From the top
In the blizzard of angst following the Buffoon in Chief’s reupping of an unimaginably stupid dumping upon our estranged friendly Canadian neighbors, I’m not even sure which American snowflake dropped the line on antisocial media:
“We’re (still) so sorry Canada. Please know he doesn’t speak for us.”
Nice try. And: If only.
I get it: It’s an honest attempt to be nice to people who have always been nice to us. But sorry, just a little too convenient. And to Canadians, likely to come across as a hollow platitude and simple attempt to escape blame for what they see as our abrogation of civic responsibilities most of them have managed to maintain just fine, s’il vous plaît.
We’ve been through this once already, when the Blithering Chunk-’O-Cheese-in Chief unleashed his first gaseous attack on Maple Leaf Nation. But here we go again.
THINK ABOUT IT. While it’s calming to our nerves and, and a predictable, even necessary survival skill amid the present great unpleasantness, the “doesn’t speak for us” line is right up there with “This is not who we are.”
Sit down for this one, folks. Hopefully within sight of a mirror.
It actually is who we — or at least far too many of us — are, as a national body. And yeah, by the nature of our “representative democracy,” he speaks for us. Loudly, crudely, stupidly, embarrassingly and very, very, very often, as is the case with any craven, self-serving malignant narcissist handed the keys to the world’s richest kingdom.
For the historical record: This handing was done not once, but twice.
The latter matters: Anyone can make a mistake, be duped, experience temporary insanity. But an entire nation of someones doing so, failing to grasp the lesson, and doing so again leaves only several explanatory choices: Lazy, stupid, or every bit as evil as the anointed megaphone-holder and his henchpeople.
I’m doubling down here on the first two, saving the latter description for the relatively small portion of the public with swastikas tattooed on their souls, if not their skin.
But the rest of you, buckle up and get real.
SO JUST OWN IT. Donald J. Trump, Private Bone Spurs No Class, really does speak for us. To Canada, and the entire rest of the world. And we have allowed this to happen.
He speaks for us because we don’t vote. Half of us can’t be bothered to spend the five minutes it takes to fill out a ballot and drop it in our own mailbox. (Apologies to anyone physically unable to even lift that little red flag; there are workarounds.)
He speaks for us because we are willfully ignorant. We can’t be bothered to keep up on civic affairs, in spite of the fact that everything we need to know is now literally delivered to a screen most of us carry even into the bathroom.
He speaks for us because we fail to insist on adequate alternatives. The ascendance and then political resurrection of this insufferable fool and his army of goose-stepping lackeys occurred largely in a leadership vacuum created by the epic flaccidity of the opposing party. The D brand ran the most-establishment candidate in history during the obviously anti-establishment election of 2016 and then propped up the cardboard facsimile of a once-capable leader past the point of no return in 2024. When was the last time we/you/us took steps to ensure this doesn’t happen again? (Yes, we all are very, very busy with more important matters.)
He speaks for us because our chosen leaders failed us where it counts, but we kept returning them to office. Since the infamous and too-easily disregarded Powell Memo of 1971, the moneyed interests controlling America have very successfully flipped the scorecard on public accountability, creating for them a dream situation: the masses clubbing each other about the head so effectively as they fight over scraps on the floor of the Richest Nation on Earth that they pay no attention to the minority-control slight of hand going on behind the scenes.
Result: In elections fueled by corporate and oligarch donations, we let our own “representatives” — of both parties — walk away unscathed after caving in time after time on critical matters: Public health care. Consumer protection. Meaningful congressional oversight. Term limits. Campaign finance reform. Public education. Public health. Child care. Progressive taxation. Investment and banking fraud. Literal and figurative bed-sharing between elected officials and K Street lobbying firms. On and freaking on. Each of these intractable problems, each leading to our current state of decay, had solid solutions introduced on the floor of Congress. Each died there thanks to our inattention or mistaken assumption that everything was Going Just Fine.
