Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
David Manney 
Over 200 human traffickers were arrested this month. Not suspects. Not persons of interest. Arrested. Charged. Booked.
Most Americans didn’t hear about it. Fewer still seemed to care.
On May 7, 133 cardinals filed into the Sistine Chapel and sealed themselves from the world in a centuries-old ritual. The white smoke will rise when the next pope is chosen, but Catholics shouldn’t be watching for continuity this time. They should pray for correction.
There’s a fine line between serving justice and sabotaging it. And lately, more than a few American judges seem determined to stomp across that line with both feet and a gavel in hand.
I remember a story. Maybe you do, too, about a time not long ago when a scraped knee wasn’t a lawsuit. It was a lesson. It wasn’t unusual for kids to fall off a slide onto concrete, cry a bit, dust off, and then climb right back up again. That’s how you learn balance, judgment, and nerve.
Imagine a nation burning while its citizens roast marshmallows over the flames, phones in hand, giggling at what a Kardashian had for lunch. That’s America in 2025—Rome with better Wi-Fi and worse priorities.
The Chinese counterfeit market has become a silent juggernaut. Bearings, capacitors, PPE, and structural steel industries across the U.S. are flooded with subpar, sometimes dangerous knock-offs.
The quirks of English often become fodder for humor. Jokes about spelling “gnome” with a silent ‘g’ as in “knife” play on the absurdities of silent letters.
It was 2018 when Christine Blasey Ford became the nation’s most televised accuser. With no corroborating evidence and no specific date of the alleged incident, Ford’s testimony against Brett Kavanaugh brought the Supreme Court nomination to a grinding halt.
They do not die in shootouts, in car chases, or at the hands of violent criminals. They die alone, often in silence, by their own hand. And they do so at an alarming and increasing rate.
They blow up marathons, execute political opponents, and leave families ruined in their wake. Yet somehow, society finds itself hypnotized by their faces. We make them into icons. We print their likeness on posters, frame them in soft lighting, and argue that they’re more than just what they did.
At what point did we decide that the hardworking shoulders carrying this country should be kicked instead of thanked?
For years, I’ve lived with pain that doesn’t sleep. It settles in my spine, joints, and muscles, relentless and merciless.
Bigfoot—North America’s most elusive legend—walks a strange tightrope between folklore and fringe science.
“Game Called.”
Those words, penned by Grantland Rice in 1910, were originally solemn—a farewell, a benediction for the ballplayer stepping beyond this life’s final basepath.
In the quiet town of Tavistock, Ontario, a craftsman named Eckhardt Wettlaufer sought to create a special gift for his son’s fifth birthday. Drawing upon his woodwork skills, he crafted a circular wooden board with a central hole, surrounded by concentric scoring rings and small pegs acting as obstacles. This was in 1876, and little …
There’s something rotten about watching someone like Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) continue to bask in media attention, unscathed by scandal or shame, while the rest of us bust our backs to survive in an economy still bearing the scars of former President Joe Biden’s wrecking ball policies
A society’s commitment to justice is measured by how it responds to its gravest offenses. When the most abhorrent crimes occur—acts so vile they shatter the very fabric of humanity—justice must be swift and certain.
Every morning starts the same way. I wake up, and my first thought isn’t, “Okay, another day!” No, it’s more like, “… damn it, I woke up.”
Two American astronauts are stranded in space. Decades ago, this would have been a defining national moment that glued Americans to their televisions, gripped the media, and stirred an overwhelming demand for action. Instead, today’s response has been mostly muted. There has been no widespread panic, calls for immediate solutions, or presidential speech rallying the nation.
There was a time in America when disagreement wasn’t synonymous with destruction. Politicians argued policy by day and shared stories over dinner by night. But something has changed. Today, disagreement isn’t a point of discussion; it’s an invitation for personal ruin.