💥 BLASTROOTS: WARNER CLOSES OUT THE YEAR WITH A BANG

DUMMY OF THE WEEK

While most folks were wrapping gifts, Rep. Todd Warner was busy wrapping detonator cord.

On December 22, at exactly 1:53 p.m., the peace of Chapel Hill shattered under another one of Warner’s “agricultural” explosions. Coffee cups rattled. Windows shook. Facebook lit up with “What was that?” Replies rolled in: “It’s just Todd, doing what Todd does best.”

You’ve got to hand it to him: the sheer brass of a sitting lawmaker — a man who literally writes the rules — treating law and order like polite suggestions from the county zoning office. The county already called his “farm pond” what it is — a quarry. But Warner’s not just digging in; he’s expanding the blast zone, fighting on three fronts: appealing the county ruling in court, lobbying the Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation (TDEC) for a state mining permit, and applying for an air pollution control permit to run a full-scale rock crushing operation. The public comment period for that one closes January 11.

Regarding the TDEC permit (and for anyone not fluent in hydrogeology), the Duck River isn’t just pretty scenery — it’s the drinking straw for much of Middle Tennessee. It flows through karst limestone riddled with cracks, where groundwater and surface water are basically roommates. In plain English: you blast the rock, and you shake the plumbing that keeps the river clean and flowing.

Hydrogeologists agree: quarrying next to the Duck River isn’t just reckless — it’s geological malpractice. Blasting fractures the limestone, opens new water pathways, and sends sediment and pollutants racing straight into the aquifer. It drains wells, muddies drinking water, and can even open sinkholes. And the Duck itself? It’s home to dozens of rare fish and mussels — who, as it turns out, don’t vote, donate, or hire lobbyists.

So, this next chapter isn’t simply about whether Warner gets to dig another hole in his yard. It’s about whether the Duck River — one of the most biologically diverse waterways in North America — keeps running clear for everyone else. And that determination is now on the calendar: TDEC’s Division of Mineral and Geologic Resources is holding a virtual hearing on Warner’s permit (TN0070733) on January 15 at 5 p.m.

Meanwhile, Warner’s Verona Caney Road property now sports a shiny new sign, word for word, “ABSOLUTELY NO TRESPASSING. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW. FAFO.”

That’s quite the Christmas card from your state representative. A classy reminder that nothing says “public servant” quite like threatening the public.

One neighbor, an apparent math whiz, calculated: “He’s paying $50 a day in fines and hauling out $6,000 a day in rock.” A tidy business model — if your conscience is as hollow as your pit. Oh, and the county codes official who could’ve enforced the violations? He quit the Friday before Christmas. Perfect timing.

And sure enough, the moral shrapnel started flying on social media. If this sounds like a one-man circus, don’t worry — every show needs a cheering section. Enter Tennessee Stands — Gary Humble’s congregation of self-anointed patriots. When residents started asking fair questions, Tennessee Stands provided cover, posting:

“🚨When nonsense like this shows up in your mailbox do two things:

1. Take note. In most cases this is the candidate you should be voting for.

2. Immediately stop funding and supporting the national PACs and groups influencing our elections.
   View tnreportcard.org to see Representative Todd Warner’s voting scores. He’s one of the top-scoring conservatives in the TN General Assembly.”

Translation: if your legislator’s under scrutiny for detonating his backyard into a canyon, he most certainly must be a top-tier conservative. (Warner scored a 96 on that goofy report card, right below Reps. Jody Barrett and Monty Fritts. Fitting.)

Then there’s RINO Removal Project’s Kelly Jackson, who apparently thinks the First Amendment only applies inside your voting district. When locals asked whether Warner was running a quarry, she snapped: “Can I ask why that is your business?” and “Do you live in Todd’s district?” (Spoiler: she doesn’t.)

From there came the sermon on “private property rights,” implying that anyone objecting must secretly hate conservatives. “Please provide actual proof from a source that doesn’t have political reasons to smear him,” she wrote, before finishing with this gem: “Your pursuit is based on the fact that Todd is a conservative — and a grassroots conservative at that.”

Indeed. Nothing says grassroots like a politician dynamiting your water table and blasting your neighbors’ wells dry. Give it time — RINO Removal Project and Tennessee Stands will be passing the digital collection plate for “emergency donations” before the dust even settles.

This, friends, is what passes for “grassroots” these days — fueled by limestone dust, self-interest, and the unwavering belief that the law is for other people. A better word comes to mind for Todd Warner: Blastroots.

Real conservatives conserve — water, wildlife, wells, and the rule of law. Blasting a quarry beside a karst river is in no way farming. And watching self-proclaimed conservatives defend it just because one of their own keeps setting off the charges? Well, that stinks worse than a feedlot in July.

So while the outrage machine churns on about who’s a real conservative, Chapel Hill residents keep sweeping rock dust off their porches, and wondering if their next glass of water comes with gravel.

The Duck River deserves better. So here’s hoping it survives the next shockwave — and the people survive the next election.

Public comment is your chance to blast back. See you January 15.

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