He speaks for us because even given all the above, we continue to look away. Seriously: If you had been able to see a single page of today’s news 30 years ago, would anyone have imagined that a plurality of Americans in a nation heretofore clearly devoted to snuffing out fascism would somehow not be shutting down the country, insisting on an emergency course reversal? Or even rushing into office a slate of candidates willing to push the “go” button on the long-ignored “to abolish it” lever intentionally installed in the Declaration of Independence? What happened to those Americans?
Answer: Most of them are dead. So instead the nation hunkers down, unplugs even farther, and waits it out. As if inaction is a keen strategy. How is that working so far? Sit back and observe how well the Big Present Problem is solved via the midterm election. If you believe a blue wave will sweep all this away via a vote that the present anti-democracy junta will peacefully accept, you haven’t been paying attention. Minority rule has been their game since day one.
One could go on. This one has gone on long enough. If you’re still with me, thanks for having the guts to endure some tough love. Maybe you’ll think twice before sending a platitude out to our next door neighbors without looking at your own role.
And if you’re willing to accept even a tiny shred of that, I leave you with a question: What are you going to do about it? Light a candle?
Pretty sure there’s a tariff coming on those.
RIP, Dolly — and adieu to the common good?
Did that screed above make the BellingHammer feel better? Why yes it did. It also might fit in well with the biggest sad news of the week — some of the saddest of the decade.
As an ordinary person I can’t add much to the wealth of worthy tributes to the now-late, great Dolly Parton, an uncommon national hero. But I do think it’s worth a moment to reflect on what gave her such beloved/admired status among so many disparate groups of people.
As I said in a social post upon her passing, Parton’s rise from poverty to national icon status should be appreciated in its broadest sense: She was a truly great American in all the ways we used to define that.
Her icon status was earned in an uncommon fashion, on multiple stages. She was a gifted musician with generational talent and an uncanny ability to tie together disparate artistic genres. Even more impressive, she was a woman who kicked the ass of the decidedly anti-woman culture of late-last-century Nashville-based country music machine — an achievement in itself. (To get a good sense of this, watch the overlooked, excellent Tammy Wynette Showtime biopic series, “George & Tammy.”)
But her charitable work and her sassy, here’s-what’s-good-for-you sensibility when choosing political and cultural causes made her a true American original.
The writer Tommy Tomlinson, in a Substack post worth your time, notes her “easy brilliance,” aptly concluding:
Here is her greatest gift: If you gave every category of people a circle in a massive Venn diagram—straight and gay, liberal and conservative, white and black, Asian and Hispanic, trans and cis, devout and atheist, old and young, billionaire and broke—Dolly is the place they all overlap. That doesn’t mean everyone loves her. It means more different types of people love her than they love anybody else.
Why? Because unlike most other people in the national spotlight, she never gave up on what used to make us a single people: a passion for, and devotion to, the common good. Putting others above self.
Some of us still remember.
Can’t say it close to as well as Tomlinson did here:
Dolly Parton really might have been the greatest living American. She looked and sounded only like herself, and yet so many of us can see and hear ourselves in her—well, maybe not our current selves, but the version we hope to be.
Those rhinestones were mirrors.
Here’s hoping that in the process of both celebrating and grieving her, some of us might embrace her spirit and carry it forward. Start by just giving her a new listen (see below).
Anvil
Small, swift blows for sanity struck here weekly
Baa Ram —You: An enterprising Bellingham dude is letting his sheep follow in the steps of many hungry goats in taking out unwanted foliage through a “lambscaping” service, Cascadia Daily News reports. It’s a clever idea.
Pro Tip: Landowners who want to make this a DIY project but lack the sheep can find plenty at regular meetings of the Bellingham Public Schools board.
In the Slow Lane: Lots of folks were amped up here this week when the City of Bellingham (Motto: We’re Getting Somewhere — Slower Than Once Imaginable”) adopted a new 20 mph speed limit for city streets. They’re calling it a lifesaving measure.
It’s Just the Start!: Sources down on Lottie Street are telling Hammer the city, once the current change sinks in and everyone crawls forward, will soon announce a new speed limit of 2.5 mph for every moving thing in the city — except for junior high kids ripping on scooters down sidewalks at speeds of approximately 45 mph, who shall remain free to do whatever the hell they damn please.
