📰 THE DUMP — SEPTEMBER 19, 2025

Your weekly look at the weird, the wild, and Williamson County.

Sep 19, 2025

Hey friends—thanks for showing up. Welcome back to your weekly look at the weird, the wild, and Williamson County.

This week, we’ve got a Capitol climber who finally melted his wings, a “farm pond” that keeps going boom, a school board meeting where butterflies had to break up the culture war, and Nolensville teens turning TikTok into a bathroom break. Also, we say goodbye to the jolliest bartender who ever kicked someone offstage for cussing.

So grab your coffee, your side-eye, and maybe a hard hat.
Let’s dump it out.

⚖️ COTHREN TAKES 30 — CASADA STILL WAITING HIS TURN

There’s a rhythm to political scandals. First comes the power, then the arrogance, then the fall. And every so often you get a character who seems to believe the rules don’t apply to them, that they’re too clever, connected, or important to get caught.

That was Cade Cothren. He wasn’t just another staffer milling around the Tennessee Capitol — he was the chief of staff to the Speaker of the House, former State Rep. Glen Casada’s right hand and gatekeeper. The job gave him reach, influence, and a taste of what it feels like to stand just offstage while the levers of government move at your word.

But here’s the thing: once you start thinking you’re indispensable, you start mistaking proximity to power for power itself, and the ground shifts beneath you. Cothren built himself a set of wax wings — a fake company called Phoenix Solutions, run under the alias “Matthew Phoenix.” Legislators thought they were hiring a vendor to handle their taxpayer-funded mailers. In reality, they were just paying Cothren.

For a while, it worked. Until it didn’t. One of the enablers, Robin Smith, flipped. The feds followed the paper trail. And in May, a jury stripped away the illusion with 19 guilty verdicts.

This past Tuesday, the sentencing finally came down. Prosecutors wanted five to six years. Cothren’s lawyer begged for probation. Judge Eli Richardson split the difference: 30 months in prison, a year of supervised release, and a $25,000 fine. In the judge’s words, the scheme “fed cynicism of the state house” and needed to be a warning. Cothern will self-report later, but the fall has already happened.

Next week it’s Casada’s turn at the microphone — the man who gave Cothren his wings now has to answer for his own.

WW BOTTOM LINE:
Cade Cothren thought the rules didn’t apply, that his cleverness was enough to outfly the law. But those wax wings were no match against sunlight. Tuesday just made it official: the Phoenix is in ashes.

ROCKY BUSINESS: WARNER’S “FARM POND” LOOKS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE A QUARRY

Hey Lewisburg, if you live on Verona Caney Road and thought those thunderclaps rattling your windows were summer storms—sorry, that’s just Rep. Todd Warner auditioning for a new gig: Marshall County’s loudest demolition crew.

The State Rep. bought himself a 256-acre playground back in 2022. Said he wanted a “farm pond.” Cute, right? Except it’s reported that the “pond” now looks more like Tim’s Ford Lake, and instead of fishing, Warner’s been busy blasting limestone like it’s 4th of July at Dollywood.

Locals aren’t buying the duck-pond story. One neighbor circulated something that looked like a ransom note, but it was a flyer — calling it what it is: a quarry in disguise. And why wouldn’t they suspect that? Warner used to co-own a rock operation, owns a blasting and excavation company, and just so happens to have filed a permit application that reads less like “water feature” and more like “strip-mine.” But sure, Todd—tell us again how you just really, really like ponds.

Residents are furious. Nobody moved to the rolling backroads of Lewisburg just to swap quiet evenings for dump trucks, blasting caps, and a Zillow estimate that looks like a sheriff’s auction flyer. Warner swears it’s just a pond for irrigation. Sure—and I’m just doing a little yard work every time I yell “fire in the hole!” and watch the backyard disappear.

Neighbors say they see nothing but headaches ahead: cracked walls from blasting, home values sinking like rocks, and dump trucks turning Verona Caney’s backroads into a demolition derby. One flyer circulating in the community even warns that wells could run dry — and estimates it would cost about $5,500 to hook up to public water if that happens.

