Ryan: Mayhem in Iowa, featuring Amy Klobuchar

February 19, 2020

Kevin is an award-winning writer who focuses on long-form literary nonfiction and investigative reporting.

Down the street, NBC had taken over an entire Java Joe's Coffee House, with live broadcasts of "Morning Joe."

The world was watching all month, but especially that day. Any time you turned on the radio or scrolled through social media, the subject was Iowa. And, every moment, you could feel it, that whirling angst in your belly right before you jump off the high-board.

I'd driven straight from the Yang event to the Des Moines Marriott Downtown, for Amy Klobuchar's "Amy for America caucus night party," where I met up with Politics Politics Politics host Justin Robert Young, at the downstairs bar.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

The Des Moines Marriott Downtown was the media hub, where many of the pundits and anchors and always-glaring columnists stayed. Politicians, too. They tended to of those higher-end downtown hotels and boutiques.

The previous day, at the nearby Renaissance Savery hotel, an "NBC News analyst" overheard former Secretary of State John Kerry on his phone, while sitting at the hotel restaurant, anxiously contemplate a presidential bid to counter "the possibility of Bernie Sanders taking down the Democratic Party — down whole." He added, "maybe I'm f---ing deluding myself here."

If it were the case that Kerry had gotten spooked enough to consider hopping into the Democratic presidential race the day before the Iowa caucuses, something incomprehensibly bad must have come to his attention. Especially since Kerry was in Iowa as a show of support for Joe Biden.

By the end of caucus night, amid the disaster and chaos, the Kerry phone call would take on a sinister tone. Did Kerry get advanced warning? What did he mean about Sanders " taking down the Democratic Party — down whole"?

All night, the word was that Bernie would definitely win. In 2016, he'd been systematically robbed of the Iowa win. With caucuses all over Iowa rigged or stacked in favor of Hillary Clinton, who still only beat Sanders by a quarter of a percentage point. If it happened again — now that would seem hardly coincidental.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

Conversely, first reports hinted at a poor showing for Pete Buttigieg.

Biden's fall had been much clearer. Imagine leading a race for months — the most important race in American politics — only to sink to the back right before you can broach the finish line.

So, on caucus night, all of us reporters had an itchy look, eager to capture some half-drunk politician or erratic staffer.

Later, Kerry told NBC News reporters,

This is a complete and total misinterpretation based on overhearing only one side of a phone conversation. A friend who watches too much cable called me wondering whether I'd ever jump into the race late in the game if Democrats were choosing an unelectable nominee. I listed all the reasons I could not possibly do that and would not — and will not under any circumstances — do that.

As is the custom, Kerry had to perform an apology on Twitter.

As I told the reporter, I am absolutely not running for President. Any report otherwise is categorically false. I’v… https://t.co/BCIkCTBTpy
— John Kerry (@John Kerry) 1580680466.0

That did not go well, either.

*

To our left, in an overlarge booth, Donna Brazile sculpted a pork chop, then delivered each piece to her mouth with blissful concern. She'd come downstairs alone, but people occasionally stopped at her table to pay respects, as she sat mostly silent, chewing.

"Iowa has 99 Counties," the bartender told us. "It used to be a law that no town could be farther than a day's travel from Des Moines, so the highways here go everywhere."

She also spilled some delectable gossip about Michael Bloomberg, and winked when she told us that the acoustics in the lobby are phenomenal.

*

The Klobuchar event had the energy of a funeral. Dazed caucusers strolled into the ballroom pinching champagne flutes and miniature cheese.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

And Klobuchar was backstage, or just elsewhere.

So back to the bar.

Plenty of chatter, too, about how Trump had 80 surrogates all around the state. He wasn't there. Although he'd held a rally in Des Moines several days earlier — one of his favorite tactics, holding a rally ahead of any democratic event, in the same city.

And, tomorrow, the following day, he'd give his action-packed State of the Union address, with a special appearance by Nancy Pelosi at the end, ripping up her copy of the speech.

The day after that, Wednesday, Trump would be acquitted of Impeachment charges, both Article I: Abuse of Power and Article II: Obstruction of Congress. The vote was surgically partisan, and only Sen. Mitt Romney broke ranks, voted "Guilty" on Article I, but not Article II.

*

CNN was the hotel's chosen network, on all the glittery televisions. The feed hopped to different correspondents at caucuses all across Iowa. Some caucus sites had too many people shoved together, others were pitifully small.

The bartender had a much better grasp of the various counties and who was likely to win than the correspondents did.

"College town," she would say, uncapping another Bud Light. "Bernie, for sure. Yang might hit 15% viability, but Biden doesn't stand a chance."

