Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
There are, conservatively, a trillion problems a day that arise in the United States. I would, as a conservative, like government involved in as few of them as possible.
But because government at all levels is so huge? It crowds out all the private spaces – and with them the perception that private solutions are possible.
Before GPS, CAD, drones, and LiDAR, American military engineers were laying out massive forts with astonishing geometric precision using little more than chains, optical instruments, pencils, and a serious command of mathematics. Fort Wayne’s remarkable symmetry raises an irresistible question: brilliant engineering—or something more mysterious? From star-fort battlefield geometry to Freemasonry’s famous obsession with the square and compass, we separate the fascinating history from the conspiracy theories. The conclusion may be even more humbling: the old guys were really freaking good at math.
The Great Pentagon Camouflage War may go down as one of the finest examples of what happens when bureaucracy collides head-on with the laws of physics. For thousands of years, armies understood a simple concept: if you’re fighting in the desert, wear desert colors. If you’re fighting in the woods, wear woodland colors. Then someone decided we could outsmart Mother Nature with a “Universal Camouflage Pattern” that would supposedly work everywhere. It turned out to work spectacularly well… provided the enemy attacked in a gravel pit. Afghanistan quickly exposed the fantasy, and after years of testing, billions in replacement equipment, and enough PowerPoint slides to camouflage the Pentagon itself, the Army arrived at the shocking scientific discovery that brown and green actually blend into brown and green. Sometimes the most expensive lesson in military history is learning that physics doesn’t salute generals.
The first five years of the 2020s were tough, especially for the millions of people worldwide who died of a disease unnecessarily. A pandemic suddenly appeared from nowhere; no one wanted to say with any certainty.
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What started as a clever wildcat experiment has become one of the hottest cartridges in precision shooting. The 6mm Creedmoor delivers blistering speed, flat trajectories, and remarkably light recoil—all while launching sleek, high-ballistic-coefficient bullets that shrug off the wind. From PRS to the growing world of CMP AR Tactical, competitors are discovering that the 6mm Creedmoor isn’t just another Creedmoor—it’s a cartridge built to stay on target, spot its own impacts, and stack X-rings. For many shooters, it’s turning the AR-10 into a laser beam where others are still shooting slingshots.
We have mastered the science of rewriting DNA. The question is whether we’ve mastered the wisdom to know when not to. Jesus warned that the last days would resemble the days of Noah—not because of primitive technology, but because humanity crossed boundaries it was never meant to cross. Today we stand at the intersection of unprecedented scientific power and unprecedented moral confusion. The Bible’s warning isn’t against knowledge. It’s against knowledge without God. The greatest threat to civilization may not be what we can invent—but what we’re willing to become.
For too long, we’ve argued over the wrong question. The Second Amendment was never just about a rifle—it was about preserving the balance of power between a free people and their government. As technology reshapes our world, the real debate isn’t simply who owns firearms, but whether citizens will retain meaningful access to the technologies that define power in the 21st century. Rights written on paper are only as strong as a free people’s ability to exercise and defend them. When the government alone possesses tomorrow’s technology, liberty risks becoming a privilege instead of a birthright.
We love to celebrate the Greatest Generation—but would we recognize the world that forged them? As global tensions rise and America’s factories quietly prepare for contingencies once thought impossible, one question looms: if Detroit ever trades pickup trucks for artillery shells again, are we ready for what comes next? Buckle up, buttercup. History has a habit of collecting unpaid debts.
In 1935, Smedley Butler warned that “War is a racket.” Twenty-six years later, President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned Americans about the growing power of the military-industrial complex. Nearly a century later, their warnings deserve another look. As America replenishes stockpiles from Ukraine and Iran while asking Ford and other manufacturers to help produce more weapons, one uncomfortable question remains: when every missile launched becomes another billion-dollar contract, who is really winning? Soldiers still pay in blood. Taxpayers still pay the bill. But someone always profits.
For the past two years I have watched politicians, pundits, and people who clearly skipped statistics class weaponize the same recycled set of misleading numbers about data centers and water use. AOC brought a jar of cloudy well water to a congressional hearing and implied a nearby data center poisoned it. Spoiler: it was construction sediment. The same sediment you get when they dig up the road in front of your house. Same physics. Different agenda. But facts are inconvenient when you have a camera and a talking point.
