So I woke up this morning, scrolled the ol’ IG and came upon this video …

If you don’t recognize the women, it’s OC Supervisor Janet Nguyen alongside Gracey Van Der Mark, QAnon sympathizer, Huntington Beach City Council member, telephone booth licker and candidate for State Assembly (by the way, bravo to the OC Register for slashing apart her awful record in this piece).

And they’re worried about flooding.

Like, really worried about flooding.

Like, so worried about flooding that Gracey read 70 percent of her script without tripping over words. Like, so worried about flooding that Gracey dropped the red trench coat for the “Look, we’re being serious” outfit of jeans and Chucks.

And, on the one hand—there’s nothing wrong with the surrounded-by-flooding content of the message. We do need to be aware, store batteries, help our neighbors. So, good job. But, on the other hand—despite living on the coast, and watching the beaches drift away, neither Nguyen nor Van Der Mark have expressed even a slight belief that climate change and rising tides are problems. Neither woman has studied the science, dove into the issue, challenged the MAGA lines that, “There’s more ice than ever!” or “It’s all a liberal hoax.” Nope, nope, nope, nope.

They have done, quite literally, nada.

So as they stood alongside the flooding, reading off the intern’s phone and desperate to pose in front of the nearest Cheesecake Factory, neither Nguyen nor Gracey deserve the benefit of the doubt.

They’re just political profiteers.

Profiteering.

So there are these right-wing “newspapers” that are not actually newspapers.

They have newspaper names like “SoCal Daily Pulse.” They have bylines (some real names, perhaps). They have headlines and dates and all that stuff, but they are—without fail—creations of hard-right outlets.

And they exist for a singular reason: To scare the living shit out of Grandma and Grandpa.

I’m not exaggerating that point. Even though the “newspapers” have websites, they’re actually 99.999999 percent about Facebook posts. Or, put differently: Grandma Sandy is scrolling “The Web.” She sees a cat photo, two pictures of Penny Coakley’s grandkids, a recipe for eggplant stew, a funny meme about cows and then … this—

Maybe Grandma Sandy clicks on the link.

Maybe Grandma Sandy doesn’t click on the link.

But she reads the headline. She sees the photo. She presses on the LIKE button, maybe re-posts it; perhaps even forwards it to a friend.

And off the right-wing misinformation goes.

Another win for the assholes.

•••

So, briefly, let’s talk about fake newspapers, signs, the Capo Unified School Board race, a gem named Melissa Caldwell and a supersonic douchebag named Marco Carralero.

The two people (Melissa and Marco) aren running against one another for a spot on the Capistrano Unified School District Board of Education. One (Melissa) is a longtime local resident who has been involved for decades in education. The other (Marco) is a carpetbagger who has lived locally for the approximate lifespan of a moth. One (Melissa) can tell you the names of teachers, of principals, of school initiatives. The other (Marco) drives a neon orange CyberTruck and led a lawsuit to allow firearms in places no sane human would want firearms. One (Melissa) is the type of woman who—not all that long ago in the pre-Trump age—was an across-the-board no-brainer for a school board. The other (Marco) is the genre of dude you’ll see walking Huntington Beach with his hat backward, chugging his sixth Red Bull and calling everyone “Bro.”

Alas, we live in 2026.

Sucky, awful 2026.

Thanks to Super PACs and demons like Lisa Davis and Jennifer Adnams and Sonja Shaw, unqualified MAGA dolts like Marco have been imported to run for positions they have no business filling. And since they have no experience or qualifications or ties to the community, they wind up resorting to the types of ugly tactics that tear apart a municpality that was far better (and more whole) before they arrived.

Enter: Signs.

Befitting a local school board election, both Melissa and Marco have signs. And, if we’re being honest, I’d argue Marco’s signs are better. They feature a bold font, good colors, a pencil with an eraser. They also follow the Davis-Adnams blueprint of telling voters literally nothing about their hard-right nuttiness …

Anyhow, Marco’s signs can be found all over town. Which is how one runs a campaign. So, good for him. But recently, a slew of Marco’s signs were planted on private property and community-run property in the precise neighborhood that Melissa Caldwell calls home. Which, well, is pretty weird and even more suspicious. Like, why so many signs concentrated in one hyper-specific area?

So, some of Caldwell’s neighbors told Melissa these Marco signs were popping up left and right, and Caldwell (according to sources) told them the signs should be removed.

Well, by sheer coincidence (aka: I’m guessing no coincidence at all), the Marco Carralero campaign air tagged those specific signs, and now says it has proof Melissa Caldwell has been sign stealing.

Naturally, the story winds up on the different right-wing “newspaper” sites with bold SCANDAL! headlines. Those then wind up on Facebook, and those then wind up in Grandma Sandy’s sight of vision. So she posts and re-posts and shares with 100 of her closest re-posting friends.

That’s how misinformation goes viral.

And here is what I REALLY want to say to Marco Carralero, to Lisa Davis, to Jennifer Adnams and to all the other fuckers tearing up our community …

I hope this is worth it to you. I hope the character assassination of a good woman is worth it to you. I hope you feel great about this. I hope you feel whole about this. I hope you love the grendades you’ve thrown into public education and civic kindness. I hope, when you go to church and hit your knees next Sunday, you talk to God about this. I hope you look in the mirror and feel awesome about this.

