The Forgotten Virtue: How Our Culture is Crumbling Without Forgiveness
In a world that prizes outrage, thrives on callouts, and worships moral high ground, one ancient virtue has quietly vanished from public life: forgiveness.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
In a world that prizes outrage, thrives on callouts, and worships moral high ground, one ancient virtue has quietly vanished from public life: forgiveness.
Across time and culture, human beings have told stories to explain life—stories about brave heroes, dying kings, magical cups, and mysterious journeys that lead to transformation.
Life is chaos. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. At its core, existence is one long, tangled mess of disorder, uncertainty, and entropy. From the spinning galaxies to the storms on Earth to the mess in your kitchen—chaos is the natural state of things.
For centuries, one mysterious piece of cloth has captivated believers, skeptics, scientists, and historians alike: the Shroud of Turin.
Imagine you’re at a family barbecue, flipping burgers, when your conspiracy-loving uncle asks, “So, do you think quantum mechanics proves time travel is real?” This is your moment. You sip your drink, smirk knowingly, and say, “Well, that depends on whether you believe the universe plays dice or bends like a yoga instructor.”
War is hell, but post-war peacekeeping? Now that’s a business opportunity. As Ukraine inches toward an eventual ceasefire, one thing is crystal clear: the U.S. and NATO will be writing blank checks to maintain “stability” for years—maybe even decades.
Congressional inaction on the languishing No Tax On Tips Act, is not just bureaucratic inertia; it’s a direct financial hit to millions of hardworking Americans in the service industry.
For years, Americans who dared to question the official COVID-19 narrative were mocked, censored, and labeled conspiracy theorists.
As the war in Ukraine continues, speculation grows about what a post-war security landscape might look like, particularly if a ceasefire is reached. One of the most likely scenarios involves a NATO-led peacekeeping mission
Poets and propagandists have long clung to the ancient Latin phrase: “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”—“It is sweet and proper to die for one’s country.” But by the time the industrial slaughterhouses of World War I had chewed through millions of lives, that “old lie,” as poet Wilfred Owen called it, rang hollow.
In an increasingly volatile world, the question isn’t just “Should the United States go to war?” but “When is war justified in service of our vital national interests?”
The year 1934 marked a critical turning point in American history, where the federal government, under the guise of responding to the Great Depression, seized unprecedented control over individual rights, private wealth, and industry.
Tribalism in the U.S. has intensified as politics has become more about identity and loyalty than policy debate. Instead of viewing political beliefs as a spectrum, Americans increasingly see them as binary choices—either you’re “with us” or “against us.”
The motif of the dragon slayer is a recurring theme throughout mythology, The Bible presents Jesus Christ as the true and ultimate dragon slayer, fulfilling this archetype from Genesis to Revelation.
In 1943, in the midst of a world war and at the dawn of a technological era, C.S. Lewis published a slender but thunderous work titled The Abolition of Man. At the time, it was a philosophical defense of objective values against creeping relativism. Today, it reads like prophecy.
In the aftermath of the recent ice storm that hammered northern Michigan, we saw a familiar pattern unfold: widespread power outages, flooded basements, disabled heating systems—and a rapid outcry for government aid.
Once upon a time in the magical land of Shareholder Value, a pharmaceutical giant named Merck gazed deep into the void of human suffering and asked the question all noble drugmakers must ask: “How can we make arthritis treatment more profitable than oil?”
At West Point, the motto is clear: Duty, Honor, Country. These are not just words; they represent a code of conduct, a commitment to truth, and a foundation for leadership.
Once upon a time, in the blissful simplicity of Eden, God gave Adam a straightforward task: name the animals. And Adam, being a practical man (and let’s be honest, not yet bogged down by bureaucracy), did exactly that
Take a rifle, slap on a bipod and a scope big enough to see into next Tuesday, and suddenly it’s not a hunting rifle anymore. No sir, now it’s a “sniper rifle.”