War! What Is It Good For?

I'm not an asshole. I'm this whole part of the earth. I'm an asshole. God is good. I'm breathing. Still dreaming. And for that alone, I'm grateful. So I got no complaints. Did y'all miss me? Because low-key I miss this. I miss sitting in this room, getting on my soapbox for a little bit. And it just feels good to be back. It feels good to be behind this microphone again. See, somebody asked me not too long ago if I wasn't passionate about talking anymore. And at the time I told them, I guess we'll just have to see. Well, I hope you listen in now because I got a lot to say. God just had me take a little quick detour. Life has been life-ing. Some things needed my attention. And I just had to put my energy on some other stuff. But I'm back. And just because I say I got no complaints, that doesn't mean I don't got a lot on my mind. Actually, it's quite the opposite. See, I got a lot of love in my heart. I really do. But respect, that's a whole different conversation. And today, we're going to talk about it. Now, before anybody says, here he goes, get him political again. I just want y'all to know. Well, shit, y'all know I love my politics. So it's not that surprising that I'm talking about some political stuff here and there. But let me tell you something. This episode has been in the works for a long time. It's not like I forgot about the podcasts or lost interest. I just felt like I needed to take my time with this one. Because some conversations shouldn't be rushed. And honestly, with everything that's going on and happening lately, I didn't know where to start with this one. See, one minute we're talking about troops being deployed, then we're watching what's happening in Venezuela, where we're kidnapping a leader and his wife in the middle of the night. Then there's Iran, then there's military strikes, intelligence reports, signal group chats, another conflict, another headline. And every time I think I've gotten caught up with everything, something else happens. And lately, I've been hearing this phrase being thrown around a lot. Foreign entanglements. What the hell is that? Are we talking about military conflicts or Jada Pikism's relationships? Do we need Pentagon briefings or an episode of Red Table Talk? But seriously, like I'm thinking about all of this and everything is moving so fast. Politicians start talking. The media starts spinning. Everybody's on social media picking aside. And somehow I end up more confused than when I started. Because where I'm sitting from, it feels like this, we're creating problems, then we're celebrating ourselves for solving the same problems we created. Every announcement is supposed to be the next big deal. And that's finally going to fix everything. Another promise, another operation, another deal. I've never read the art of the deal. But I might have to because I'm still waiting on the deal. And you know, all of this reminds me of that schoolhouse rock song. You know, the one we learned at middle school. I'm just a bill sitting here on Capitol Hill. Y'all know that song. And I know y'all really want to give me props on the notes. I was hitting them. But yeah, it reminds me of that song. See, growing up, we grew up learning about the three branches of government. Check some balances, Congress, the president, a system that was designed to make sure no one person had too much power. At somewhere along the way, I started wondering, are we still following that process, or are we just making this shit up as we go? Because lately, it feels like the decisions come first, the explanations come later, and the accountability. Well, we're still waiting on that. And all of this brings me to the reason I'm releasing this episode right now. It's not coincidence. It's intention. Election day is right around the corner. And no, I'm not here to tell you vote or die. I'm not here to tell you which candidate to support or which political party deserves your vote. But when you look at that ballot, up and down, that ballot, you see them candidates. There's something that I want you to think about. Do the people you're choosing to represent you actually represent your values. Not just what they say in campaign commercials, not just the things they promise when they're asking for your vote. I'm talking about who they are when the cameras are off. Well, they stand up for the people they're supposed to represent. Well, they stand up for your neighbors, even the ones who didn't vote for them. Well, they think for themselves or will they just be another yes man or a yes woman waiting on somebody higher up to tell them what to think, what to say, and how to vote. Because if that's the case, what exactly are we electing them to do? And there's one question I think that matters even more than all of the others. Do they value human life? Because the people we elect aren't just making political decisions, they're making decisions that affect real people, real families, real lives. And I think we all don't know what somebody values before we hand them that kind of power. That's why this episode matters to me. That's why this episode took so long. Not because I'm trying to convince you to be a Democrat or a Republican, but because I think we've gotten so caught up with winning or who's losing, sometimes we actually forget what's at stake. See, Trump said something recently that really brought all of this home for me. On