For more than 6,000 years, the shores of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula have produced one of civilization’s most valuable resources. Long before Rome, before the Bronze Age reached its peak, and long before Europeans set foot in North America, Indigenous miners were extracting native copper from the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale. That same metal helped electrify America during the Industrial Revolution and today powers everything from smartphones and AI data centers to electric vehicles and military technology. The richest deposits may be gone, but the story isn’t over—Michigan’s remaining copper could prove to be one of America’s most important strategic resources for the next century.
Much has rightly been made of the monstrous amounts of resources – water, electricity, land – data centers use.
Data centers that are now being built, we are told, to feed the rise of Artificial Intelligence (AI).
Data centers are being called “data centers?” Because the far more truthful “surveillance centers” and “human replacement centers” would be an even tougher sell.
Can America’s newest graduates explain the difference between a two-stroke and a four-stroke engine? Probably not—and that’s the point. Somewhere along the way, we traded shop class for screen time and mechanical know-how for digital convenience. This isn’t really about lawn mowers or chainsaws. It’s about what happens when a society can build apps but struggles to understand the machines that keep the lights on, the food growing, and the country moving. Maybe it’s time to ask whether practical knowledge still deserves a place in a modern education.
History is full of mysteries—but mystery is not evidence. From ancient aliens to Atlantis, from the Watchers of Enoch to the archaeological puzzles of the pyramids, competing theories attempt to explain humanity’s distant past. Some are grounded in evidence, others in speculation. This article compares the major worldviews, examines where they overlap and where they diverge, and asks the most important question of all: Are we following the evidence, or simply the story we want to believe?
It seems like everyone is talking about AI. It’s on the news. It’s in every newspaper. “AI is taking over the world,” the media headlines declare. “AI replaces 12 million jobs.” “AI wins Miss America Pageant.” AI might be writing this right now. There’s no way to know.
America did not become irreligious. It simply changed religions. The old civic faith placed God above man and man above government; the new one places the self above reality and bureaucracy above everything else. Scientism supplies the lab coat, wokeism supplies the moral panic, and government arrives as savior, priest, therapist, and parole officer. This is not progress. It is ancient Gnosticism with Wi-Fi.
Artificial intelligence may change civilization—but history suggests investors are about to relearn an old lesson. Railroads, electricity, and the Internet all transformed the world, yet each left a trail of bankrupt companies and shattered fortunes before the winners emerged. Is AI different, or are we simply watching another speculative bubble inflate? Buckle up, buttercup. The technology is probably here to stay. The valuations? That’s another story.
Sen. Rand Paul, R-Ky., discusses new evidence about Dr. Anthony Fauci’s alleged role in funding gain-of-function research at the Wuhan lab, linked to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Every veteran remembers that tiny glass bottle of Tabasco tucked inside an MRE. Most of us assumed it had always been there—or heard ridiculous barracks rumors that it was issued to keep you awake on guard duty. The truth is even better. It wasn’t the product of a Pentagon study or a billion-dollar procurement program. It was the idea of a Marine who understood that morale sometimes comes in a one-eighth-ounce bottle. This is the story of how one of the most beloved pieces of military “equipment” earned its place in America’s rucksacks—one spicy meal at a time.
For more than a century, Americans have spent millions of dollars fighting nature at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Built in 1922 as a grand architectural feature, the pool transformed a former Potomac floodplain into a shallow, artificial body of water that has suffered recurring algae blooms, leaks, sediment buildup, and costly repairs ever since. The latest maintenance controversy isn’t a new problem—it’s simply the latest chapter in a hundred-year struggle to maintain a giant pond where nature never intended one to exist. Instead of pouring more taxpayer dollars into perpetual repairs, perhaps it’s time to ask a different question: what if we reclaimed the 15 acres occupied by the Reflecting Pool and returned that space to the public? Expanded lawns, shaded gathering areas, memorial gardens, event space, and recreational areas could serve millions of visitors far better than a body of water that most people can only walk around and photograph. Sometimes the best way to solve a century-old engineering problem is not to engineer harder—it’s to admit the original idea has outlived its usefulness.