When causers' candidates didn't meet the 15% viability threshold, they could migrate to another candidate. Or leave. This was considered an impolite move, but could you blame them?

"Only Iowans registered as Democrats can vote," she added.

I'd been asking people for months by then how caucusing works. By now, it had gone on too long so I had to pretend I understood.

The whole awkward dance played out on the TVs. It felt like watching some ancient sport from a far-off part of the world, and the rules made no sense, full of complications, the whole thing felt like an elaborate prank.

One group of supporters hokey-pokeyed to their designated corner of the gym or townhall or elementary school cafeteria, and score-keeping judges etched numbers or lines into their notebooks.

The New York Stock Exchange — that's what it was like, with all the feverish men in costumes squawking at the scoreboard. And then, it ended. And how did they know anything had actually been accomplished?

*

The next day at the airport. so many media figures would stroll toward their departure gate with their cameras hanging down.

The Caucuses would be all anyone could talk about.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

While waiting for the plane to board, some media guy on his cell phone, talking about the caucuses. His friend clearly didn't understand what a caucus is, thenhe explains it. Even now, at the end of it all, nobody knows what it means.

*

Justin and I were upstairs in the press pen when an on-air reporter in a red dress began half-shouting into her microphone and leaning toward the camera, then scoping down at a tablet and her phone.

We returned to the bar.

Within a minute, on every screen in the place, the woman in the red dress from upstairs, and a "BREAKING NEWS" banner.

Now, as I mentioned, the caucuses already confused me. So when I looked around and saw utter disbelief and panic and confusion, I knew that an unexpected disaster had occurred, but not how or why.

Justin scrolled through Twitter, refreshing, refreshing, searching. He was the first person I heard mention the app. He'd read an article a few weeks earlier about how the app, IowaReporterApp, hadn't been tested, despite reports of coding errors.

IowaReporterApp was supposed to tally votes digitally for all 1,679 precincts as well as 99 satellite caucuses in-state, our-of-state, and three international.

55 precincts were affected.

Conspiracy theories began to swirl, connecting the company behind the app — which, hilariously, is called Shadow Inc. — to Hillary Clinton, and maybe even Pete Buttigieg, who seemed to have benefitted from the fiasco. It was only a matter of time before the name "Soros" started appearing across the murkier crevices of the Internet.

"This is the funniest thing I've ever experience," said Justin, laughing.

I laughed the way you do when you're in a foreign country, where you don't understand the language, and everybody else laughs first.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

It wasn't until the memes started appearing on Twitter that I understood, with the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" theme song in the background.

One of the journalists at the bar with us announced that he'd just heard from a colleague that there were also calculation errors with the backup system.

"Math?!" I shouted.

*

A burst of applause came from the 2nd-floor ballroom, then Klobuchar appeared on the screen, every screen, in the entire lobby, in the entire nation.

Every journalist in the room sprinted upstairs. For that moment, nobody cared about ideological subversion, and the tragic meltdown of the caucuses was still an unknown, something we didn't have to worry about. Now, things are different.

Photo by Kevin Ryan

None of the candidates had taken the stage yet. Nobody knew how to react. Klobuchar — brilliantly, having lost severely — gave a victory speech.

www.youtube.com

"Bravo," someone said.

Koobuchar seemed too calm for such a solemn occasion. Tipsy, almost.

Yes. Definitely tipsy.

Why the hell not? Good for her.

Klobuchar was all fire. She torched Donald Trump with the acuity of a rapper on a brutal diss-track.

After her speech, she walked out into the crowd and people swarmed her. Selfies were taken. Over-thought words were said to Klobuchar. Masking fanciful ideas.

Being there was tremendous. Actually being in the room. Studios and sets all look different in person. There's only half as much of the room or set as you'd expected.

New stories come out every Monday and Thursday. Check out my Twitter. Send all notes, tips, corrections to kryan@blazemedia.com

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JPMorgan Chase CEO issues dire warning about America's prosperity

Win McNamee / Staff | Getty Images

Jamie Dimon has a grim forecast for America — and it’s not a recession. He sees a fragile nation drifting into crisis while its leaders fight over TikTok.

Jamie Dimon, CEO of JPMorgan Chase — one of the most powerful financial institutions on earth — issued a warning the other day. But it wasn’t about interest rates, crypto, or monetary policy.

Speaking at the Reagan National Defense Forum in California, Dimon pivoted from economic talking points to something far more urgent: the fragile state of America’s physical preparedness.

We are living in a moment of stunning fragility — culturally, economically, and militarily. It means we can no longer afford to confuse digital distractions with real resilience.

