. In fact, I'd argue that opposing an unnecessary war is one way of standing up for those people. We failed too many Vietnam veterans by confusing the war with the warriors. We expected them to carry experiences most civilians could scarcely imagine, then behave as though nothing had happened. We didn't yet have today's understanding of post-traumatic stress. And many veterans didn't have the words—or the permission—to describe what they were experiencing. So they found their own armor. A uniform. A bottle. An addiction. A marriage held together by obligation. Or a silence so complete that the people sleeping beside them never really knew them. Love Is Not a Distraction From This War Story Som

  2. Oct 25

    Mamaw's Porch: Billionaires, Political Hypocrisy, and the Power of Your Outside Voice

    There's knowledge in every strand of gray hair, and I intend to use every bit of mine. Well, folks, pull up a chair, grab your coffee, and settle in. We've got some things to talk about. I'm going to start with something I've said before, and I'll probably say it a thousand times again. I'm not that stupid. And none of y'all are stupid either. If it looks like it, smells like it, and you've stepped in it, chances are you know exactly what it is. You don't need somebody in a thousand-dollar suit standing on television telling you it's a bouquet of roses. And right now, there's an awful lot of explaining going on in Washington. Billionaires, Tax Dollars, and the People Paying the Bills Let's talk about billionaires. Mark Zuckerberg. Elon Musk. The Ellisons. These are people with extraordinary wealth and influence over the information Americans consume, the technology we use, and, increasingly, the political conversations we have. And I have a question. When did we decide that having enough money to buy a small country meant you should have more influence over American democracy than the people living in it? Because that's what worries me. We have wealthy individuals and corporations pouring enormous resources into politics while ordinary Americans are trying to pay their electric bills, buy groceries, and figure out whether their Social Security checks will stretch to the end of the month. And don't even get me started on the tax system. I believe enormous fortunes should come with enormous responsibilities. That includes paying a fair share of taxes. Not finding another loophole. Not hiring another army of accountants. Not telling working Americans that they need to tighten their belts while billionaires enjoy financial advantages most families couldn't dream of. That's b******t. And I said it. Elon Musk and the Problem With Private Power Now, let's talk about Elon Musk. There seems to be a popular mythology surrounding certain billionaires that they personally invented everything they ever touched. They didn't. Musk played a major role in building and financing businesses, including the company that became part of PayPal. That is different from personally inventing every technology associated with those businesses. But here's the bigger issue. When a private businessman controls technology that governments, militaries, and ordinary citizens depend upon, we ought to be asking serious questions about accountability. Look at Starlink and Ukraine. The controversies surrounding access to satellite communications have demonstrated just how consequential decisions made by a private company can become during a war. And when businesses receive significant government contracts, taxpayers have every right to ask what they're receiving in return. How much public money is involved? Who makes the decisions? What safeguards exist? And what happens when a private company's interests conflict with the public interest? Those aren't unreasonable questions. Those are questions every taxpayer ought to be asking. Because I have a real problem with the idea that public money can help build private fortunes while the public has little say over how that power is exercised. Political Hypocrisy: Ladies, We Need to Talk Now, this next part might make a few people uncomfortable. Good. I've been watching women defend Donald Trump with a level of devotion that I simply cannot understand. And I'm not talking about having a different opinion on taxes, immigration, or foreign policy. We can disagree about policy. I'm talking about character, personal conduct, and the standards we apply to powerful men. Trump has faced numerous allegations of sexual misconduct, which he has denied. A civil jury found him liable for sexually abusing and defaming E. Jean Carroll. That is part of the public record. And yet, I encounter women who seem willing to dismiss any discussion of his behavior. I want to know why. Would you excuse the same behavior from your daughter's boyfriend? Your granddaughter's husband? The man interviewing your sister for a job? Would you tell a woman you love that her concerns don't matter because the man involved happens to agree with you politically? I certainly hope not. And that's what bothers me about political loyalty when it becomes more important than basic standards of