Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
America once produced men who wouldn’t leave the house without a sword hanging from their belt. Washington carried one. Patton designed one. West Point cadets still have them. Yet today, strap on a saber for a trip to Home Depot and suddenly you’re the weird guy. Maybe it’s time to bring back the original open carry. Swords are arms. Shall not be infringed. Support the right. Respect the right. Carry a sword.
Christians are frequently reminded that Romans 13 tells us to obey governing authorities. Fair enough. But what happens when government reverses its God-given assignment—punishing good, protecting evil, or commanding Christians to violate their conscience? Scripture actually answers that question, and the answer is considerably less comfortable than “just obey.”
Perhaps we’ve been looking at America’s beef crisis all wrong. Beef is expensive. The cattle herd is historically small. Drought hammered ranchers. Feed got expensive. Equipment got expensive. Interest got expensive. Land got expensive. Mexican cattle imports were disrupted because a flesh-eating parasite decided to make a comeback. Obviously, the solution is simple. Eat bugs. …
MY FATHER’S FATHER LIVED AND DIED IN THIS, OUR BLESSED LAND HE TOOK HIS CHANCES, MADE HIS WAY, WAS THERE TO LEND A HAND HE OWNED HIS HOME, SPOKE HIS MIND LET CHIPS FALL WHERE THEY MAY HE WORKED ALL DAY, SLEPT WELL AT NIGHT WITH LITTLE TIME FOR PLAY HE DEALT WITH …
Romans 13 and Revelation 13 aren’t enemies. They’re bookends. One describes government as God intended it to be: rewarding good and restraining evil. The other warns what happens when government abandons that mission and begins demanding loyalty that belongs to God alone. History is filled with examples of Romans 13 being used to justify kings, slavery, and authoritarian regimes, while Scripture repeatedly reminds believers that their highest allegiance is not to a political party, a flag, or a nation. Christians are called to be good citizens, but faithful disciples. God first. Everything else second.
What happens when a nation begins to lose faith in its own elections, institutions, and leaders? History suggests that political polarization can quickly become tribalism, and tribalism can consume a republic from within. But Christians have walked this road before. The Bible never calls believers to place their ultimate hope in governments, political parties, or personalities. Instead, it teaches an ordered loyalty: love your country, serve your neighbors, pray for your leaders—but worship God alone. When the world grows chaotic, the Church should become the calmest place in it, remembering that while kingdoms rise and fall, the Kingdom of God has never required a recount.
In 1763, Fort Michilimackinac fell without an artillery barrage, a breached wall, or a prolonged siege. The Ojibwe used something far more effective: deception, surprise, a lacrosse game—and a British commander who ignored warnings that an attack was coming. What followed was one of the most audacious actions in Michigan history, preserved for us through the eyewitness account of a fur trader who somehow survived it.
Colonel Townsend Whelen spent a lifetime proving that only accurate rifles are interesting. But imagine handing him an iPhone and asking ChatGPT for a 6.5 Creedmoor load. After staring at it for thirty seconds, he’d probably ask, “What the hell is Wi-Fi?” Then he’d type, “Best accuracy load. 140 Berger. H4350. Go.” After 41 years behind a rifle, I did exactly that—and one of the best first-round load developments of my career popped out. Luck? Maybe. Or maybe AI just read a hundred years of load manuals, match reports, and internet arguments in about half a second. Either way, it didn’t pull the trigger. It just saved a little barrel life. And these days, that’s worth its weight in powder.
Most Americans learned about the Atlantic slave trade—and rightly so—but human slavery has a much longer, darker, and considerably less convenient history. Across centuries, African captives were transported through vast Middle Eastern and Islamic slave networks, and most males were even castrated and sold as eunuchs. It’s a chapter that complicates the tidy heroes-and-villains version of history. Slavery wasn’t the invention of one race, religion, or civilization. It was a human disease—and if we’re going to learn from history, we should have the courage to teach the whole ugly story.
Brenda’s Barbecue Pit is about the size of a walk-in closet, only smaller. The nano-building stands on Mobile Road near Washington Park in Montgomery. It’s a working class neighborhood. They do take-out only.
No credit cards.
America has always had criminals. What’s new is the fan club. From cheering an accused CEO killer to rallying around a mother who killed her three children, we’re watching sympathy, grievance, and tribal identity compete with basic moral judgment. When the first question becomes “Whose side am I on?” instead of “What is right and what is wrong?” a nation has a serious problem. Isaiah warned about calling evil good and good evil. Maybe our moral compass isn’t merely drifting anymore. Maybe it’s broken.
Twenty-five years later, America doesn’t need another cover-up—it needs confidence. That confidence doesn’t come from telling people to stop asking questions. It comes from following the evidence wherever it leads. Maybe a new investigation changes nothing. Maybe it confirms everything. Or maybe retired officials, newly released records, and witnesses with nothing left to lose finally fill in the missing pieces. We may not like every answer we find, but if America is ever going to heal and move forward together, it starts with knowing the truth.
Imagine spending your entire life being told your country is the greatest civilization on Earth… then someone hands you a Wi-Fi password. According to a widely circulated—but unverified—report, North Korean troops may have discovered unrestricted internet access and promptly demonstrated why every dictatorship fears broadband more than bombs. Tanks can level buildings. The internet levels narratives. Somewhere, a political commissar is still trying to explain why the greatest threat to operational readiness wasn’t enemy artillery—it was the guest Wi-Fi passsord to PornHub.
So the idea was: After eight weeks of rigorous marriage training, couples would receive an official certificate, trimmed in gold, with their names on it. And this certificate would prove to the world, without a doubt, that couples were spiritually, and emotionally prepared to take the multiple choice exam in the back of the book.
Buc-ee’s convenience store sits outside Athens, Alabama, like a giant squatting beaver.
This Texas-based gas station place is not a mere gas station. Buc-ee’s is a dwarf planet. You’re looking at Six Flags Over Circle K.
Theodore Roosevelt believed America was stronger when ordinary citizens knew how to shoot. For nearly a century, the federal government agreed—supporting the DCM, the National Matches, and even helping selected junior riflemen travel to Camp Perry to represent their states. Then came the 1990s, when Washington decided a program designed to create disciplined American marksmen was something that needed to be “terminated.” They killed the old DCM, but they failed to kill American marksmanship. The CMP survived—and the riflemen kept shooting.
It was our place. That’s what it was. I grew up in a little fishing village, nestled in the Florida Panhandle.
This was long before the tattoo parlors, before the T-shirt shops, before Whole Foods and Bass Pro.
The collapse of a republic rarely begins with tanks in the streets or dramatic constitutional crises. More often, it begins with a far quieter question: Can we trust our elections? Once citizens lose confidence in the process that grants political authority, every institution built upon that authority begins to crack. Courts become suspect, laws become negotiable, and political opponents become enemies. A nation can survive bitter policy disagreements. It cannot survive indefinitely if its citizens no longer believe their government derives its authority from legitimate elections.
Horrified that communism has been embraced by so many voters, we don’t know what to do, other than to remind people that “Communism Doesn’t Work.” We’re wrong.
The horse didn’t disappear when the automobile arrived. It simply stopped being essential. Artificial intelligence may be forcing the legal profession into a similar reckoning. When a $20 monthly subscription can research case law, organize evidence, draft motions, and explain legal procedure, the age of the billable hour may finally be facing its greatest challenge. Somewhere, an attorney is still billing in six-minute increments while AI has already finished the paperwork.