Here we are.
One week.
One week from the very first Truth Party rally.
And I’ve got to tell you—I’m excited.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve been driving around town, handing out flyers, putting up signs, walking into businesses, visiting fire stations, and talking to just about anybody who will give me five minutes.
And something interesting happens when you actually talk to people.
You find out that we’re not nearly as divided as television and social media would have us believe.
People may disagree about Trump. They may disagree about Democrats. They may disagree about Republicans. They may disagree about taxes, immigration, healthcare, guns—you name it.
But when you get past all that?
People agree on a hell of a lot.
They think the system isn’t working the way it should.
They think money has too much influence in politics.
They think politicians spend too much time fighting each other and not enough time solving problems.
And probably most importantly, they want to believe that something can actually change.
That’s where the Truth Party comes in.
Because I’m not interested in creating another tribe.
We’ve got enough tribes.
I’m not interested in standing on one side of the street yelling at the people on the other side.
We’ve tried that.
It doesn’t work.
The Truth Party is supposed to be the place in the middle of the street where everybody can meet.
Republicans.
Democrats.
Independents.
Progressives.
Conservatives.
People who haven’t voted in twenty years.
Hell, especially the people who haven’t voted in twenty years.
Because the biggest political divide in America may not be Republican versus Democrat anymore.
It may be something much simpler:
Citizen versus spectator.
Are you participating?
Or are you watching?
Because democracy isn’t Netflix.
You don’t get to sit on the couch for four years, complain about the ending, and then give the next season one star.
You’ve got to participate.
And that’s what this rally is about.
It’s not about me standing behind a microphone telling everybody what they’re supposed to believe.
God knows we’ve got enough people doing that.
I want people talking.
I want people asking questions.
I want somebody to say, “John, that’s a terrible idea.”
Great!
Tell me why.
Maybe you’re right.
Maybe I’m right.
Maybe neither one of us is right.
Maybe somewhere between the two of us is a better idea that neither of us had when the conversation started.
That’s democracy.
And that’s what we’ve forgotten.
We’ve become incredibly good at broadcasting our opinions and incredibly bad at listening to anybody else’s.
So on August 23, we’re going to try something different.
We’re going to get together.
In person.
No algorithm deciding what you’re allowed to hear.
No cable-news host telling you who you’re supposed to hate.
No comment section.
Just people.
Neighbors.
Citizens.
Talking about the country we share.
And here’s the other thing I’ve learned while getting ready for this rally:
Movements don’t begin with millions of people.
They begin with one.
One person says, “I’ve had enough.”
Another person says, “Me too.”
Then somebody else walks over.
Then somebody brings a friend.
That’s how it happens.
One becomes ten.
Ten become a hundred.
A hundred become a thousand.
And eventually everybody looks around and says:
Where the hell did all these people come from?
They were here the whole time.
They were just waiting for a reason to participate.
That’s what I’m hoping we can create.
A reason.
A spark.
A place where somebody who has been sitting on the sidelines says:
“You know what? Maybe I can do something.”
Because you can.
You don’t need to run for Congress.
You don’t need a political science degree.
You don’t need a million followers.
You don’t need to become some screaming political lunatic on TikTok.
You can start incredibly small.
Talk to your neighbor.
Volunteer.
Go to a city council meeting.
Learn who’s representing you.
Ask questions.
Vote.
Help somebody else vote.
And most importantly—
show up.
That’s it.
That’s the secret.
I’ve spent weeks preparing for this rally.
I’ve written the opening speech.
I’ve made the flyers.
I’ve talked to people all over town.
I’ve got ideas about what we’re going to do when everybody gets there.
But ultimately, I can’t create a movement by myself.
Nobody can.
We create it together.
So this week I’m asking everybody who’s been watching these videos, reading these posts, following this crazy little experiment called the Truth Party:
Come see what we’re doing.
You don’t have to agree with me.
You don’t have to join anything.
You don’t have to change your political affiliation.
Just come.
Bring your questions.
Bring your skepticism.
Bring your ideas.
Hell, bring somebody who completely disagrees with you.
Especially them.
Because maybe the most radical thing Americans can do right now isn’t yell louder.
Maybe it’s sit down together.
Talk.
Listen.
And remember that we’re citizens of the same country.
The Truth Party isn’t supposed to be another political tribe.
It’s supposed to be the meeting place for all the tribes.
And one week from now, we’re going to find out what happens when we open that door.
Maybe twenty people show up.
Maybe fifty.
Maybe a hundred.
I don’t know.
But I know this:
Every movement in history had a first meeting.
Every organization had a first member.
Every big idea was once just somebody saying:
“What if?”
Well…
this is our what-if moment.
What if ordinary people started participating again?
What if we demanded honesty?
What if we demanded accountability?
What if instead of waiting for Washington to fix America, Americans started fixing it themselves?
Could it work?
I don’t know.
There’s only one way we’re ever going to find out.
We show up.
August 23.
The first Truth Party rally.
This isn’t the finish line.
It isn’t even the first mile.
It’s the starting line.
And everybody is invited.
Wake up.
Get engaged.
Become a citizen instead of a spectator.
And let’s see where this thing goes.
But first—
we show up.
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