THE DUMP — AUGUST 8, 2025
Your weekly look at the weird, the wild, and Williamson County.
Hey neighbors—welcome back to The Dump, your weekly look at the weird, the wild, and Williamson County.
This week, we’re talking about a governor’s race that just went full hairspray-and-hardball, a Shelbyville whiskey saga worth more than a small country’s GDP, and a Nolensville commission pick complete with its own halftime roast.
We’ll also check in on Thompson’s Station’s 35-year quest for a second roundabout, tip our cap to Nolensville’s Little League boys, and smell the fair before it’s gone. Oh—and if you thought our county’s biggest problem was traffic, wait until you hear about number two. It’s number one.
Let’s dump it out.
📍THE GOVERNOR’S RACE JUST GOT A BLACKBURNING
It’s official. The 2026 race for Tennessee governor is no longer a slow dance — it’s a political mosh pit, and Marsha Blackburn just cannonballed onto the floor.
The U.S. Senator and MAGA mainstay launched her campaign August 6 with full Trumpworld flair: big promises, big hair, and bigger polling numbers. Her message? “Make Tennessee America’s conservative leader for this generation and the next.” Her strategy? Clear the field, crush the competition, and cruise to the Governor’s Mansion in a red-white-and-blonde wave.
And let’s be honest: it’s working.
A fresh Beacon Poll of 1,200 GOP voters just landed like a political anvil:
• Blackburn: 66%
• John Rose: 14%
• Undecided: 19%
That’s a 52-point walloping. Blackburn isn’t just winning — she’s erasing the rest of the field in real time.
Nashville political analyst Steve Gill says the fight could get “knockdown, drag-out” before it’s over — with both candidates bringing big-name consultants and big-money arsenals. He predicts Rose will lean hard on rural loyalty and his “eighth-generation farmer” roots, while both campaigns duke it out for suburban voters.
Translation: the gloves will stay on for a while, but the last two months will look like a Pay-Per-View grudge match.
That’s… unfortunate news for Congressman John Rose, who declared his run back in March, spent $5 million of his own money, and now looks like he’s gearing up for a polite, very expensive, and completely forgettable defeat. Rose is also MAGA-aligned, pro-Trump, anti-everything-else, and apparently pro-futility. His pitch? Infrastructure, mental health, and Tennessean values. Blackburn’s pitch? Me, but louder.
Also in the Republican mix: someone named Cito Pellegra (don’t ask), a few businessy rumor-mill names, and a parade of prominent GOP figures now announcing what they won’t do. Glenn Jacobs (Mayor Kane for you WWE types) won’t run — he’s endorsing Blackburn. Senator Bill Hagerty is staying in the Senate. And former Rep. Mark Green is out, busy cashing checks somewhere more southern.
On the Democratic side: bless their hearts. A Memphis councilmember, an advocate, a Gallatin guy named Tim, and a Nashville musician named “Ditch.” It’s a longshot race, but hey, dreams and underdogs are free.
Also: persistent, if fading, rumors about Pete Hegseth—Trump’s Secretary of Defense and former Fox News personality—taking a stab at the race. Most say it’s not happening. But in Tennessee, never say never until the filing deadline passes and the TV cameras leave.
WW BOTTOM LINE:
This is Marsha’s race to lose. She’s the frontrunner, the fundraiser, the Fox-friendly firebrand — and if elected, she’d become Tennessee’s first female governor.
🌀 WHISKEY BUSINESS: NEAREST GREEN DISTILLERY HIT WITH $108M LAWSUIT
Over in Shelbyville, just a stone’s throw south of Williamson County, pour one out for Uncle Nearest—just not too much, because a federal judge might soon be counting barrels.
Last month, Farm Credit Mid-America sued the makers of the celebrated Uncle Nearest whiskey brand for more than $108 million, alleging the company defaulted on loans, overstated assets by $21 million, and misused borrowed funds to buy a Martha’s Vineyard home — yes, the kind with sailboats for neighbors and more linen pants than tractors.
The lawsuit claims Uncle Nearest sold off barrels and future revenue streams—aka, the collateral—without telling or repaying the lender. Meanwhile, Farm Credit wants a receiver appointed to take over the 458-acre Shelbyville distillery.
Uncle Nearest, for its part, says: Slow your pour. They blame a former CFO for the drunk math, say the lender knew about the Vineyard villa, and claim they’ve already paid back over $16 million before hitting pause on payments during negotiations.
