As the 2026 election cycle takes shape, three stories signal how the political terrain is shifting: the return of Iowa to early-state relevance, the emergence of an independent challenge in Nebraska, and the Republican Party’s willingness to get aggressive — fast.

Iowa Democrats are pushing to reclaim their first-in-the-nation status — and they’re doing it with or without national party approval. Senator Ruben Gallego is already promoting visits, and the message is clear: Iowa is back. For Democrats, this matters. The state has long served as a proving ground for insurgent campaigns, offering low costs, civic-minded voters, and a tight-knit media ecosystem. Barack Obama’s 2008 breakthrough began in Iowa for a reason. It rewards organization, retail politics, and real ground games.

The party’s 2024 decision to downgrade Iowa was framed as a gesture to Black voters in states like South Carolina and Georgia. In reality, it was a strategic retreat by Joe Biden to avoid a poor showing. That backfired when Dean Phillips forced an awkward New Hampshire campaign and Biden had to rely on a write-in effort. Now, Iowa’s utility is being rediscovered — not because it changed, but because the party's strategy failed. For candidates who want to win on message and mechanics, Iowa remains unmatched.

In Nebraska, Dan Osborne is trying to chart a different kind of path — not as a Democrat, but as an independent with populist instincts. Running against Senator Pete Ricketts, Osborne is leaning into a class-focused campaign. His ads channel a blue-collar ethos: punching walls, working with his hands, and taking on the rich. He doesn’t have to answer for Biden. He doesn’t have to pick sides in old partisan fights. He just has to be relatable and viable.

That independence could be Osborne’s biggest asset — or his biggest liability. His support for Bernie Sanders invites the question: is he a true outsider, or a Democrat in disguise? Sanders has always caucused with Democrats and run on their ticket. Osborne will have to prove he can remain politically distinct while tapping into a coalition broad enough to win in a deeply red state. Nebraska voters might give him a chance, but they’ll need a reason to believe he’s not just another version of what they already know.

And then there’s the tone of the campaign itself. The National Republican Senatorial Committee is already running attack ads that border on X-rated. A recent spot reads aloud hashtags from a sexually explicit tweet in a bid to link opponents with cultural extremes. The strategy is clear: bypass policy, bypass biography — go straight for discomfort. Make voters associate the opposition with something taboo. Make the election feel like a moral emergency.

These tactics aren’t about persuasion. They’re about turnout. They aim to harden the base, suppress moderates, and flood the discourse with outrage. The fact that it’s happening this early suggests Republicans see 2026 as a high-stakes cycle where no race can be taken for granted. And if this is how they’re starting, the tone by next summer could be even more toxic.

All of this — Iowa’s return, Osborne’s challenge, the NRSC’s messaging — points to a midterm cycle already in motion. The personalities are distinct. The tactics are evolving. But the stakes, as ever, are the same: power, perception, and the battle to define the political future before anyone casts a vote.

Chapters

00:00:00 - Intro

00:01:56 - Midterm Ads

00:15:18 - Interview with Dave Levinthal

00:37:31 - Update

00:38:11 - Ken Paxton and the Texas Senate Race

00:43:02 - Congressional Districts

00:47:31 - Fed Chair

00:52:42 - Interview with Dave Levinthal (con’t)

01:11:22 - Wrap-up

The Justice Department under Donald Trump has formally closed its investigation into Jeffrey Epstein. In a memo posted quietly to its website, the department declared there would be no new charges, and reaffirmed its conclusion that Epstein died by suicide. It’s a familiar ending — one that satisfied almost no one — but it also lit the fuse on a slow-burning political problem within Trump’s cabinet.

At the center of it is Pam Bondi, Trump’s Attorney General, whose handling of the situation has been anything but decisive. Her tone during a recent cabinet meeting was defensive and evasive, and her history with this issue isn’t helping. Bondi has previously courted controversy by summoning social media influencers, handing them binders on Epstein, and pushing them in front of cameras. That kind of theater backfires when questions grow more serious. And as I said on the podcast — she’s getting fired. It’s not official yet, but the countdown has begun.

Bondi’s standing is further weakened by reports of internal rifts. According to journalist Tara Palmeri, there’s tension between Bondi and figures like Dan Bongino and Kash Patel — names with significant sway over Trump’s perception of media battles and political threats. Add to that the fact that Bondi keeps attracting headlines Trump doesn’t want, and you have a recipe for dismissal. Trump, perhaps more than any modern political figure, watches the television coverage as a barometer of competence. And right now, Bondi’s airtime is working against her.

None of this, of course, brings clarity to the Epstein case itself. As someone who followed the story when it was still a South Florida curiosity, long before it became national scandal, I’ll tell you this — there are more questions than answers, and most of them will remain unanswered. There’s been speculation Epstein was connected to intelligence services, that his travels and access were part of something larger. Maybe. I don’t know. But if there is some shadowy list of powerful clients, no administration — not Trump’s first, not Biden’s, and apparently not Trump’s second — has been willing to expose it.

What’s more likely is something simpler, and grimmer. Epstein had money. He had access. And he knew how to exploit both to surround himself with women — some underage, many vulnerable — through a recruitment structure that has been thoroughly documented. I don’t buy the cleaner narrative that he was a glorified pimp operating on behalf of presidents and princes. It’s more disturbing than that: he didn’t need to offer favors. He created an ecosystem where abuse flourished because no one had the will or incentive to stop it.

So where does Trump fit in? Despite the conspiracies, there’s never been strong evidence that Trump was entangled in Epstein’s criminal world. Did they know each other? Absolutely. They were two rich men in West Palm Beach — their social paths inevitably crossed. But the idea that Trump needed Epstein for access to women doesn’t add up. Trump, at the height of his fame, ran beauty pageants and a hit TV show. The Pipeline of Pliable Women was already installed. If anything, Trump’s problem with Epstein isn’t guilt — it’s optics. Being in the same orbit, in hindsight, was bad enough.

And that’s the heart of the issue now. Trump doesn’t want this story back in the headlines. He doesn’t want cabinet officials stumbling on camera, reviving suspicions, or dragging his name back into the Epstein muck. The DOJ statement was supposed to close the book. Pam Bondi — with her missteps and misreads — may have accidentally ripped it back open. If Trump’s watching the coverage, he’s likely already decided: she’s more trouble than she’s worth.

Chapters

00:00:00 - Intro

00:03:52 - Epstein Case Closed

00:16:06 - Update

00:16:47 - Elon’s America Party

00:21:36 - AI Marco

00:24:25 - Tariff Deal Deadline

00:26:13 - Interview with Juliegrace Brufke

00:56:36 - Wrap-up