Brett Mason Show cover art

Brett Mason Show

Brett Mason Show

By: Brett Mason Media
Listen for free

About this listen

 An often funny or irreverent look at culture, entertainment, politics, or just silly things that happen to us all every day.Copyright Brett Mason Media Social Sciences
activate_mytile_page_redirect_t1
Episodes
  • Fifty-Eight: Trade And Tariffs Explained

    Fifty-Eight: Trade And Tariffs Explained
    May 15 2025
    Today I’m going to talk about trade and tariffs in a way that even a 5 year old can understand if. Now I know, that probably sounds dry. But if you stick around, I promise you’ll end this episode knowing more about trade and the global economy than most politicians—and certainly more than the President of the United States. And I’m not even trying to be edgy with that. It’s just… true. Here’s the reality: A trade surplus or trade deficit is just the difference between what a country exports and what it imports. That’s it. It’s not a win-or-lose scoreboard. It’s not a sign of national strength or weakness. It’s an accounting detail. A symptom—not a diagnosis. And cutting off trade with another country? That doesn’t “save” us money. It doesn’t “bring back jobs.” What it actually does is shrink the economy. It limits product availability. It raises prices for everything from cars to cornflakes. It triggers inflation. It makes everyone poorer. Period. This isn’t new information. We’ve known it for a long time. And if you need proof, let’s roll the tape back to one of the dumbest trade blunders in U.S. history: the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of the 1930s. Congress—bless their hearts—thought slapping tariffs on imported goods would protect American farmers and manufacturers during the Great Depression. Instead, what happened? Other countries retaliated. Exports plummeted by over 60%. Trade collapsed. Jobs vanished. The global economy cratered even further. Now here’s the fun part: if that name—Smoot-Hawley—rings a bell, maybe you remember it from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Yeah. A teen comedy from 1986 explained it better than most modern politicians. Ben Stein, in his iconic deadpan role as the economics teacher, delivers this legendary scene: “In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the… uh… anyone? Anyone?… the Great Depression, passed the… anyone?… Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act, which… anyone?… raised or lowered?… raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue. Did it work?… Anyone?… It did not work, and the United States sank deeper into the Great Depression.” It’s played for laughs—but it’s also spot-on. It didn’t work. And yet, nearly a century later, we’ve got people pushing the exact same crap with new branding. Fast forward to the U.S.-China trade war under Trump. We jacked up tariffs on Chinese goods. China retaliated—hard—by targeting U.S. agriculture. Soybeans. Pork. Wheat. Farmers across the Midwest got wrecked. Prices dropped. Exports dried up. So what did we do? We bailed them out with tens of billions of taxpayer dollars. Let that sink in. The government caused the problem, then used your money to patch over the hole they blew in the boat. That’s not economic strategy—that’s political arson followed by very expensive fire trucks. And this isn’t just a U.S. issue. Let’s look globally. In 2010, Japan got into a diplomatic spat with China. As leverage, they restricted exports of rare earth minerals—critical materials used in smartphones, electric vehicles, wind turbines, even missiles. The result? Panic. Supply chains trembled. Prices exploded. The entire tech and manufacturing sector around the world felt the aftershocks. It was a reminder: global trade isn’t just about profit—it’s about stability. Or take Russia in 2022, cutting off natural gas supplies to Europe in response to sanctions over Ukraine. What happened? Prices for electricity and heating fuel in countries like Germany and Italy soared—by over 500% in some cases. Factories shut down. Steel, fertilizer, aluminum production—all scaled back or halted. Inflation soared. Food prices, rent, basic goods—everything went up. Because when trade breaks, everything breaks. There are a million more examples. And every time, it’s the same story. Politicians sell you a fairy tale about protecting the economy, about bringing jobs home, about “America First” or whatever slogan they’re workshopping this week. But in reality? You get screwed. You pay more at the grocery store. You pay more for fuel. You lose job opportunities. You live in an economy that’s slower, more expensive, and less competitive. That’s the price of economic ignorance. Trade isn’t some abstract Wall Street concept. It’s what keeps your shelves stocked, your bills manageable, and your paycheck worth something. Trade supports competition. That’s what keeps prices low. It drives innovation. That’s what keeps companies from getting lazy. It creates connections. That’s what builds resilience in times of crisis. Cutting it off doesn’t “protect” us—it isolates us. It weakens us. It leaves us more vulnerable. And who pays? You do. Every time. Not the president. Not the billionaire donor class. Not the lobbyists. You. Because you’re the one paying $5 for eggs. You’re the one whose ...
    Show More Show Less
    13 mins
  • Fifty-Seven: My Three Moms