Mostly, I hope the toxicity y’all have brought to local politics makes you proud.

I hope it makes you truly proud.

PS: Marco, of course, blocked me on social media. Because, of course, he’s a coward who can’t take any level of criticism or heat.

PPS …

As you read this, a guy named Marco Carralero is running for a spot on the Capo Unified School Board. Specifically, Trustee Area 4.

Bruh is a fraud.

Bruh is also uniquely unqualified.

So, naturally, all the Moms For Liberty nuts are behind him.

In no particular order, Carralero:

• Has literally never had children in Capo Unified schools.

• Recently rented a place in Laguna Niguel so he could run.

• Has never shown even a sliver of interest in public education.

• Drives a mega-douchey neon orange Cybertruck.

• Has received money from profoundly bad charter school PACs

• Is endorsed by the Moms For Liberty-esque nuts who want Christ in schools and books out of schools.

• Has sex with chickens dressed in poodle skirts.

Admittedly, I 100-percent made that last one up, and can neither confirm nor not confirm that bro has plucked poultry (Really, who’s to say?). But all the other shit is real. As is this campaign brochure, which was targeted for certain audiences and—if you value normal, reasoned public education—should scare the living shit out of you …

•••

I am serious when I say: Y’all need to spread the word about this guy. Something is … creepy. And off. And weird. And ugly. And smells of MAGA stew, with a dollop of “Why are all the queer teachers changing our boys into girls?” Last year he was invited to be a local Teacher of the Day by Lisa Davis (the deranged school board president and Moms For Liberty poster child), almost certainly so he could brag about being inside the schools come campaign season, and his literature literally makes up problems (DEI! Critical Race Theory! The return of Tony Danza!) that do not exist in Capo schools.

Hell, here are some of the listed endorsements—a Who’s Who of Who’s Nuts …

On his website, Carralero does the ol’, “Hey, I’m just a normal guy who wants the best for our kids.” Marco is a business owner, husband, and father of two. He and his wife run a health and wellness company in San Clemente and are proud to call Laguna Niguel home. He speaks English and French! He’s visited all 50 states! He holds BAs in History and Government & Politics from University of Maryland College Park! He loves kittens and long walks on the beach and saving baby seals from the mouths of dragons and …

And …

And …

The guy is REALLY creepy and disturbing. He was a plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging California restrictions on carrying firearms in places that included churches and hospitals. Of the $52,350 he has received in campaign donations, only eight percent is from people living in Laguna Niguel. A huge chunk of his dough is via the 1776 Project PAC (a charter school advocacy factory) and the Lincoln Club (who put the aw in awful).

Here, from @ourschoolscapo …

He’s either a plant of the hard-right or a guy who (like the others) has been brainwashed by some MAGA strobe to believe our biggest problems are trans athletes and the Black teacher who surely only got her job because of race.

•••

Carralero’s opponent is Melissa Caldwell, a longtime PTA member who has actually lived in Laguna Niguel for years. By a any reasoned standards, Caldwell is what a community wants in a school board member—sanity, reason, a love of teachers, a love of books, a love of kids doing their best and finding some enrichment. Someone who actually knows education.

Hell, my favorite part of this whole cha-cha is an anti-Caldwell mailer sent out by Carralero’s backers, which features this (damning?) quote in fruit punch red that is intended to terrify you …

Oh, my God!

She (gasp!) supports teachers!

•••

Truth be told, the race is probably tight. And there’s a reasonable shot Carralero wins. Because far few too people pay attention to these things, and oftentimes it’s signage and campaign mailings that sway one way or the other.

If he does triumph, well, I suspect Capo Unified parents will be damned to get what they voted for. Fanaticism. Religious indoctrination. A lack of seriousness. Teachers being marginalized. Books being set aside. Chickens in poodle skirts.

This is your election, people.

These are your kids.

Don’t say the Truth OC didn’t warn y’all.

I was thinking something this morning, sitting inside a hotel room in Delaware.

There are local political figures I like and local political figures I dislike and local political figures I abhor. For example, Will O’Neill, head of the Orange County GOP, is a floating turd in a yellow bowl. Gracey Van Der Mark is 854 flavors of crazy. Pat Burns is a sad tress stump. Lisa Davis is naive and simple.

But … they’re also humans. Like, as objectionable as I find Davis, I have no doubt she’s a loving wife and mother who bakes apple pies for teachers. One can object to another person’s approach/directives/desires while also acknowledging they possess positive human traits and characteristics.

That being said …

By now I have watched the Vivek ad featuring Amy Acton’s mother myriad times. It is horrible and grotesque and beyond comprehension. You know your political opponent endured a childhood where she was raped by her stepfather, so (instead of expressing empathy) you dig up her long-estranged mother (a woman Acton has not spoken to in decades) to … bash her?

For real?

This will go down, inarguably, as one of the most misguided political moves in United States history. I suspect (knock on wood) it’s the October Surprise Vivek launched on himself, and a hopeful death knell to his stupid campaign.

But while everything about it is disturbing, here is what got me the most:

And …

I …

I mean …

I mean …

I …

Staggering.

