Tomorrow’s headline is one we all saw coming: the Trump administration, never one to waste a good tragedy, is polishing up Charlie Kirk’s memory and wielding his death like a club. Not against the forces of violence or division, but against—you guessed it—Democrats, the “radical left,
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who rise on Sunday determined to conquer the day, and those who rise determined only to conquer the pillow. Both groups believe they are virtuous, which proves once and for all that virtue is a flexible thing, like elastic suspenders
Yes, it’s true. For one whole Saturday, I am taking a break from shouting about democracy’s downfall, doomscrolling news about Trump, and wondering how the Supreme Court manages to sleep at night. Instead, I’m joining something downright un-American (depending who you ask): a shrimp boil with my
America today mourns — or perhaps breathes a sigh of relief — at the passing of Charlie Kirk, founder of Turning Point USA and tireless crusader for the right of white men to never, ever stop complaining. Kirk, who once declared that “white privilege is a myth” and assured us that the
This story happens every day: “ I’m a Black man, head down, working hard at a job I thought was steady. Bills paid, kids fed, dreams still intact. Then one day, my boss—let’s call him “Trump Lite”—decides he doesn’t need a reason to fire me. No
Let’s talk about that gut-punch moment we’ve all had: you’re the most qualified, the most prepared, the most deserving—and yet, someone else gets the opportunity because the decision-maker’s bias tilted the scales. You did the work. You had the numbers. You even brought the cupcakes
Well folks, after weeks of gnawing my fingernails down to nubs, hitting “refresh” like a lab rat on the Walgreens appointment page, and calling every pharmacy tech in a 30-mile radius like a deranged stalker, I did it. I scored my fall Covid booster. 🎉 Monday, I strutted into that CVS
Dear Friends in Football Foolishness, Picture it: Sunday night. Bills vs. Ravens. The popcorn is stale, the beer is warm, and you are convinced you’re watching a predictable outcome. Ravens are up by 15 with 4 minutes left. Fifteen points! That’s like seeing your flight has already boarded
We’ve all heard it. The weary sigh, the cynical shrug, the dismissive remark: “Why bother calling your representatives? Why show up to protest? They don’t care.” This argument has become the lullaby of the disillusioned. It sounds comforting in a dark, hopeless sort of way—like an excuse
Friday afternoon, RFK Jr. assured the American public that “anyone who wants a COVID vaccine can get one.” Simple words, right? Comforting, even. My family actually believed him. We should have known better. We spent our Saturday bouncing between pharmacies, clinics, and urgent care centers like a pack of deranged
Ladies and gentlemen, patriots and doomscrollers, history has finally jumped the shark. Elon Musk is no longer the de facto president of the United States. No, America has traded in its self-anointed Martian overlord for someone even more qualified: Laura Loomer. Yes, that Laura Loomer—failed congressional candidate, professional Twitter
Friends, gather round. I bring you a tale of tragedy, comedy, and carbohydrates. The mission was simple: one item. Frozen tater tots. That’s it. Not a family-sized pallet of toilet paper, not 47 protein shakes, not even the “seasonal must-have” velvet pumpkin big enough to double as a guest