It All Goes Toward: Finally realizing the city’s longtime goal of making the ’Ham a place that takes forever to get through, no matter where you’re going or when, or by what means. As the city’s former traffic director used to famously say (after driving his car at work to design new bike lanes): Congestion is a sign of success! Please maintain your Soma ingestion schedule, folks.
Renaming it the Bay of No-Fundy: The good folks down at our Community Boating Center were sad to announce the cancellation of the last of the summer’s “Beats on the Bay” concerts. The event was a victim of its own success, drawing hordes of water-going concert folks in boats, kayaks, strings of milk cartons and literally anything else that floats in a big circle around the princely schooner Zodiac. Too many of them were ill-equipped, not wearing PFDs, and prone to disaster in saltwater that stays dangerously cold all summer.
Hammer’s Honest Take: Seriously, good call. Glad to see efforts will be made to keep it going next season with more staffing and reinforcements. BTW, nice move keeping the Sept. 1 show going in nearby Fairhaven and redubbing it, “Beats Near the Bay.” See you there.
Ouch: This week’s cringe of semi-sympathy goes to the local Lynden Tribune, where editor Bill Helm had to own up to badly mistaken election coverage from his newspaper this past week. I hate to jump on common errors, which happen regularly at most news publications (I’ve had a fair share). But this one must have been especially painful: Helm believed, and reported to thousands of readers, that the primary-election victories of two local state representatives, meant that there would be no need for a general election vote on those seats.
Hoo Boy: Helm did the right thing by (eventually) coming clean with a solid mea culpa. But gotta say, it was less than satisfying because the explainer itself was bereft of the most critical of the “Five W’s” of journalism that most of us hold dear: “Why?” It’s sort of like writing a football game story with the understanding that the team with the low score wins. Onward and upward, we hope, for the Trib.
Xmas comes early for the BellingHammer
Wednesday was a quiet milestone here in Escrow Heights: It’s been three months since my unceremonious booting from my job as the founding executive editor at Cascadia Daily News, a respected news product I poured my very being into.
Building, shaping and working with and in the newsroom at CDN was one of the great experiences of my career in journalism — something I’ll always cherish. The community response to the work was tremendous.
On the other hand, it was a job that required, at least to me, full-time commitment, bordering on obsession.
Getting that ripped away with little warning requires the need for what I’ll kindly refer to as an “adjustment.” Still getting there, but a better life balance is already emerging from the rubble.
Two things have helped immensely.
One is a level of community support, and appreciation, that I had never expected. I bump into people everywhere I go who take the time to shake my hand and thank me for my part in restoring the connective tissue that seemed severed in the Upper Left Corner five years ago, when the region seemed on the verge of news-desert status.
The full story of that project will be told in due time. But I’ll always be proud of the newspaper as I left it. So a huge thanks here to all who have reached out.
The most common question I get: What am I now doing with all my “free time.” I rarely have a ready answer. In a lot of ways, I’m recovering from an all-consuming gig; it took a lot out of me.
I can attest that the requisite personal repotting that comes with adapting to semi-retired life more quickly than expected tends to make you focus on small, daily goals rather than big-picture achievements.
I recall the memorable scene from the movie “Clueless,” which if you’re a youngish person and have not seen, please do: Alicia Silverstone’s vapid Valley Girl character, Cher, is dining with her dad and brother in their Beverly Hills manse when Dad decides to make small talk:
Dad: “What did you do in school today, Cher?”
Cher, beaming with pride: “I broke in my purple clogs!”
Many days, I break in my purple clogs. Or some reasonable facsimile. That, and this, are enough for now.
Speaking of this: The other thing that’s helped a lot with the adjustment is this new little gig, which gives me purpose. In just three months it has grown in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Subscriptions to the BellingHammer newsletter have grown rapidly; monthly page views are routinely eclipsing much of my old work at the local newspaper (some of which was paywalled). I am humbled and super grateful for that; it propels me to work harder at it.
