Founders Didn’t Mean “All Caps”

Start with one clause. Not a meme, not a slogan—one sentence of the Constitution read slowly, with a pen in your hand. That’s the spirit of this conversation with Walt Blackman, a combat veteran and former legislator who pairs blunt truth with practical civic steps, and who uses ADA‑recognized AI to steady his message while living with a service‑connected TBI. We move from the blast that reshaped his brain to the blueprint that shapes our republic, and we confront how “We the People” morphed from covenant into cudgel in a culture that rewards volume over virtue.

Together, we unpack the Preamble—justice beyond mere law, tranquility without enforced silence, common defense against foreign threats and internal decay, general welfare as a shared good, and liberty as an inheritance tied to responsibility. Walt traces how those ideals get warped when the Constitution becomes a Rorschach test: rights untethered from duties, domestic peace recast as opponent suppression, and liberty confused with the sanctification of self-interest. He maps the real hazards of constitutional drift—executive overreach during crises, judicial abdication masked as restraint, and legislative delegation that hands unelected agencies the power to write, enforce, and judge their own rules.

Drawing on Washington, Madison, Hamilton, and Jefferson, Walt calls out betrayal dressed up as purity and skewers the performance patriotism that mistakes merch for mastery. Then he gets practical: read one clause; annotate one statute; ask one official which limits they’ll defend; file one records request; share this episode with one person who disagrees. Small moves, repeated, rebuild civic muscle and restore the boundaries that keep power in check and debate possible.

If you’re tired of all‑caps politics and ready for law over noise, join us. Subscribe, leave a review, and share this with a friend who will challenge you back—then tell us which constitutional limit you’ll defend this week.

Chapters

• 0:00 Opening, TBI, and Using AI
• 1:40 The Preamble As Living Blueprint
• 4:03 How We Distort First Principles
• 5:55 Law Over Noise: Duties And Limits
• 7:01 Paths To Constitutional Decay
• 9:18 Publius Warns About Betrayal
• 11:12 Delegation And Administrative Power
• 14:19 Hypotheticals, Rhetoric, And Red Flags
• 17:04 Purists, Hypocrisy, And Collapse
• 19:25 Micro-Steps For Civic Stewardship
• 21:48 Practical Actions And Closing Calls

Transcript

SPEAKER_02: 0:00

This is The Walt Blackman Show, where truth doesn't whisper. It lands like thunder. Hosted by Walt Blackman, a decorated combat veteran, a principled legislator, and a steadfast defender of the Constitution, Walt served with distinction in Iraq, led soldiers in battle, then entered public service to defend the republic he once fought to preserve. This show isn't about politics as usual. It's about fidelity to the rule of law, the design of our founding framework, and the courage to call out departures from it. Welcome to the Walt Blackman Show.