    Fifty-Seven: My Three Moms
    May 11 2025
    My Three Moms Today, I want to honor not one, but three extraordinary women. I only ever had one mom. Brenda. The most amazing mom anyone could ask for. But the universe knew I’d need more. And He sent two remarkable women who became mothers to me in every way that mattered—when it mattered most. This is a tribute to my three moms. Let me start with my Aunt Helen. She was the sweetest woman I’ve ever known—heart as wide as the sky. She named me. Literally. My parents couldn’t decide, and it was her suggestion they finally chose. She cut my hair through my teens—never took a dime. She let me crash at her house anytime, no questions asked. She taught me card games—spades, boo ray, and more—and not just how to play, but how to enjoy the little moments. And when I got kicked out of my dad’s house—I deserved it, too—she took me in. No rent. No judgment. Just love, food, and a warm place to be. She didn’t just only help me. She treated every kid like they mattered. Because to her, they did. Then there’s my Aunt Margaret. She lived right next door. And growing up, she became my home away from home. We didn’t have TV at my house, so every night I was at her place, laying in the floor, eyes glued to her screen watching the dukes of hazard and other favorites, till 9 p.m which was my strict curfew. And then I was out the door, run across the lawn to our house, and get ready for bed. And she never once made me feel like a burden. I always felt at home. She fed me. Put up with me. Took me on family fishing trips, vacations, field days. She made sure I didn’t miss out just because we didn’t have much. My dad wasn’t really a get out and do things kind of dad. He was always working at work, or working at home. And my aunt Margaret (and uncle Melvin) included me in so many family trips and activities I never felt like I missed out on much. But the greatest act of love came after the worst day of my life. When my mom passed away. It was just me, Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Helen in that hospital room. In the wee hours of the morning. I had been in that room for weeks. Not leaving moms side unless I had too. And in those final days of the final week there was three of us in that room. Right up until my mom took her last breath. The three of us, me, Aunt Helen, and Aunt Margaret, their love and strength holding me up in the silence. In the years that followed my mom’s passing, Aunt Margaret literally saved me. She called or texted me every single day for at least two years. Some days, her voice or text was the only thing that reminded me life was still worth living. Dinner invites, holiday invites, “I love you” texts. And simple Gentle check-ins that didn’t let me disappear. I will never forget that. Ever. And then there’s my mom. Let me focus on her for the rest of this tribute. My mom Brenda. Or as my dad often called her “sue.” Or as the members of her church and the young girls she loved to mentor called her “sister Brenda.” My first love. A woman that could never be matched in my eyes. My first safe place. My lifeline safe place. There has never been a more selfless person. She gave without asking. She hurt quietly, forgave fiercely, and loved unconditionally. She was frugal, but so generous. With her time, her prayers, her acts of caring. She prayed for people who hurt her. She checked in on the sick. She cooked for the hungry. She volunteered at church, the fire department, the election polls, and in countless other little ways. She held pain in so others wouldn’t have to. She always put others first. Even to her own detriment. I often thing of the lean days of my childhood. When dinner every night seemed to be Lima beans with a big ham bone in it. Very little actual ham. And biscuits. Every night it was remarkable that my mom revealed she didn’t really like ham all that much. And what was there found its way on mine and my dad’s plate. Interestingly enough she would always often reveal she didn’t really like beans that much. Not as much as the soup. So those would find their on mine and dads plate. And she would take a biscuit and sop it in the bean soup. And say how full she was. She was a devout Christian in the most sincere sense—not in show, but in spirit. She played piano like a virtuoso. She taught piano like a maestro, teaching me to play. She sang like an angel. She lived her faith with quiet grace and tireless devotion. She never judged me—even when I was at my worst. She just loved me. And prayed for me. Mom passed in 2017. And not long after, Aunt Helen passed too. But Aunt Margaret is still here. Still showing up. Still texting, still calling, still mothering. Even with everything she carries in her own life—she never forgets to check in. So this Mother’s Day, I say this with a full heart: I was blessed with one incredible mom. And then I was blessed again. Twice more. Three women. Three hearts. Three lives that wrapped ...
    Show More Show Less
    12 mins
  • Fifty-Six: Trade Deficits: An Inside Job