Seriously, in a nation of 330 million people, how did this happen? I can’t even understand it. Everyone (literally everyone) knows rape is bad—except for the dude we elected president. Everyone (literally everyone) knows trauma is real—except for the dude we elected president. It is all a contest to him. All a competition to see who can reach the bottom in the fastest time. I don’t know how one winds up this repugnant, but I also don’t know how someone this repugnant winds up president of the United States.

So early yesterday morning, a friend of mine sent over this …

And my pal wrote: “I don’t have a law degree, but I find it troubling that the leader of a tax-exempt religious organization is using his title as church pastor to endorse a political candidate.”

If you don’t know of Jack Hibbs, consider yourself blessed. Well, not blessed by Jack Hibbs, but blessed to have your sanity maintained and your decency uncorrupted.

Hibbs is the head of Calvary Chapel Chino Hills, a “church” [quotes intended] that puts the Gee in Jesus and the Jar in Jarringly Inconsistent when it comes to following the actual principles of religious doctrine.

Under Hibbs’ stewardship, Calvary Chapel Chino Hills has become a safe landing spot for hard-right dotards like Dixon, the Board of Supervisor candidate who (quite literally) specializes in backing/supporting policies that do nothing for the poor and give to the rich. And it shouldn’t be surprising, because Hibbs (again—a member of the clergy who professes to love God) is all in on MAGA. Literally, he has never (never, ever, ever) spoken out against Donald Trump, or his cheating on wife 1 with wife 2 and wife 2 with wife 3 and wife 3 with a porn star he raw dogged, then paid off in hush money. He has never condemned Trump for calling people fat and ugly and retarded; has never admonished him for Jan. 6 or mimicking the disabled reporter or making $2 billion off the presidency or just being jarringly, uniquely cruel and mean.

Nope, Hibbs has endorsed Donald Trump repeatedly.

It all makes me wonder: Do people like Jack Hibbs get it? Do they understand what they’re doing to faith? Do they understand that, by not following the virtues of Christ, they are basically screaming, “Don’t worry about Christianity—it’s all a big lark”? Does Jack Hibbs understanding how damaging this all is? How unethical this all is? Hell, how wrong it is to involve a church in politics and make his voting record his followers voting record?

Does he grasp what’s going down here?

My guess is no.

My guess is Jack Hibbs wants to be a player in the political game, far more than he loves him some Jesus.

So he stands before a crowd, praises all things God and Jesus—then puts his weight behind candidates who behave as Christ-like as a sewer rat.

Amen.

PS: Seriously, does this read like the bio of a dude who places God first?

The White House wants us to report government fraud! It wants citizens to become journalists! To crack down! To step up! To be friggin’ awesome, bruhs!

It has even set up a dope-ass special page on the White House website!

Here’s the link!

LFG!

And if you’re wondering! Why I’m using so many exclamation marks! It’s because I’m excited! Donald Trump and Co. are tired of fraud! They say there’s so much of it, we need to step up—as a people—and take action!

So I think! To make sure this doesn’t become yet another predictable, “Blame the left for everything!” witch hunt, we need to step up—as a people—and take action!

This is the form as I filled it out!

In all seriously, this is the White House being the 2026 White House—which is using government funds and resources to say, “Look! So much fraud from the Democrats! It’s all reported by the people!” [Except, cough, for the President making $2 billion in his first two years back. And, cough, receiving a jet. And, cough, his son’s wedding being paid for by Russians. Cough, cough]

So I suggest, immediately, everyone take a few moments, go to the site and fill out the form in the manner of what I did above.

Let’s bog these fuckers down.

Because fraud! It’s bad!

So … I dunno.

I keep reading about Democratic midterm optimism. I keep reading about the blue wave. I keep reading about the Democrats taking back the House and, perhaps, the Senate.

I keep reading it and reading it and reading it, and then this shit happens …

We have a president who believes there is winning and only winning. We have a president who doesn’t care for or understand democracy. We have a president utterly disinterested in Thomas Jefferson and George Washington; in Susan B. Anthony and Martin Luther King; in battles for independence and battles to defeat global tyranny.

We have a president who masturbates to himself and his lust for power.

And he will not just allow for defeat.

Seriously, if the Democrats aren’t aware by now—WAKE THE FUCK UP. This is the moment. It kicked into high gear yesterday, with an assault on California and voting; with some bullshit garbage about “voting crimes.” We are here, in the heat of what will be legitimate awfulness. A president’s dogged need to reign. A justice department beneath his thumb. A political party terrified of his wrath, and happy to curl up and coo.

I don’t know how this ends.

I am scared how this ends.

I suspect, come post-election day, we will need to take to the streets and take to the courts, for the two or three remaining threads of democracy are being torn from the garment. We are, as of now, pro-Putin, anti-voting, pro-war and watching helplessly as a madman focusses on a new D.C. golf course.

I am resolved to fight.

But, again, I am scared.

PS: …

So some of you might know I’m married to a saint.

And some of you might not know I’m married to a saint.

To end the suspense: I’m married to a saint.

Her name is Catherine Pearlman, and seven years she came home and asked, “How weird would it be if I donate a kidney to a stranger.”

Um, weird.

But not weird.

See, when one winds up rolling with a social worker, he gets a partner with a big heart; with compassion; with empathy; with a ceaseless need to give back. And, earlier that day, Catherine had been in a Starbucks when she saw this flyer …

In case it’s too blurry, a woman named Monica Valdez was seeking a kidney for her husband, Eli. He was O+. Catherine is O+. So my wife reached out, had some tests and—before long—was inside UCLA’s Medical Center, having her kidney removed and placed into another person’s body.