WW BOTTOM LINE:
Yesterday’s big hearing? No knock-out yet. Both sides made their pitch, the judge listened, and the matter is now “under advisement,” which is legalese for I’ll get back to you. No receiver has been appointed, no padlocks on the rickhouses, no sheriff chaining the tasting room doors. For now, the stills keep running.
No shade here — just a heads up that Shelbyville may soon be home to the most high-stakes liquor story in Tennessee since the revenuers showed up in the holler.
📍THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM: NOLENSVILLE COMMISSION PICKS A WINNER, GETS A FREE SHOW
Nolensville’s vacant commission seat finally has an occupant — and it only took three rounds of voting, a near-special election, and enough dead air to make viewers at home wonder if the livestream had buffered or if they forgot to pay their Internet bill.
The lineup: Clark Gray, Bob Hatcher, Heino Moeller, Mary Pollreis, Joshua Streufert and David Windrow. And yes, thank you all for putting yourselves out there.
First ballot: Streufert (2), Pollreis (1), Gray (1) — everyone else was out. Second ballot: exactly the same. That’s when, after a very silent, very awkward deliberation, one commissioner apparently decided a special election could turn into a partisan brawl and hand the seat to an energized Democratic base still hoping for a Pollreis win.
So round three broke the stalemate. Streufert picked up the third vote, was sworn in on the spot, and took his seat before the gavel cooled.
Then came public comments. First up was former commissioner, Joel Miller, who complained the vote came before citizens could speak — not required by the bylaws, which Miller likely knew, but fair point. Noted.
And then came Bob Hatcher. Yes, that Bob Hatcher — one of the six applicants, who didn’t get a single vote. Bob opened with perhaps the most passive-aggressive congratulations in Nolensville history, then launched into a scorched-earth monologue about the miserable job, the dysfunctional board, and the town’s endless problems. Lawsuits, sewer failures, IRS issues, budget crises — all rattled off like a greatest-hits album of municipal doom.
And here’s the kicker: Bob applied for this job. He stood in front of the very people who would have to vote for him and painted the role, and them, in colors usually reserved for caution tape. If irony had a town hall, Hatcher would be sworn in first.
WW BOTTOM LINE:
Congratulations to Commissioner Streufert.
And Bob — next time you’re up for a seat, maybe lead with solutions, not the disaster movie trailer.
📍 THOMPSON’S STATION — 35 YEARS, STILL WAITING ON THE SECOND ROUNDABOUT
Mayor Brian Stover made history by delivering Thompson’s Station’s first-ever State of the Town address. Yes, after 35 years of existence, the town finally decided to stand up, clear its throat, and talk about itself.
Stover opened with a Hallmark flashback to 1990 — no roundabouts, no wastewater plant, no traffic delays. Now? One roundabout, a wastewater plant “almost” here, and traffic slow enough to memorize every crack in the asphalt and maybe even knit a sweater. Progress.
The budget is the biggest in town history, balanced on a property tax rate so tiny ($0.103 per $100) you could lose it between the couch cushions. Stover promised “action and results,” which, translated from municipal to human time, means Columbia Pike might be finished just as your great-grandchildren are learning to parallel park.
Infrastructure stole the spotlight. Thompson’s Station Road East, Critz Lane, Columbia Pike — all on the fix-it list, with Columbia wearing the crown as Top Priority. Also queued up: a refresh of the award-winning “All Aboard” Comprehensive Plan — because nothing says small-town grit like a Tennessee Planning Association trophy for a plan you still seem to be planning.
Then came the big maybe: a hometown police department, bankrolled if the Simon Nashville Premium Outlets project moves forward — that’s the proposed mall off 840, if you’re keeping score. Because nothing says “crime prevention” like 30% off handbags and a food court. The project’s already zoned, but Stover swears developers will handle their own traffic nightmares. Bold talk from a man who’s stared down Columbia Pike at 5 p.m.
Parks scored $650K in upgrades for Sarah Benson Park. And guest star WCS Superintendent Jason Golden stopped in and promised a new school by 2030. Better days ahead, indeed.
Stover wrapped with a nod to “thoughtful growth” and the town’s small-town values. Translation: grow enough to brag about, but not enough to justify that second roundabout.
WW BOTTOM LINE:
A debut State of the Town that was equal parts nostalgia, budget flex, and outlet-mall sales pitch. If Thompson’s Station hits even half these promises, they might earn their next big milestone: another speech before the year 2045.
