I enjoy long walks through nuance and strong opinions politely debated. I like people who argue to understand, not just to win. Bring your curiosity and I’ll bring mine.

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Joined 3 years ago
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Cake day: July 16th, 2023

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  • Trump didn’t create the grift. The system that enabled it was built long before he arrived.

    Starting with Nixon’s “Southern strategy,” the Republican Party began reshaping political identity around grievance. After the Fairness Doctrine was repealed in 1987, partisan media like talk radio and Fox News grew without the obligation to present balanced perspectives. The Citizens United ruling in 2010 then opened the door to unlimited political spending, allowing well-funded groups to amplify fear-based messaging at scale. The Tea Party movement reinforced the idea that the threat came from within, not just from ideological opponents.

    Over time, this narrative produced an ever-shifting villain: sometimes “liberals,” sometimes “socialists,” often just “them.” Orwell captured the mechanism in Animal Farm: “Whenever anything went wrong it became usual to attribute it to Snowball.”

    Trump didn’t invent that scapegoat. He inherited it, and then he turned the volume up.

    To us, the grift is obvious. But for many, decades of messaging eroded trust in institutions and made the fear feel real. The lie works not because it persuades, but because it offers comfort.

    Understanding that history doesn’t excuse it. It reminds us the machinery was built before Trump and will remain if we only confront the man instead of the system that produced him.



  • This didn’t happen overnight. For over 20 years, Intuit has fought tooth and nail to stop Americans from having a truly free, government-run tax filing system. Back in the early 2000s, they lobbied Congress and cut a deal with the IRS. They were promising to offer a “Free File” option so the government wouldn’t build its own system. Then they turned around and buried that option so deep most people never found it, even using code to hide it from Google.

    When people did try to file for free, they were steered into paid versions with deceptive “free, free, free” ads. They were so deceptive that Intuit had to pay $141 million in settlements. Now, after decades of manipulation, Direct File is being terminated. This is exactly what they’ve wanted all along. It’s the result of relentless lobbying, lies, and corporate greed, all to keep Americans paying for something that should have been free from the start.




  • “He’s going to eat us?!?”

    “No, no, he’s just joking.”

    “…But he literally said he’s going to eat us.”

    “Yeah, but I like that he’s honest about it.”

    “So he is going to eat us?”

    “Of course not, you fear monger!”

    “He just said it again!”

    “That’s just his sense of humor. Finally, someone who speaks his mind!”

    “He just ate someone!”

    “Yeah, but they were bad.”

    “How do you know?”

    “He said so himself. You really should stop questioning everything.”


  • I have been responding to you without the context of the surrounding arguments. I see now this thread has been heated. A lot of people here haven’t given your points a fair shake, and some have even gone straight to insults. I want to make clear: that’s not how I am or have been approaching you.

    You’ve been defending an important principle, that justice requires safeguards like presumption of innocence and burden of proof. I respect that, and I’m not your enemy here. Where I think we’ve gotten stuck is in treating this like a contest of right vs. wrong instead of an opportunity to explore a tricky issue together.

    When you said, “If you’re unwilling to come to terms on this, it’s no longer my problem,” I understand the frustration. But I see conversations differently. They aren’t problems to discard once they get hard, they are opportunities to grow, to test ideas, and to sharpen our own thinking. Even when we disagree, I learn from exchanges like this. Your pushback has made me think more carefully about how testimony is weighed in practice versus principle.

    So I’d like to approach this less as sparring partners and more as fellow learners. We may not land in the same place, but if we both leave with deeper clarity, then that’s a win for both of us. That is why I have continued our discussion.


  • The Carroll case verdict was based on:

    • Carroll’s testimony
    • Testimony from two friends she told in the 1990s (contemporaneous disclosure)
    • Testimony from other women describing similar experiences
    • Trump’s Access Hollywood tape statements
    • Trump’s deposition testimony

    That’s… literally all testimony and statements. No physical evidence, no DNA, no security footage, no documents. The “shit-load more” you’re referring to IS testimony. They are different types of testimony that corroborate a pattern.

    You keep saying “testimony ALONE does not convict” but then when shown cases where it does, you call them “exceptions.” How many “exceptions” do you need before acknowledging it’s an established part of our legal system?

    Here’s the reality: in many sexual assault cases, especially historical ones, testimony is the primary or only evidence. That’s why courts developed extensive frameworks for evaluating credibility. Because they recognized that requiring physical evidence for crimes that typically occur in private would effectively legalize those crimes.

