Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
In our postmodern culture, where individuality and self-expression reign supreme, history has become a neglected casualty. Take, for instance, the skyrocketing popularity of tattoos and piercings.
In the year 2050, in the glorious gray sprawl of the United Socialist States of America, meat was illegal, cows were extinct (except for the one in the Smithsonian), and the only thing anyone had ever eaten was Bugpaste™
Rocks. In. My. Garden. Those demon-possessed geological freeloaders are multiplying faster than a college feminist studies major’s pronouns.
News about Hunter Biden triggered a Saturday morning domestic debate in the Green household: Who was the most unfit person giving Gropey Joe policy advice – the First Stoner Son, or our first DEI VP?
Now that he isn’t passing maximum sentences on January 6 selfie photographers any longer, Obama Judge Jeb Boasberg has some spare time on his hands. Rather than take his wife Elizabeth (who may actually be a woman) on an ocean cruise, he decided to dabble in Article II of the Constitution – the part where the President is charged with enforcing laws … such as those for immigration.
Well, folks, it finally happened. Some mad scientist in his garage just cracked the code, and now lightsabers are real. You heard that right—Jedi-level plasma blades, humming and slicing through anything in their path, are now a reality.
Obama District Judge Paula Xinis is madder than Joe Biden after being asked an unscripted question. She directed the Trump administration to open a federal coyote ring, and get busy smuggling illegals into to the United States. The Donald has been less than enthusiastic with his compliance, and she is mightily offended by his lack of deference to her court.
I receive a lot of remarks in the form of emails, private messages, obscene hand gestures, etc. There’s no way I could answer all comments individually. So occasionally, I compile commonly asked questions and answer them in this column.
As a boy, I’d awake to find my mother already in the living room, snuggled beneath a lamp, where she’d been reading for hours. The cat in her lap would just stare at me with moral disapproval.
You slap the power button on TV. The old Zenith console warms up. The television is cased in a faux wooden cabinet, with warped oak-grain veneer from a bygone Dr. Pepper someone once placed atop the television, even though this someone’s mother told them to NEVER set ANYTHING atop the TV, not that we’re naming names here.
Once upon a time, in the blissful simplicity of Eden, God gave Adam a straightforward task: name the animals. And Adam, being a practical man (and let’s be honest, not yet bogged down by bureaucracy), did exactly that
Sean gets lots of letters asking some pretty interesting questions. Herein, he answers some…in his own special way.
It was a small town. Somewhere in the Southeast. Big shopping complex, off the interstate. Best Buy, Red Lobster, Ulta, Olive Garden, Outback Steakhouse, Target, and all other franchises that transform American towns into carbon copies, from Oil Slick to Shining Oil Slick.
The first rule of survival is to make decisions with your head rather than your hormones. Emotional decision making rarely enhances one’s chances of survival. One should avoid the anger, fear, and panic; coldly consider the options available; and select the best course of action, even if it’s not perfect. In other words, don’t behave like the Democrats currently are.
I remember my first cellphone. I felt like one bad hombre.
I was in my mid-20s. The cellphone retail salesperson outfitted me with a state-of-the-age phone about the size of a residential General Electric refrigerator.
This is a 3 Part Series: A Nation of Riflemen: The Legacy of Marksmanship in the U.S. Military from the Civil War to Today. Part I: Shots Fired: The Origins of American Military Marksmanship
I have been doing a lot of walking. More walking than I’ve ever done in my life. More walking than I thought possible.
I have here a letter from 19-year-old Erin, who lives in Bristol, Virginia.
“Dear Sean,” she begins, “I want to be happy, but I’m not…
“My family is stressing me out, big-time. Especially my mom.
While generals got the glory, drones got the headlines, and politicians got the soundbites, one quiet giant stood tall (literally) throughout the Iraq and Afghanistan wars: the T-wall.
People from small towns almost never tell you the name of their town first. They always start with the nearest big city and work their way inward.