The Responsibility We Keep Forgetting When We Stop Thinking

Sometimes you stop and wonder. What's gone wrong with our system? On paper, it's representative government—the voice of the People. And yet, that's exactly where the trouble begins. Or it's at least where a lot of it is now.

There's an old saying. Bad data in, bad data out. If we feed a system the wrong inputs, we shouldn't be surprised when the outputs disappoint us.

We complain endlessly about ineffective mayors, governors, and local officials who seem to make everything worse. They mismanage, they mislead, they muddy the waters. But when the dust settles, who's really at fault? Is it the politicians who fall short—or is it us, the voters who put them there?

Because at the end of the day we're the ones making the choices. We're the ones who accept the promises, overlook the failures, or ignore them entirely. And when a leader faces serious criticism yet still wins reelection, it raises a hard question: how seriously are we taking our responsibility as voters?

Yes, elected officials hold power. But that power originates with us. And that means the real issue isn't just leadership. It's the quality of the electorate. As a society, we've grown less skeptical, less curious, and far too willing to accept whatever the mainstream narrative tells us, even when we suspect bias is baked into every angle.

Social media hasn't helped. Oh, sure. We think it does. We think it counters the dishonest media. The truth is, instead of encouraging open dialogue, it often creates and rewards echo chambers. People don't want to ask questions anymore. They want to be affirmed. They want to block out anything that challenges their worldview. That's not empowerment. That's self-imposed silence.

There's a quote—I can't recall who said it—that goes, "Every dollar we spend casts a vote for the kind of world we want to live in." It was meant about commerce and environmental choices, but it applies just as well to voting. If we end up with poor leadership, it's because we collectively chose it. Or, on the flip side, we allowed ourselves to make a bad choice.

Our vote matters. It shapes what comes next. It determines who holds power and what they do with it.

Blaming officials when things go wrong is easy. It lets us dodge responsibility. We can always say, "Well, I didn't vote for that person." And sometimes that's true. But the deeper question is, when we made whatever choice we ultimately made, how did we vote? Any of us. All of us. On either side of the aisle.

How did we make our choice?

Did we listen carefully? Did we research? Or did we rely on a party label, a news outlet, a social media circle, or a blogger who already agreed with us?

Ultimately, voters decide the direction of the country—right or wrong, good or bad. So, when things fall apart, at what point do we admit that some of the blame belongs to us? When do we acknowledge that maybe we're part of the problem?

People often argue for term limits. But in a way we already have them. We always have. They're called elections. If we had a more informed, more engaged, more discerning voting public, we wouldn't need set limits. Leaders who fail would simply be voted out.

But there is a catch there. It's in how we evaluate successes and failures as much as anything. Are we honest about what's a successful thing and what's gone wrong? Or do we determine that by the same cues offered from our political biases, news outlets, social media circles, and a closed mind way of thinking?

The founders never intended for unfit leaders to rise to power. They intended for the People to choose wisely—to be the penultimate safeguard of the Republic.

Which means, ultimately, that if the system is failing, it's because we are failing. We're the ones checking the boxes. We're the ones shaping the world we live in. And we're also the ones who have allowed ourselves to be so divided that critical thinking and compromise are like relics.

If we want to climb out of this mess, the solution isn't louder voices—it's sharper minds. We need to listen more carefully, think more independently, and stop outsourcing our judgement to whatever source shouts the loudest—or simply shouts the things we prefer to hear.

Do you like the things I write about or the way I write about them? Follow me on my Facebook page to keep up with the latest writings wherever I may write them.

© 2025 Jim Bauer

The Nationwide Penny Shortage is Hooey

Is it an honest mistake, mass confusion, opportunism or plain nonsense—you decide. Ever since the final penny was minted on November 12th by order of President Donald J. Trump, signs have been popping up everywhere warning of a "nationwide penny shortage." Stores are urging cash customers to use exact change or accept that their totals will be rounded to the nearest nickel.

Sure, sometimes the rounding works in your favor. At McDonald's the other day, my change should have been 24 cents, but I was handed a quarter instead. In another transaction, though, I ended up paying an extra 3 cents. Maybe it eventually balances out on paper, but that's not the point.

The point is this: the U.S. Mint estimates that roughly 300 billion pennies are currently in circulation. For context, the Mint typically produces between 5 and 7 billion new pennies each year, and even in 2025—after production was halted—one billion pennies were still minted. We are not running out of pennies. Not even close.

Yes, about 8% of pennies "disappear" annually—into jars, drawers, couch cushions, parking lots and the void of everyday life. But even with that attrition, the idea that we've suddenly hit a nationwide shortage is absurd.

The hard truth is simple: there is no penny shortage. We're being misled.

Whether or not this qualifies as gouging, it's undeniably dishonest. Businesses don't want to deal with pennies, and they've spotted an opportunity to quietly pad their margins even if only roughly 20% of all transactions conducted are done with cash.

Maybe it's small beans, I'll admit. But what frustrates me here is the blatant falsehood of it all. No federal authority—the president, the U.S. Mint, the treasury—has told anyone to stop using pennies. In fact, they've emphasized the opposite.

