Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
When you walk the sidewalks of Fairhope, Alabama, it’s the trees that impress you most. It’s not the upscale homes, nor the Mayberry-like storefronts, which all give you the impression that you have fallen into a Rockwellian planned urban development. No. It’s the live oaks.
You probably missed this information, but loneliness was recently listed as an epidemic by the US Surgeon General and the World Health Network. That’s how big of a deal this is.
I am staunchly pro-life, yet I chose to end the life of our beloved dog. I found myself nagged by the question: Was I doing the right thing?
My darling bride — of 46 years, 4 months, and 13 days — and I recently returned from our two week vacation in Greece, and we saw many amazing and beautiful places.
She was 94. She came through the meet-and-greet line after my one-man shipwreck. She waited her turn patiently, while I ran my mouth, signed books, and kissed babies.
We love to brag that the Constitution keeps us free from a national religion. But America does have a religion. And many in this country practice it. It’s not Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or Buddhism. It’s Satanism.
We did not choose Otis. We let our oldest dog, Thelma Lou pick him out. She was just a puppy. We felt strongly that Thelma deserved to choose her own brother since, after all, she would be the one stuck sniffing his butt for the next 12 years.
For decades, we’ve been told that masculinity is a problem to be solved, a threat to be managed, or a relic of the past to be discarded. But when you step back and look at the research—it paints a different picture.
This story was told to me. And now I am telling it to you. The young man was boarding a plane. He was pierced with all manner of shiny rings, covered in a quiltwork of tattoos. His hair was long. He wore black leather. Lots of zippers. He looked like an outsider. And he went to a lot of trouble to look that way.
My wife and I are eating at a Chinese restaurant. We’ve been driving for hours through South Carolina. We pulled over to refuel and address pressing bladder issues. And we found this place.
My mother always told me to smile. Especially when I didn’t want to. She often told me to smile when I was sad, when trying on school clothes, or whenever I was forced to eat beef liver at gunpoint.
A small town. The kind of beautiful American hamlet where all that’s missing is the Norman Rockwell signature. There was a party happening on Main Street. Lots of people.
I love marshmallows. I love Basset hounds. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass. I love sunlight. And I love the way a baby feels in your arms, all squishy and warm.
Everyone wants a neat, clean solution to mass shootings. But here’s the uncomfortably simple truth nobody wants to say out loud: the real problem isn’t hardware—it’s heartware.
Taking a page out the Blue States’ sanctuaries for criminal illegal aliens, this movement, beginning with Wascom, Texas, in 2019, has gained steam over the past several years, spreading to Ohio, Illinois, New Mexico, Nebraska, Iowa, and Louisiana.
Helicopter moms? Bulldozer moms? Please. Douglas MacArthur had the original stealth bomber mom. While most West Point cadets sweated through inspections and hazing with nothing but their wits, MacArthur had his mother, Mary “Pinky” Hardy, living full-time at the Thayer Hotel, overlooking the Academy grounds.
Two fundamentalist Muslim migrants from Iraq were on trial in Olympia, WA, the state’s capitol, over a horrific attack on their teen daughter. The jury in this Deep Blue county acquitted them on Attempted Murder charges despite the fact that her father had her in a choke hold when her boyfriend saved her.
She was 10 years old. She got kicked in the leg, during P.E. class. No big deal. Happens all the time. But her leg started doing weird things. Something was definitely wrong. “My leg started swelling, almost the size of a baseball,” she remembers.
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.
Throughout history, every new form of communication technology has initially been seen as a tool for good—an avenue to connect people, share ideas, and promote progress. But as soon as these technologies fall into human hands, they quickly become corrupted by the darker side of human nature.