September 4th, while he was talking about the military conflict, and I'm saying military conflict and air quotes because we're not allowed to call it a war. They don't classify it as a war, but as hero nor there. But while he's talking about this military conflict with Iran, Trump described it as small potatoes. Small potatoes. See, he was comparing the scale of this conflict to other larger wars, Vietnam and other conflicts where this country lost thousands upon thousands of service members. And listen, I understand what he was trying to say. I understand there's a difference between losing 21 service members and losing tens of thousands. I understand the comparison. I really do. But here's the problem with all of this for me. 21 people is not a small number to 21 families. See, I don't care how powerful our military is. I don't care how successful you believe the operation was. I don't care whether you're a Republican or a Democrat or the president of the United States. When an American service member dies, the language you use that matters because to you, it might be a relatively small military conflict. But to somebody's wife is the rest of her life without her husband. To somebody's child is growing up without a parent. To a mother is the last time she ever hears her son's voice. And there's nothing small about that, not a goddamn thing. And before anybody misunderstands me, I'm not arguing that America should never use military force. I understand there are threats in this world. I understand the importance of national security. I understand that sometimes difficult decisions have to be made. But when those decisions involve putting people's lives on the line, I think we have every right to ask questions. What are we trying to accomplish? Why are we doing it? And what happens if we're wrong? See, the people making these decisions don't always have to carry the consequences sometimes. Somebody else does. And the reason I think the words Trump said bothered me so much is I keep thinking about the people who taught me what service in the military really means. Especially one person, a Vietnam veteran who changed the way I looked at this country long before I ever sat down behind this microphone. See, before I go any further, I want to acknowledge something. I've never served. I've never had to put that uniform on. I've never deployed. I've never had to make some of those sacrifices that military families have to make. And I know there are people probably listening to this right now thinking if you've never served, what gives you the right to have this opinion? And honestly, that's a fair question. It's one that I ask myself because the last thing I want to do is sit behind a microphone being one of these internet dewebs. And pretending I'm an expert on something I've never personally experienced. I'm not. And I'm not going to act like I am. So instead of pretending I had all the answers, I opened my ears and I listened. I started talking to the people who I knew that served, people I trust, people I respect, different branches, different backgrounds, different experiences. And I wasn't looking for somebody to tell me what to think. I was looking for perspective, for understanding. And those conversations kept bringing me back to someone who already taught me so much. See, I didn't grow up around the military. That just wasn't my environment. I grew up around blue collar people and honestly, some no collar folks too. And culturally, success looks simple for us, doctor, engineer, lawyer. That was the dream. That was the expectation. The military wasn't something that I deeply understood. Not until this man came into my life. He was a Vietnam veteran, a mentor, a great friend. And I won't say his name, not because he doesn't deserve recognition, but because what he taught me matters more. I remember being about 17 years old, and I'm walking through Camp Pendleton with him. We're there for his son's boot camp graduation from the Marine Corps. And we're in this military museum. There's uniforms, weapons, photographs. There's history everywhere. I'm trying to soak it all in. There's people reading plaques, looking at exhibits, taking pictures. But he wasn't doing any of that. He'd stop, stare at something for a minute, almost like he wasn't looking at a exhibit anymore. Like he was somewhere else. Then he would look at all of us that were there and he would tell a story, not the Polish version, not the Hollywood version, the human version. Stories about fear, stories about loss, stories about loyalty, stories about things those plaques could never fully explain. And at 17, I didn't really fully understand all of this. Everything he was telling me didn't really make sense. And honestly, I don't think it was supposed to. But I felt it. What stayed with me wasn't the weapons. It wasn't the uniforms. It wasn't the power. It was humility. The discipline, the quiet strength. He never glorified war. Not once. And I think that's why I listened. Over the years, we've had a lot of conversations. He opened up his home to me. He let me sit on his couch. He let me listen. He let me ask questions. And the one thing I've always appreciated was that he never tried to tell me how to think or what to think. He challenged me to think for myself. He loved this country deeply. But he taught me that loving your country doesn't mean believing it's incapable of doing no