“We shouldn’t be stockpiling Bitcoin,” Dimon said. “We should be stockpiling guns, tanks, planes, drones, and rare earths. We know we need to do it. It’s not a mystery.”

He cited internal Pentagon assessments showing that if war were to break out in the South China Sea, the United States has only enough precision-guided missiles for seven days of sustained conflict.

Seven days — that’s the gap between deterrence and desperation.

This wasn’t a forecast about inflation or a hedge against market volatility. It was a blunt assessment from a man whose words typically move markets.

“America is the global hegemon,” Dimon continued, “and the free world wants us to be strong.” But he warned that Americans have been lulled into “a false sense of security,” made complacent by years of peacetime prosperity, outsourcing, and digital convenience:

We need to build a permanent, long-term, realistic strategy for the future of America — economic growth, fiscal policy, industrial policy, foreign policy. We need to educate our citizens. We need to take control of our economic destiny.

This isn’t a partisan appeal — it’s a sobering wake-up call. Because our economy and military readiness are not separate issues. They are deeply intertwined.

Dimon isn’t alone in raising concerns. Former Google CEO Eric Schmidt has warned that China has already overtaken the U.S. in key defense technologies — hypersonic missiles, quantum computing, and artificial intelligence to mention a few. Retired military leaders continue to highlight our shrinking shipyards and dwindling defense manufacturing base.

Even the dollar, once assumed untouchable, is under pressure as BRICS nations work to undermine its global dominance. Dimon, notably, has said this effort could succeed if the U.S. continues down its current path.

So what does this all mean?

Christopher Furlong / Staff | Getty Images

It means we are living in a moment of stunning fragility — culturally, economically, and militarily. It means we can no longer afford to confuse digital distractions with real resilience.

It means the future belongs to nations that understand something we’ve forgotten: Strength isn’t built on slogans or algorithms. It’s built on steel, energy, sovereignty, and trust.

And at the core of that trust is you, the citizen. Not the influencer. Not the bureaucrat. Not the lobbyist. At the core is the ordinary man or woman who understands that freedom, safety, and prosperity require more than passive consumption. They require courage, clarity, and conviction.

We need to stop assuming someone else will fix it. The next crisis — whether military, economic, or cyber — will not politely pause for our political dysfunction to sort itself out. It will demand leadership, unity, and grit.

And that begins with looking reality in the eye. We need to stop talking about things that don’t matter and cut to the chase: The U.S. is in a dangerously fragile position, and it’s time to rebuild and refortify — from the inside out.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

James J. Hill’s railroad triumph: Why private enterprise ALWAYS wins

Heritage Images / Contributor | Getty Images

On radio last week, Glenn discussed California’s bullet train project, which is a complete and total joke. Billions of dollars, decades in the making, and what do they have?

A hopeless boondoggle that’s become the poster child for government waste. Politicians just leaf-blowing your tax dollars into a black hole.

Rewind to the late 1800s, to a man named James J. Hill and his Great Northern Railroad – the polar opposite of California’s embarrassment. His story is about American grit, private enterprise, and it’s proof that when you keep the government’s hands off, you can get real results.

James J. Hill didn’t just build a railroad; he built a legacy that shames every federally funded train wreck of his era.

Picture this: it’s the 1870s, and railroads are the arteries of America’s growth. But most transcontinental lines, like the Union Pacific and Central Pacific, are swimming in federal cash through massive loans and land grants. They would get up to 20 square miles of land PER MILE of track, plus loans of $16,000 to $48,000 per mile, depending on the terrain. Naturally, those railroads were bloated, mismanaged, and built as fast as possible to grab the government subsidies. Since they got a pile of federal cash for every mile they completed, they often picked less efficient routes. The cheap and fast construction also meant the tracks were in constant disrepair and had to be re-laid. By the Financial Panic of 1893, they were bankrupt, bleeding money, and begging for bailouts.

Enter James J. Hill. This guy was different. He didn’t want Uncle Sam’s handouts. He spent three years researching the bankrupt St. Paul and Pacific Railroad, ensuring it could be profitable with strategic expansion. In 1878, Hill and his investment partners bought the SP&P with their own money. No federal loans, except for a single small land grant in Minnesota, that they needed to connect their line to the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Hill carefully used profits from this line to fund further expansion, avoiding excessive debt.

By 1893, the Great Northern Railroad stretched from Minnesota all the way to Seattle, built almost entirely with private capital. Why did Hill’s Great Northern become the gold standard? First, efficiency. Hill was obsessive. He scouted routes himself, picking paths like Marias Pass – the lowest crossing of the Rockies – saving millions of dollars by avoiding tunnels. His tracks had low grades, minimal curves, and were built to last.

