Ginger Bias
In light of all the negative headlines, civil unrest, and the international political upheavals, I know many of you are anxious to know what I did for National Kiss a Ginger Day. Or maybe you missed this particular holiday.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
In light of all the negative headlines, civil unrest, and the international political upheavals, I know many of you are anxious to know what I did for National Kiss a Ginger Day. Or maybe you missed this particular holiday.
Well, we got him – Nicolás Maduro that is. Now what do we do with him? How do we deliver justice, with a system which is demonstrably unreliable at the business of “equal justice under law”?
For decades, Democrats have run the greatest long con in meteorological history—keeping Michigan locked in a Siberian deep freeze under the guise of “saving the planet.” This is not environmentalism. This is a communist cold-storage program. A deliberate effort to stop the natural evolution of states—where Michigan obviously becomes Florida with better beer and fewer felonies.
I find listening to & talking with Liberals an endless source of amusement. Granted, there are few discussions because they quickly descend into insults & threats when you ask a question the Lib doesn’t like. Here are nine short vignettes of my interactions with Liberals since businessman Donald J. Trump won his first election.
Happy New Year! We’re closing out another year, so it’s time to take stock of the past, and go out on a limb with a few predictions about the future – with special attention to California.
For decades, Americans have trusted the United States Naval Academy to produce the second finest officers ever to run aground in shallow water. But troubling new reports suggest that midshipmen may be engaged in an old Navy pastime that predates modern refrigeration, nuclear propulsion, and personal dignity.
Sweet Home Alabama & the Army-Navy Game: A story of a decades-old military academy rivalry coupled with good, old-fashioned Southern Patriotism.
The first snowfall isn’t magical; it’s a mess and always has been. Clean roads turn grimy overnight, coated with cinder, ash and salt that seemingly sticks around until April.
We arrived at the Christmas tree lot after dark. My wife and I walked the long aisles of pinery, scrutinizing each tree as though it were asking for our kid’s hand in marriage.
I need guidance on how to respond to these angry emailers. So, I turn to my dog, Marigold. Marigold is the most non-judgemental soul I know. I read emails aloud to her, then base my responses on her reactions.
Listen up, cadets — your dusty old institution is under siege… from me, the world’s most offended armchair critic. As someone who’s never fired a rifle, never been marched at 5 a.m., and whose greatest battle was choosing between oat milk or almond at Starbucks, I hereby launch my campaign to transform West Point into Soy Boy University — the safe space you never knew you wanted.
Each Veterans Day weekend, a gathering of Army friends–bound by service, stories, laughter, and tradition–reminds us that shared rituals and gratitude knit together the history and heart of every community.
Let’s face it—if you think water is safe, congratulations, you’re probably not living in the first century. Wells and cisterns looked innocent, but sip a cup and you might as well have been drinking a smoothie of bacteria, dirt, and whatever poor soul didn’t wash their hands yesterday. People back then didn’t know about germs—they just knew that gulping down that “clear” liquid was a roll of the dice with your intestines.
Remember the Yugo? That tiny, boxy, bargain-bin miracle that proudly declared, “Yes, I’m new, but no, I won’t last the winter”? For a brief, shining, oil-leaking moment in the mid-1980s, America fell in love with the world’s cheapest new car.
Sean takes some time out to answer reader questions. As in anywhere else in life, don;t ask a question about which you’re not prepared to recieve all possible answers.
The Islamic State didn’t cruise into Mosul in Teslas. They rolled in behind a Toyota Hilux convoy that looked like a Jiffy Lube parade gone wrong — turbo-diesel workhorses loaded with heavy machine guns and rocket pods.
When you spend enough time as a general’s aide-de-camp, you learn two things: first, generals are human; and second, there are certain things you just keep to yourself.
Those were the cool days—the kind of small adventures you could still get away with back then. A snowstorm over the Ardennes, a borrowed BMW, and a rucksack full of Belgian beer.
Picture this: the world’s largest office building, full of America’s best and brightest, all dressed alike (but slightly different camouflage patterns) and all supposedly fighting the same enemy. Except the enemy wasn’t foreign. It was our brother
Leave it to bored NCOs in Iraq — a handful of clever sergeants with too much time and just enough sarcasm managed to send the entire U.S. Army chasing its own tail with two little words: Warrior Companion.