wrong. He taught me that patriotism isn't blind loyalty. I know y'all heard me say this before. Patriotism isn't blind loyalty. Patriotism is responsibility. And that lesson has stuck with me. Because he loved this country. But he taught me to love the people and it even more. See, he'd already seen what happens after the speeches are over. After the cameras leave, after the headlines disappear, he'd seen what was left. And the people who taught me the most about military service also taught me something much bigger. The value of human life, not in theory, not in a textbook, not in some political debate. They taught me by the way they carried themselves. And that's why these conversations feel different to me now. Because I'm not just hearing headlines anymore. I'm hearing all of these voices. I'm remembering all of these people's stories. And what I've come to understand from those conversations is that respecting the military and questioning the people leading it aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, I think they go hand in hand. Because if we truly respect the men and women we're asking to put their lives on the line for us in this country, shouldn't we be just as concerned about the decisions that put them there in the first place? One of the hardest truths about war is that the people making the biggest decisions usually aren't the people carrying the rifle. See politicians debate, strategist plan, experts analyze, but the people boarding those planes, the people walking into those dangerous paces, they're often 19, 20, 21 year old kids. And when those kids don't come home, those families receive the folded flag, a ceremony, a letter, and none of that replaces a person. None of that fixes the grief. Somebody still has to wake up the next day and try to figure out how to live their life without them. And if we're going to ask people to carry that burden, then I think we owe them something more than just speeches about military strength. We owe them responsible leadership because America is strong. The world knows that our allies know that, our adversaries know that. We've spent generations teaching that, improving them. So for me, this has never been a conversation about whether we can. Of course, we can. The question is whether should we? The question should be one should we? The biggest question of all is what happens after we do. Sometimes it feels like we talk about strength as if it's constantly needed to be proven. Like every situation requires demonstration or reminder, a show of force. But when you're the strongest in the room, you don't have to keep reminding everybody you're the strongest person in the room. Everybody already knows real strength isn't proving what you're capable of. Real strength is understanding the responsibility it comes with knowing when to act, knowing when to hold back, knowing that every decision has consequences. And I think that's true for people. And I think it's true for countries also. And part of that was responsibility is understanding how we talk about war because words have power. Think about the conversation around bringing back the phrase, Department of War. War sounds aggressive. Defense sounds protective. It's the same military, just different framing. And I'm not saying one word automatically makes policy right or wrong. I'm saying the language you use changes how people hear it. Sometimes it makes war sound bigger. Sometimes it makes war sound smaller. And sometimes it makes something incredibly serious sound almost ordinary. Which brings me to something else that's really been bothering me. The way we're consuming all of this. Because somewhere along the way war started becoming content. Clips, graphics, music, slow motion videos, highlight reels, social media posts, that calm is posting all over Twitter. And this might be where I sound old. But missiles shouldn't look cool. Bombs shouldn't be packaged like movie trailers. Military actions shouldn't feel like entertainment. The moment war starts feeling entertaining, somebody somewhere has forgotten what it costs. This isn't called a duty. This isn't a movie. This isn't campaign marketing. This is real life. Nobody responds. Nobody reloads from a checkpoint. And when it's over, somebody's world is different forever. And I'm not saying military footage can't be shared. But this idea of being all over Twitter, it just sounds crazy to me. When did we become so comfortable watching destruction that it stopped making us think? A strike happens. We scroll. A conflict starts. We scroll. People die. We scroll. And then it's on to the next headline. That's what scares me. Not the disagreement, not the political debate, the normalization of all of this. Because somebody isn't scrolling. Somebody just lost a son. Somebody just lost a daughter. Somebody just got a phone call that's going to change the rest of their lives. And I don't ever want to become so comfortable with human suffering that it stops bothering. But while the rest of us are watching these events unfold, the people making these decisions still have a responsibility to answer for them. And that's where I think we need to have much more serious conversations about leadership. This is the part I've been holding my tongue. I've been biting my tongue really. I'm actually kind of bleeding over here because this is the part that I really wanted to get to. But I've been trying to be