THREE MONTHS INTO THE TRUTH PARTY
Three months ago, I started something called the Truth Party.
And I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing.
Which, when you think about it, makes me perfectly qualified for American politics.
I built a website. I started making videos. I started a YouTube channel. I started putting music on SoundCloud. I started talking about politics, government, citizenship, the economy—you name it.
Basically, I became a 69-year-old social-media influencer.
Which was never on my vision board.
And right about the time I got all this going, life decided things weren’t quite interesting enough.
So I got cancer.
Again.
Third time.
At this point, cancer and I are basically in a long-term relationship.
Cancer keeps showing up, and I keep saying:
“Jesus Christ, are you still here?”
I had my prostate removed, recovered from that, and went right back to work.
Because I figured I’ve got two choices.
I can sit around thinking about how much time I have left…
or I can do something with the time I’ve got.
So I chose something.
And for three months, I’ve been working my ass off.
Videos every day.
Songs.
Speeches.
Ideas.
A website.
Posters.
Flyers.
Press releases.
I talked to everybody who would listen.
And apparently quite a few people who wouldn’t.
Then last week came the big moment.
The first Truth Party rally.
I’d worked on this thing for weeks.
I had banners.
I had signs.
I had a tent.
I had giveaways.
I contacted the media.
I distributed flyers.
I put posters all over town.
I promoted the hell out of it.
And finally, Sunday arrived.
I was ready.
This was it.
The beginning of the movement.
And…
four people showed up.
Four.
I’ve had Uber rides with larger crowds.
I could have held the rally in a Honda Civic.
And two of them were already friends!
So technically, after three months of trying to start a national movement…
I had recruited two people.
Not exactly the storming of Normandy.
And yeah—it hurt.
I’m not going to bullshit you.
I was embarrassed.
I was disappointed.
For a little while, I thought:
Maybe nobody wants this.
But then something interesting happened.
I started thinking about what I’d been doing for the previous three months.
I’d been talking.
And talking.
And talking.
Here’s what I think.
Here’s what’s wrong with America.
Here’s what we should do.
Here’s the Truth Party.
Here’s another video.
Here’s another song.
Here’s another idea.
And suddenly I realized:
Maybe I need to shut the hell up.
Maybe before you try to lead people…
you ought to find out where they actually want to go.
So I pivoted.
Instead of giving people answers, I started asking them questions.
Four questions.
Same four questions.
Every person.
And I decided:
I’m going to interview 100 complete strangers.
Not politicians.
Not pundits.
Not somebody sitting behind a desk at CNN or Fox News telling me what Americans supposedly think.
Actual Americans.
Young people.
Older people.
Black people.
White people.
Working people.
People I’ve never met before.
And something remarkable started happening.
They talked to me.
Really talked to me.
And I’m beginning to realize something.
We’re being told constantly that this country is hopelessly divided.
Left versus right.
Democrat versus Republican.
Black versus white.
Urban versus rural.
Young versus old.
Everybody supposedly hates everybody.
But that’s not what I’m hearing.
I’m hearing people worried about many of the same things.
I’m hearing people struggling with the economy.
I’m hearing people worried about racism.
I’m hearing people frustrated with government.
I’m hearing people who don’t believe they have much power to change anything.
And I’m hearing something else.
People want to be heard.
Maybe that’s part of what we’ve lost.
Everybody’s broadcasting.
Nobody’s receiving.
We’ve got 330 million people walking around with microphones…
and apparently nobody brought headphones.
And here’s where this gets really interesting.
I’m not finished.
I’m going to complete all 100 interviews.
And I’m not going into those interviews trying to prove that I’m right.
Because that would defeat the entire purpose.
If the hundred people tell me I’m wrong about something…
then I’m wrong.
Change the idea.
That’s what listening means.
And when I’m finished, we’re going to take those hundred interviews and ask:
What did people actually say?
What were the most common concerns?
Where did they disagree?
But most importantly…
where did they agree?
Because I have a suspicion that the biggest political constituency in America isn’t Republican.
It isn’t Democrat.
It isn’t MAGA.
It isn’t progressive.
It’s millions of people saying:
“Would somebody please just fix this shit?”
Maybe that’s where something new begins.
Not with a politician standing behind a podium.
Not with another 30-second attack ad.
Not with somebody telling everybody else what they’re supposed to believe.
Maybe it begins with a chair…
a camera…
a stranger…
and four questions.
Three months ago, I thought I was building the Truth Party.
Last week, four people showed up and taught me that I wasn’t ready yet.
Turns out those four people may have done me the biggest favor imaginable.
Because I finally stopped talking.
And started listening.
So I’m going to finish these hundred conversations.
Then I’m going to show you what America told me.
And after that?
Maybe we don’t tell people what the Truth Party should be.
Maybe we let them tell us.
Because this was never supposed to be my party.
It’s supposed to be ours.
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