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

Why do Americans feel so empty?

The Bubba Effect erupts as America’s power brokers go rogue

Warning: Stop letting TikTok activists think for you

The melting pot fails when we stop agreeing to melt

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Texas now hosts Quran-first academies, Sharia-compliant housing schemes, and rapidly multiplying mosques — all part of a movement building a self-contained society apart from the country around it.

It is time to talk honestly about what is happening inside America’s rapidly growing Muslim communities. In city after city, large pockets of newcomers are choosing to build insulated enclaves rather than enter the broader American culture.

That trend is accelerating, and the longer we ignore it, the harder it becomes to address.

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world.

America has always welcomed people of every faith and people from every corner of the world, but the deal has never changed: You come here and you join the American family. You are free to honor your traditions, keep your faith, but you must embrace the Constitution as the supreme law of the land. You melt into the shared culture that allows all of us to live side by side.

Across the country, this bargain is being rejected by Islamist communities that insist on building a parallel society with its own rules, its own boundaries, and its own vision for how life should be lived.

Texas illustrates the trend. The state now has roughly 330 mosques. At least 48 of them were built in just the last 24 months. The Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex alone has around 200 Islamic centers. Houston has another hundred or so. Many of these communities have no interest in blending into American life.

This is not the same as past waves of immigration. Irish, Italian, Korean, Mexican, and every other group arrived with pride in their heritage. Still, they also raised American flags and wanted their children to be part of the country’s future. They became doctors, small-business owners, teachers, and soldiers. They wanted to be Americans.

What we are watching now is not the melting pot. It is isolation by design.

Parallel societies do not end well

More than 300 fundamentalist Islamic schools now operate full-time across the country. Many use Quran-first curricula that require students to spend hours memorizing religious texts before they ever reach math or science. In Dallas, Brighter Horizons Academy enrolls more than 1,700 students and draws federal support while operating on a social model that keeps children culturally isolated.

Then there is the Epic City project in Collin and Hunt counties — 402 acres originally designated only for Muslim buyers, with Sharia-compliant financing and a mega-mosque at the center. After public outcry and state investigations, the developers renamed it “The Meadows,” but a new sign does not erase the original intent. It is not a neighborhood. It is a parallel society.

Americans should not hesitate to say that parallel societies are dangerous. Europe tried this experiment, and the results could not be clearer. In Germany, France, and the United Kingdom, entire neighborhoods now operate under their own cultural rules, some openly hostile to Western norms. When citizens speak up, they are branded bigots for asserting a basic right: the ability to live safely in their own communities.

A crisis of confidence

While this separation widens, another crisis is unfolding at home. A recent Gallup survey shows that about 40% of American women ages 18 to 39 would leave the country permanently if given the chance. Nearly half of a rising generation — daughters, sisters, soon-to-be mothers — no longer believe this nation is worth building a future in.

And who shapes the worldview of young boys? Their mothers. If a mother no longer believes America is home, why would her child grow up ready to defend it?

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world. If we lose confidence in our own national identity at the same time that we allow separatist enclaves to spread unchecked, the outcome is predictable. Europe is already showing us what comes next: cultural fracture, political radicalization, and the slow death of national unity.

Brandon Bell / Staff | Getty Images

Stand up and tell the truth

America welcomes Muslims. America defends their right to worship freely. A Muslim who loves the Constitution, respects the rule of law, and wants to raise a family in peace is more than welcome in America.

But an Islamist movement that rejects assimilation, builds enclaves governed by its own religious framework, and treats American law as optional is not simply another participant in our melting pot. It is a direct challenge to it. If we refuse to call this problem out out of fear of being called names, we will bear the consequences.

Europe is already feeling those consequences — rising conflict and a political class too paralyzed to admit the obvious. When people feel their culture, safety, and freedoms slipping away, they will follow anyone who promises to defend them. History has shown that over and over again.

Stand up. Speak plainly. Be unafraid. You can practice any faith in this country, but the supremacy of the Constitution and the Judeo-Christian moral framework that shaped it is non-negotiable. It is what guarantees your freedom in the first place.

If you come here and honor that foundation, welcome. If you come here to undermine it, you do not belong here.

Wake up to what is unfolding before the consequences arrive. Because when a nation refuses to say what is true, the truth eventually forces its way in — and by then, it is always too late.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Shocking: Chart-topping ‘singer’ has no soul at all

VCG / Contributor | Getty Images

A machine can imitate heartbreak well enough to top the charts, but it cannot carry grief, choose courage, or hear the whisper that calls human beings to something higher.

The No. 1 country song in America right now was not written in Nashville or Texas or even L.A. It came from code. “Walk My Walk,” the AI-generated single by the AI artist Breaking Rust, hit the top spot on Billboard’s Country Digital Song Sales chart, and if you listen to it without knowing that fact, you would swear a real singer lived the pain he is describing.

Except there is no “he.” There is no lived experience. There is no soul behind the voice dominating the country music charts.