conduct. A person's political affiliation should not determine whether we take allegations of abuse seriously. Not Republican. Not Democrat. Not independent. Nobody should get a free pass because they happen to be on your team. And women, especially, ought to understand why that matters. Florida, Political Loyalty, and Accountability During the show, a viewer raised questions about Florida politicians Byron Donalds and Ashley Moody. And that opened up another conversation about political loyalty. I've noticed that some of my most enthusiastic online critics come from Florida. Now, I know perfectly well that Florida is full of thoughtful, decent people with all kinds of political beliefs. But some of the messages I receive make me wonder whether people are evaluating their elected officials or simply defending a political brand. There's a difference. An elected official should be accountable for decisions, conduct, votes, and the use of public money. That applies to every officeholder. If somebody raises an allegation of wrongdoing, ask for the evidence. If someone claims public money has been misused, demand documentation and an investigation where warranted. Don't substitute a political slogan for proof. And don't decide that accountability is only important when the other party is involved. Because that's not accountability. That's a double standard wearing a campaign button. Your Vote Is Your Outside Voice Now, here's where I want everybody paying attention. We've been hearing reports and predictions about voter turnout, and I understand why people get excited about participation. I get excited about it, too. But turnout headlines are not a substitute for casting your own ballot. I don't care how many people somebody says have already voted. Your vote still matters. Check your state's election calendar, registration requirements, polling locations, and early-voting opportunities. Make a plan that works for you. If early voting is available and convenient, use it. If Election Day works better, know where you need to go and what you need to bring. Some communities also organize Souls to the Polls events, helping people participate in the electoral process. And remember something else. A member of Congress doesn't vote on legislation that affects only one little corner of the country. Congress makes decisions about federal spending, national security, health care, veterans' benefits, and countless other issues that reach far beyond an individual district. So learn about the candidates. Look at their records. Ask questions. And for heaven's sake, don't let somebody else do your thinking for you. Independent Voices Need Independent Audiences I also want to talk about the people creating independent news, commentary, interviews, and political discussions. People like those of us sitting on our porches, talking to candidates, interviewing veterans, asking uncomfortable questions, and trying to make sense of what is happening. We don't all have giant corporate media organizations behind us. We don't have billionaires financing every conversation. Many independent creators depend on their audiences to help their work reach new people. And you can do that without spending a dime. When you find a creator whose work you value, share it. Leave a thoughtful comment. Recommend it to somebody who might appreciate the conversation. Tell people why you think the discussion is worth hearing. That's how independent voices find their audiences. And the more people who have access to different perspectives, the better equipped they are to question what they're being told. Because democracy doesn't benefit from everybody repeating the same talking points. It benefits from informed people who are willing to think. There's Knowledge in Every Strand of Gray Now, I want to finish with something especially important to me. These gray hairs on my head? I earned every damn one of them. I've lived long enough to watch politicians come and go, promises get made and broken, and ordinary Americans find themselves cleaning up messes they didn't create. I've watched our country make mistakes. I've watched people stand up and demand better. And I've learned that experience counts for something. There is knowledge in every strand of gray. We're not required to sit quietly in the corner because we've reached a certain age. We're not required to surrender our opinions, our independence, or our right to question authority. And we certainly aren't required to stop participating in our democracy. So make those calls to your representatives. The Five Calls app is one way to find congressional contact information and communicate your concerns. Read. Question. Discuss. Participate. And when somebody tries to tell you that your voice doesn't matter, remember that the right to speak, organize, petition, and vote belongs to you. Not to Elon Musk. Not to Mark Zuckerberg. Not to a political party. To you. And I don't intend to stop using mine. Stay salty, my friends. Use your outside voice. There's knowledge in every strand of gray, and nobody gets to silence us. Love y'all, Mamaw *Mamaw's Porch n Politics*