We met Monica and Eli for the first time that day. And, oftentimes, the story sort of begins and ends there. Hi. Hi. Thank you. You’re welcome. We’re thrilled to have a new kidney. Enjoy it. OK, bye. Bye.

Lives split apart.

Not for us, though. Within a quick span, Monica and Eli became family members—and vice versa. We spent Christmas Eve at their house. They spent Chanukah at our house. We celebrated birthdays together, graduations together. Dined regularly, went to concerts, ballgames. Kidney transplant anniversaries. I am not exaggerating when I call this, in a sense, the greatest of love stories. A kidney brought two families together, and those two families merged into one unit. Catherine and I came to love Monica and Eli as we do our own siblings. Truly, deeply.

A week and a half ago, Eli died suddenly. He was 52.

We are devastated. More than devastated. Crushed. Destroyed. Empty. Eli wasn’t just a dude who received a kidney. He was as giving and compassionate as you’ll find. I want to repeat that, because it sounds cliches but is entirely true: Eli Valdez was as giving and compassionate as you’ll find. All he did was give. Gifts, compliments, kindness. I’ve never known anyone like him.

Or, put different: My son Emmett once complimented Eli’s watch.

“Have it, bro,” Eli said.

“Eli,” Emmett replied, “I can’t take your watch.”

“But you’ll use it more than I do.”

He didn’t take the watch—but Eli wanted him to.

I digress.

Monica (equally wonderful) is suddenly on her own, and what was a beautiful life journey has gone horribly dark. Hence, Catherine and I have started a GoFundMe to help her stay afloat in the aftermath. She and her husband were of modest means. They were the most amazing kind of generous: Eternally giving without thinking of themselves.

If you’d like to aid in a worthy cause, it’d be appreciated.

If nothing else, please pray for Monica’s strength and well-being.

Thank you.

— Jeff Pearlman

If you read this site enough, you know I’m a sports journalist with a particular fondness for boxing.

Is the endeavor barbaric? Yes. Is it grotesque? Yes. Should it be outlawed? Yes. But despite all of that, boxing remains a graphic journalist’s closest friend. There’s a reason the great Ernest Hemingway was so drawn to pugilism. It’s vividness, multiplied by infinity.

I digress.

Back in the day, my favorite fighter was Sugar Ray Leonard, an Olympic gold medalist who captured world titles in five weight classes. And one of the things I most loved about Leonard was his approach. He just rarely … waited. He would punch before being punched. He would pounce as his opponent cocked a fist. Leonard was fast on his feet, swift of mind and aggressive without tiring himself out.

Truly, he was one of a kind.

I bring this up because, last night, Michigan senatorial candidate Abdul El-Sayed was hosting a town hall when an audience member—“Tommy”—asked whether El-Sayed would denounce the Muslim Brotherhood. And this isn’t surprising, because the GOP has been throwing its xenophobic bullshit El-Sayed’s way for months now. His opponent, Mike Rogers, is a Trump-obedient loser who has little to run on, so he’s gone nonstop ugliness over and over and over again.

To my great delight, El-Sayed has been masterful. There’s an oft-repeated approach among Democrats that we, as a party, need not be dragged into the mud. We should speak in positives; avoid the dirt, float above, happy and positive and claps and snaps.

And, eh, it sucks. It reminds me of 1988, when Michael Dukakis refused to properly address the vile Willie Horton ads—and lost to George H.W. Bush in a landslide.

Anyhow, El-Sayed brings it. He’s bold and unafraid and insanely well-spoken. Tonight, he had what I believe will go down as the moment of the campaign …

I watched it. Then watched it again.

And as “Tommy” exited the building, tail tucked between legs, I squealed with delight.

Abdul El-Sayed is Sugar Ray Leonard.

And I love Sugar Ray Leonard.

As I’m writing this my shoulders are wet, the back of my head has been slightly shaved and I’m recovering from a snake in my face, a dead chicken head pushed against my right cheek and an electric shock running through my left hand.

Yes, I’m home from the 17th Door.

And if you’re one who digs adventure, and loves frights, and relishes Halloween—I strongly urge you to head to Buena Park one of these nights, plunk down the $39 and walk through the (literally) 17 doors into 17 different terrifying/fun/wildly entertaining rooms.

Here, for your entertainment, is the hallway through which one enters and exits …

Seriously, this was my fourth time at the 17th Door. I went with two friends—Mike, who has done all four with me; and Andrea, a rookie. Even with the past experience, shit is legit scary. This isn’t your elementary school haunted house, where a bunch of kids put up some fake spider webs and wear masks. No, this is spinning rooms, dangling animals, grotesque smells, aggressive behaviors, wind gusts and insane asylum bus trips and cold water pours and suffocation.

The immersiveness is top shelf. So is the staging. It’s just an elite haunted house experience; one where no one gets hurt and the laughs even out the cries and you walk away feeling oddly accomplished.

I love it.

When I was a kid, I used to steal Fudgsicles from our garage freezer and eat them behind a big bush on the side of the house.

My mother was quickly on to me.

“Did you eat a Fudgsicle?” she’d ask.

Um, no.