SPEAKER_01: 0:40

During my deployment in Iraq, my vehicle was violently struck by an improvised explosive device, an IED. That blast left me with a traumatic brain injury or TBI. These injuries can emerge from explosions, collisions, or shrapnel, and they disrupt how the brain functions. Sometimes in ways that never fully recover. I believe in being real with myself and with you. That's why I use AI to assist in producing this show. It doesn't replace my voice, it clarifies my message. TBI symptoms aren't always visible. Memory lapses, mood swings, headaches, trouble sleeping, they're part of my daily life. Even a mild TB, I can change everything, especially after combat. I live with this every single day. This podcast is part of my process: adapting, healing, telling the story of a soldier, a citizen, a constitutional sentinel. Thank you for listening. We the people of the United States rarely has a political document opened with such an audacious claim to authorship. Not we the rulers, and not we the states, but we the people, a phrase that presumes both consent and comprehension. The former we often grant without scrutiny, the latter far less frequently. This preamble, often recited with ceremonial reverence, is not merely a poetic overture. It is a philosophical thesis embedded in legal architecture. It presents a paradox, a nation formed by imperfect people striving toward perfection. Not a perfect union, but a more perfect one, an aspiration written into its DNA, acknowledging fallibility while demanding progress. Establish justice, not just law, but justice, that elusive harmony between order and equity. Can any society truly establish justice without first confronting its inherited hierarchies, its exclusions, its contradictions? Ensure domestic tranquility, a phrase whose irony echoes louder each year. What does tranquility mean in a country where outrage is both currency and entertainment? Is tranquility the silence of compliance or the peace that follows reckoning? Provide for the common defense. Yeah. Note the spelling archaic but intentional. Defense not just from foreign invaders, but from internal decay, from the erosion of institutions by apathy, corruption, or ideological zealotry. Promote the general welfare, a phrase curiously allergic to partisan talking points. It does not say some welfare or deserved welfare. It says general, a universal collective good. How revolutionary that seems in an era of hyper-individualism. And finally, secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity. Liberty not merely as a possession, but as an inheritance and a trust, a blessing secured not just for the now, but for those not yet born. This preamble is not wallpaper. It is blueprint, manifesto, and moral compass. To read it is to confront a vision of governance that is neither fixed nor self-executing. It demands literacy, not just in words but in civics, in ethics, in history, because we the people are not a static entity. If the preamble is a blueprint for governance, modern political discourse has repurposed it into a Rorschach test. Projecting fear, fantasy, and factionalism onto a document designed to constrain all three. The Constitution, once a framework of limited yet functional government, has become in many circles a kind of secular scripture, invoked not for its nuance but for its noise. Its clauses, cherry-picked and decontextualized, are now ammunition in rhetorical wars, where the loudest voice often belongs to the least read participant. Consider how the phrase, we the people, is now wielded as a cudgel rather than a covenant, a way to declare we are in charge without ever specifying who we include. And the blessings of liberty, they've been reduced to slogans often disconnected from their twin pillars, responsibility and restraint. Liberty, in the founder's conception, was never licensed to indulge every impulse as it was bounded by virtue, shaped by deliberation, and inextricably linked to civic duty. Yet in today's discourse, liberty is too often defined as the absence of inconvenience, the sanctification of self-interest, and the right to not listen. Even domestic tranquility has been hijacked, translated not as civil peace, but as a demand for ideological silence from one's opponents, as if tranquility could be imposed through volume, suppression, or faux nostalgia. This distortion is no accident. It is a product of civic erosion, a slow drift from first principles into performance politics, where loyalty to tribe supersedes loyalty to truth. In a world of information, abundance, constitutional ignorance is less a failure of access and more a failure of curiosity. The Constitution is law, why it matters. We often speak of constitutional rights, but ignore the constitutional duties embedded in the document. Rights exist because laws restrain power. When laws are ignored, rights erode. The Constitution is not a suggestion. It is the supreme law of the land. Every officeholder, every court, every agency is bound by it. When logic, ambition, or expediency supersede the law, we unravel the contract that binds us. The framers understood that ambition needed constraint. That's why they built checks and balances, separated powers, and staggered terms. These weren't decorative architecture, they were safeguards. If we disregard those mechanisms, we slide toward arbitrary rule. The danger is not always tyranny by force, but tyranny by decree, when one branch acts outside its bounds, asserting authority that was never given. Dangers of ignoring the laws of the land. Let me illustrate with three hypothetical but real dangers, executive overreach in emergencies. Suppose a leader claims authority to suspend all laws indefinitely during a crisis. If we accept that, we abandon the rule of law, judicial abdication. If courts refuse to adjudicate constitutional violations, deferring entirely or citing political questions, then no check remains. The rule of law vanishes, and legislative complicity. When legislatures pass vague, open-ended mandates and delegate away crucial decisions, they cede their constitutional function. Power concentrates, accountability fades. Each of these is a pathway to constitutional decay, gradual, legal, and often unnoticed until too late. And let's not forget about the founders' insight and what they warned us about. George Washington warned of unchecked ambition and factional strife eroding civic foundations. James Madison in Federalist No. 51 wrote that government must control itself as well as control the governed. That dual tension is central to the entire structure. Alexander Hamilton defended strong institutions because he knew men, even well-meaning, would be tempted to stretch authority. Thomas Jefferson believed laws must be understood by the people. A constitution that cannot be read, taught, debated is functionally dead. Look, I get it. Some folks think the