  3. Oct 21

    Sherrod Brown Comes to Mamaw's Porch: Veterans, Chocolate Milkshakes, and the Cost of War

    Pull up a chair, folks. Sherrod Brown came to the porch, and we had a few things to talk about. I've known Sherrod Brown since 2008. That's a long time in politics, and an even longer time when you consider everything Ohio and this country have been through since then. Sherrod, Ohio's former United States Senator, is running again for the Senate. But when he joined us on Mamaw's Porch n Politics, our conversation wasn't simply about campaigns, elections, or the usual political talking points. We talked about veterans. We talked about the cost of war. We talked about history, family, and the responsibility we have to one another. And, because this is Mamaw's porch, we even managed to work chocolate milkshakes into the conversation. Now THAT is what I call a proper porch visit. A Porch Full of History One of the first things Sherrod noticed was the collection of photographs of veterans in Mamaw’s family. Those pictures aren't just decorations. They're stories. They're generations of service, sacrifice, and American history, much of which never makes it into the history books. Our conversation turned Quanah Parker, Comanche, being Calvin’s great grandfather. He made decisions to protect his people and their land. We also discussed the limited military roles available to some Native Americans during World War II. It was a reminder that military service in America has never been one simple story. Native Americans, Black Americans, women, and countless others have served a country that did not always extend the same opportunities and protections to them. And yet, they served. As an Army veteran myself, I find those histories important. We cannot fully appreciate military service without acknowledging the complicated history of the country those service members defended. Veterans Don't Want to Take Anything Away From Anybody This was the part of our conversation that particularly stayed with me. Sherrod talked about a gathering of veterans in Jackson, Ohio. They had invited about a dozen people. Forty-five showed up. Now, anybody who has organized a gathering in rural Ohio knows that's a pretty significant turnout! But it wasn't the number of people that impressed Sherrod most. It was their attitude. He described veterans concerned about their benefits and access to VA services. Yet he also talked about something he had heard from veterans hundreds of times. Some were reluctant to claim the benefits they had earned because they worried they might be taking something away from another veteran. Think about that for a minute. These men and women served their country. Some came home with injuries that would follow them for the rest of their lives. Others carry wounds that nobody can see. And they're worried that asking for help might deprive someone else. Sherrod explained the problem with that thinking. When more eligible veterans use the services available to them, it helps demonstrate the need for adequate funding. That is a message every veteran needs to hear. Your VA benefits are not charity. They are not a handout. And using them does not make you selfish. They are part of the commitment this nation made when it sent you into military service. You fulfilled your obligation. Now the country has an obligation to fulfill its own. The Cost of War Doesn't End When the Shooting Stops During the discussion, Sherrod turned to my husband, Calvin, whom many of you know as Farmer or Poppa. He talked about something Calvin had raised earlier in the conversation. The cost of war doesn't stop when the war ends. Sherrod put it plainly: "The costs of war go on and on and on and on." He mentioned PTSD and the continuing financial costs associated with caring for people returning from war. That statement deserves more attention than it usually receives. When politicians talk about the cost of military operations, they often focus on the immediate expenses: equipment, personnel, transportation, weapons, and deployment. But what about the soldier who comes home with a traumatic brain injury? What about the veteran who cannot sleep because the war is still playing in his head fifty years later? What about the family trying to understand why the person who came home is not quite the same person who left? What about the spouse who becomes a caregiver? Or the children who grow up living with the consequences of a war they never experienced? Those costs don't disappear when somebody signs a peace agreement. They can last for generations. Calvin is a Vietnam combat veteran. I know from our lives together that war can leave its mark long after a soldier hangs up his uniform. Our son is an Iraq/Afghanistan combat veteran. Both came home with wounds visible and invisible….but wounds just the same. Calvin suffered