“So why did I find a wrapper behind the big bush again?”

Silence.

“Alongside a bunch of your baseball cards.”

Glub.

Some variation of this repeated itself endless times. And the reason is quite simple: At age 10, I loved Fudgsicles and I was a shit liar.

Mom knew it.

•••

That was, oh, around 1982.

Here, 44 years later, Garrett Dwyer of the Aliso Viejo City Council is a shit liar—and we all know it.

In case you missed it (and you likely did), somewhat recently Dwyer was dressed down at the latest Aliso Viejo City Council meeting. The man bringing the heat is Sebastian Walter Young, a political future star (if he wants to be) who lives locally and attends a ton of meetings and arrived with a big ol’ bag of receipts.

Just watch, and enjoy …

Now, you might be thinking, “Surely, the kid at the podium misunderstands.” Right? I mean, why would Garrett Dwyer—in the heat of a re-election campaign—lie about being a part of new bike lanes?

Answer: I have no idea—but Dwyer is, factually, lying. Hell, Garrett, who was appointed to the council one year ago as a replacement for Richard Hurt, couldn’t be involved in the big bike lane improvement project—BECAUSE ALISO VIEJO HASN’T added NEW BIKE LANES IN MORE THAN A DECADE.

I repeat: He joined America’s hottest hip-hop crew and boasted about improvements that literally don’t exist.

I offer you a list of 10 people who had as much to do with the invisible new bike lanes as Garrett Dwyer:

• Your shoe.

• Former Menudo member Draco Rosa.

• Rabbi Eric Abbott of the Bethesda Jewish Congregation.

• Jim Beswick, who played in 17 games for the 1978 San Diego Padres.

• Former Vice President Schuyler Colfax.

• Max, the golden retriever who lived across the street from me when I was a kid.

• Katie Couric.

• The ham sandwich on your desk as you read this.

• Andrew Cathy, Chick-fil-A’s CEO.

• Malcolm X’s wife, Betty.

Craps, here’s what makes the bullshit even worse. Garrett is also taking credit for Aliso Viejo’s reduced speed limits—when he was 100-percent against the change.

And it’s like, bruh, you know these meetings are recorded, right? You know people chronicle the goings-on of local government, yes? You know that—while your MAGA king Trump is a professional liar who has gone all Jonestown on his warped, hypnotized supporters—you’re just a local mortgage broker named Garrett?

•••

I understand that we’re conditioned to the idea that all political figures lie, and it’s probably because, well, all political figures seem to lie.

But, truth be told, they don’t. Not here. Not on a local level. Not on this small of a stage.

So, please, vote for Marie Tsaasan in District 3.

When she wins, I’ll hook y’all up with Fudgsicles.

If I have any left.

So, down in Tennessee, Senator Marsha Blackburn is running for governor. My former home state is now fruit punch in political hue, so odds are painfully high she wins.

That said, Blackburn is a perfect mirror of the modern GOP, which is to say sensibility and reason have been replaced by, well, raw nuttiness, tone-deafness and performative idiocy. And on a day when J.D. Vance insulted James Talarico for being gay (which he’s not—and who cares if he is?) and a new White House press secretary stumbled over her seven-word vocabulary, Blackburn somehow stole the show with this Twitter post …

Um …

Eh …

Ah …

Obviously, Kendrick Lamar should demand it be removed. But, more to the point, can we talk about the raw cultural appropriation of it all? Seriously, Marsha? Kendrick Lamar? Kendrick Lamar? Really? That’s your move here?

Can you even name a rapper?

How about a Black friend?

Fucking a, I’m tired.

Now that I’ve done this site for a good while, few things surprise me. What I mean is, there are good candidates and bad candidates, well-run campaigns and crappily run campaigns, slogans that work, slogans that don’t work.

On and on and on.

Tonight, however, I have been surprised.

There is a MAGA candidate for Huntington Beach City Council named Brian Thienes (sorta rhymes with penis). He is in the Pat Burns-Gracey Van Der Mark mold of idiot right winger who spews Trump talking points, kneels before the Orange God of Idiocy and, when no one is looking, steals toilet paper rolls on annual Christmas visits to the Mar-a-Lago men’s bathroom (Being serious—this guy actually visits Mar-aLago fairly often. So … who knows?).

Anyhow, somewhat recently Thienes (a small-business owner with a shitload of skeletons I anticipate delving into in the coming days) decided he needed to boost his campaign messaging. So he said, um, this …

And I’m just gonna say it: Of all the potential Huntington Beach City Council members pledging to work hard for you two days a week, Brian Thienes is your guy. He will, I am quite certain, not even think about you on those other five days of the week. But come Tuesday and Thursday, bruh is there for you! On the job! Putting in at least three good hours before lunch, and maybe even two more good hours after! LFG!

On Tuesdays and Thursdays (unless Tuesdays or Thursdays fall on holiday, or he needs to be home for a handyman, or his pony is running at Santa Anita, or he just wants to sleep in after a rough night out), he’ll make sure important issues are addressed, like … oh, the MAGA plaque outside the library. The Trump statue in the park. Banning books that mention boobs and gay people.

But, only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Most Tuesdays and Thursdays.

When he can get to the office.

Sigh.