    • State v. Michaels(1984): “The victim’s testimony alone, if believed by the jury, is sufficient to sustain a conviction.”
    • People v. Barnes(1986): Conviction upheld based solely on victim testimony.

    These aren’t “exceptions”, they’re applications of established law.

    Your HOA example actually undermines your own argument. If 28 random, unconnected people from different neighborhoods, different decades, who don’t know each other, all independently accused the same HOA president of embezzlement with similar patterns… wouldn’t that be worth investigating seriously? The legal system already has mechanisms to evaluate credibility and coordination. That’s literally what discovery and cross-examination are for. That’s literally what reasonable doubt standards are for.




  • That’s not quite accurate. Our justice system has never required physical evidence alone. Testimonial evidence is real evidence, and courts have long recognized that credible witness testimony can be sufficient to sustain a conviction or judgment even without physical proof. This principle is well-established in American jurisprudence.

    Courts routinely convict defendants based primarily or entirely on witness testimony in cases involving fraud, conspiracy, sexual assault, and many other crimes where physical evidence may be limited or unavailable.

    The key factors are the credibility of witnesses and whether their testimony is consistent and corroborated by other evidence (which can include additional testimony).

    Federal and state evidence rules reflect this reality. They establish standards for evaluating witness credibility and reliability, but don’t require physical evidence as a prerequisite for conviction.

    The burden is on prosecutors to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, but that proof can come through testimonial evidence.

    While physical evidence can certainly strengthen a case, requiring it as an absolute necessity would make it impossible to prosecute many serious crimes and would represent a fundamental departure from centuries of legal precedent.

    So while physical evidence can be powerful, it’s not a prerequisite. Courts weigh the credibility and corroboration of testimony carefully, and independent accounts from multiple witnesses are recognized as particularly probative.


  • In your scenarios, all of the plaintiffs are related to the accused in a similar way and would have a common incentive to make the accusation. That kind of situation naturally raises concerns about collusion or bias. By contrast, when multiple independent and unconnected individuals come forward with similar accusations, the evidentiary weight is very different. Courts recognize that corroboration from unrelated parties strengthens credibility, because it reduces the likelihood of a coordinated or self-serving motive.

    For example, in United States v. Bailey, 581 F.2d 341 (3d Cir. 1978), the court noted that corroborating testimony from independent witnesses could significantly enhance credibility and probative value. Similarly, Federal Rule of Evidence 404(b) allows prior bad acts to be admitted in limited circumstances, precisely because independent, consistent reports can establish patterns that are unlikely to result from mere coincidence or collusion.





  • I read the WSJ article and she is absolutely infuriating. Her reasoning contains several fallacies:

    False Cause:

    “It was absolute fearmongering at its worst”

    She blames political messaging instead of considering that vague legal language created legitimate professional uncertainty.

    Straw Man:

    “There will be some comments like, ‘Well, thank God we have abortion services,’ even though what I went through wasn’t an abortion”

    This is particularly frustrating. Advocates aren’t celebrating her needing an “abortion”, they’re pointing out her experience is exactly what they predicted: doctors hesitating due to legal uncertainty. She had to argue with staff, pull up laws on her phone, and call the governor’s office during a medical emergency. That’s the system breakdown advocates warned about, not a misunderstanding of medical definitions.

    False Dilemma:

    “We have turned the conversation about women’s healthcare into two camps: pink hats and pink ribbons. It’s either breast cancer or abortion.”

    This drastically oversimplifies complex healthcare policy into just two opposing sides and the irony is staggering. It’s like a company ignoring safety advocates’ warnings about a confusing manual, then when accidents happen, blaming those advocates for ‘scaring’ workers instead of fixing the manual.

    She lived the very scenario abortion rights advocates had been warning about all along, yet somehow, in her mind, the problem isn’t the law, it’s the people who tried to stop it from hurting her in the first place.


  • Alright, I want to say this first: I appreciate that you’ve stayed in this conversation. I really do. I can tell you care, that you take your tradition seriously, and that you’re trying to offer what you believe is truth. That matters to me. I’m going to speak just as plainly as you do, because I think you can handle it.

    You keep pointing to your sin like it’s some badge of spiritual maturity. But Christ didn’t die so you could stay tethered to your brokenness. He died so you could actually change. He didn’t offer you a mirror just to say, “Yep, still filthy,” but to cleanse you and fill you with His Spirit so that His love becomes what people experience when they encounter you.

    You speak of repentance as if it’s the destination. It’s not. It’s the doorway.

