When I wake up each morning, the most important thing is that I avoid setting foot anywhere that is not American in Name Only (AINO). This, as a native Virginian, presents a problem. The state was named after England's Queen Elizabeth I, known as the "virgin queen" for her lack of a husband. How am I supposed to go back to Virginia until it is named Americaginia? I have principles.

Thankfully, President Donald Trump is on this, having made the AINO cause a top priority. He refashioned the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America via executive order; not long after, he decreed Lake Ontario would be Lake America with another wet signature. Naturally, New Mexico is the next target. The state "should immediately change its name to New America," Trump posted this week on Truth Social. "We are not Mexico, we are the United States of America!"

So true. New Mexico lawmakers would have to initiate the transition, and the public would have to approve it—the president cannot do so with an executive order here. But it is vitally important that, when he can, he continue changing the names of geographic landmarks to maximize the use of those four beautiful syllables. And when he cannot, he must raise awareness of the AINO spirit.

I should know. I'm surrounded. Though I am no longer living in ***ginia, I reside in the District of Columbia, a name that strikes fear and loathing into the hearts of any AINO patriot. Columbia is derived from Christopher Columbus, who in 1492 sailed that ocean blue—presently called the Atlantic, we'll return to that momentarily—to what is now America. But are we really going to let our nation's capital conjure up visions of a country in South America, give or take an o? Perhaps a better question: Do we want it dedicated to an Italian? Rechristening it the District of America would be a win for AINO, a win for Trump, and a win for the progressives who hate Columbus Day. Boom.

To the north we have Maryland—named after Queen Henrietta Maria, the wife of England's King Charles I—which will need to be Americaland if I am to cross that line again. (I also ask that Americaland's drivers stop learning their technique from Grand Theft Auto.) Looking southward, I'm trapped as well: The Carolinas bear the title of Charles himself. If there is any justice, North Carolina will be North America, and South Carolina will be South America. Yes, those technically already exist, but these are the real North and South America. The others are the fake ones. (West Virginia is easy: West Americaginia.)

The president could plausibly change the names of the seas that surround this great country. At least, he could change their names in the Geographic Names Information System. Columbus sailed the American Ocean. The Pacific, meanwhile, is properly the West American Ocean—or, given that its waves break against California, the Woke American Ocean. There's something in the water.

Many may find Trump's obsession with AINO bewildering. In reality, it is to be expected. A national-populist presidency must have the requisite packaging—whether the branding primarily promotes policy or is the main event itself is a fair question. Trump is a showman, so there must be a show.

We are approaching the intermission of the second Trump administration. The plot twists—though sometimes predictable—have consisted of higher prices for everyday goods (tariffs), higher gas prices (the war in Iran), and Apple Maps now showing Rochester's shores opening their arms to Lake America. The country may be more expensive, inflation not yet vanquished, government spending altitudinous, the swamp waterlogged, that promised golden age still elusive. But at least America is more American in Name Only. 

The post Why I Can't Go Back to Virginia Until It's Named Americaginia appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Walking through East Cleveland, Ohio, feels a touch like you've wandered onto the set of a postapocalyptic film noir. Grand, gilded homes announce themselves on neighborhood streets, some crowned with turrets, many with windows punched out like missing teeth. Often, no one is home, because no one lives there. It is safer than 1 percent of U.S. cities.

So why did local law enforcement pour considerable time and resources into pursuing a man for a sound truck?

That question is not really a legal one, at least not in the most technical sense. But it is the driving force behind a thorny case a federal court recently resuscitated: Fambrough v. City of East Cleveland, a saga concerning a man whose vehicle became an obsessive target of the East Cleveland Police Department (ECPD) after he used it to campaign for a mayoral challenger.

Some of the facts are in dispute. But the basic gist is as follows: William Fambrough, long a politically engaged East Clevelander, campaigned for Juanita Gowdy—a challenger to then-Mayor Brandon King—by broadcasting messages around the city with his sound truck. That ultimately came to an end after law enforcement impounded the car, cited him for parking and noise violations, and prosecuted him for the latter.

Fambrough sued, alleging the complex legal odyssey set into motion over his step van amounted to First Amendment retaliation, an unreasonable seizure under the Fourth Amendment, and a violation of the 14th Amendment's proscription against selective enforcement. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 6th Circuit rejected some of those claims. But it resurrected claims against King and his chief of staff, Michael Smedley—depriving them of qualified immunity, the legal doctrine that inoculates state and local government officials from facing lawsuits if their alleged misconduct was not "clearly established" as illegal in prior case law. It also revived Fambrough's retaliation claim against the city.