measured with all of this, trying to be fair, trying to make sure I wasn't speaking from anger instead of conviction. But I don't want to tiptoe around any of this anymore. Because part of my frustration comes from the inconsistency. And that's where Trump comes into this for me. Leadership isn't selective. You don't get to celebrate every success as it's your own while every failure somehow belongs to the person that came before you. The good belongs to you. The bad belongs to you. That is leadership. That's the job. And that's true whether we're talking about the economy, foreign policy or military action, every president inherits problems, every administration inherits decisions they didn't make. Some you keep, some you change, some you completely reverse. That's your right as a president. And there is a process to all of this. But once those decisions happen, they become yours. Those consequences become yours too. See, since this war started, I've heard a lot of people talk about the JCPOA, the Iran nuclear agreement that Trump pulled out of in 2018. We've heard a lot about fixing what previous administrations got wrong. Fine. That was his decision to make. But then the American people have every right to ask what came out of that decision. What did we accomplish? And what did it cost? And where do we go from here? Because leadership doesn't stop when the cameras turn off. You don't get to decide when accountability applies and when it doesn't. That's not how this is supposed to work. And that responsibility, that extends to the people you choose to surround yourself with, which brings me to Pete headset, PDP. Honestly, I never had high expectations for you. To me, you were just the Fox guy who got the job. But you were also a guy that wore that uniform. So I did expect more. I expected somebody who understood service to understand the responsibility that comes with leading people who serve. Because military service is in the slogan. It isn't content. It isn't branding. It's sacrifice. It's commitment. It's real human beings. See, that's why bothers me when I read reports about experienced military officers being removed from promotion code situation. Women, black service members, people who have dedicated years of their lives to serving this country. And when those decisions happen without clear explanations, people are going to ask questions. And they should. Now, I understand every promotion is in guaranteed. I understand leadership has authority over personnel decisions. And I understand the Pentagon disputes that race or gender influence those decisions. But when experience qualified service members are passed over and people are left questioning whether ideology mattered more than married, I think transparency matters. Because service should mean something. Qualifications should mean something. And respect should mean something. A Marine very close to me once said, never above you. Never below you. Always beside you. I've never forgotten. It wasn't just a quote. That was a philosophy. That was a brother. And that kind of respect shouldn't disappear because somebody has a different background or a different political belief. And that's why I can't separate this conversation from the character. Because character matters. Especially when we're talking about the people who volunteer to serve this country. See, and that's also why I haven't forgotten what Trump had to say about John McCain. A man who spent years as a prisoner of war. Trump said he preferred people who weren't captured. As if John McCain woke up one morning and was like, Hey, just take me. I choose captivity. As if surviving years of torture somehow made his sacrifices worth less. And I remember thinking, how do you look at somebody who endured something like that and think that that statement was acceptable? How do you make a statement like that? And I also haven't forgot what Trump said to the con family either, the gold star parents of army captain, human, Huh, who was killed serving this country? After they publicly challenged him, their family became a part of a national political argument. And I don't bring up these examples because I think everybody has to agree politically. That's never been my point. My point is respect. My point is love. Because service deserves respect. Even when it's inconvenient. Even when it's politically uncomfortable. Even when it's somebody you disagree with. Sacrifice doesn't stop being sacrifice just because it doesn't fit your narrative. And that standard shouldn't change depending on who's sitting in the White House. Because supporting the people who serve this country means more than standing beside them when the cameras are rolling. I think the real test of that support comes after the speeches are over. When those men and women come home, see it's easy to say we support the troops. We love to see the flags being flown. We love the flyovers. We love the parades. We love the ceremonies. We love the speeches about strength. And listen, I love that stuff too. It screams America, right? And I think it's important we recognize military service. But guess what? This is important also. But support can't end there. Because the parade eventually ends. The ceremony ends. The cameras leave. And those men and women come home. Some come home with injuries you can see. And others come home carrying things. Nobody ever will fully understand. And then what are