The showdown lands Sept. 30 at the Marshall County Courthouse. That’s when the Board of Zoning Appeals decides if Warner gets his quarry — or if his big idea gets buried faster than one of his campaign promises.

WW BOTTOM LINE:
Warner says “lake.” His neighbors say “quarry.” We just say he’s digging himself into a hole he can’t climb out of.

WCS: BUTTERFLIES, BULLYING, AND “WORTH IT” WORDS

The September Williamson County School Board meeting started with a shuffle of seats — Board Chairman Josh Brown once again got the gavel, Claire Reeves the vice chair — and then Superintendent Jason Golden had to play cleanup crew. His district is now home to the teacher scandal du jour: Franklin High’s Emily Orbison, suspended without pay after posting that Charlie Kirk’s murder was “worth it” and “rational.” Golden dutifully explained the process: suspend, investigate, compare to the code of ethics, hope it all wraps in two weeks. He even emailed staff a weekend sermon — “words matter, don’t hit send” — which would’ve landed better if everyone wasn’t already hitting send.

Only one parent stepped up to defend Orbison. Resident Emily Delikat called her a trusted teacher, insisted the post was taken out of context, and accused the boardroom itself of spreading it further. And that was that — then back to business.

Business, of course, being a parade of grievances. Parent, Brad Davis, returned to accuse Golden of ghosting him after his daughter was bullied and threatened. Golden, Davis claimed, shrugged it off as “federal law” and punted responsibility to Blackburn and Hagerty. Nine unanswered emails later, Davis told the board this was the only way to get their attention. His friend David Gibson backed him, politely suggesting maybe parents shouldn’t have to wage monthly hostage negotiations just to get a call back.

Then came the ideological whiplash: Concerned Mom, Brittany Ruiz, hammered Chromebooks for being too open, staff for wearing Franklin Pride shirts, and the district for letting DEI sneak through the vents. Then without irony, a Centennial High teacher, stood up and asked the board to actually lean into diversity — hire more teachers who look like the students they serve. That turned into a board digression about how demographics line up, with one member even musing about the Pacific Islander population in Williamson County.

For comic relief, gardener Steve Mydelski pitched hands-on classrooms outdoors, in gardens, reminding everyone that a caterpillar turning into a butterfly is still the best science lab around. He’s likely right, and to say he was passionate would be an understatement. After a night of parents accusing each other of grooming, indoctrinating, or ignoring children, his packet of butterfly charts felt like oxygen… also, it felt like we were all on mushrooms.

The rest was money and mechanics — boring budget stuff. But the real tells came in the board comments. Dan Cash fumed that eliminating student fees turned principals into fundraisers, sending endless donation emails to parents. Donna Clements cut sharper, saying teacher pay is stuck at 27th in the state — a number that makes Williamson County look rich in excuses but cheap with its staff.

WW BOTTOM LINE:
Golden says “words matter.” Parents say emails matter. Teachers say paychecks matter. And somewhere in the back, a gardener is begging the board to care about butterflies.

🚔 NOLENSVILLE PEE-TOK: SROs FORCED TO WATCH THE STREAM

Nolensville has discovered a new TikTok pastime: treating the entire town like one big restroom. Cars, sidewalks, whatever’s handy — because when you’re 16 and looking for clout, apparently the world is your urinal.

Williamson County deputies and SROs now have the worst assignment in Tennessee: binge-watching “distasteful and immature” pee videos for evidence. Forget CSI — this is CSI: Urine Trouble. Officials say the clips aren’t technically criminal, which is lawyer-speak for: yes, it’s gross, but no, we can’t charge you for having bad aim.

While college kids everywhere started their own urination outdoors challenge, Nolensville didn’t just copy it — they remixed it into ‘Pee Everywhere: And On Everything Edition.’ Off-target and definitely off-putting.