Constitution is just the First and Second Amendments with a flag draped over it and a bald eagle screaming in the background. But for those of us who've actually cracked open the whole thing and, you know, comprehended it, it's pretty obvious the founders were building more than a bullet point list of freedoms. They were crafting a constitutional culture. Ignoring that legacy in favor of some bootleg version of patriotism with all caps and no nuance, that's how you turn a republic into a reality show, just with worse lighting and fewer facts. Now let's step into the Federalist interlude, where the voice of Publius echoes through time only to find itself drowning in a sea of bumper sticker constitutionalism and founding father cosplay. Here the carefully reasoned debates of Madison, Hamilton, and Jay meet modern betrayal in its most confident yet least read form, because nothing says constitutional scholar, quite like shouting about liberty, with a flag-themed tank top and no working knowledge of Article I. Let's step into the minds of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay Publius and hear what they warned about betrayal, delegation, and abuse of power. Madison in Federalist 55 cautioned, if foreign gold could so easily corrupt our federal rulers, betray their constituents, he warned that even distant corruption would betray trust. Now consider modern members of Congress who accept large contributions from special interests, then vote for legislation that benefits donors instead of voters. That is betrayal of trust, exactly what Publius foresaw. Hamilton in Federalist 28 CAC wrote, If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, there is then no resource left but in the exertion of that original right of self-defense. He meant that when government fails, the people must reclaim authority through lawful recourse. When modern Congress abdicates oversight or legislates via vague mandates, the people become powerless. In Federalist 60, Hamilton insisted that congressional power over elections be guarded to prevent elite control. Yet in recent years, some laws restrict competition, protect incumbents, or favor dominant parties. That conflicts with the fairness the framers demanded. These warnings were not abstract. They were blueprints to prevent the decay we see now. Publius believed that the people, informed, vigilant, courageous, are the final check. That remains our burden today. Now let's dive into a case study in delegation and administrative power. One you won't find in any textbook, but you will find somewhere between the backwoods of performative patriotism and a pop-up stand selling liberty in bulk. Picture it: a roadside shrine to misunderstood amendments, where pocket constitutions are sold next to tactical coffee mugs, and every customer thinks separation of powers is just a liberal conspiracy to keep their favorite reality star out of office. It's the kind of place where administrative authority is as loose as the interpretation of federalism, and where everyone talks about the founders like they were at brunch with them last weekend. In this microcosm, delegation isn't about the constitutional balance of power. It's about who gets to shout the loudest while knowing the least. It's a fascinating breakdown of how administrative structures can be completely bypassed in favor of vibes, slogans, and whatever someone read on a bumper sticker. This is what happens when civic education gets replaced by merch, and constitutional interpretation becomes a game of telephone with no legal dictionary in sight. Modern administrative agencies often function as legislature, executive, and judiciary all in one. Congress passes a broad law like protect national security, then authorizes an agency to define rules, enforce them, and adjudicate disputes. That consolidation of power conflicts with the Constitution. The founders intended Congress to legislate, the President to execute, and the courts to interpret. When one branch swallows the others, the design fails. When statutes are vague and courts permit expansive interpretation, authority drifts toward administrative fiat rather than rule of law. So hypotheticals and warning scenarios. Let's explore a few hypothetical constitutional scenarios, purely theoretical, of course. Imagine a group of people who think tyranny begins when Starbucks switches to red cups, but not when a sitting president suggests suspending parts of the Constitution. Or picture a world where administrative power is feared only when it's used to track fraudulent election claims. But not when it's used to ship busloads of humans across state lines like it's some dystopian Amazon return policy. Here's another fun one. What if a group of self-declared constitutional originalists spent more time reading the Federalist Papers, and less time sharing memes with eagles crying over gas prices? These hypotheticals might sound absurd, but so does calling yourself a patriot while trying to overturn an election with a horned hat and zero understanding of Article II. Warning scenarios, we're already in one. The biggest red flag isn't a policy, it's a flag. Waved upside down by people who couldn't pass a civics quiz. But think 1776 is a valid rebuttal to literally anything. Imagine a law allows seizure of communications metadata without warrant, citing national security. Over time, the oversight board becomes secret and unchallengeable. Imagine a statute enabling indefinite detention without trial, renewed year after year under emergencies, precedent becomes default. Imagine Congress cedes oversight. Budgets are seized, enforcement is unchecked, officials act as if no law binds them. These aren't wild fantasies or political fan fiction. They're very real outcomes when respect for constitutional boundaries starts to slip or gets traded for applause and hashtags. Look, I get it. These aren't wild fantasies cooked up by some deep state daydreamer D. They're painfully realistic outcomes. When constitutional boundaries get trampled by cosplay patriots, with more tactical vests than books on civics, we've entered an era where keyboard cowboys ride into battle from their mom's basement, armed with memes, misinformation, and a deep, unshakable belief. That yelling 1776 into a webcam counts as public service, then you've got the political terrorists, not the ones in movies with accents and bad haircuts, but the ones in polos and zip ties and confusing treason with tourism while claiming the founders would have totally been down with storming the Capitol, because freedom or something, and it's not just cringy, it's dangerous. Because when you substitute bravado for principles and then flags for facts, you don't just betray the constitution, you weaponize ignorance and sell it as patriotism. We see keyboard cowboys, voices who loudly proclaim constitutional purity while never engaging locally. They post