If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

I will admit it: I enjoy some AI music. Some of it is very good. And that leaves us with a question that is no longer science fiction. If a machine can fake being human this well, what does it mean to be human?

A new world of artificial experience

This is not just about one song. We are walking straight into a technological moment that will reshape everyday life.

Elon Musk said recently that we may not even have phones in five years. Instead, we will carry a small device that listens, anticipates, and creates — a personal AI agent that knows what we want to hear before we ask. It will make the music, the news, the podcasts, the stories. We already live in digital bubbles. Soon, those bubbles might become our own private worlds.

If an algorithm can write a hit country song about hardship and perseverance without a shred of actual experience, then the deeper question becomes unavoidable: If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

What machines can never do

A machine can produce, and soon it may produce better than we can. It can calculate faster than any human mind. It can rearrange the notes and words of a thousand human songs into something that sounds real enough to fool millions.

But it cannot care. It cannot love. It cannot choose right and wrong. It cannot forgive because it cannot be hurt. It cannot stand between a child and danger. It cannot walk through sorrow.

A machine can imitate the sound of suffering. It cannot suffer.

The difference is the soul. The divine spark. The thing God breathed into man that no code will ever have. Only humans can take pain and let it grow into compassion. Only humans can take fear and turn it into courage. Only humans can rebuild their lives after losing everything. Only humans hear the whisper inside, the divine voice that says, “Live for something greater.”

We are building artificial minds. We are not building artificial life.

Questions that define us

And as these artificial minds grow sharper, as their tools become more convincing, the right response is not panic. It is to ask the oldest and most important questions.

Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of freedom? What is worth defending? What is worth sacrificing for?

That answer is not found in a lab or a server rack. It is found in that mysterious place inside each of us where reason meets faith, where suffering becomes wisdom, where God reminds us we are more than flesh and more than thought. We are not accidents. We are not circuits. We are not replaceable.

Europa Press News / Contributor | Getty Images

The miracle machines can never copy

Being human is not about what we can produce. Machines will outproduce us. That is not the question. Being human is about what we can choose. We can choose to love even when it costs us something. We can choose to sacrifice when it is not easy. We can choose to tell the truth when the world rewards lies. We can choose to stand when everyone else bows. We can create because something inside us will not rest until we do.

An AI content generator can borrow our melodies, echo our stories, and dress itself up like a human soul, but it cannot carry grief across a lifetime. It cannot forgive an enemy. It cannot experience wonder. It cannot look at a broken world and say, “I am going to build again.”

The age of machines is rising. And if we do not know who we are, we will shrink. But if we use this moment to remember what makes us human, it will help us to become better, because the one thing no algorithm will ever recreate is the miracle that we exist at all — the miracle of the human soul.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Shocking shift: America’s youth lured by the “Socialism trap”

Jeremy Weine / Stringer | Getty Images

A generation that’s lost faith in capitalism is turning to the oldest lie on earth: equality through control.

Something is breaking in America’s young people. You can feel it in every headline, every grocery bill, every young voice quietly asking if the American dream still means anything at all.

For many, the promise of America — work hard, build something that lasts, and give the next generation a better start — feels like it no longer exists. Home ownership and stability have become luxuries for a fortunate few.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them.

In that vacuum of hope, a new promise has begun to rise — one that sounds compassionate, equal, and fair. The promise of socialism.

The appeal of a broken dream

When the American dream becomes a checklist of things few can afford — a home, a car, two children, even a little peace — disappointment quickly turns to resentment. The average first-time homebuyer is now 40 years old. Debt lasts longer than marriages. The cost of living rises faster than opportunity.

For a generation that has never seen the system truly work, capitalism feels like a rigged game built to protect those already at the top.

That is where socialism finds its audience. It presents itself as fairness for the forgotten and justice for the disillusioned. It speaks softly at first, offering equality, compassion, and control disguised as care.

We are seeing that illusion play out now in New York City, where Zohran Mamdani — an open socialist — has won a major political victory. The same ideology that once hid behind euphemisms now campaigns openly throughout America’s once-great cities. And for many who feel left behind, it sounds like salvation.

But what socialism calls fairness is submission dressed as virtue. What it calls order is obedience. Once the system begins to replace personal responsibility with collective dependence, the erosion of liberty is only a matter of time.

The bridge that never ends

Socialism is not a destination; it is a bridge. Karl Marx described it as the necessary transition to communism — the scaffolding that builds the total state. Under socialism, people are taught to obey. Under communism, they forget that any other options exist.

History tells the story clearly. Russia, China, Cambodia, Cuba — each promised equality and delivered misery. One hundred million lives were lost, not because socialism failed, but because it succeeded at what it was designed to do: make the state supreme and the individual expendable.

Today’s advocates insist their version will be different — democratic, modern, and kind. They often cite Sweden as an example, but Sweden’s prosperity was never born of socialism. It grew out of capitalism, self-reliance, and a shared moral culture. Now that system is cracking under the weight of bureaucracy and division.