There are plenty of pennies in circulation, they remain legal tender, and people should continue using them.

So, why the signs? Why the warnings? Why the fiction of a "shortage"? It's a completely manufactured narrative, and a dishonest one.

And there's another wrinkle here. If businesses keep pretending pennies are scarce, and the government doesn't put a stop to it, then the burden shifts to nickels. That's an even bigger problem. A penny costs about 4 cents to produce, but a nickel costs 13.8 cents. Eliminating pennies, then, doesn't save money—it substantially increases minting costs. If nickels have to fill the gap for every rounded transaction, we'll need far more of them, and the financial loss grows.

Essentially, eliminating the penny to reduce minting costs falls flat.

If we ever reach a genuine penny shortage, then fine—let's revisit the conversation. But right now, the penny is still plentiful, still valid, and still very much a part of our currency system. Did they mint one billion new pennies in 2025 just to have them be obsolete and wasted scraps of copper in 2026? Hardly.

Businesses should stop at once, perpetuating a false narrative and return to giving accurate change until the last penny ceases to exist. Which, by conservative estimates, won't be until 2085.

Like the things I write about or the way I write about them? Follow me on my Facebook page to keep up with the latest writings wherever I may write them.

© 2025 Jim Bauer

Gas or Food? Oh, Cry Me a River

Cue the violins. Here come the sad songs, the despairing portraits, the finger pointing and—once again—the flushing of common sense straight down the drain.

Forget politics for a moment. It doesn't matter who's at fault for the government shutdown—even though we know it's the Democrats, to be clear about that. What matters is that paychecks are frozen, and yes, that stinks. Nobody wants to work for free. But the work still has to be done, and someone still has to do it.

And let's be honest. Those paychecks will eventually arrive. That's not the real issue.

After the Great Depression one lesson became painfully clear: You cannot depend on the economy, your job, or any so-called "safety net" to rescue you when things collapse. You have to rely on yourself. At least to some degree, you have to be prepared.

What did Rush Limbaugh used to tell us? Create your own economy so you aren't forced to abide by the rules of the real one.

That's why the 6-month rule was born. Save half a year's salary and create a rainy-day fund. It's been preached for nearly a century. Yet here we are, hearing stories of air traffic controllers—who earn around $125,000 a year by the way—claiming they can't afford gas to get to work.

So, what happened? Did they miss the memo? Ignore the advice? Or simply choose not to prepare?

Look, I'm not without compassion. I understand the frustration. Even when it comes to the world outside of government, CEOs make decisions all the time and someone gets hurt in the process and people have to make tough choices.

But let's be real. What these air traffic controllers are facing, and what anyone faces in this position—it's a self-inflicted wound. Jobs vanish. Paychecks stop. That's life. It's been this way since the beginning of time.

So, who's to blame when you're left exposed? The greedy rich? The bickering government? Society? The system? Or maybe, it's you. The one who ignored the warnings, skipped the preparation, and left yourself vulnerable.

Spare me the sob stories. Life isn't fair. Sometimes you're left holding the bag through no fault of your own. But the larger truth is timeless. This cycle has repeated for generations and will repeat long after today's headlines fade.

From layoffs to government shutdowns to people losing their SNAP benefits, the story is always the same. It's someone else's fault that someone must suffer. Yet, as I said before, it's not like the memo hasn't been out there for everyone to plainly see it. The endless dependence. The failure of so many people in society to be able to fend for themselves in some way when the time comes.

People making six-figures living paycheck to paycheck.

Like I said, I am not without compassion or feeling. I do get it. But I also get that sometimes things are just beyond our control, and so we have to have a backup plan to compensate for that.

The harsh reality is that if you are caught unprepared, it's your own damn fault. It's really as simple as that. End of story. Stop the violins.

You wrote the song, but you missed the chorus. And like all choruses do, that's the part that repeats over and over again and sticks the most prominently in memory. It's hard for me to shed a tear when someone falls victim to the obvious.

Like the things I write about or the way I write about them? Follow me on my Facebook page to keep up with the latest writings wherever I may write them. Want to help keep the lights on here? Consider using my Amazon link the next time you're shopping. Your support is always greatly appreciated.

©2025 Jim Bauer

If the Republicans Invoke the Nuclear Option, It's Double Disaster for the Democrats

President Trump is now urging Senate Republicans to eliminate the filibuster and invoke the so-called "nuclear option" to break the deadlock and reopen the government—an option that's hovered in the background all along.

Under current Senate rules, the filibuster requires 60 votes to advance most legislation. With a 53-47 majority, Republicans can't pass a budget reconciliation bill without Democrat support. And so far, they haven't gotten it. Despite 14 votes by Republicans to reopen the government—with the exception of two GOP holdouts—Democrats have opposed every attempt.

That leaves Democrats in a political bind. Republicans have made it clear. They won't negotiate. Shut down or not, the bill stands as written. Meanwhile, Democrats have muddied the waters with misleading claims about who's responsible for the impasse—a tactic that's backfiring as public frustration mounts.