As the 6th Circuit summarizes: King "says he received a phone call from a resident who complained about Fambrough's sound truck and someone else's box truck being parked in a residential area," so he told someone to take care of it. Scott Gardner, then the city's chief of police, "was concerned about selectively enforcing" the parking ordinance—which prohibits parking a truck in front of residential property, except for loading or unloading—because it is indeed almost never enforced. This was the beginning of a long pursuit, which ultimately saw a swarm of officers dispatched to Fambrough's house in August 2021 to confiscate the vehicle, allegedly resulting in $6,000 in damage. Fambrough also had to pay $528 in fees to get the damaged truck back.

"All the attention City officials gave Fambrough struck Gardner as unusual," the 6th Circuit notes. "The mayor's office wasn't this attentive even in homicide cases. And considering that the City had around only 50 police officers at the time and had 'serious crime problems,' Gardner thought it was odd to devote this much attention to permitting and parking issues." Based on available data, East Cleveland's violent crime rate is 1,409 per 100,000 residents, about four times higher than the national average.

Yet Gardner ultimately got on board. Smedley phoned him on August 9 "extremely upset," according to Gardner, and told the police chief he was "incompetent" for failing to "take care of" Fambrough's sound truck. Smedley wanted the "utmost enforcement as possible." So Gardner sent an email. "Please, find this vehicle and tow it," he wrote to all of ECPD. "Cite the operator with disturbing the peace and loud music. Please contact me as soon as this is complete to claim a surprise." A surprise!

Police succeeded. "On its face, the email told officers to tow Fambrough's truck regardless of whether it was parked illegally," writes the 6th Circuit. "And the Noise Ordinance authorizes seizure only of 'the sound device used,' and only upon conviction. So Gardner's instruction to tow the truck wasn't authorized by municipal law." The court still held that the seizure did not violate the Fourth Amendment. It also gave Gardner qualified immunity, ruling it is not clearly established that someone who acts as a conduit for someone else's alleged retaliation—which here came from the mayor's office—is a "responsible party."

Heather McCollough, the city's assistant law director, subsequently prosecuted Fambrough for allegedly violating the noise ordinance. According to a sworn declaration from Fambrough's attorney, McCollough outlined some of Fambrough's offenses on a call: that he "made complaints about the police department" and filed "public records requests," among other issues. Notably, it is legal to do those things. McCollough was typically willing to resolve minor noise complaints, she added, but not so much in this case, because Fambrough needed to "stand down." (He ultimately pleaded no contest to disorderly conduct, a reduced charge.)

"Only after [Fambrough] began supporting Gowdy's election was the weight of the law thrown against him," the 6th Circuit writes in its analysis of potential municipal wrongdoing. "And the City's police officers didn't uncover Fambrough's violations of their own accord. Instead, City decisionmakers sent them to Fambrough's home each time to enforce the Parking Ordinance. So the timing of the parking-related enforcement actions supports an inference that Fambrough's political speech was the motivating factor—as does the fact that the City rarely enforced the Parking Ordinance against anyone else despite having plenty of opportunities to do so." Incredibly, a photo of another truck can be seen down the street on the same day law enforcement came to fetch Fambrough's vehicle. (The law also includes pickup trucks, so the city arguably has a lot of enforcement to do if it sincerely believes this law matters.)

King allegedly set the chain of events into motion while Smedley took the driver's seat. "Smedley's pattern of incessantly calling and berating Gardner," the 6th Circuit adds, "clashes with the idea that Smedley was chiefly concerned with minor permitting, noise, or parking issues." After all, if that were true, why would the problem appear to begin and end with one person?

Over five years have passed since the ordeal. Although Fambrough is now potentially closer to getting in front of a jury, he has yet to actually state his case, still burdened by the onerous process government actors invoke to kill such suits before the community can assess the merits. King, meanwhile, won that election. He left office in May 2025, however, after he was found guilty of one count of theft in office, four counts of having an unlawful interest in a public contract, three counts of representation by public official or employee, one count of filing a false disclosure statement, and one count of soliciting improper compensation.

The post He Campaigned for the East Cleveland Mayor's Opponent. Then Police Came for His Truck. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Pretty Woman is the best romantic comedy of all time. In it, the actress Julia Roberts plays Vivian, a Los Angeles prostitute who stumbles into a weeklong escort gig for a well-to-do businessman. This requires a new wardrobe, ideally something where her legs are covered less by thigh-high boots and more by, well, actual clothes. Upon entering a shop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, it is quickly apparent she is not welcome.

She later returns—this time looking less hooker with a heart of gold, more polo match—to deliver one of the more legendary lines in movie history. "Big mistake," she tells the saleswoman who spurned her, flexing her shopping bags full of spoils. "Big. HUGE!"