•••

PS: Not for nothing, the guy is throwing money around left and right. Wanna know why nobody trusts politics …

So I was speaking with a friend late yesterday, and she said, “Man, those anti-Chris Kluwe ads are everywhere.”

She was referring to negative spots in the California Assembly District 72 race, paid for by the campaign of Gracey Van Der Mark, the MAGA Republican/Huntington Beach City Council member. And, on the one hand, this is a good thing, because clearly Kluwe is a legitimate threat in a lean-Republican swath of turf. The GOP is nervous, and with good reason: Chris is passionate, smart, accomplished and feisty as fuck. He’s proven to be a strong candidate.

But, on the other hand, it’s a bad thing—because negativity sells.

Sooooo …

I’d like to share a video that dates back a bunch of years and features Gracey and a gaggle of unhinged white supremacists infiltrating a meeting of the Committee for Racial Justice. It tells you everything you need to know about Gracey Van Der Mark.

Truly, everything.

If you’re aware of Gracey’s history, nothing here is a big shocker. She is a white supremacist—made even stranger, because she’s Latina. She is a bigot. She is a homophobe. She is a racist. She is a disgusting fillet of pig shit who has rolled with rioters from both Charlottesville and the Jan. 6 insurrection. She posted a playlist on YouTube dubbed, “Holocaust hoax?” that featured anti-Semitic videos and Holocaust revisionism. She enjoys the support of the white supremacist group, Patriot Voice Rising.

On the Huntington Beach City Council (not exactly the land of the reasoned), Gracey stands out as a book banner who sought to ostracize and ridicule the best people around—librarians; as a homophobe who tried purging LGBTQ+ titles from the young adult section of the Huntington Beach Public Library.

Gracey was removed from two school district committees for being racist.

Not one, two.

If you know voters, or potential voters, tell them about Gracey Van Der Mark.

Tell them she’s not merely the crazy one.

She’s the dangerous one.

Show them this …

Were you to tell me Ziggy McBride was a middle reliever for the 1979 Houston Astros, I’d 100-percent believe it.

Were you to tell me Ziggy McBride played bass for Lynyrd Skynyrd, I’d also 100-percent believe it.

Ziggy McBride as a new Six Flags coaster? I can see it. Ziggy McBride as Bugs Bunny’s love interest? Absolutely.

It is a fun, wacky, wild, intriguing name.

But Ziggy McBride as a member of the Tustin School Board?

No.

Fucking.

Way.

As we speak, McBride is in a tight election fight against incumbent Jonathan Abelove in District Area 5. While Abelove is a longtime Board of Ed member who is widely respected in the community, McBride is … well, one of them.

Yes, one of them.

And if you don’t know what “one of them” means—(clears throat) here is exactly what it means: Up and down Orange County, there is a special genre of terrifying school board/aspiring school board member. They are, almost without fail, women. Women who smile with a crazed look in their eyes. Women whose campaign literature features a yellow bus with blue background …

These are women who love them some Sonja Shaw and Mari Barke. These are women who believe—without even a trace of hesitation—that Jesus Christ has placed them here to do his holy bidding, and that He needs to be more involved in public education. These are women who talk morality, but stretch, pull and twist their own backgrounds to sound as educationally informed as possible.

For example, in a recent interview with the Orange County Register, McBride bragged that, “[for] 15 years every summer I co-direct Hero Camp, a summer youth camp serving more than 100 children ages 3–18.” Which sounds wonderful. Hell, who doesn’t dig summer camp? A lake, tetherball, maybe a campout. Summer camp! Awesome. LFG.

Alas, (cough) Hero Camp ain’t what you think. It’s a religious indoctrination boot camp paid for by the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Which … hey. Whatever floats your boat. But don’t exaggerate and half-truth shit. Along those lines, McBride refers to herself as an educator. Over and over and over and over again. Educator, educator, education. And this is an old Moms For Liberty trick, where if you so much as licked a desk 36 years ago, you’re “educator.” But McBride is (gasp) a library media technician—which makes her less of an educator than I am (I teach one class a year at Chapman University. But at least I teach).

Furthermore, Ziggy McBride—who stresses she’s pro-”school choice,” homeschooled her two kids. And if that sounds … off, that’s because it is off. You’re Ziggy. You want to be on the school board. You say you believe in public education. And you (cough) home schooled your kids?

Seriously?

Like, seriously seriously?

On the surface, it makes no sense. But these Moms For Liberty candidates are here for a reason, and it’s to change the very definition of public education. They want Christ in school. They want to convince you trans students are evil threats to safety. They want to start charter schools, and they want teachers to align to their rightward beliefs.

They all (literally all) voted for Donald Trump, which is weird—because while they rock crosses arounds their necks and attend Sunday church services, he cheated on wife 1 with wife 2, wife 2 with with 3, wife 3 with a porn star he raw dogged, then paid off in hush money. Also, not for nothing, he keeps referring to Michigan Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed as “Muhammad.” Just to be xenophobic and a dick.

Not that McBride and her ilk care. They are incurious creatures; ignorant gnomes cocooned by a pious certainty that reads creepy and poisonous. They want you to think they’re lovely and compassionate. Have a cookie. Have some bubbles. Let’s take a selfie.

But, come day’s end, they’re dime-a-dozen Jim Bakker-modeled hucksters, with education as a front for a desire to have us all adopt their nuttiness.