This standoff isn't just about reopening the government. It's about the rules of engagement going forward. If the Republicans scrap the filibuster and push the bill through with a simple majority, they'll do so without amendments, without compromise, and without Democrat's input. The bill passes "as-is," and the precedent is set.

That's a double loss for Democrats. First, they lose the substance of this negotiation. Second, they lose the structural leverage that allows them to shape future legislation. Without the filibuster, Republicans can pass bills unilaterally until, or unless, the rule is restored.

So, what's the smart play for the Democrats at this juncture? It's to concede this round. Vote to reopen the government. Preserve the filibuster. Live to fight another day.

Because if Democrats force the Republicans to go nuclear, they don't just lose this battle. They lose the battlefield. And while they might try to spin the move as a power grab—"Look what they've done!"—that narrative won't stick. The public is already tuned in, and the longer this drags on, the worse it gets.

Sometimes, the best strategic move is to take one on the chin. This may be that moment.

Like the things I write about or the way I write about them? Follow me on my Facebook page to keep up with the lastest writings wherever I may write them.

©2025 Jim Bauer

Find Jim Bauer other places around the Internet:

Jim Bauer on Spotify (Music)

Jim Bauer on HubPages

Jim Bauer on SoundCloud (Music)

I'll Stand Where it Makes Sense

Sometimes I clash with someone purely on politics. We all know the type. But I don't just flip the switch and tune them out. Disagreement, to me, doesn't mean total disqualification. Even when I am at odds with someone nine times out of ten, there's always room for a tenth time surprise.

Take James Carville. Or hell, John Fetterman. Even Bill Maher. These guys often say things that make me wince, rolls my eyes, or wonder what planet they're from. But every once in a while, even if it is rare, they drop a line that hits.

So, what do I do with that? Pretend I didn't hear it? Toss it out because the political playbook says they're hacks, and I'm supposed to stay in my lane?

That kind of purity test feels more like self-sabotage than using my own common sense.

If I tell someone I'm not being herded like a sheep—that my politics are my own—I have to mean it. It can't just be a badge I flash when it's convenient to do so. That principle has to live in how I think, not just what I say.

That means I have to listen. Really listen. I have to sit with what I hear, let it rattle around, and form an opinion that's mine—not just something that's spoon fed by a tribe, a group of my fellow think-alikes, or a pundit with a punchline on my favorite news outlet.

Otherwise, I'm just another echo pretending to be a voice.

And this cuts both ways. I can disagree with my own side just as easily as I can agree with the other. That's not betrayal—it's being human. It's being honest. It's doing the work of thinking for yourself.

Because the moment I let someone yank me around the stage on strings, it's no longer my dance. It's someone else's choreography I am dancing to. The act stops being mine.

Yeah, it's a dressed-up way of saying I refuse to be a puppet.

This, I think, is where the political conversation has gone off the rails. It's turned into a one-way street, paved with loyalty tests and echo chambers. And for what? Not progress. Not clarity. Just noise.

You can't stand for something if you don't know why.

We've split ourselves into camps so deep as a country, it's beginning to feel like trench warfare. And that kind of division doesn't serve us—it sabotages us. When emotion or blind loyalty drives the way we think, it fogs our judgement almost every time.

There are good ideas and there are bad ideas. From both sides. That's not radical—it's reality.

But we've got to hear them all. We have to be willing to. Let them stand on their own legs. Decide for ourselves what holds up and what crumbles. Not just echo what we're told, or tiptoe around the fear of challenging the status quo we're supposed to defend.

How many times do I have to hear it? I take a different stance, maybe echo a point from the other side, and suddenly it's, "Who's side are you on?"

As if thought has to come with a team jersey.

Can I disagree with Donald Trump? Sure. Can I agree with John Fetterman? Also, yes. Why not? If I dismiss everything the other side says out of reflex, I might miss something worth hearing. And if I blindly nod along with my own side, I might help to usher in something I should've stood against.

We've got a two-party system. Fine. Most of us lean one way or the other. But we don't have to be a two-party People. Loyalty to a party isn't the same as loyalty to the country. Or to principle. Or to our own damn judgement.

We owe something bigger than just blind loyalty to any one or any thing. Or, for that matter, absolute opposition.

We owe it to common sense. To the common good. To the idea that thinking for yourself isn't treason—it's the bare minimum.

Politicians thrive on division. It wins them votes, airtime, and power. But most of us? We just want a country that makes sense. One we can live in, build in, and even laugh in. A place that offers real opportunity and lets us chase happiness without tripping over chaos.

We want a country that works.

But it won't work if we're silent. It won't work if we're siloed. It only works when we speak up, think together, and aim for something bigger than party lines or pundit points.

We don't need perfect unity. We need honest effort. Shared purpose. A collective voice that's loud enough to matter and clear enough to move things forward. We are not Republican or Democrat. Left or right. We're Americans.

They chose division. We can choose not to accept it.

Like the things I write about or the way I write about them? Follow me on my Facebook page to keep up with the latest writings wherever I may write them. Want to support this blog and help keep the lights on? Consider using my Amazon link the next time you shop there.

©2025 Jim Bauer