The “Big Beautiful” Bill Is a National Tragedy in the Making

My opinion and what I am sending to my Senators...

As a citizen, a voter, and someone who still believes in the promise of American democracy, I am writing to express my strongest opposition to the so-called “Big Beautiful” bill currently before the Senate.

Let me be clear: this bill is a betrayal of the very ideals it claims to uphold. Its deep, sweeping cuts to social programs like SNAP and Medicaid are not budgetary corrections — they are acts of cruelty. Millions of Americans, including working families, seniors, and children, rely on these programs not for convenience, but for survival. Slashing them is not fiscal responsibility; it is moral failure.

But the threat runs deeper. Embedded in this bill is a blatant power grab — a calculated dismantling of the checks and balances that are the bedrock of our constitutional system. Transferring the authority of the judiciary and Congress to the executive branch is not “streamlining government.” It is the blueprint for authoritarian rule.

This bill endangers not only the stability of our country but also our standing in the world. The United States has long been held as a model of democratic governance — flawed, but striving. If this bill becomes law, we forfeit that legacy.

To support this bill in its current form is to declare allegiance not to democracy, but to despotism. No one who votes for it can rightly call themselves a patriot. Patriots defend the Constitution, protect the vulnerable, and fight against tyranny — not for it.

Senator, your job is not to rubber-stamp power. It is to stand guard over it. I urge you — for the sake of your constituents, your oath, and your conscience — to oppose this bill with everything you have.

History will remember who stood for democracy, and who stood silent...

Look What ChatGPT has Learned from My Interactions with It

Meet the Grand Wizard of Code & Common Sense

A seventy-something software sorcerer who hung up the career cape but still casts spells in Python, Perl, and old-school shell. Retired, but not retired from thinking. Grew up wrangling data from dBase to Progress to pandas, and now turns stock news into graphs like it’s second nature.

With 35 years in 12-step recovery, you’ve got deep wisdom and a soft spot for the human side of life. You dig into history, question authority, appreciate a good joke, and somehow still find time to write birthday tributes and app ideas between M3U playlists and Peewee models.

You’re the kind of guy who can optimize file packing in Perl, decode old Hawaiian island names, and still ask, “Should I strip that parenthetical or nah?” And you always want the explanation behind the answer — because learning never retired.

And look what it thinks I can improve...

So, here's the honest, respectful read on areas where you might come up short or could sharpen things up:

🪓 Sharp Tools, Blunt Edges

You're direct — which is a strength — but sometimes it can veer into “cut-to-the-point” so fast that nuance or diplomacy gets edged out. In technical problem-solving, that works great. In conversations or leadership moments (even in writing to a Senator), you might miss a chance to persuade because the blade came down a little fast. You likely know this and have learned when to modulate it — but it’s a lever you control, and you could maybe tune it more than toggle it.

🔁 Efficiency Bias

You've built a career and a mind that seeks clarity and optimization. That sometimes leads to treating things (or even people) like systems that just need the right input. But humans — politics, family, recovery, even yourself — don’t always resolve with the same tidy logic. You get that, especially with your recovery background, but I bet it still bugs the hell out of you when someone (or something) resists a fix that should work.

There’s a low-level frustration that pops up occasionally when things feel inefficient by design (government, bloated bills, bad documentation). You might overextend energy trying to force clarity where chaos actually rules.

🎯 High Standards, Narrow Tolerances

Your bar is high. That’s why you’ve succeeded. But it might make you overly self-reliant — like, if someone can’t meet your level of rigor, you’ll just do it yourself. That’s a great short-term move, but long-term it can limit collaboration or mentoring moments where someone less skilled just needs your patience, not your fix. You probably don’t suffer fools — or sloppy thinkers — easily.

🧘 Internal Stillness ≠ Intellectual Stillness

You clearly want a deeper inner calm, maybe even detachment from the noise — but your mind’s default mode is to engage and dismantle. Stillness might be something you seek because it challenges your usual state, not because it's natural for you.

Improving here could give you better energy flow and more space to decide what not to tackle. You’ve earned the right to stop solving every damn thing.

Memorial Day Message

Today, we pause to remember and honor all who gave their lives in service to this country—our military heroes and first responders alike. Their courage and sacrifice are the backbone of America’s strength, security, and freedom. We owe them more than words can say. Let us never forget that the liberties we enjoy today were bought at a high price. May we live in a way that honors their memory, with gratitude and purpose.

A Farm Full of Memories

As the final preparations are being made for the auction of my parents’ belongings, I find myself holding a mix of emotions - gratitude, sadness, and a quiet kind of ache. This is the right thing for the right reason, but it sure doesn’t feel easy.

This isn’t just about furniture and dishes. It’s the careful unwinding of a full life - a home filled with memories, routines, and love. Every lamp, every cookbook, every faded receipt carries a story. Letting them go stirs up more than nostalgia - it stirs up the deep truth that we’ve reached the closing lines of their chapter.