we making sure they have health care, mental health resources, access to the benefits they earned? Or are we making them spend months fighting bureaucracy after they've already sacrificed enough? And I sure shit ain't saying. There aren't good people at the VA or working in the military health care system. There absolutely is. But the people who served shouldn't have to fight another battle just to receive the care they've earned. Because if we can find the resources to send somebody into danger, we damn sure ought to find the resources to take care of them when they come home. And that's where all of this starts feeling hypocritical to me. Because you can't tell me how much love you have for the military, how much respect you have for service, and how much you support the troops. And they get suddenly real quiet when veterans need somebody to keep the promises that were made to them. That's not support. That's symbolism. And those are not the same thing. And the families deserve answers too. When a service member dies, their family deserves to know what happened, whether mistakes were made, and if mistakes were made, whether somebody is being held accountable, those aren't unreasonable questions. And that is not disrespecting the mission. That's asking our government to take responsibility for the people who trusted it with their lives. And there's one thing, all of these conversations have brought me back to. It's something my mentor told me years ago. When you talk about war, don't forget about the people. You know, I kept thinking about that 17-year-old kid walking through Camp Pendleton. Listening to Vietnam veteran tell stories, I wasn't old enough to fully understand. Stories about fear, stories about loss, stories about sacrifice, stories about real people, people I didn't even know. And the thing I remember the most is the way he talked about all of this. He didn't talk about these people. He lost like they were numbers. He remembered them as people. People he knew. People he served beside. People whose lives mattered. And I think that's what we've been missing in so many of these conversations I've been hearing. We spent so much time talking about operations, about strategy, about who's winning, who's losing, who's right, who's wrong, gas prices, the straight of her moves, all of this stuff. But sometimes it feels like we've forgotten who pays the price. Because it's easy to process a statistic. It's much harder to process a funeral. It's easy to process a headline. It's much harder to process a folded flag. And it's easy to compare military casualties across different conflicts, until one of those casualties is somebody you love. Until those statistics has a face, a name, a family, a life. And that's the one thing I want people to take away from this episode. The value of human life cannot be conditional. Not for civilians, not for veterans, not for service members, not for anybody. And I don't believe you have to wear a uniform to understand that. I don't believe you have to agree with every decision your country makes for you to love your country. And I certainly don't believe you have to be silent to be patriotic. Because loving something means being willing to hold it accountable, especially when the stakes are this high. You know, I started this episode by telling you that God is good. I'm breathing, still dreaming. And I have no complaints. And I don't say that because everything in my life is easy and everything is perfect. That's not the case at all. I say it because I'm here. And I refuse to take that for granted. Every day we wake up with another opportunity, another conversation, another chance to tell somebody we love them, another chance to do something meaningful with the life we are given. And I think about how many people would give anything to have just one more day with somebody they love, one more conversation, one more phone call, one more hug, one more chance to say goodbye. That's what I want people to remember when we're talking about war. Not just the victories, not just the strategy, not just the political arguments, the people, because at the end of the day, war is the subject. But people are the point. and one life is still one entire world to somebody. And that's how I want to end this episode, not with politics, not with party, not with the headline, with people. Because before they were soldiers, sailors or airmen, they were sons, they were daughters, they were brothers, they were sisters, they were husbands, they were wives, they were friends, and they were somebody's entire world. And I refuse to let them just become another statistic. See, back in the days, news networks used to broadcast all of the names of every single service member that passed away during a war. I don't know if they do that anymore. So I'm going to read all of the names of every service member that passed away during this conflict. Their circumstances weren't all the same, and I apologize if I mess up any names, but every one of them had a life beyond a military report, and every one of them deserves to be remembered. Robert Marzone, Jeffrey O'Brien, Noah Tahins, Nicole Amor, Cody Cork, Declan Coday, Benjamin Pennington, John Alex Klinner, Ariana Savino, Ashley Pruitt, Seth Koval, Curtis Engst, Tyler Simmons, Gabriel Edwards, Isabella Gonzales, Tyler James Fian. Angel Rampersad. Michael Emanuel Swinton. Bianca Wilkerson. Sorefly Davies.