    Fifty-Six: Trade Deficits: An Inside Job
    May 8 2025
    Want to talk trade deficits, imports, tariffs, manufacturing?

    Let’s dispense with the bullshit:
    Foreigners didn’t steal your job.
    You weren’t taken advantage of by evil Mexicans .
    You weren’t outsmarted by China.
    You weren’t out-hustled by India.

    You were betrayed—gutted from the inside—by your own country.

    IT WAS AN INSIDE JOB!

    American corporations didn’t lose a war. They committed treason.

    They looked at you—your life, your labor, your family—and decided you were too expensive. Too demanding. Too human. A burden on their lifestyle.

    So they cashed you in. Like a used car with too many miles.

    THE MURDER ON THE PHONE WAS IN YOUR HOUSE THE WHOLE TIME!

    You think some dude in a rice paddy undercut you?
    No. It was a CEO in a penthouse with a calculator and a dead conscience.
    It was the boardroom full of sociopaths who saw a 12-year-old working barefoot in a Cambodian sweatshop and said, “Perfect.”

    You didn’t lose your job—you were sacrificed.
    For stock prices. For dividends. For a bigger fucking yacht.

    Who were the perpetrators?
    One of them was the billionaire you elected that now sits in the Oval Office .
    His cabinet is filled with 12 more of them. Billionaires. Men that sacrificed people like you and me to buy their 5th yacht.

    And while your manufacturing town withered, your factory shut down, and your family scraped by, those same executives popped champagne, bought another mansion, and sent their kids to Ivy League schools with the money they saved by shipping your livelihood overseas.

    And Congress? They were the pimps in the corner nodding along.

    “Global trade,” they said. “Free markets,” they said.
    What they meant was: bend over, America. We already got paid.

    They sold you out like livestock. And you keep re-electing them like good little sheep.

    Then came Trump—the orange mouthpiece for billionaire interests, pretending to be your savior.
    He talks tough about China while he’s slurping down corporate cash and cutting taxes for the very bastards who killed your job in the first place.
    He’s not a warrior. He’s a mascot. A bloated clown for the oligarchy.

    And the worst part?
    You bought it.
    You waved the flag. You wore the hat.
    You screamed “America First!” while getting stabbed in the goddamn back by your own.

    This wasn’t globalization. This was domestic economic genocide.
    And you weren’t the victim of some foreign enemy.
    You were the casualty of capitalism gone rabid—of a system that chews up working people and wipes its ass with the Constitution.

    So don’t cry about lost jobs. Don’t point at China.
    Look in the mirror.
    Look at your ballot.
    Look at your boss.
    That’s who did this.

    And no, it’s not going to change—because no one’s lining up to work 14-hour days for crumbs while billionaires get richer for doing less than nothing.

    So yeah—good luck, America.
    You didn’t get robbed.
    You got sold out. And now you’re too damn proud to admit it. And you’re trusting in the billionaire president surrounded by the billionaires who played you, thinking they will now save you.
    Show More Show Less
    5 mins

What listeners say about Brett Mason Show

Average Customer Ratings

Reviews - Please select the tabs below to change the source of reviews.

Audible.com.au reviews

Amazon Reviews
No Reviews are Available
In the spirit of reconciliation, Audible acknowledges the Traditional Custodians of country throughout Australia and their connections to land, sea and community. We pay our respect to their elders past and present and extend that respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples today.