Universal History Archive / Contributor | Getty Images

Second, Hill didn’t just build tracks; he built an economy. He attracted settlers by offering cheap fares, free seeds for their farms, and even programs that taught them better farming techniques. He invested in timber, ensuring that freight kept rolling. The result? His railroad always had plenty of customers, cargo, and cash flow. The federally funded lines, on the other hand, often ran through barren land, chasing land grants, not profits.

When the Panic of 1893 hit, the Great Northern line withstood the storm – it was one of only two Western railways NOT to go bankrupt.

Hill reinvested profits, kept debt low, and outmaneuvered the government’s new rate controls that crippled his competitors. By 1901, he controlled the Northern Pacific and Burlington lines, creating an empire that still exists today, part of a merger in the 1990s that created the BNSF Railway. That is the power of private enterprise – no government bloat, just hard work and vision.

James J. Hill’s Great Northern Railroad proves what happens when you let markets, not bureaucrats, drive progress. Hill’s legacy reinforces a vital truth: keep the government out, and let builders build. That’s the American way.

Greta Thunberg's latest escapade: Gaza aid or Mediterranean vacation?

Fabrizio Villa / Stringer | Getty Images

What would we do without Greta Thunberg?

Everyone's favorite Swedish nepo-baby climate activist is making waves with her latest plea for attention. Thunberg, who rose to fame when she prophesied an environmental apocalypse before the UN in 2019, has set aside the climate rhetoric to champion a new cause: freeing Palestine.

On Monday, June 2nd, Greta and her motley crew of wealthy activists, actors, and politicians—including Liam Cunningham of Game of Thrones fame and Rima Hassan, a French member of the European Parliament—set sail from Catania, Italy. The small sailboat, known as the Madleen, embarked with the lofty goal of "breaking Israel’s siege" of Gaza and delivering humanitarian aid. This fool’s errand was orchestrated by the Freedom Flotilla Coalition, a "grassroots" organization founded in 2010 to bring aid and attention to the plight of Gazans… through boat rides.

Greta Thunberg’s so-called “freedom flotilla” encapsulates the delusion and hypocrisy surrounding the Israel-Gaza war.

This isn’t a humanitarian mission—it’s a Mediterranean leisure cruise. Participants are smiling, swimming, and filming TikTok videos. This is self-serving… pic.twitter.com/eUzhsXW54r
— Maccabee Task Force (@MacTaskForce) June 3, 2025

As this video reveals, the so-called "urgent humanitarian mission" looked a whole lot more like a Mediterranean pleasure cruise, complete with swimming, frolicking in the sun, and social media posting. The booze-cruise vibe of the crew, paired with the tiny size of the craft, which could only carry enough "aid" for a token photo-op, exposed the true nature of this voyage. It was nothing more than a flimsy excuse for a group of privileged elites to enjoy an exotic vacation while fishing for attention and a dose of self-righteousness. All the while, chanting 'Free Palestine'—a slogan Glenn warns can fuel anti-Semitic violence like the Boulder firebombing.

Fabrizio Villa / Stringer | Getty Images

In the end, Greta Thunberg’s latest escapade was a textbook case of performative activism dialed up to eleven. Trading in her climate doom-mongering for this half-baked humanitarian jaunt, she clung to relevance without lifting a finger to do anything meaningful. The Freedom Flotilla Coalition’s little boat trip wasn’t about helping Gaza—it was a golden ticket for smug elites to soak up the Mediterranean rays while playacting as saviors. It’s a shameless grab for the spotlight, and Thunberg, with her flair for theatrics, is the ideal poster child for this floating fiasco.

Your voice unveiled: 81% support Trump’s stand against rigged justice

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Glenn asked for YOUR take on Trump’s pardon of Sheriff Scott Jenkins, and your response was unmistakable.

A resounding 71% of you said you believe the Biden Justice Department unfairly targeted Jenkins, a clear rebuke of the narrative peddled by the powers that be. Even more striking, 81% of you backed Trump’s decision to pardon him, seeing it not as a dodge of justice but as a defiant stand against a corrupted system. Your votes revealed a deep-seated belief that the judicial process is being twisted to serve political ends. Can the DOJ’s claims of fairness survive such overwhelming doubt from voices like yours?

Your verdict rings loud: Trump’s pardons aren’t undermining accountability—they’re exposing the rot within institutions that prioritize power over truth. The question now is, how long will the elite’s “justice” hold up against your demand for answers?

Want to make your voice heard? Check out more polls HERE.