A Birmingham Angel
Birmingham. I met the old woman for coffee. She was small and slight, with a mane of white. She spoke with a thick Latin accent.
“I have a story for you,” she said.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
Birmingham. I met the old woman for coffee. She was small and slight, with a mane of white. She spoke with a thick Latin accent.
“I have a story for you,” she said.
What if the greatest battlefield of the 21st century isn’t a nation, a border, or a data center—but the human mind itself?
Every one of us runs on programming: beliefs, identity, experiences, fears, and loyalties that shape how we see the world. Today, those operating systems are colliding. Social media, political tribes, and algorithm-driven outrage have turned neighbors into enemies and disagreement into warfare. The question is no longer whether we’re being programmed. The question is who is writing the code—and whether we’re still capable of distinguishing truth from manipulation.
In an age of constant outrage, perhaps the most radical act is to pursue truth, beauty, and love over tribal loyalty.
Don Surber takes us through another week of the summer doldrums of news cycles. He’ll make you laugh, think and understand the media better than the institution knows itself. Enjoy!
Bryan was walking the Arkansas highway shoulder with only the moon to guide him. Backpack slung over his shoulder. Blisteringly cold.
Newspapers have a smell. If you’re lucky enough to find a physical newspaper in our digital world, you’ll notice the smell first. Fresh newsprint paper. SoySeal ink. Still warm. It’s a unique scent.
America’s next great divide may not be red versus blue. It may be the people who benefit from artificial intelligence versus the people forced to host its infrastructure. Across rural America, communities are being asked to accept massive data centers, increased power demands, and growing water consumption in the name of national security and the AI race with China. Meanwhile, the economic benefits often flow elsewhere. As politicians, tech companies, and investors promise prosperity and strategic advantage, local residents are left asking a simple question: who gets the rewards, and who carries the burden? The emerging battle over data centers is about far more than technology—it’s about trust, fairness, and whether rural America is a partner in the future or merely the place where the future gets built.
She works hard. Too hard. And when she’s not cooking in the kitchen of the medical rehab, delivering trays to patients, she’s a full-time single mother.
The emailer was irate. “When are you finally going to address the lies being told RIGHT NOW to the American people?” the emailer wrote. “You are A COWARD!”
Sean Dietrich answers reader questions as only he can, with wit, wisdom and whimsey.
The Potomac River’s designation as America’s most endangered river isn’t really a story about one river. It’s a warning about an entire civilization rushing headlong into a technological revolution without fully understanding the consequences. More than 300 data centers already operate within the Potomac watershed, with hundreds more proposed to support the explosive growth of artificial intelligence and cloud computing. The same digital infrastructure powering our modern lives is quietly consuming vast amounts of electricity and billions of gallons of water. The cloud was never weightless. It was always connected to power plants, cooling towers, transmission lines, and rivers. The question isn’t whether technology will continue advancing. The question is whether we’ll recognize the second and third-order consequences before they become tomorrow’s crisis.
Someone emailed me and said I was an idiot. Which is true, but not for the reasons they cited.
Mom was middle-aged. Maybe early fifties. Her daughter was maybe 18. You could tell it was her daughter because of the way she kept rolling her eyes whenever the middle-aged woman opened her mouth.
December 6, 1944. Somewhere in Germany. Colonel Leander L. Doan sat down and wrote a letter home. He spoke casually of fighting Panzer Lehr and the Adolf Hitler SS Panzer Division, being wounded, surrounded for 36 hours, and watching the men beside him die. Yet there was no bravado, only the quiet matter-of-fact tone of a combat commander doing his duty. What makes the letter extraordinary is that it was written just ten days before the Battle of the Bulge erupted. Doan had survived Normandy, the breakout across France, and the Siegfried Line, but neither he nor his family knew that some of the war’s hardest fighting still lay ahead. Preserved for more than eighty years, this remarkable letter offers a rare glimpse into the mind of a future Major General standing between two of the most consequential campaigns of World War II.
I’m on a plane awaiting takeoff. My carry-on bag is above me in the compartment. A compartment which, according to FAA regulations, is slightly too small for everyone’s carry-on bags.
A new Department of Labor report on men found that the American labor force is missing about 7 million men who would otherwise be working. This means close to one-third of all men of working age are not included in the labor force.
As an older student, most professors were part of my peer group. Many teachers had attended the same wild high-school parties I did. Most of which I can’t remember. But there was one teacher who was different.
Rapper Vanilla Ice passionately explains why he will perform at the ‘Freedom 250’ concert in Washington D.C., despite other artists withdrawing on ‘The Story.’
Most people spend their lives dreaming about freedom while signing another payment, another contract, another obligation. Then along comes Captain Steve and the Neverlanding—a homemade houseboat built from lumber, blue barrels, grit, and a stubborn refusal to accept that life must be lived according to someone else’s blueprint. Drifting across the Great Lakes with his dog and a floating front porch, Steve accidentally became a symbol of something modern society desperately misses: adventure, self-reliance, and the courage to untie the dock lines. The Neverlanding isn’t just a boat—it’s a reminder that sometimes the richest life isn’t found in what you own, but in what you’re willing to leave behind.
The five-pointed star was a symbol of harmony, divine order, and protection for thousands of years before Hollywood and occult writers gave it a darker reputation. The Greeks saw mathematical perfection in its lines, Christians saw the wounds of Christ, and the American founders saw a “new constellation” representing a republic of united states. The geometry never changed. The story did. And when the U.S. Army painted a white star on tanks and aircraft, it was not invoking ancient magic—it was carrying forward one of humanity’s oldest and most enduring symbols of order, purpose, and identity.
America still pretends elections are grassroots democracy while billionaires, super PACs, media empires, and donor networks quietly write the script behind the curtain. The takedown of Thomas Massie exposed the modern system in full view: loyalty to the political machine now matters more than principles, and dissent against foreign policy orthodoxy or party leadership triggers a flood of money, propaganda, and coordinated political punishment. Meanwhile, millions of cable-news-addicted voters rage on command over carefully curated culture-war distractions while the oligarch class tightens its grip on both parties, the media, and the national narrative.