Sidewalks, playground equipment, car hoods: nothing’s sacred. They film it, post it, and clap for each other like it’s some bold act of civic defiance. Because there’s nothing more rebellious than turning your town into a splash zone.

Parents are outraged, naturally. Not just at the behavior, but at the legacy: their children’s 15 minutes of fame now reduced to “streaming live from the student parking lot.” (Apologies for the redundant “streaming” jokes, but this may never happen again).

WW BOTTOM LINE:
North America once dreamed of high-speed rail and space travel. Instead, we got teens turning the continent into a porta-potty. Forget viral — this one went straight down the drain.

🎅 “SANTA” TAKES HIS LAST SHIFT

Nashville’s most famous doublewide went dark this week. Elmer Denzel Irwin — better known to thousands simply as “Santa” — died over the weekend at 75, leaving behind a legacy of cheap beer, off-key karaoke, and the friendliest beard in town.

Santa’s Pub wasn’t just a bar; it was a destination. Opened in 2011 after Irwin retired from painting houses, the Bransford Avenue trailer became the place where rules were simple: cash only, beer only, and don’t you dare cuss on the mic. Break ‘em and Santa himself might’ve shown you the door.

The magic, of course, was Irwin. His long white beard and booming laugh gave the bar its name, but his refusal to treat a plumber any different than Ed Sheeran is what made it a legend. Kacey Musgraves called him “such a massive part of mine and my friends’ lives.” Jon Bon Jovi remembered the kindness behind the counter. Regulars just called it their “oasis,” a decompression chamber after the grind of Nashville’s music machine.

Santa’s Pub drew everyone from studio stars to suburban dwellers, all for a night of bad singing and cold beer under twinkling lights that never came down. It was — and still is — an antidote to the overpriced, overhyped Broadway strip.

Now the karaoke machine sits quiet, the lights still glow, and Nashville wonders if the “best dive bar in America” can go on without the man who built it.

WW BOTTOM LINE:
Santa has flown home to the North Pole — heaven just got new house rules: cash only and keep it clean.

FINAL FLUSH: BUILT ON DUMB, STILL RUNNING

Williamson Wrong — this page — started on a whim. Back when, we tossed out a few ridiculous posts, mostly to entertain ourselves, and figured maybe somebody else would laugh. A handful of you did. And that was enough to keep going.

At some point, we hit pause, then came back to it. Same tone, same foolishness. But somewhere though, the edges sharpened. Not because we chose to be “serious,” but because the stories demanded it. We started slipping useful info into the jokes — meeting times, agenda items, receipts — while still committing to the dumb stuff.

You came with us, whether you laughed or argued. Some of you sent us notes, some encouragement, some showed up in the DMs with juicy tips. And a few of you came just to fight in the comments — and that’s fine too. (Except you, Chuck — cool it with the F-bombs.) That mix of encouragement, pushback, and argument is what keeps this going.

And then came this week — brutal. The kind that makes you want to slam the laptop shut and walk away. We didn’t, because you didn’t. You kept talking, sending, arguing. That’s what keeps this alive.

Also — a milestone worth stopping on: this week we crossed 3,500 followers. We never thought we’d see a hundred, frankly. And most of that growth has come in just the last few months. It still feels a little wild that so many of you check in like you do.

So here’s the plain part: thank you. Thank you for reading, for sending tips, for arguing, for correcting, for just showing up. It doesn’t matter if you agree or not — if you’re here, you’re part of it.

Some weeks are light. Some are heavy. Either way, we’re not done. We’ll keep pulling threads from BOMA, County Commission, the school board, and anywhere else absurdity hides.

So consider this your fair warning: we’ll be back. We hope to make you laugh, make you roll your eyes… and yeah, we’ll probably make you mad again. That’s part of the deal. If Cothren can run a fake company and Warner can call a quarry a pond, then surely we can keep calling this nonsense journalism (it’s not).

So if you’re still here reading this — sincerely, you have our gratitude. But next week, bring your sense of humor. You’re gonna need it.

And there you go. We’ll see you next week.
Stay wrong, Williamson.

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