Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been snipped like a spaniel’s scrotum, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.

You ever wake up, stretch, and realize the nation’s steering wheel is now in the hands of a man I’ll politely call His Imperial Kumquat — only to discover he’s steering with his elbows while juggling nuclear policy with the enthusiasm of a drunk circus clown? You have? Good. Then you’re already ahead of the curve.

Because Washington DC — Our Leadership, the Dowager Empress of the Ballroom — has once again graced you with a spectacle so grand, so operatic, so deeply stupid, it makes the Roman Senate look like a Montessori school. We’re now living in a country where “nuclear testing” is tossed around with the same seriousness as a TikTok dance challenge, except this time the challenge is not to see who can get more likes but who can vaporize fewer cities.

And the punchline? We’re told not to worry — because apparently nobody actually asked for nuclear explosions. No, no. His Imperial Kumquat simply suggested we should test things “on an equal basis” with Russia and China. Like it’s a bake-off. Like he wants to make sure our mushroom clouds rise at the same elegant angle as theirs.

Meanwhile Russia’s out there test-driving nuclear-powered doomsday toys — a cruise missile that apparently runs on Chernobyl fumes and whatever dignity the Kremlin has left, and a torpedo that sounds like something a Bond villain ordered off Etsy. And China? They haven’t popped one since the last time fax machines were still considered cutting-edge. But that hasn’t stopped Washington DC from panting like a bulldog left in the sun too long, insisting we need to “keep up.”

Of course, those boring, sober people known as “scientists” — you know, the ones who prefer math over swagger — keep reminding us that actual nuclear explosive testing is obsolete. Not just unnecessary, but the policy equivalent of duct-taping a lit match to a can of hairspray and calling it “innovation.”

But the bureaucratic pyromaniacs in Washington DC have already burned through treaties like they were old parking tickets.

The Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty? Torn up.The Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty? Dumpstered.Non-Proliferation obligations? Misplaced somewhere under the national couch.

And just when you thought the grown-ups might reclaim the room, we get a “first use” doctrine floated like an idea on a bar napkin.

The Dowager Empress of the Ballroom doesn’t just move the goalposts — she burns them down, salts the earth, and then quietly leases the land to a defense contractor.

And all the while, quietly in the background, the United States bombs Iranian facilities like it’s ordering a side of fries. Israel — a country that allegedly, officially, absolutely does not have nuclear weapons (wink), is right there helping out, while Washington DC does a little two-step pretending not to notice the nuclear arsenal behind the curtain.

Into this circus wanders a man who has spent his life studying nuclear policy like a fire marshal studying a rave thrown inside a fireworks warehouse. He’s the executive director of the Los Alamos Study Group. He’s taught science, commanded hazardous materials incidents, led environmental crackdowns, lectured at Princeton, and probably forgotten more about radioactive stupidity than Washington DC has ever known.

He’s watched Washington set its own eyebrows on fire so many times that at this point he’s just checking to see if they’ll finally commit to roasting the whole head.

You know him.You’ve probably read him.Today, we rely on him.

Greg Mello.

Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been yanked, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.

Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been snipped like a spaniel’s scrotum, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.

If Hollywood and Washington DC had a love child during a blackout, it’d still be less chaotic and more predictable than Karel Bouley. This is a man who started life wanting to be Streisand, got slapped with a tuba instead, and decided, “Fine, I’ll just conquer every medium known to man.” And he did — drag bars, dance floors, newsrooms, red carpets, radio booths — leaving a trail of stunned employers and confused bigots who still don’t understand what hit them.

While Our Leadership was busy setting new records for national embarrassment, Karel was out there actually accomplishing things: singing with legends, photographing icons, rewriting California law after his partner died because the state couldn’t fathom gay people having rights, and becoming half of the first out gay couple to dominate major-market drive-time radio — right after Dr. Laura, which is comedy gold all by itself.

He’s survived more station shakeups, culture wars, management coups, and American mood swings than any one man should endure, and he did it all while writing, performing, recording, producing, podcasting, and outliving every political attempt to shove queer people back into the broom closet. At 62 he’s still working, still ranting, still creating, still vegan, and still loud enough to give Washington DC heartburn.

