Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
In case you haven’t noticed, we have a communist revolution on our hands. It began in earnest in 1962 when our Supreme Court decided that Judeo-Christian values were to be excluded from our public schools. It initiated a profound shift in American education that opened the door to insidious indoctrination that has permeated our society.
Phase 2 of a color revolution is the “streets on fire” phase. It looks organic. It feels spontaneous. It’s loud, chaotic, righteous, and emotionally intoxicating. This is where the dogs flood the streets. Students, activists, professional grievance collectors, and social-media revolutionaries with ring lights and Venmo links all sprint after the same thing: meaning.
The real problem in our court system is a rot that has its origins over 100 years ago.
The facts were never complicated: an armed civilian inserted himself into a volatile confrontation with federal agents during an active operation. That’s not a courtroom debate. That’s a high-adrenaline environment where every decision carries lethal stakes. Rights don’t suspend physics. They don’t freeze human reaction time. They don’t override use-of-force laws that have existed for decades. You can be legally armed and still behave recklessly enough to trigger a fatal chain of events.
Concrete mushrooms were everywhere.
They sat in fields, along roads, on hillsides, near villages, even edging farmland—small, dome-shaped bunkers of reinforced concrete, half-buried and impossible to ignore. At first, they looked defensive. After a while, they felt like something else entirely: fear made permanent.
Our friend Jane went into the voting booth and chose politicians who promote civil disorder, without considering what the reality would look like. I’m sure having her nose rubbed in a putrid mess of her own making, only adds to her rage.
History has a sense of humor, and it’s rarely kind. As the United States barrels headlong into a Fourth Turning crisis—complete with generational rage, institutional distrust, ritualized protest, economic anxiety, and ideological self-harm—China isn’t protesting anything. It’s watching. Quietly. Patiently. With a spreadsheet.
It is now a half century since Governor Jimmy Carter took the Democratic primaries by storm in the spring of 1976, winning the Democratic presidential nomination away from much smarter, much more talented candidates
Minneapolis isn’t “going through a moment.” Minneapolis is running a script.
And not the kind of script where everybody just hugs it out at the end and the credits roll over a lake with a canoe and a golden retriever. This is the other kind—the kind you used to see overseas, the kind cable news used to narrate like a nature documentary: Observe the fascinating uprising in its natural habitat. Note the coordinated chants. The symbolic signage. The sudden appearance of professionally printed banners that definitely came from someone’s garage printer.
There’s a certain kind of battlefield respect that doesn’t need a movie trailer, a podcast, or a camouflage beard oil sponsor. It’s quiet. It’s ancient. It’s earned. And it belongs to the rifle marksman—the one who can hit what needs to be hit, when it needs to be hit, without turning the entire valley into a fireworks show.
There she is again. The Purple-Haired Warrior Activist. Posted up in the wild like a brightly colored poison dart frog—small, loud, highly visible, and absolutely convinced she’s saving the planet by screaming at strangers in public while someone films it for Instagram. You’ve seen her. Big glasses. Septum ring. Hair the color of a microwaved …
As the Left screams louder and louder that the taxpayers have no right to run our own federal agencies, all it does is embolden the rest of us to respond, “Oh, Yes We Do.”
Historians, political scientists, and philosophers alike often look at revolutions and ask the question “Was it a simple coup d’etat, or a real popular revolution? And if a real popular revolution, just how ‘popular’ was it, really?”
As the global hegemon, we don’t merely influence outcomes. We decide who is fit to lead. We anoint. We delegitimize. We sanction. We isolate. And when necessary, we remove. On that front, our record is impeccable. Few nations in history have been better at leader removal than the United States. Regime change—overt or discreet—is something we understand down to the checklist.
As I look around at the end of 2025 and beginning of 2026, I gotta say I’m enjoying a lot. Of course the fact El Presidente de life Maduro is currently in federal prison awaiting trial for multiple charges is pleasing.
John Adams didn’t write the Constitution like a motivational poster. He wrote it like an engineer handing over a machine with a warning label: this will fail if misused. When he said, “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other,” he wasn’t sermonizing. He was stating a design limitation.
One of the classic parables, dating back hundreds of years (maybe even thousands?) concerns the story of a messenger, sent with instructions for the commander at a battlefield.
t is said that, when George III learned that General Washington planned to return to farming rather than take a crown, as any European general would presumably do, the defeated king said “If he does that, then he will be the greatest man in the world.”
We may finally be ridding ourselves of one of the greatest RINOs in the Senate. John Cornyn will not be missed.
Every few years, America picks up some shiny new bad idea, polishes it with jargon, markets it with hashtags, and forces the rest of us to pretend it’s brilliant. Today, the reigning champion of American intellectual embarrassment is something called Critical Theory