⚾ GOOD RUN, BOYS
Nolensville Little League’s 2025 run ended in the Southeast Regional final, falling 7–1 to North Carolina’s Lake Norman. They struck first, but North Carolina’s bats and a complete-game gem from their ace shut the door.
The loss stings, sure—but three straight trips to Williamsport (2021–2023) and another deep run this year is a legacy most programs only dream about. And to the young men: You didn’t just represent Tennessee. You represented Williamson County—with grit, sportsmanship, and more than a few web-gem plays that’ll live in memory long after the season fades — and yes, longer than the bruises from sliding on August turf.
Chin up, boys. Bigger things ahead. You embody our community pride. Well done!
🎡 FAIR ENDS SOON — LAST CALL FOR FRIED ANYTHING
The Williamson County Fair is in its final stretch, so if you haven’t had your once-a-year corndog, elephant ear, candied apple, caramel popcorn, or funnel cake, you’re on the clock.
Rides range from gentle spins to full-on chiropractic events, with lines long enough to make you question your life choices. Someone will lose a hat, someone will lose a car payment’s worth of fun, and someone will decide deep-fried Oreos are a great idea at 10 p.m. — right before boarding something called “The Vominator.”
Go now — before the lights go out, the animals roll home, and the whole place smells like trampled grass and diesel for another year.
🚽 FINAL FLUSH: WILLIAMSON COUNTY IS FULL… AND IT’S STARTING TO SHOW
This week, Spring Hill Mayor Matt Fitterer made it official: growth is on pause.
The Board of Mayor and Aldermen accepted a Consent Order from the Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation after the city’s wastewater treatment plant racked up 29 violations in two years. That’s nearly a flush-and-a-half per month.
The penalty? A sewer moratorium — no new hookups for projects without already-vested rights until the plant runs clean for twelve consecutive months. Fitterer struck a serious tone: “Spring Hill takes full responsibility for these violations… We are committed to bringing our sewer treatment plant into full compliance with state standards.” To current residents, he offered reassurance: “If you’re a current user of the utility, you have capacity. Nothing’s going to change for you.”
But for anyone waiting on a permit, the message was clear: not anytime soon. And for everyone else, it’s a reminder that our fastest-growing cities can hit the wall — hard.
If that were the only sewage headline in Williamson County this month, we might be tempted to shrug. But it isn’t. Just a few miles away in Franklin’s Grassland area, raw sewage was found spilling into Cartwright Creek — the sixth such incident this year from the aging Limestone Wastewater Treatment Plant. This is not a one-time “oops.” The facility has a long, ugly history of violations and fines — more than $100,000 since 2014 — with spills contaminating creeks, trails, public parks, and potentially the Harpeth River. Residents have been told to keep their kids and pets away from the water. The plant’s owner, Central States Water Resources, says upgrades are coming… in 2026. Until then, the stench lingers, literally and figuratively.
Two major wastewater failures, in two different cities, in the same county, within days of each other. That’s not just bad luck. That’s bad planning.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth: Williamson County didn’t get here by accident. For years, leaders have embraced growth first, with infrastructure as an afterthought. It’s politically easy to cut ribbons and approve developments; it’s less glamorous to talk about whether your sewer system, road network, and schools can actually handle the people you’re inviting in. The result? Moratoriums, spills, overcrowding, and “we’ll fix it later” promises. Later has arrived.
Forecasting demand is hard, yes — especially when you’re the “it” place to live — but that’s not a free pass to miss by a mile. A moratorium shouldn’t be the default planning tool; it should be the last resort. Yet here we are, pushing the button because the math didn’t add up. And while Spring Hill takes the hit this time, Franklin’s problems prove the issue is countywide.
This isn’t about closing the gates or longing for some “old Franklin” that’s never coming back. Growth is here, and it’s not going away. But it must be matched with the capacity to handle it. Today, we’re talking about sewage. Tomorrow, it will be traffic gridlock. Next year, it will be high school overcrowding. The pattern is obvious. So is the fix: put infrastructure at the front of the conversation, not buried somewhere after “public comment.”
We already have problems. Without better planning — real, enforced, accountable planning — they’re going to get bigger. And smellier.
And that’s a wrap—you made it to the end again. Thanks for reading. And if you had fun, send this to a friend who could use a break from the “serious” news.
We’ll keep calling out the odd and the outright absurd—because why not?
Until next time, keep it light, keep it local, and as always… stay wrong, Williamson. And if anyone asks, we were never here when the creek started smelling funny.