years later from the effects of Agent Orange on top of his other injuries. Our son suffers from the effects of taxic burn pits, on top of his injuries. He benefits from the PACT Act that Sherrod Brown pushed through. And I know that many veterans, particularly from Vietnam, came home to a country that didn't understand what they had experienced. Some were barely more than children when they went to war. They came back carrying memories and injuries that would shape the rest of their lives. When we discuss sending Americans into another conflict, we owe those service members more than patriotic speeches. We owe them a serious accounting of what war will cost, not just today, but thirty, forty, and fifty years from now. And we owe them the care they were promised. And Then There Were the Chocolate Milkshakes Now, before you think the entire conversation was solemn, let me assure you that Sherrod can wander down a conversational rabbit hole just like the rest of us. Somehow, we got onto food. And chocolate milkshakes. Sherrod shared a story about a close friend who had passed away far too young, shortly after Sherrod was elected to the Senate. His friend apparently had a rather amusing way of describing Sherrod's relationship with food. For Sherrod, eating was like stopping at a gas station. You pull in, fill up, and go. Apparently, he isn't particularly interested in being a gourmet food critic. I had to laugh. Here we were discussing some of the most serious issues facing our country, and suddenly we're talking about chocolate milkshakes and whether eating is simply a matter of refueling. But that's the beauty of a porch conversation. You get the person, not just the politician. You hear the stories about old friends, family, and the little things that make somebody human. And sometimes those moments tell you something that a carefully prepared campaign speech never could. Can We Afford to Keep Trying? Later in our conversation, we turned toward a much bigger question: whether we can afford to keep trying to make things better. Sherrod's answer was simple. "The answer is we can't afford not to." He acknowledged the frustration of people who wonder whether progress can happen quickly enough. But his response was that we have to try. He went on to begin telling us about his mother, who grew up in a small Georgia town during the Jim Crow era. That history matters. It reminds us that the America we live in today did not simply arrive fully formed. Changes in civil rights, opportunity, and equality came through generations of struggle, legislation, court decisions, organizing, and ordinary people refusing to accept the world exactly as it was. Progress has never been guaranteed. And it has rarely been easy. I think about that whenever I hear somebody say that nothing can change, that politics doesn't matter, or that there's no point in getting involved. I understand the frustration. Believe me, folks, there are days when Mamaw could wear out an entire vocabulary of colorful Army expressions before breakfast. But frustration and surrender are two very different things. We can question our elected officials. We can demand explanations. We can insist that government do its job. And we can keep participating, even when progress seems painfully slow. What I Took Away From Sherrod's Visit Sherrod Brown is back on the ballot in Ohio, challenging Senator Jon Husted in the 2026 U.S. Senate election. That's the political context of this visit. But what interested me about our conversation was how quickly we moved beyond the election itself. We talked about veterans who hesitate to use the benefits they've earned. We talked about the lifelong costs of war. We talked about Native American history and military service. We talked about family memories, the Jim Crow South, and whether Americans can still make progress. And, of course, chocolate milkshakes. That's the kind of conversation I want Mamaw's Porch n Politics to be known for. I don't want candidates simply repeating their campaign advertisements. I want to hear them talk about the people they meet, the problems those people face, and what they believe government should do about them. I want to hear the stories behind their positions. And I want the people watching to have enough information to ask their own questions and make their own decisions. Because when the election is over, the problems we discussed on the porch will still be here. Veterans will still need care. Families will still be dealing with the consequences of war. And Americans will still be asking whether their government is listening. Those are conversations worth continuing. And that's why I keep inviting people onto my porch. Pull up a chair. Pour yourself some coffee. We've got plenty more to talk about. And Sherrod, next time, maybe we'll have a chocolate milkshake waiting. — Mamaw