Do not vote for Ziggy McBride.

[Even though she threw three shutout innings against the Mets.]

Sonja Shaw is my favorite California political figure, because she’s absolutely fucking nuts, in that way where even her friends and colleagues know she’s absolutely fucking nuts. So much so that, when they think they’re alone with you, they’ll whisper, “Girl is absolutely fucking nuts.” Because, well, she’s absolutely fucking nuts.

A Moms For Liberty-boosted candidate for California State Superintendent, Shaw is 100-percent guaranteed to lose in a few weeks by (bare minimum) 15 points. She is an awful candidate who walks the earth with an unspeakable level of ugliness, hatred and bigotry—mixed with the worst non-quality a person can have: A lack of awareness of her own stupidity.

And if you don’t believe me:

A. Here you go.

B. Here you double go.

C. Her husband literally strolls around in a DARK MAGA hat, which is code for WE HATE EVERYONE WHO ISN’T WHITE AND STRAIGHT AND CHRISTIAN.

I digress.

Earlier today @crowdsourcecarrie dropped this important list, noting all the area school board candidates who are backed by Moms For Liberty. And, without fail, all of them have been endorsed by Sonja Shaw.

Without. Fail.

This, my friends, is a gift from the lord.

If I’m, oh, running in Capo Unified or Chino Valley Unified or Pomona Unified, and I am liberal and sane, I am 100-percent lassoing my opponent to Shaw. I am telling everyone I see about Shaw’s plans to bring Christ into schools. I am telling everyone I see about Shaw’s plans to ban books. I am telling everyone I see about her efforts to demonize teachers and school administrators. I am telling everyone I see that Sonja Shaw is, truly, an acid pour atop quality education. I am showing everyone I see videos of a crazed Shaw blasting school board members in unhinged, bizarre ways.

And I am saying, loudly, that [fill in the blank candidate] is Shaw’s puppet.

Hell, here’s a post from Linda Shepard (can people on the right please spell her name correctly?), right alongside Sonja Shaw and proud to be there …

Fucking use it.

Broadcast it.

Double down on it.

Sonja Shaw is doomed to lose her race.

But she can help win yours.

Pat Burns is up for re-election. He is a bully, a thug, a racist, a xenophobic piece of dog excrement.

Below this text is an ad I created.

Feel free to share, and hit me up at datruthoc@gmail.com if you’d like a copy to use on your own feeds. This turd needs to be exposed ASAP.

Fight, people!

Fight!

Jeff

As you read this, there appears to be a fairly (and bewilderingly) tight supervisor race for the Fifth District in South County between Katrina Foley, the energetic, always-on-the-move, wonkier-than-wonk incumbent, and Diane Dixon, the propped-up remains of a propped-up remain who, I am increasingly certain, died 56 years ago in Sand Springs, Oklahoma …

And while it all might sound a bit ageist, in this case there’s good reason. Among us are plenty of people in their 70s and 80s (and even 90s) who continue to stand out as wonderful and feisty public servants and deserve to hold positions in government. They are bold, productive, insightful, overflowing with energy and ideas. Hell, Jerry Brown ended his stint at governor at age 548, and bruh was still running marathons, collecting tin cans and hitting up the coolest clubs with Doja Cat.

Dixon, alas, ain’t Governor Moonbean.

Over the last bunch of months, as Dixon v. Foley heated up, the Newport Republican has earned her stripes as a Styrofoam salon head. Which is to say, she gets carted around from event to event, where she (without fail) says as little as possible while nodding and grinning and scratching her right ear as whichever on-duty puppeteer sees fit. She looks confused and overwhelmed and vacant and forced (by Will O’Neill, local GOP kingpin and eternal douche) into a battle she most certainly should not be waging. The scene is simultaneously sad and telling; expired milk desperate to be poured into one last sippy cup.

Dixon’s ads are cruel and often filled with half-truths, and while I suspect she hasn’t even seen them, the spots cannot hide the reality of a candidate vying for a job she can’t possible handle.

The latest development is the most telling. This, from Voice of OC …

•••

All jokes aside, this is serious stuff. Katrina Foley is great at her job, and in her absolute prime. She is George Brett hitting .390. She is Chaka Kahn belting out “Ain’t Nobody” with Rufus. She is Rocky—but the Rocky in “Rocky II,” shortly after Adrian nearly dies, then awakes, then tells her husband to “Win! Win!”

Dixon, alas, is washed. Not a bad person, not an ill-intended figure.

But, sadly, 50 minutes late for the last train.

Father Time, Michael Irvin famously observed, is undefeated.

It’ll happen to us all.

Last night, while the sane and reasoned denizens of Southern California were watching an amazing playoff game between the Milwaukee Brewers and San Diego Padres, I found myself inside the chambers of Laguna Niguel’s City Hall, attending the City Council meeting.

There are three reasons for this:

• 1. God hates me.

• 2. I smoke crack.

• 3. I run a local political website.

Whatever the case, there I sat in the back corner, fighting to keep my eyes open as official city proclamations were presented to some Scouts and some civic-minded folks, followed by politician-spoken words no one will remember and more politician-spoken words no one will remember and more politician-spoken words no one will remember and (surprise!) Laurie Davies coming and going as quickly as hummingbird’s whistle—and then, finally … the BIG stuff.

The REALLY BIG STUFF!