ANGELA WEISS / Contributor | Getty Images

The real issue is not economic but moral. Socialism begins with a lie about human nature — that people exist for the collective and that the collective knows better than the individual.

This lie is contrary to the truths on which America was founded — that rights come not from government’s authority, but from God’s. Once government replaces that authority, compassion becomes control, and freedom becomes permission.

What young America deserves

Young Americans have many reasons to be frustrated. They were told to study, work hard, and follow the rules — and many did, only to find the goalposts moved again and again. But tearing down the entire house does not make it fairer; it only leaves everyone standing in the rubble.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them. The answer is not revolution but renewal — moral, cultural, and spiritual.

It means restoring honesty to markets, integrity to government, and faith to the heart of our nation. A people who forsake God will always turn to government for salvation, and that road always ends in dependency and decay.

Freedom demands something of us. It requires faith, discipline, and courage. It expects citizens to govern themselves before others govern them. That is the truth this generation deserves to hear again — that liberty is not a gift from the state but a calling from God.

Socialism always begins with promises and ends with permission. It tells you what to drive, what to say, what to believe, all in the name of fairness. But real fairness is not everyone sharing the same chains — it is everyone having the same chance.

The American dream was never about guarantees. It was about the right to try, to fail, and try again. That freedom built the most prosperous nation in history, and it can do so again if we remember that liberty is not a handout but a duty.

Socialism does not offer salvation. It requires subservience.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Rage isn’t conservatism — THIS is what true patriots stand for

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

Conservatism is not about rage or nostalgia. It’s about moral clarity, national renewal, and guarding the principles that built America’s freedom.

Our movement is at a crossroads, and the question before us is simple: What does it mean to be a conservative in America today?

For years, we have been told what we are against — against the left, against wokeism, against decline. But opposition alone does not define a movement, and it certainly does not define a moral vision.

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

The media, as usual, are eager to supply their own answer. The New York Times recently suggested that Nick Fuentes represents the “future” of conservatism. That’s nonsense — a distortion of both truth and tradition. Fuentes and those like him do not represent American conservatism. They represent its counterfeit.

Real conservatism is not rage. It is reverence. It does not treat the past as a museum, but as a teacher. America’s founders asked us to preserve their principles and improve upon their practice. That means understanding what we are conserving — a living covenant, not a relic.

Conservatism as stewardship

In 2025, conservatism means stewardship — of a nation, a culture, and a moral inheritance too precious to abandon. To conserve is not to freeze history. It is to stand guard over what is essential. We are custodians of an experiment in liberty that rests on the belief that rights come not from kings or Congress, but from the Creator.

That belief built this country. It will be what saves it. The Constitution is a covenant between generations. Conservatism is the duty to keep that covenant alive — to preserve what works, correct what fails, and pass on both wisdom and freedom to those who come next.

Economics, culture, and morality are inseparable. Debt is not only fiscal; it is moral. Spending what belongs to the unborn is theft. Dependence is not compassion; it is weakness parading as virtue. A society that trades responsibility for comfort teaches citizens how to live as slaves.

Freedom without virtue is not freedom; it is chaos. A culture that mocks faith cannot defend liberty, and a nation that rejects truth cannot sustain justice. Conservatism must again become the moral compass of a disoriented people, reminding America that liberty survives only when anchored to virtue.

Rebuilding what is broken

We cannot define ourselves by what we oppose. We must build families, communities, and institutions that endure. Government is broken because education is broken, and education is broken because we abandoned the formation of the mind and the soul. The work ahead is competence, not cynicism.

Conservatives should embrace innovation and technology while rejecting the chaos of Silicon Valley. Progress must not come at the expense of principle. Technology must strengthen people, not replace them. Artificial intelligence should remain a servant, never a master. The true strength of a nation is not measured by data or bureaucracy, but by the quiet webs of family, faith, and service that hold communities together. When Washington falters — and it will — those neighborhoods must stand.

Eric Lee / Stringer | Getty Images

This is the real work of conservatism: to conserve what is good and true and to reform what has decayed. It is not about slogans; it is about stewardship — the patient labor of building a civilization that remembers what it stands for.

A creed for the rising generation

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

For the rising generation, conservatism cannot be nostalgia. It must be more than a memory of 9/11 or admiration for a Reagan era they never lived through. Many young Americans did not experience those moments — and they should not have to in order to grasp the lessons they taught and the truths they embodied. The next chapter is not about preserving relics but renewing purpose. It must speak to conviction, not cynicism; to moral clarity, not despair.

Young people are searching for meaning in a culture that mocks truth and empties life of purpose. Conservatism should be the moral compass that reminds them freedom is responsibility and that faith, family, and moral courage remain the surest rebellions against hopelessness.

To be a conservative in 2025 is to defend the enduring principles of American liberty while stewarding the culture, the economy, and the spirit of a free people. It is to stand for truth when truth is unfashionable and to guard moral order when the world celebrates chaos.

We are not merely holding the torch. We are relighting it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.