  4. Oct 19

    Pull Up a Coffee: The Broligarchs, Pootie Poo, and the Audacity of Washington

    By LJ Parker — Mamaw's Porch n Politics Sunday Morning Coffee with Mamaw and Miss Carmel Well, hey y'all. Pull up a coffee and set a spell, because Miss Carmel and I are plum wore out. Lord have mercy, what a week. Between Washington, Moscow, billionaires trying to run the country, politicians who apparently misplaced their backbones, and the never-ending parade of hypocrisy, I'm beginning to think Miss Carmel and I need a chiropractor on retainer. And we still have more to go. Now, before we get into the serious stuff, I heard a joke about those promised $5,000 checks that supposedly everybody's going to get if Republicans win. Apparently, somebody suggested you could take that money down to Mar-a-Lago and buy yourself a hamburger and a small dessert. Five thousand dollars for a hamburger and dessert? Well, isn't that just a modern-day let them eat cake moment? Of course, I wouldn't start spending that imaginary check just yet. But let's get to what really has me fired up. Pootie Poo, Ukraine, and the Art of Blaming the Victim I have a question. Why does Donald Trump seem to have such a difficult time remembering who invaded whom? Russia invaded Ukraine. Not the other way around. Vladimir Putin launched the full-scale invasion in February 2022. Volodymyr Zelensky didn't wake up one morning, drink his coffee, and decide to invade Russia. Yet every time the discussion turns to energy prices, sanctions, or negotiations, it seems that Ukraine is expected to make concessions while Russia's responsibility for the invasion gets pushed into the background. Now, I served in the United States Army. I understand something about defending your country. Imagine China invaded the United States. Would we sit quietly while another country told us which military targets we could strike? Would we be grateful for weapons but accept endless restrictions on defending ourselves? Oh, hell no. We'd be fighting tooth and nail. That's exactly the point I was making to Miss Carmel. Ukraine is a much smaller country fighting a much larger aggressor. Its people have endured destruction, displacement, and years of war. And still they fight. I've wondered aloud what explains Trump's approach to Putin. I've even speculated about whether Putin has some kind of leverage over him. But wondering isn't proof, and nobody should mistake that speculation for an established fact. What we can examine is policy: sanctions, military assistance, diplomatic pressure, and the messages sent to both Kyiv and Moscow. Those decisions have consequences. And I believe America should be asking whether its policies are helping an invaded nation defend its sovereignty. Slava Ukraini. Meet the Broligarchs: When Billionaires Become Too Big for Their Britches Now, let's talk about the broligarchs. You know who I'm talking about. The extraordinarily wealthy technology executives whose businesses, political spending, and government relationships have made them major players in American public life. Take Elon Musk. His companies have received substantial government contracts, particularly through SpaceX. Starlink has also played an important role in Ukraine's communications infrastructure. That raises legitimate questions about what happens when a privately controlled system becomes important to military operations and national security. Who makes the decisions? Who is accountable? What happens when a company's interests and a country's interests don't line up? And why should any single billionaire have so much influence over systems that governments and ordinary citizens depend upon? Those of us of a certain age remember Ma Bell. Remember when AT&T was such a dominant force in American telecommunications that the government pursued an antitrust case, eventually resulting in the breakup of the Bell System? There was a reason for that. Competition matters. Concentrated power matters. And today, the same fundamental questions deserve attention when it comes to technology platforms, communications infrastructure, and companies holding enormous amounts of personal information. Then there's campaign money. The Supreme Court's Citizens United decision helped reshape political spending by protecting certain independent expenditures. It did not simply remove every contribution limit, but it did contribute to a political environment in which wealthy donors and organizations can spend enormous sums trying to influence elections. I don't think a billionaire should have a political megaphone thousands of times louder than the average American's simply because his bank account has more zeros. And before somebody tells me that's just capitalism, let me remind you: Capitalism and democracy are not the same thing. One is an economic system. The other is a system of government that is supposed to give citizens a political voice. We ought to be capable of protecting both free enterprise and democratic accountability. Government Isn't Supposed to Be a Kissing Contest Miss Carmel and I got to talking about presidential appointments. Here's