If you’re wondering what a lifetime of refusing to shut up looks like, here he is. Karel didn’t become Streisand — he became the nightmare straight America accidentally built.

- Karel,With the safety of drag performers, trans youth, and queer teachers now openly debated like they’re zoning ordinances, what would you tell someone thinking of relocating abroad just to breathe?

- Karel,You’ve lived through police raids, AIDS hysteria, and culture wars — does today feel like a rerun, or something more coordinated and national in scale?

- Karel,And finally, is the American queer future still rooted in hope and progress… or do you think rhetoric becomes the latest political party trick? So, how do we keep the LGBTQ family from being carved into “acceptable” and “expendable” pieces?

Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been yanked, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.

Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been cut like a spaniel’s scrotum, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Volunteering in our own careers like cockeyed Paul Reveres to get the message out. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.

You wake up to find that the White House — the supposed temple of democracy — is being demolished. Not metaphorically. Literally. His Imperial Kumquat, patron saint of ego and marble countertops, has decided that history’s East Wing wasn’t big enough to contain his self-regard. And so the bulldozers came — grinding through 125 years of walls that once sheltered Eleanor Roosevelt, turning them into fine patriotic dust for a new ballroom.

Because nothing says republic like a dance floor.

And oh, there will be dancing. Not waltzes, mind you — not even a two-step of democracy. The floor will throb with the national pastime of decline: The Gator. If you’ve never seen this fine cultural export, imagine a country bar where the good ol’ boys toss their cowboy hats into a pile and then proceed to make passionate love to them to the beat. That, dear friends, is the new choreography of Washington — men in suits, humping their own symbolism while the band plays “Hail to the Chief” in three-quarter time.

Meanwhile, out beyond the palace gates, the so-called “No Kings” movement — teachers, nurses, Mennonites, Marines — are being branded as Antifa. Yes, the nation trembles before the terrifying menace of the PTA. According to the Royal Court and its Fox-fed heralds, every retired postmaster is a potential insurrectionist, every Sunday-school singer a subversive. You can’t make this up — but they do, daily, and call it governance.

Our Leadership’s logic is exquisite in its lunacy: demolish the people’s house while accusing the people of treason. The East Wing comes down, replaced by a temple of self-worship — a marble mausoleum for humility. And across the country, they accuse grandmothers with gratitude letters and pacifists with hymnbooks of plotting the overthrow of civilization. The true enemy isn’t disorder; it’s dignity.

Picture it: His Imperial Kumquat presiding over the opening ball in his new cathedral of kitsch, sequined senators and lobbyists writhing in time to the Gator. The chandeliers sway like the Republic’s last breath. Each thrust a new executive order. Each stomp a blow against whatever is left of shame. And somewhere in the night, a teacher in Roanoke writes a thank-you note to a school board member, and is put on a watch list for subversive gratitude.

It would be funny if it weren’t so operatic in its idiocy. The same government that can’t fill potholes somehow finds time to label Mennonites as terrorists and build dance halls on the ruins of democracy. When historians look back — if they still teach history by then — they’ll say this was the era when America mistook demolition for renewal and dancing for leadership.

But don’t think for a second that Our Leadership doesn’t know what it’s doing. Fear keeps you glued to the screen, keeps you from showing up. They call you Antifa so you’ll stay home. They build a ballroom so you’ll forget the rubble. And while you’re laughing, they’re rewriting the blueprints.

So yes, let them dance their Gator in the ashes of the East Wing. Let them hump their hats and call it heritage. Out here, among the teachers and nurses, the old Marines and Mennonites, something quieter is stirring — a reminder that no matter how loud the band gets, the floor still belongs to the people.

Joining me now is Tim Murphy, national correspondent at Mother Jones, where he covers government and politics, civil rights, and LGBTQ+ issues with a focus on diversity and inclusion.

Why Upgrade? Now that government funding has been yanked, many of us public radio vets will continue to provide unfiltered insight, irony, and the kind of “why” reporting that refuses to kiss power’s ring. Corporate coffers can’t buy integrity, but your subscription can.