Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
I thought I had seen the last of traitorous Americans cursing our soldiers or calling for them to be killed when the last American combat troops were pulled out of Vietnam following the 1973 Paris Peace Treaty. After the disgusting display by anti-American, pro-Iran thugs in Philadelphia and the perfidious “No Kings” protestors last weekend, it appears I was wrong.
Büdingen, Germany, late ’90s. The barracks were “historic,” which was Army-speak for old, fragile, and nobody wants to pay to fix it. The plumbing was past its expiration date—backups, leaks, that constant low-grade stench that never quite left your clothes. And that’s where we put our enlisted soldiers. The pitch from leadership bordered on parody: “You’re living in a historic building—Adolf Hitler once gave a speech here. See the photo!” That didn’t land. Not even close.
Under a Chinese-led global order, you wouldn’t necessarily feel “ruled” by China in a direct sense. You would feel aligned to it. Your country’s economy would be plugged into Chinese supply chains. Your infrastructure might be financed, built, or maintained through Chinese-linked systems. Your technology stack—networks, platforms, standards—would quietly converge with theirs because it’s cheaper, faster, and already widely adopted.
There’s a hard truth nobody likes to say out loud: this didn’t just happen because of a few shady coin dealers—it happened because trusted voices carried the water. When names like Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly, and Rudy Giuliani lent their platforms—directly or indirectly—to gold pitches, it wasn’t background noise. It was a credibility transfer. And when shows hosted by Laura Ingraham, Mark Levin, and Mike Huckabee ran those same ads day after day, it didn’t just sell metal—it sold trust. That trust had value, and someone cashed it.
There’s a fine line between tactical flexibility and looking like you lost a bet at a surplus store—and right now, ICE is stumbling all over it. Let’s get something straight: uniforms are not about fashion. They’re not about vanity. They are about authority, discipline, and instant recognition. A uniform says, without a word, this person represents the state, is accountable to it, and operates under a standard.
Start with Clausewitz. His most famous line remains the most brutally accurate description of war ever written: war is the continuation of politics by other means. In other words, wars are not random explosions of violence. Nations fight because they want political outcomes—territory, influence, regime survival, deterrence, or control of strategic regions.
We are squandering our country’s wealth to accommodate 10-15 million unskilled, unvetted, third-world intruders who were invited to surge America’s open borders by Joe Biden and his duplicitous Democrat underlings.
Steve liked the fact that foreign investments exceeded $18 Trillion in his first year. Contrast that to Biden’s FOUR years: $1 Trillion. George was impressed with the fact that AI centers will be producing their own electricity instead of increasing homeowners’ electricity rates. Diane liked Trump’s remarks about CDLs and illegals.
Retirement is not the end of the fight. It’s the change of terrain. Most men in modern America are stalked by two relentless beasts: long-term income and healthcare. Miss either one and your freedom is conditional. You are one layoff, one market crash, or one diagnosis away from panic. That’s not pessimism. That’s math. A military retiree is different.
Enter the War Powers Resolution — Congress’s attempt to look relevant after Vietnam without actually reclaiming its authority. The War Powers Resolution is often defended as a guardrail. In reality, it’s a constitutional fig leaf stapled to a surrender note.
The way to save this country is to eat together. We don’t eat together anymore. We don’t eat supper at the same table. When did that stop?
There’s stolen valor — the guy at the bar wearing medals he never earned, hoping nobody asks what unit he was in. Then there’s stolen charity — the polished executive in a tailored suit wearing patriotism like a lapel pin while cashing checks “for the troops.” One lies about serving. The other lies about serving those who served. Both are frauds. Only one gets invited to donor banquets.
That was 1967. Vietnam was raging. Cadets were not being groomed for cable news panels or Senate confirmation hearings. They were being prepared for jungles, rice paddies, ambushes, and body counts. Humor, especially gallows humor, wasn’t a problem to be solved—it was a survival mechanism. The name “Fighting Cocks” wasn’t vulgar to them; it was irreverent, aggressive, and just juvenile enough to signal that these were young men who understood they were not being trained for polite society. They were being trained for war.
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.
Resorting to familiar attacks against President Trump, Tim Walz repeatedly declares Minnesota is at “war against the federal government.” Other posts diagnose Walz as, “This lunatic is SICK and DANGEROUS!” I have a question for the bellicose, belligerent spewer of anti-American words and defender of criminals, “Exactly who was criminally liable for being at war …
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.
A color revolution isn’t primarily about violence. Violence is sloppy. It scares donors and ruins the optics. The real weapon is narrative. The objective is to convince enough people that the existing authority has morally expired. Once that belief spreads, the government doesn’t collapse from force — it collapses from ridicule and doubt.
A house divided cannot stand. Right now, the National Rifle Association is living that proverb in real time, and it’s painful to watch—because for generations the NRA wasn’t just an organization. It was the standard-bearer. The steward. The institution that most Americans, whether they owned a firearm or not, understood as the big dog in the fight over the Second Amendment.
“Defense” sounds noble. It sounds like you’re protecting your kids. It sounds like you’re holding the line. It sounds like Mom, apple pie, and a golden retriever that would never bite anybody unless it absolutely had to.
In the 1950’s, long before Arctic warfare became trendy again now in 2026 —before the think tanks rediscovered parkas and PowerPoint slides—the United States quietly built an entire nuclear city under the ice in Greenland. Not a base. Not a bunker. A city. With hallways, living quarters, electricity, plumbing, a chapel, and—because this is America—a big nuclear reactor.