The Grasshopper Knows

Illness deserves compassion. Deception deserves consequences.

I don’t hate many things.

To my mind, hate is a wasted emotion. It robs the spirit of joy and gives you wrinkles and heartburn. And an overall ugliness no amount of makeup is going to cover up.

So, I save my hate for the things that really matter… like grasshoppers.

I hate grasshoppers. It has to do with an unfortunate third grade event. It was right before dinnertime. I was in my Michigan backyard with all of the neighborhood kids, rocking a pair of elephant ear jeans and a red Woodsy the Owl “Give a hoot, don’t pollute” sweatshirt.

In the middle of playing, I felt something large moving up my inner thigh. And then it started to pinch.

And because you, dear reader, are brilliant and intuitive (and maybe a little twisted), you’ve already guessed where this is going. A very large grasshopper had decided to escape the confines of the yard and stow away in my pants. He climbed up the inside of my jeans and attached himself firmly to my leg.

The grasshopper had zero problem hitching a ride. I, however, screamed with the force of a thousand suns.

My dad ran out of the house. “Bubba, take your pants off—NOW!” And I did. In front of all the neighborhood kids. Then I ran inside.

My mom finally calmed me down with the help of a lot of hugs and some pork chops. After giving my jeans a thorough shaking to release the plague animal that had crawled inside, she gave them to me so I could go back outside to play.

Except—mom never actually checked to make sure the grasshopper wasn’t still in there. Spoiler alert: he was.

This was many, many years ago. I have yet to recover. I think I’ll take this grasshopper hate with me to the grave. But that’s not all I loathe.

I also hate kale. It has never assaulted me like a grasshopper, but I’m convinced it would if given the chance.
I hate the devil.
I hate cancer.
And I really hate being lied to.

Which brings me to Joe Biden and the media. (Wasn’t that fun? Watching how long it took me to get here?)

Yes, it was revealed that, sadly, Joe Biden has prostate cancer.

Unfortunately, his cancer was classified as having a Gleason score of 9, which puts him in Grade Group 5—the most severe category. He has prostate cancer with metastasis to the bone.

Now, I understand that cancer can be missed. I come from a long line of cancer victims—uncles, aunts, grandparents, even my own parents: aunts, uncles, grandparents, even my own parents: dad with non-Hodgkins lymphoma whenI was in middle school and mom with pancreatic cancer many years later.
Name a cancer, and someone in my family has had it. At this point, it would be easier to count the relatives who didn’t die from cancer than the ones who did.

So while I’m not an expert nor an oncologist, I do know this: The President of the United States has access to the best medical care available. Full stop.

He is privy to regular screenings and physicals and in-depth testing. The tests you and I have to wait months for because of physician shortages, referrals, insurance hoops and red tape are not an issue for the Commander in Chief.

This includes former President Joe Biden. And yet, Biden’s PSA levels were never publicly released. Not in 2023. Not in 2024. Not even in his final physical.

Yes, Biden’s prostate-specific antigen (PSA) levels were not disclosed during his presidency—unlike the presidents before him. His last reported physical in February 2024 didn’t mention a PSA test at all. And that test is the standard screening for prostate cancer.

This omission is raising eyebrows—as it should, especially now that we know his cancer had already advanced to his bones.

*Note: a part of me dies when I share a Joe Scarborough video. The dude is as complicit as Jake Tapper in the cover-up of Biden’s decline. I submit Exhibit A.

**Scarborough’s legs must be really tired, what with all the BACK-PEDDLING he’s been doing lately.

So let’s be honest. Knowing what we know, it’s extremely likely Biden knew about this before dropping out of the race. I suspect he knew. His wife knew. His physician knew. The DNC knew. His inner circle definitely knew.

And just like that, the out-of-nowhere “I have cancer” comment from a couple years ago? It starts to track.
Watch:

The media brushed the “I have cancer” off at the time as just another silly “Biden gaffe.” Turns out—it wasn’t.

Which means, and this is hard to wrap the brain around, the DNC knowingly ran a seriously ill man for reelection, likely aware he'd have to step down before completing another term. And when he did, who was waiting in the wings?
Kamala Harris. Commander in Chief—by default, not by vote.

I mean, Jake Tapper’s book hits shelves detailing the cover-up of Biden’s cognitive decline and within 48 hours, the Biden camp drops the bombshell that Biden has advanced prostate cancer with bone metastases?
Dear Baby Jesus in a manger…that’s not transparency; it’s narrative management.
And it worked.

Almost overnight, criticism of Biden’s fitness gave way to calls for compassion. The conversation shifted from “Is he mentally unfit to lead?” to “How dare you question a sick man?” We witnessed the weaponization of human sympathy to protect powerful people from accountability.

Hey, it’s not wrong to feel sympathy. It is wrong to confuse it with accountability.

Because, kids, multiple things can be true at the same time: Joe Biden is sick and that’s awful.
He’s also been in serious cognitive decline, which his team AND the media have spent years excusing, spinning, and flat out lying about.

In the end, I don’t fault Joe Biden for having cancer. Of course not. That’s a brutal, unforgiving fight no one deserves. But I do fault his silence—and the silence of the people around him. The ones who knew, who calculated the timing, who decided the public didn’t need to know until it served a purpose.

They could’ve stopped the charade. Could’ve spoken up. But they didn’t. No one did.

In my book, that’s not care. That’s not transparency. That’s strategy.

So, to former President Biden, despite all the cover-ups, I’m really sorry you are dealing with this. Cancer sucks. It’s a monster and I wish you the best. Truly.

And after watching all this awful news about illness and cognitive decline finally come to light, all I can say is thank God that grasshopper wasn’t working in politics or the media.
’Cause he’d be on CNN right now, swearing he was NEVER in my pants.