A big welcome to all the new folks. For them — and shoot, as an update for early adopters, too, as this thing continues to take shape — here’s a brief take on what you can expect to find here:
Opinion. As we used to say in the office, metric F-tons of opinion. Drawn from my propensity to … have a lot of opinions, but hopefully informed by the judgment I’ve soaked up through four decades of daily journalism in the Northwest.
Analysis, be it snarky, edgy, or just fun, via the weekly Anvil section.
Reminiscence. Recounting and revisiting some of my previous work, updating readers on subjects or people who’ve drifted from view. Not just for nostalgia’s sake, but to help us all keep a better context on who we are as a people, both in our region and beyond.
Some photography. Very amateur photography. It’s a longtime hobby.
Media criticism and analysis. From someone who has worked most sides of the aisle in the news business for much of my life. I remain devoted to exposing waste, fraud and abuse in media — and helping support truly independent local news, which I still foolishly believe can help save American democracy.
News coverage! I wrestled with this for a while but clarity has arrived: When a story breaks here that I know something about, have covered before, or can add some context to, I’ll be doing that on Substack, occasionally outside my established weekly newsletter schedule. I think competition is good for everyone. You can help by sending news tips my way.
True independence. I’m not beholden to anyone except readers. And after a long career in the biz dancing between various vipers, I treasure being freed from the pressures of misguided managers, advertisers or boards of directors — or anyone else. Everything I publish here will remain free as a public service unless people want to chip in with a paying subscription. It’s greatly appreciated but not required.
Again, thanks for helping this publication grow beyond my expectations. It warms my heart.
Workbench
What’s cluttering the BellingHammer’s countertops this week
Legacy Recordings: The Essential Dolly Parton (CD). Whether you’re already familiar or newly curious, this is the best career overview of Dolly tunes in my own collection, ranging from a great selection of her early, mostly forgotten true country to her later pop music/movie career. Not surprisingly it’s sold out at the moment on Amazon. Find one!
The Atlantic: What Dolly Parton Knew About Reading, by Emma Sarappo, Aug. 28, 2026 (gift link). A nice newsletter take on the lifetime gift from Parton of introducing reading to young American children.
Nonesuch Records: Pull Up Some Dust and Sit Down, by slide guitar master Ry Cooder (CD). A gem of social commentary by Cooder, this recording accidentally served as a soundtrack to the opening salvo of this newsletter. Inspired by the Great Recession and artistic interpretations of past American social injustice, it’s a master work of Ry outrage that will make you tap your toes as you get pissed off. Bonus: Accompaniment by the late, great San Antonio accordion master Flaco Jimenez. The record opens with “No Banker Left Behind” and winds through tunes with punchlines that seem as apt today as when the album dropped in 2011. From “Dirty Chateau:”
She started life in the lettuce fields
Up in Salinas where the farm work is done
You go streaking by in your automobiles
You don’t even know where your lettuce comes from
Thanks for reading Ron Judd (The BellingHammer)! This post is public, so feel free to share it. This is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
I’m so weary that people still insist, after what DJT has done -- and continues to do -- to Canada, that “this is not who we are.”
The uncomfortable truth is that it is who we are, at least in part.
Face it: it is a systemic failure of civic engagement.
Thanks, BellingHammer, for having the grit to say it!
100%. And I heard it straight, unvarished of all nicety, from the mouth of a Canadian mannicely, as we stood on a bluff in the Gulf Islands, staring over the water in the direction of the US. He was a retired teacher, a quiet man initially, pleased to exchange standard greetings and share our delight in the glorious view. He started out with a sorrowful summary of his lifelong love of his southern neighbor-- the culture and the people, the vitality-- and of his decades of trips to Seattle to shop and experience the city. At that point, he quickly switched into anger. His fully respectful but incandescent speech had tears flowing on my cheeks. They are wounded, too, betrayed, and in complete disbelief that *we all* are simply letting this obscenity happen-- not just to them, but to ourselves. The lecture was brutal and warranted (and took place under the watchful eye of a bald eagle, fwiw) and his parting words were "You Americans need to wake up and DO SOMETHING!" And in that he was not just referring to Republicans or electeds. I will carry his pain for a very long time.