A Few Observations on the Violent Protests in Los Angeles
Don’t let the legacy media scam you by calling the Los Angeles immigration riots “mostly peaceful.” They are not. They are mostly violent and exceedingly destructive.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
Don’t let the legacy media scam you by calling the Los Angeles immigration riots “mostly peaceful.” They are not. They are mostly violent and exceedingly destructive.
Sean receives lots of reader commentary. Often he responds to them in his uniquely pithy, yet humorous way.
Simply close your eyes and think of your favorite thing in the whole world besides queso dip. Okay. Got it? Now you’re going to have to open your eyes again because these paragraphs aren’t going to read themselves.
The Dothan Opera House is an old building, constructed during World War I. Everyone has performed here. Willie Nelson, the Statler Brothers, Conway Twitty, Bob Dylan.
I come from a long line of porch sitters. This is why I am always on my porch. In my neighborhood, I am affectionately known as “that weirdo freak who’s always on his porch.” This is usually said in a positive way.
The fish on the label looked like one I once tried to catch on the Two-Hearted River. I never caught it. I wrote about not catching it. They gave me a Pulitzer for that. Now it’s on a can. Fitting.
“Dear Sean,” the email began. “I teach vacation Bible school… Last year we had three Latino children whose parents are undocumented immigrants… “Church leadership felt it best not to allow these children to attend VBS this year. It broke my heart, the kids don’t understand, I’m really struggling with this decision. What should I do?” …
Whenever I am feeling sad and blue, I visit my living room coffee table. There, I consult a book that sits on my coffee table. I open this book and almost always feel better.
Without a motive to endeavor, be it profit, glory, or other recognition, society will stagnate. Then collapse.
Waffle House. My waitress has a bunch of tattoos. The women customers in the booth behind mine are talking about it in voices loud enough to alter the migratory patterns of waterfowl.
Frankly I don’t know anything about the business of writing. And I’ll let you in on a secret, neither do the publishers, editors, marketing teams, or prof reeders. This is why the publishing industry has perhaps the highest turnover rate among employees except for, perhaps, the mafia.
Everything really is bigger in Texas. The sky. The hamburgers. And of course, the oversized tourist cowboy hats found in gas stations.
The White House says the purpose of the parade isn’t just to celebrate Flag Day and Trump’s birthday but also to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army, which falls on the same day.
I’ve been writing professionally for upwards of a decade. And suddenly, I don’t know why I’m doing it. What’s wrong with me?
In a world where convenience and comfort are often just a tap away, it’s easy to forget the unimaginable hardships that shaped the lives of our ancestors. They lived through times when sacrifice wasn’t optional—it was expected.
The voice is telling you to spend more time playing; less time working. More time praying, less time worrying. More time being silly; less time being a grown-up. “Have fun with your life,” the voice keeps saying, “while you still can.”
The first big difference I noticed in America was that we move very fast. Everything we do is fast. We want our food fast. We want our news fast. We drive fast. We pump gas fast. We stand before a microwave and shout, “HURRY UP!!!!”
I am in the lobby of my hotel, waking up. The coffee is lukewarm. The breakfast is freezer burnt. And the overhead music playing is “Highway to Hell.” You can’t get away from canned music. It’s everywhere.
Liberals are getting more unhinged as time progresses. Now they can’t allow America to commemorate the founding of our Army.
On May 3, 2025, Sovereignty, a 3-year-old colt, surged past the odds-on favorite, Journalism, to claim the Run for the Roses by 1 1/2 lengths at Churchill Downs. For Trump supporters, this wasn’t just a horse race—it was a providential sign.