THE SUPER BIG BIG BIG STUFF!

THE EARTH-SHATTERING STUFF!!!!

[Cough]

Orrrrrr … a meaningless debate on Proposition 39, the stupid voter ID initiative which Californians are voting on in the coming election.

By “meaningless,” I mean utterly, fantastically, dramatically meaningless. The five council members devoted an hour (or so) toward trying to decide whether to officially have Laguna Niguel back the proposition—which, if OKed by the majority of the board, would feature all the power and oomph of a dead squirrel’s left testicle.

Put differently, it was entirely for show.

Entirely, entirely, entirely for show.

There is no legal bearing whatsoever.

Lord, it was ponderous, especially when the board’s three MAGA members (Ray Gennawey, Gene Johns and Kelly Jennings) and one right-leaning moderate (Stephanie Winstead) felt compelled to express why Prop 39 is important. It was sorta like being in a Toledo-based meeting of a cardboard box company, where the CEO happens to be in town and everyone present tries to impress, so we go round and round the room and the employees (sensing their spotlight moment has arrived) regurgitate the same three points over and over and over and over and over and over again.

That’s precisely what happened last night: You see, they argued, voting is great. But sometimes voting isn’t great. Like, say, when people cheat. Or do bad. So we need Prop 39 to make sure everyone is happy. Because unhappy people aren’t happy. They’re unhappy. And we don’t like that.

Obviously, I’m paraphrasing—but not by much. In her remarks, Jennings reminded me of the substitute teacher who has to fill in on “The Grapes of Wrath,” but only reads “Twilight.” Johns felt like the dude who used to hang out at Archie Bunker’s house, drink Schlitz and complain about the neighbors. And Winstead seemed possessed by the wide-eyed terror of a one-legged duck crossing the 405.

For my money, though, the worst of the bunch was Ray Gennawey, the council’s dime-a-dozen nepo-baby who made the impassioned case that Prop 39 is needed—because people no longer trust elections, and it’s a national emergency. The three-time Trump voter proceeded to explain, with great passion, that Americans have lost faith in voting, only …

… Gennawey …

… Just …

… Couldn’t …

… Put …

… His …

… Finger …

… On …

… Why.

It was bizarre. Every summer, Ray’s mother appears at the Sea Country Festival, standing alongside a cardboard cutout of the orange rapist. Yet here was her boy, decrying a nation’s lost trust and simultaneously unable to identify the cause and culprit. I found myself wondering: Is this man more (A) naive, (B) stupid (C) incurious or (D) duplicitous.

I settled on (E) All of the above.

The proceedings were made palpable solely by a handful of impassioned speakers and, ultimately, Stephanie Oddo, the lone liberal on the board and a woman who took her colleagues’ collective reasoning to the woodshed …

When it all mercifully ended, I walked outside, where several attendees discussed the madness coop we now occupy. A Trump voter approached, identified himself as a veteran and explained why he believed Prop 39 to be vital. After a polite back and forth (the guy was far from a jerk), I asked whether he thought—should the Democrats win the House and Senate—Donald Trump would take the L with honor and grace.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “But Biden …”

I can’t remember the words that followed.

I needed more crack.

In case you missed this (and you likely haven’t), Donald Trump traveled to Nebraska yesterday, where—among a string of batshit crazy offerings that could fill up 1,000 rooms—he served up this genocidal gem of gems …

And if you’re wondering, “What was Will O’Neill response?”—the head of the Orange County Republican Party offered this quote: “After sending the National Guard and Marines to occupy California, Donald Trump is now saying our foreign enemies should ‘take out’ Los Angeles and San Diego. ... He is deranged and dangerous.”

Oops. That was Gavin Newsom.

If you’re wondering, “What was Will O’Neill response?”—the head of the Orange County Republican Party offered this quote: “The President says the Iran war will end ‘very soon.’ How many times have we heard that promise? And if it means attacks on two major American cities in the process, he is not troubled by the cost.”

Oops. That was Adam Schiff.

If you’re wondering, “What was Will O’Neill response?”—the head of the Orange County Republican Party offered this quote: “Thirteen million Californians call LA and San Diego counties home. Their lives are not a ‘small price to pay’ or a punchline for Donald Trump.”

Oops. That was Xavier Becerra.

If you’re wondering, “What was Will O’Neill response?”—the head of the Orange County Republican Party offered this quote: “America must stand up to Iran and defend our interests, but the first responsibility of our Commander in Chief is to protect the American people and our homeland,” Desmond, the former mayor of San Marcos, said in a statement.”

Oops. That was Republican Jim Desmond, who is in a competitive San Diego-based House race.

No—if you’re wondering what, exactly, Will O’Neill said—stop wondering. The Truth OC can confirm that, at this very moment, O’Neill is hiding in his Newport Beach coat room (deftly designed and organized by California Closets) , wrapped in the Snuggie he bought off QVC in 2002, blasting Air Supply’s Greatest Hits (Volume I, not II) and repeating the mantra, “I am a beautiful blonde swan named Pepper … I am a beautiful blonde swan named Pepper … I am a beautiful blonde swan named Pepper” while Isabella, his undocumented Guatemalan house keeper for the past 13 years, strokes his hair and coos Marco Antonio Solís lyrics into his left ear.

He’ll be back at the office next week.