the way I see it. When a president appoints somebody to a major government position, the question ought to be whether that person has the experience, judgment, and qualifications to do the job. Not whether they can flatter the president better than the next fellow. Loyalty has always played a role in politics. That's nothing new. But loyalty cannot replace competence. And that's precisely why the Constitution gives the Senate an advice-and-consent role for many important appointments. Those confirmation hearings are supposed to mean something. Senators should ask hard questions. They should examine qualifications, potential conflicts of interest, and the nominee's understanding of the law. And they ought to do it regardless of which party occupies the White House. Because government officials don't work for the president personally. They work for the American people. And the American people deserve something better than a government where everybody is afraid to disagree with the boss. The Tate Brothers and the Women Nobody Should Forget Now, this part of our Sunday conversation wasn't funny. Not one damn bit. We discussed reporting about Andrew and Tristan Tate, their legal troubles in Romania and Britain, and the political connections they developed in the United States. The brothers have faced serious allegations, including human trafficking and sexual offenses. They have denied wrongdoing, and allegations must not be confused with convictions. But the underlying subject deserves attention: the exploitation of women. We should be asking hard questions about how alleged trafficking networks operate, how victims are protected, and whether wealth or political influence can affect legal proceedings. The brothers' departure from Romania for Florida in February 2025 prompted questions about the circumstances surrounding the lifting of their travel restrictions. Reporting has examined their political relationships, but those relationships alone do not establish that Trump personally intervened in a Romanian court proceeding. That's a distinction worth maintaining. And it doesn't diminish the seriousness of the questions. Because women and girls are not commodities. They are not inventory. They are not products for somebody else's profit. And when women speak up about exploitation, they shouldn't be dismissed, ridiculed, or told to be quiet. Which brings me to something I hear from trolls every so often. 'Granny, shut up and go make some cookies.' Well, sugar, I've got news for you. I can bake cookies, discuss international law, explain a congressional hearing, and tell you exactly what I think about political corruption. Sometimes all before lunch. Being a grandmother doesn't mean I've surrendered my brain. And getting older sure as hell doesn't mean I've surrendered my voice. Ohio Politics: Appointed Is Not the Same as Elected Let's bring this conversation back home to Ohio. During our show, Miss Carmel and I talked about the special election involving Sherrod Brown and Jon Husted. When J.D. Vance left his Senate seat to become vice president, Ohio Governor Mike DeWine appointed Jon Husted to fill the vacancy. Now, Husted is serving in the Senate. That makes him the incumbent officeholder. But there's an important distinction. He initially got there through an appointment, not by winning an election for that Senate seat. The special election allows Ohio voters to decide who will serve the remainder of the term. And I think voters deserve to understand exactly how that works. We also discussed the FirstEnergy scandal, which remains an important chapter in Ohio political history. The scandal involved a massive bribery scheme connected to Ohio's House Bill 6 and led to criminal convictions, including that of former Ohio House Speaker Larry Householder. Questions about political relationships and accountability surrounding that scandal deserve careful scrutiny. But association with the controversy is not, by itself, proof that every politician mentioned committed a crime. That's why evidence matters. That's why investigations matter. And that's why I believe the same standards should apply regardless of party. Guns, Democrats, and the Snowflake Business One of our Porch Sitters brought up firearms. She talked about being a gun owner and believing that responsible citizens should be able to protect themselves. Well, Miss Carmel and I both understood what she meant. I'm an Army veteran. I've handled weapons, trained with them, and qualified with them. So the idea that every Democrat is afraid of firearms or wants to confiscate everybody's guns is simply not an accurate description of the party's voters. Americans have real disagreements about firearm regulations, background checks, public safety, and constitutional rights. Those disagreements deserve

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Contemporary issues and interviews through the lens of a Progressive Appalachian Mamaw. Mamaw enlightens those who listen with insight to the issues in rural America. We are more complex than "flyover" country.

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