Life imitates art; art imitates life. Accordingly, we now have a new Vivian, updated for the 21st century: an American Idol winner shopping not for Chanel and Valentino but for a yellow animatronic bird (naturally). This not being 1990, she also has social media.

"Just drove all the way to Brooklyn to check out this store I thought looked really rad and had a few things in mind to buy and literally was looked at as if I couldn't afford it and was told he could find something comparable for me," the singer Kelly Clarkson wrote on X. "Wow, dude. You're an idiot and just lost a huge sale. But y'all should go check out Art of Play in Brooklyn if you enjoy being treated like Julia Roberts [sic] character in Pretty Woman."

Just drove all the way to Brooklyn to check out this store I thought looked really rad and had a few things in mind to buy and literally was looked at as if I couldn't afford it and was told he could find something comparable for me. Wow, dude. You're an idiot and just lost a…

— Kelly Clarkson (@kellyclarkson) October 10, 2026

As of this writing, that post has been seen about 44 million times. It has inspired a news cycle, a public response from Art of Play, a counter-response from Clarkson, a counter-counter-response from Art of Play, and a lot of negative online reviews from people who have probably never been. It is a stark example of how Vivians of times past have been brought into the present. A comeuppance moment—"Big mistake!"—in response to an unpleasant experience with an allegedly rude employee can now become a national story that puts a small business in the crosshairs or the limelight, depending on whom you ask.

Some additional details, for your edification: The store noted that Clarkson wanted "Molly," that crooning fowl, which "is permanently attached to the wall and isn't for sale." Drat. Clarkson: "So the whole conversation we had when I asked you if it was for sale whilst pointing to the price tag hanging on the wall with the title Singing Bird didn't happen as you elevator eyed me saying in a condescending tone 'yes, it's for sale but it costs 15,000 dollars so if you'd like me to find something comparable for you I can.' That all never happened and now it's not for sale."

Now we're really cooking. The store: "We explained that while Molly is permanently attached to the wall and serves as a de facto mascot for our shop, a nearly identical automaton is owned by the creator of the machines, a brilliant artist named Bliss Kolb who lives in Seattle. He told us he would be willing to part with Molly's twin for $15,000." Art of Play also said it "explained all of this to Kelly Clarkson" and "offered to show her a different singing bird automaton…that she could have taken home with her that day" for the low, low price of $2,000. A steal. But, alas, "She did not stick around long enough to see it."

So we have overlapping but ultimately divergent accounts of this era-defining, avian warfare, which was almost certainly captured by a camera on the ceiling. Curious.

Let us acknowledge a few things. For one: How iconic is it that Clarkson prefaced her beef with the fact that she "drove all the way to Brooklyn," likely from Manhattan (where she keeps an apartment), as if she had just crossed the Darién Gap? We're talking approximately 35 minutes from Central Park to Cobble Hill. There is a storied history of extreme melodrama in great American cities when traversing neighborhood boundaries—try convincing an Angeleno to leave West Hollywood for lunch in Koreatown. Clarkson is truly an American idol.

For two: Why are we as a nation litigating a pop star's journey to buy a warbling robot? I now know as much about the origin story of Molly—the bird that broke America—as I do my sister's, who shares the same name. (It's a good name.) I will give Clarkson the benefit of the doubt that this employee may have been less than bubbly. It is Brooklyn, after all, where icy customer service from women with very short bangs and vocal fry is sometimes seen as an asset. But did we really need to mobilize millions of people against a random toy store because of an unfortunate five-minute exchange? Could Clarkson not have left a Google review? (Speaking of those, the fakes have been steadily disappearing, although a new evaluation from "Baba Baka" instructs users not to patronize the store because the owner "called me slurs." I have my doubts.)

What made Vivian's moment on Rodeo Drive so captivating? It was personal. She marches into the store—eyes trained on the elitist clerk with the braided updo, the short bangs of the late '80s and early '90s—and tells it like it is. She does not marshal all of Los Angeles into the store to do it with her.

Clarkson has the right, of course, to say whatever she wants, however she wants. But that does not necessarily make it wise. Her effort legitimately may backfire—despite the avalanche of online hate, Art of Play has gained thousands of social media followers and will likely become a brief destination, even out of morbid fascination. In general, though, unbecoming moments and misunderstandings between individuals do not need to become seismic—and potentially life-ruining—national affairs, as we've seen happen from time to time over the last several years. We can turn back.

Not this time, though. It's too late. The nation has been brought into the discussion, and the nation therefore needs closure. Art of Play is thus cosmically obligated to release security footage of the exchange. Was Clarkson more Vivian Ward or Veruca Salt? ROLL THE TAPES!

The post Release the Kelly Clarkson Tapes appeared first on Reason Magazine.