On October 19, US president Donald Trump visited Kansas to prop up a lagging Republican candidate (US Senator Roger Marshall), and he brought the bucks with him, pledging an $8 billion bailout for farmers hurt by Trump’s tariffs and Trump’s war on Iran.

That follows $150 million for power lines in Alaska (to goose another tight Senate race), $475 million in $500 “ObamaCare refunds” on September 10, $1.9 billion in $90 “Medicare Part B rebates” on October 2 (seniors are an especially key voter demographic) , and of course  his promise to put a $5,000 check in the mail to each adult US citizen after — and only if — his party prevails in the upcoming congressional elections.

“A billion here, a billion there,” the late US Senator Everett Dirksen (R-IL) mused, “and pretty soon you’re talking about real money.”

Government spending is almost always about buying votes, but never more obviously than during campaign season.

With the elections only two weeks away, it’s not impossible that we’ll see Trump motorcading through swing House districts, using a leaf blower to distribute hundred dollar bills, before the Big Day.

He’s in a tight spot of his own making (on, among other issues, “affordability”). And many past presidents have found themselves in such situations.

His party faces near certain loss of the House of Representatives and possible loss of the Senate. Nothing new there, either — the ruling party almost always loses seats, and sometimes majorities, in midterms.

And whenever that happens, the “free money” spigot gets turned on full blast. Trump’s not unique so far as the impulse goes. He’s just got more of a flair for the theatrical.

Of course, all that faux generosity has to be paid for … and it gets paid for by, at least in part, the same people the “free money” lands on.

In order to spend money, the government has to have money. Which means it either taxes you to get the money, or it borrows the money and promises to beat it out of you later (with interest).

Science fiction writer Robert Heinlein popularized the acronym TANSTAAFL (although he was far from the first to express the sentiment):

“There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.”

Is fake “free money” a good reason to vote Democrat in November? No, it isn’t. When in power and in danger of losing power, the Democrats throw around “free money” too. That’s how political government works: Take money with one hand, pass out less than you took with the other. As New Deal politico put it, “tax and tax, spend and spend, elect and elect.”

I’m skeptical that we can vote our way out of that scam, but if you want to try,  you should look for Libertarians on your ballot.

Thomas L. Knapp (X: @thomaslknapp | Bluesky: @knappster.bsky.social | Mastodon: @knappster) is director and senior news analyst at the William Lloyd Garrison Center for Libertarian Advocacy Journalism (thegarrisoncenter.org). He lives and works in north central Florida.

PUBLICATION/CITATION HISTORY

In late August, CBS News Miami obtained a copy of a grand jury report. That’s not supposed to happen, but it did. Here’s what that grand jury report found:

Several persons within and around the executive branch of Florida’s government conspired to misappropriate $10 million in taxpayer money, funnel that money through a charity founded by the governor’s wife, give it to Political Action Committees operated by the future state attorney general, and spend it to rig an election.

The grand jury declined to indict any of the conspirators simply because the web was so tangled that the jurors couldn’t figure out who knew, and did, what. It’s unclear whether governor Ron DeSantis, then attorney (now US Senator) Ashley Moody, or others actually gave the orders that resulted in the embezzlement/laundering of the funds.

Because no indictments issued, DeSantis claimed that “the only crime that was apparent was whoever leaked the grand jury report” (and yes, leaking the report was illegal).

On October 8, Florida’s First District Court of Appeals expunged the grand jury report, on the grounds that a grand jury can’t declare conduct unlawful without indicting those it identifies as having participated in that conduct.

DeSantis did a little public dance to celebrate his victory over “self-interested cabals in the state legislature,” a “very hostile liberal grand jury,” and the media.

But neither the expungement nor the victory dance change the factual assertions in the report, or the evidence underlying those assertions.

The assertions, again:

Several persons within and around the executive branch of Florida’s government conspired to misappropriate $10 million in taxpayer money, funnel that money through a charity founded by the governor’s wife, give it to Political Action Committees operated by the future state attorney general, and spend it to rig an election.

The election in question was a statewide referendum on legalizing recreational marijuana. It required a 60% vote to pass, but only got 55.9%.

