No Offense, Sean, But…
“Dear Sean, your column yesterday about embracing my inner child and childhood was inaccurate. I’m 67 with more life experience than you… And my childhood wasn’t idyllic like yours obviously was…
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
“Dear Sean, your column yesterday about embracing my inner child and childhood was inaccurate. I’m 67 with more life experience than you… And my childhood wasn’t idyllic like yours obviously was…
do you ever wonder why SOMEBODY hasn’t invented a device to do this or that? Chuck Klein has a few of those…”this or thats.”
As history has shown, the presidency of Dwight D. Eisenhower, which ran from 1953 to 1961, marked a pivotal era in American history. As the nation emerged from the darkness of World War II and faced the escalating challenges of the Cold War, Eisenhower’s policies reflected a prudent balance between progressive innovation and traditional values.
Dive deep into your brain and locate your mental elementary-school yearbook. Flip through the pages. Find that cute black-and-white photo of yourself with that gap-toothed smile and enormous ears.
“Dear Sean, yesterday’s column disappointed me. You cannot be a true believer and believe in ghosts at the same time. God simply doesn’t work that way.
Welcome to Virginia’s I-66 Express Lanes—America’s first state-sanctioned, algorithm-driven wallet vacuum. You thought price gouging was illegal? Ha! Not if you slap a “traffic congestion management” label on it and let a computer do the dirty work.
Gettysburg is a place of ghosts. That’s what they say. This town is known to historians and ghost hunters as the promised land for paranormal activity. There’s the phantom regiment, sometimes heard marching through the streets. There’s the specter of a little girl at the Tillie Pierce House, often heard playing in the other room, …
Bobby and I played music before a theater of people at the Vista Retirement Community in Wyckoff, New Jersey. The Vista is a giant cruise ship on land, minus the lifeboats, slot machines, and go-go dancers.
We arrived in New Jersey at 5:18 p.m. The first actual New Jerseyan I met was the lady gas-station cashier.
“Will this be oh-WALL?” she asked, ringing up my coffee.
“Ma’am?” I said.
Interstate 59 shot past our windows like a streak of pigeon excrement on a commercial airline windshield. We crossed into Tennessee, heading northward to New Jersey. The radio played Jerry Reed. And I was busy counting barns.
A former Hollywood big name thinks America is “Abby-Normal” right now. I beg to disagree.
Late morning. Bobby and I packed the car for the Great American Road Trip. I tossed my fiddle into the backseat. Bobby placed his banjo in the trunk. I ate my third Larabar.
Humanoid robots. Automated cars. Augmented reality smart-glasses. Smart dishwashers. Robotic surgeons. And what about the weird AI images all over my newsfeed? Where are these freaky AI pictures coming from?
George Caylor and Diane L. Gruber discuss the importance of family farms and how Oregon is outlawing them. Diane also discusses the problem of honor killings by Muslims living in Western nations.
You don’t expect to feel history crunching under your boots when you’re dragging a tree stand into the woods. But at places like Fort Knox and Fort A.P. Hill, that’s exactly what you get—world-class hunting grounds layered over old farmsteads, lost churches, and more than a few hard truths about eminent domain.
She shall remain anonymous. Because that’s how she wants it. She doesn’t want attention. She waits tables for a living. She’s on her feet for long hours. And when she’s finished, she goes home and takes care of three kids.
America’s Founders established the United States on rock-solid principles, positioning our country as the world’s strongest and most prosperous bastion of freedom and liberty.
I miss the newspaper. Before the internet. I’m talking physical newspapers. The kind you unfold. I miss the morning routine of it all. Walk to the end of the driveway, barefoot, pre-sunrise. Messy hair. Morning breath. Unsheath the newsprint from its plastic. Soy-based ink on your fingers. That low-grade, wood-pulpy newsprint smell. Also, I miss …
The great philosopher Yogi Bearra said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Indeed, so. This August 2025, I’m keenly aware of big forks in the road of life and history.
The email came yesterday.
“Dear Sean, I am an atheist, I do not believe in God… Your God cannot be omnipotent and concomitantly allow evil, you can’t have it both ways… Remember the recent floods in Texas, where was your God then?