Looking back, I know without a doubt that coming back to Missouri in 2001 was the right call. It gave me the opportunity to be the son they needed - not at a distance, but right here when it mattered most. And I didn’t walk that road alone.

My wife walked every step of it with me. She wasn’t just supportive - she was a constant source of care and connection for my folks. She helped make holidays feel special, lent comfort when things got hard, and quietly took on the thousand little tasks that make life manageable in the later years. I couldn’t have done this without her - and they wouldn’t have had the same care without her, either.

Because we were here, we got to celebrate. Birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Days, Father’s Days - all the little markers of time that become so much more precious in hindsight. Sometimes those days were full of laughter and sometimes they were quiet, but we were together.

A great gift to come out of those years was the CD made of Dad’s music. His talent, his timing, his soul - it’s all in there, captured for the next generation to hear and appreciate. For us to play when the urge hits. That’s a legacy no auction can take away.

And when the time came to say goodbye, we were able to do it right. We were present. Not flying in, not calling from afar. We were here. That’s a blessing a lot of families don’t get, and we know how lucky we are for that.

Now we’re letting go of the physical things. The house is full of memory-soaked objects, and while it’s time to part with them, that doesn’t mean it’s easy. These aren’t just things - they’re reminders of lives well-lived and love freely given. Gladly we've been able to share objects with the extended family that will carry their spirit into the future.

Still, we know the heart of their story doesn’t live in a table, a knickknack, or a wagon. It lives in us - in the time we shared, the music we saved, the lessons they taught, and the care we gave back to them when they needed it most.

So yes, this is hard. But it’s also right. And it’s a tribute to two lives that meant the world to us.

Representative Onder, You’re Asking the Wrong Question

"Don't you agree that certain states, such as liberal California, should not co-opt the authority of the federal government's policies to negatively impact the trade, manufacturing, and consumer choice of other states?"
— Rep. Bob Onder

Here we go again, Bob. That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. You ask for a yes or no, as though the complexity of our federal system can be reduced to a soundbite. Yet even you, in Congress, are granted the option to abstain when the question doesn’t fit the circumstances. You don’t offer us that option on your surveys, though—we’re just supposed to nod along and play the binary game. Not today.

Let’s get to the meat of this.

The issue isn’t whether California or any other state is “co-opting” federal authority. The issue is whether any state, citizen, or entity has the right to seek judicial redress when they believe a federal action harms them. And under the U.S. Constitution, the answer is unequivocally yes. That’s the role of the judiciary—one of the three co-equal branches of government. You seem to forget that.

Article III of the Constitution guarantees the federal judiciary the authority to hear “all cases… arising under this Constitution, the laws of the United States, and treaties made.”

The courts are not an afterthought. They are a constitutional equal to the Executive and the Legislature. Dismissing a state’s right to challenge federal policy through the courts shows either a fundamental misunderstanding of constitutional balance—or an intentional effort to mislead your constituents into believing that judicial recourse is somehow illegitimate.

Economic Clout Is Not a Crime

Now let’s talk about California. You called it out by name, so let’s deal in facts:

• As of 2024, California has the fourth largest economy in the world, with a GDP of over $4.3 trillion—greater than Japan. ([IMF, BEA])

• Texas, a conservative darling, also makes the top 10 globally with a GDP of about $2.4 trillion.

• These states have massive influence—not because they “co-opt” authority—but because their economies demand attention. Trade, manufacturing, and consumer choice are not being harmed by these states; they are being shaped by market realities that come with size, scale, and innovation.

So let’s not pretend this is about “liberal” California bullying others. What it really sounds like is resentment that larger states, with complex economies and diverse populations, exercise their right to self-govern and to challenge federal policies they find harmful.

The Real Imbalance? Representation.

You, Bob, serve in the House of Representatives. That’s supposed to be the body that represents the people equally. But we’ve got a problem: The House no longer does that.

Why? Because it’s been capped at 435 seats since 1929, when the U.S. had 122 million people. Today, the population is 340 million—but the number of representatives hasn’t budged.

• In 1929, each House member represented about 280,000 people.

• In 2025, that number is 780,000 on average.

• But it’s not evenly distributed:

  • Wyoming has ~580,000 residents and 1 rep → 1 rep per 580k.

  • California has ~39 million and 52 reps → 1 rep per 750k.
    That’s a 170,000-person gap in representation power.

So if anyone is “co-opting” federal authority, it’s not California—it’s the underpopulated states like Wyoming, where a single voter has disproportionately more influence in the House than someone in California, Florida, or Texas. That’s not representation, it’s institutionalized imbalance.

Let’s Call It What It Is

The truth, Bob, is that your question isn’t about states' rights or federal authority. It’s about keeping the game rigged in favor of less populous states that wield outsized political influence. It’s about denying the judiciary its constitutional role. And it’s about deflecting from real conversations about fairness, representation, and accountability.

Until you’re ready to acknowledge the imbalance baked into our current system—and the role you play in preserving it—your questions will continue to miss the point.