Whether the $10 million election-rigging attempt made that 4.1% difference, we’ll probably never know. But we know it happened, we know who some of the conspirators were, and we have a pretty good idea of some others.

We may see some semblance of justice if the federal government decides to launch a Racketeering Influenced Corrupt Organization probe of the charity (Hope Florida), the PACs (Keep Florida Clean and Florida Freedom Fund), and their principals (Florida first lady Casey DeSantis and Florida attorney general James Uthmeier). Maybe someone will go to prison. Probably not, but maybe.

A certain measure of justice, fortunately, is inherent in the exposure itself.

Casey DeSantis was clearly gearing up for a run to succeed her husband as governor. That project fell apart when the misappropriation  came to light.

Ron DeSantis still seems to entertain 2028 presidential ambitions, but between running against Donald Trump in the 2024 Republican primaries and getting caught in, or at least near, this scandal, it seems reasonably certain that his politic career ends with his time as governor.

Courts can expunge reports, but once the truth is out, it stays out.

Thomas L. Knapp (X: @thomaslknapp | Bluesky: @knappster.bsky.social | Mastodon: @knappster) is director and senior news analyst at the William Lloyd Garrison Center for Libertarian Advocacy Journalism (thegarrisoncenter.org). He lives and works in north central Florida.

PUBLICATION/CITATION HISTORY

One might expect a White House Press Secretary’s first week on the job to receive media coverage mainly for the content and quality of her briefings — those being, you know, the job.

And, for a brief moment, that’s how it went for Katie Zacharia, who took the post on October 9 and delivered her first briefing on October 13 to largely negative reviews. She stumbled through a script for eight minutes, bumbled her way through three questions from friendly media outlets, then fled the podium.

OK, small sample size and new to the job, right? Give her time and see how it goes.

But no. Instead of just letting Zacharia try to (and expecting her to) improve her way to rock star status (the gold standard is the fictional CJ Cregg of The West Wing), and instead of covering the real stories she’s supposed to inform them on, the mainstream media wants to make her the story.

The question: Is (or was) Katie Zacharia an “attorney,” as US president Donald Trump called her?

The irrefutable, factually correct, answer is “who cares? In her current role, she doesn’t practice law.”

But fine, let’s dig into the matter a little further, since it’s apparently now a matter of controversy. Manufactured controversy that matters not a whit, but controversy nonetheless.

Zacharia attended, and graduated from, Pepperdine University’s Rick J. Caruso School of Law with a Juris Doctor degree.

She worked for a law firm in China for two years, and at one point her LinkedIn profile described her as “general counsel” for a California non-profit.

So yes, she does seem to have “practiced law” as a “lawyer” or “attorney,” despite having failed the California bar exam and having never received an Extra Special, Very Important Permission Slip  — a government license in the form of “admission to the bar” — to do so.

Question: While tooling down the freeway one day, you’re pulled over by a cop and it comes to light that you don’t possess a government-issued “driver’s license.” Does that mean you aren’t a “driver?”

“Admission to the bar” and other occupational licensing schemes don’t exist to distinguish “real” lawyers, doctors,  and even (in some states) hair braiders and interior decorators from “fake” ones.

Nor do they exist to “protect the public” from less qualified practitioners.

They exist to raise the incomes of people who procure those Extra Special, Very Important Permission Slips and to make it more expensive and difficult to competitively join those anointed elites.

Which is why the strongest lobbying for implementing and enforcing such schemes always comes from the existing practitioners.

If you “practice law,” you’re a “lawyer” or “attorney,” whether you have government credentials saying so or not. And to the best of my knowledge, Katie Zacharia has never falsely claimed to have such credentials.

I hope Zacharia’s clients got good work for their money, as that’s the only thing that should matter.

And I hope we can get better work from the press in deciding what’s worth “reporting” on.

Thomas L. Knapp (X: @thomaslknapp | Bluesky: @knappster.bsky.social | Mastodon: @knappster) is director and senior news analyst at the William Lloyd Garrison Center for Libertarian Advocacy Journalism (thegarrisoncenter.org). He lives and works in north central Florida.

PUBLICATION/CITATION HISTORY