Have Banjo, Will Travel
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.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
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.
Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Even though this name has been so misused, misapplied, and misappropriated throughout history.
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?
Yavapai County, Arizona, is a lot of dirt, rocks, and heat. I spent a few weeks outside Prescott once. The heat index was 140. It was so hot the Prescott Daily Courier reported that local chickens were laying omelettes.
She never fired a shot at Camp Perry, but her fingerprints are on a thousand targets. She never wore a medal, but she helped hang hundreds around the necks of others. In every generation of American rifle shooting, there are traces of Mary Kay Wigger—the quiet force who kept the team on time, in line, and always believing they could win.
Most of us are aware of the kind of anti-Trump propaganda the legacy media loves to disgorge. It’s easy to spot and just as easy to refute. What’s not so easy is when the media ignore stories or events that may reflect positively on Donald Trump, Republicans, conservatives, or anybody else who refuses to buy into their leftist woke dogma.
The news reporter said the dog was from Rustburg, Virginia. The dog is named Sweet Sienna. She has become a celebrity in this state. It all happened a few days ago in Campbell County.
Seldovia, Alaska, sits somewhere near the top of the world. It’s a nanoscopic village on the North Pacific. Population 225. Tons of fishing boats. A lot of cold, icy, Kachemak Bay water. A few days ago, a local spotted something huge stranded on the beach. It was a minke whale. About the same length as a mid-size Toyota.
I want to tell you a story. In February of 1979, a 7-year-old named Chris Grecius, of Scottsdale, Arizona, found out he had leukemia. It was the end of the world. No, it was worse than that. It felt like the end of a family.
It was the third time my flight had been delayed on the same day. I was alone. I had been trapped inside the Fayetteville airport since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution.
My plane hovered over Fayetteville, Arkansas, preparing for landing. The elderly lady in the seat next to me was gripping the armrest. She had been using aggressive armrest etiquette throughout our flight.
I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, I read every email, letter and message I receive. Many of these messages are questions. So I’ve compiled the most common questions in a letter
She was a youngish mother. Her son was maybe 10. They had the whole playground to themselves. She wheeled his chair along the rubbery mat, and they were playing make-believe.