fierce rhetoric from behind screens, yet avoid civic duty. We see political terrorists, not with bombs, but with words, mobs, vilification, tribal hate. They do not debate, they destroy, they do not persuade, they coerce. They betray the Constitution by wearing it as a costume while ignoring its demands. They twist its words, exploit its ambiguities, manipulate its structures. They wield authority, not granted. They silence dissent. They treat laws as suggestions to override. That is betrayal. This betrayal is subtle and pervasive. Not dramatic eruption, but slow seepage through apathy, outrage, tribalism. When you abandon reluctance to obey, when you refuse to read or teach or question, when you replace reasoned argument with hatred or cancellation, you become complicit in betrayal. The founders feared this corruption of character more than force. The constitution demands virtue. If you claim patriotism but embrace hate, division, silence, you betray the foundation of the republic you claim to love. Purists hurt most of all. Purists say they stand on principle. They boast of constitutional purity. They vow never to bend. But the facts we've laid out, lagging oversight, safe districts, executive overreach, abuse of delegated power, and extremist rhetoric, these don't just harm the republic. They hurt the purists most of all. And when 85% of House seats effectively have no real competition, purists, even those with integrity, are shut out before they begin. When Congress abandons oversight, lets the executive write, enforce, and judge the same rules, the system becomes a dictatorship of convenience. Purists lose the foundations they claim to protect. When both sides weaponize hate, insults, and cancellation culture, reason and debate vanish. Purists who speak with respect are drowned out by noise. The keyboard cowboys and political terrorists don't act in service of liberty. They act in service of power. They betray the Constitution even while shouting its name. Purists get dragged down in that collapse. Purity demands consistency, not selective outrage. If you defend the Constitution only when it aligns with your faction, you betray it. Purity isn't convenience, it's sacrifice. It means pushing back, even when it's hard, unpopular, or risky. So to the purists, you say you love the Constitution, but if you don't defend it equally from every side at all times, then you're not a purist. You're opposer. Don't let hypocrisy be your banner. Don't let division be your weapon. Stand for the document when it demands courage, even when it costs, because when you betray consistency, you betray everything you claim to protect. We have journeyed through diagnosis from institutional drift, rule erosion, rhetorical violence, betrayal by those claiming purity, to structural collapse. But let me pause now and remind you what is at stake. If nothing changes, we risk not only broken laws but broken faith. We risk a republic where power governs by whim, not by rule. We risk a citizenry that no longer trusts its representatives, no longer believes in law, no longer sees itself as steward of liberty. Before I ask you to act, let me briefly recap the key pillars of what we've discovered. The constitution demands boundaries, but those boundaries are being blurred, eroded, stretched beyond recognition. Those who claim constitutional purity often suffer most when the system rigs itself. They get sidelined or silenced. Rhetorical violence, echo chambers, political terrorists, they don't serve debate. They devour it. The Federalist warnings about betrayal, delegation, and elite capture still carry urgency. Betrayal is not just metaphor, it is active, structural, systemic. These truths are heavy, I know. You might think, I'm just one voice. What difference can I make? That hesitation is normal, but it is the very posture that betrayal exploits. Great change rarely begins in capitals. It begins in homes, in neighborhoods, in constitutional conversation among neighbors. So before we leap into grand steps, let me offer a few micro steps you can take immediately. Read one clause or amendment, not commentary, just the text, and mark what powers it grants and what limits it imposes. Annotate a recent law or regulation. Find the delegation, find the ambiguity, ask who writes the rule. Share this episode with someone who disagrees, not to convert them, but to open dialogue. Ask a local official one question: which constitutional limits do you pledge to uphold? Scan your city or state's legislation for one example of overreach or opacity, and file a public record request. You don't need to move mountains today. You need to dare to lift a stone. Remember who you are, not just a listener, not just a critic. You are a steward. You are a guardian of covenant, of law, of legacy. The republic is not abstract. It lives in your choices, your voice, your responsibility. So now that you've seen and heard why this matters, let's talk about either how to respond. Here are some steps you can take. Real tangible civic actions that don't involve yelling into a void. This week actually read a constitutional provision, not a blog post about it. Mark where powers are granted and where limits are drawn. Write your representatives and ask them a simple question: which constitutional limits do you actually intend to defend? Then hold them to that. Support organizations that teach constitutional literacy. Promote debate, not echo chambers. Engaging with disagreement isn't weakness. It's the foundation of a functioning republic. Share this show, not just with those who agree, but with someone who doesn't. Reflection rarely happens in isolation. Healing begins with conversation. If today's episode challenged you or made you smirk at the absurdity of it all, don't let the dialogue end here. Subscribe to the Walt Blackman Show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, iHeartRadio, or wherever your intellect wanders, want to know how I went from combat to the Capitol. Order my book, From Iraq to the State House: A Soldier's Journey of Leadership, Service, and Sacrifice, available on Amazon, Barnes Noble, or anywhere books still matter. Visit WaltBlackman.com for show archives, book links, and more ways to engage. And just so you know, this podcast is made possible using AI recognized by the Americans with Disabilities Act. As Assistive Tech, it helps me articulate, organize, and broadcast my story, not replace it. Until next time. Stay rooted in truth, rise with courage, and never forget, the Constitution wasn't written in all caps, and neither should your politics be.

SPEAKER_00: 23:28

This program was produced with the assistance of AI as a communication aide, consistent with the Americans with Disabilities Act ADA. Walt Blackman lives with a service-connected traumatic brain injury, and AI helped him deliver his message with clarity, consistency, and purpose.