    You talk about church as the only hospital, but then point to sacraments and tradition as the required price of admission. You keep reducing the gospel to obedience, when the whole point of transformation was not through your obedience, but His. You are like Christ because of Christ.

    And if Christ in you and through you is the goal, then look at how He loved. He confronted religious pride. He broke bread with doubters. He listened before correcting. He touched wounds before calling people to sin no more.

    Right now, your version of Christianity seems to say, “You’re disgusting. Come to church.”

    But the gospel contradicts that directly with, “You are deeply loved. You have been made whole.”

    Your sin isn’t the problem. If the work of the Cross is actually finished, your sin is not your problem. It was Christ’s.

    What I see in you is a refusal to believe you can actually live differently. That Christ can actually live through you. That His Spirit doesn’t just forgive, it transforms.

    You want me to come back to church? Then show me what church people look like when they truly believe they’ve been made new.

    You say Christianity isn’t about me. But Jesus didn’t die to protect institutions. He died for people. For their hearts. For their healing. For their wholeness. That is the good news.

    So I’ll keep talking to strangers here, or anywhere else I can connect with people. I’ll keep telling my story. I will bring the Church to them. Because someone out there needs to hear that there is nothing to be ashamed of anymore. Love defeated shame. Love defeated doctrine-as-a-weapon. Love is the good news we share through our words and our actions.

    And since you speak often of repentance and obedience, I’ll offer this to you in your own language:

    If the Church is a hospital, as you say, then what do you do when the wounded are afraid to walk through the doors, not because they reject healing, but because the people inside keep reopening their wounds?

    Is it not a kind of spiritual malpractice to demand repentance from the hurting without first washing their feet?

    You’re right, Christ calls us to die to ourselves. But if that death doesn’t make us more gentle, more approachable, more like a refuge for the broken, what exactly is dying in us? And what’s still holding on?

    And one more thing. You seem to have misread my last question. It wasn’t for me.

    It was for you.

    Are you Christlike?

    Not in your theology. Not in your discipline. Not in your sacraments or church attendance.
    When people think of you, do they think of love?
    Love in your tone. Love in your compassion.
    Love in how you treat even a stranger—not just on some internet platform, but everywhere.

    Because as Jesus said, that is how they will know you are His disciple.


  • First of all, I want to thank you for engaging with me. You have definitely given more thought to your position than your initial replies. I dismissed you as someone not willing to actually engage based on those short responses, but this last reply had depth and effort. I truly appreciate and respect the effort.

    You’ve made your position very clear: submission, sacraments, and Church are non-negotiables in your view of faith. I understand that, and I even understand where it comes from. The tradition you’re drawing from is ancient, rigorous, and unapologetically structured.

    But what’s missing here, and what is truly heartbreaking, is any sign of compassion for another person’s spiritual wounds.

    I didn’t come here to tear down faith. I came because I loved the Church. I gave it years of my life, my energy, and my care. I spent six years in formal religious study. I learned Greek and Hebrew so I could seek truth and teach it faithfully. I led weekly studies for fifteen years, speaking to literally thousands of people who longed to know Christ. I watched marriages fall apart. I watched people suffer in silence. I watched young hearts burn out trying to earn a love they were told was unconditional.

    And I served right in the middle of all of it. My entire life’s work has been Christ.

    So when I speak of grief, I speak from the inside. This isn’t theory to me. It’s memory. It’s life.

    Your response hasn’t engaged with any of that. You haven’t asked a single question. You haven’t tried to understand. You’ve quoted doctrine and offered correction without even pausing to wonder who you’re speaking to. You assume I left because I didn’t want to submit, when in truth, I stayed far longer than was good for me because I wanted to be faithful.

    The Church you speak of, and the God you seem to represent, appear interested only in obedience and conformity. But the Jesus I encountered in Scripture? He wept with the broken. He dined with the outcast. He challenged the religious elite. He called people not to power, but to love.

    So here’s my sincere question for you:

    If someone came to you and shared that the Church had wounded them, not once, but persistently and they did so with humility and pain in their voice, how would Jesus respond?
    Would He accuse them?
    Would He quote doctrine?
    Would He tell them their experience doesn’t matter?
    Or would He listen?

    Because that’s really what this comes down to. Not whether I agree with every line of theology. Not whether I tick every box of orthodoxy. But whether those who bear the name of Christ actually reflect His posture when someone is bleeding spiritually.

    I have no expectations here, but I’ll leave you with one final question for you to ask yourself and sit with:

    Am I Christlike?