Dead Kids, Silent Tweets: The Cost of Trump’s Jelly-Made Peace Plan

Trump’s refusal to sanction Russia proves his so-called peace plan is nothing but a Kremlin-approved script written in American ink.

Trump’s tariffs came down like a hailstorm—but somehow, not a single drop touched Russia. Funny, isn’t it? While China, Europe, and Mexico got roasted on the grill of the so-called "Liberation Day" tariffs, Vladimir Putin was left sipping tea in the rain of blood and fire raining down on Ukraine. Did anybody paying attention notice this? Putin launched missiles at playgrounds, while Trump launched tariffs at everyone except the man turning Ukraine into a cemetery. It’s not just a double standard—it’s a diplomatic joke written in jelly.

Let me say it clearly: Putin has continued to kill women, children, and innocent civilians in Ukraine. A few days ago, 18 people were killed in a Russian missile attack on Kryvyi Rih—nine of them were kids. Another 56 were injured. A restaurant and a playground were turned into rubble. The scene looked like a horror movie set. Meanwhile, Trump's response? Not a single word of condemnation. Not a whisper of anger. Not even a lukewarm tweet. Nothing. The silence is as loud as the explosion that tore through those Ukrainian streets.

You’d think that a man who calls himself the master negotiator would have at least pretended to be outraged. But no. His version of peace is basically Putin’s playbook—just with American flair. Trump’s “peace deal” for Ukraine is less of a strategy and more of a PR stunt. It’s flimsy, wobbly, spineless—a plan written in jelly, wobbling in the sun while children’s bodies lie in the dirt. There is nothing strong or respectable about that. It’s cowardly. It’s shameful. And it’s dangerous.

Trump has gone out of his way to avoid punishing Putin. While Russia continues its war crimes, the so-called “Dealmaker-in-Chief” is playing footsie with a tyrant. Where are the sanctions? Where are the consequences? The excuse is that U.S.-Russia trade is already low. That’s like saying you won’t jail a murderer because he already lost his job. The logic is twisted, the priorities are broken, and the people of Ukraine are paying the price in blood.

Even Zelenskyy, a man under daily attack, called out the weak response from the U.S. embassy. When Russia bombed a playground and killed children, the U.S. reaction didn’t even name Russia. Zelenskyy asked, “Are you afraid to say the word Russian?” And I ask the same of Trump: Are you afraid to say Putin’s name? Or is your tongue too tied from all the secret deals and handshake diplomacy?

Trump’s team says they're "waiting to see" if Moscow is serious about peace. Really? While they wait, more drones drop, more missiles strike, and more lives are lost. Russia has already violated the partial ceasefire deal that the U.S. helped negotiate. They bombed Kharkiv. They struck an energy facility in Kherson. They hit residential areas. Every Russian promise ends with a missile. But Trump still thinks this war can be ended with a hug and a handshake.

Putin sent his investment envoy Dmitriev to Washington last week. Why? To peddle the same empty words wrapped in lies. And what did Trump’s people do? They smiled and asked him to “take a message back to Moscow.” What message? That America is watching, taking notes, and doing nothing? That’s not diplomacy—that’s delusion.

Trump says if Russia launches a big offensive, then we’ll know they’re not serious about peace. But what about the bombs already falling? What about the children already dead? What more does he need—an RSVP from hell?

Let me make it plain: Trump’s peace plan is not a peace plan. It’s a political stunt. It’s a lie wrapped in the American flag. A real peace plan demands pressure. A real peace plan calls out the criminal and protects the victim. A real peace plan doesn’t shake hands with a warlord while ignoring the blood on his palms.

It gets worse. While Russia keeps firing at Ukraine’s energy facilities, Trump keeps selling the dream that he can “end the war in 24 hours.” That’s not policy. That’s a used-car salesman pitch, and the car is already on fire. His peace deal has no spine, no strength, no strategy. It’s a circus act, and the ringmaster is asleep.

And now, as Congress begins talking about new sanctions, Trump plays the role of the middleman. He warns buyers of Russian oil that they might face tariffs. But even that comes with a wink and a shrug. China and India—the biggest buyers—aren’t shaking. They know the game. They know that Trump talks loud but punishes selectively. If the goal is to stop Russia’s war machine, then someone should remind Trump that sanctions aren’t optional—they’re essential.

Let’s not forget history. Putin’s war in Ukraine began in 2014 with Crimea. In 2022, it turned into a full-scale invasion. Since then, thousands have died. Millions have been displaced. Cities have been destroyed. And through it all, Trump has treated Putin like a poker buddy, not a war criminal. He even praised him as “savvy” and “smart” at the start of the invasion. That wasn’t just bad judgment—it was an insult to every family hiding in basements while bombs fell from the sky.

There’s an old proverb: “He who sups with the devil should have a long spoon.” Trump not only supped with Putin—he seems to have handed him the menu. His refusal to punish Russia with tariffs is not just a policy choice—it’s a betrayal of justice, decency, and global stability.

Zelenskyy is right. We must call a spade a spade. We must call Russia what it is: a terrorist state waging war on the innocent. We must put real pressure on Putin. And if Trump won’t do it, then the American people must ask why. Why is he afraid of punishing the man responsible for so much pain?

Because right now, it looks like Trump’s peace plan is less about peace and more about pleasing Putin. And if that’s the case, we might as well call it what it is: Putin’s Plan, made in America, endorsed by the “Jellymaker-in-Chief.”

No Wallet, No Woman: Stop Dating If You’re Broke

A man relying on his dad’s credit card shouldn’t be pursuing women—he should be pursuing a job and a clue. The truth is, modern women aren’t heartless—they’re just tired of dating boys who come with dreams but no direction, ambition but no bank account.

When broke men talk about love, it’s like trying to fill a gas tank with pocket lint—ambitious but pointless. Let’s be honest here: women don’t like broke guys. That’s not a dig, it’s a fact, a social law as old as romance itself. If a guy can’t afford to pay for the first date with his girlfriend, or if he’s swiping his dad’s or mom’s credit card to impress her at Applebee’s, then he shouldn’t be in a relationship. It’s that simple. No money? No honey.

I’ve seen guys strut around like peacocks on payday, yet collapse like wet tissue paper when the bill arrives. Let’s get one thing straight: women aren’t asking for Bentleys or yachts; they’re asking you not to pay for their sushi with your mother’s Discover card. And if that’s too much to ask, you’ve got no business being in the dating game. Love isn’t a welfare program. No woman signed up to be your unpaid therapist, financial coach, and personal sponsor.

This idea that women don’t like broke men isn’t new, and it’s not even controversial in the real world—just on the internet where broke men gather like mosquitoes to whine about gold diggers. But go back as far as the Bible, and you’ll see the trend. Ruth didn’t pick the poorest man in the field—she married Boaz, the landowner. Women have always gravitated toward men who provide security, stability, and sanity. And in modern times, that translates into a stable income, a working debit card, and preferably no roommates named “mom” and “dad.”

There’s a Nigerian proverb that says, “No matter how sweet love is, it cannot be used to cook soup.” In other words, feelings don’t pay bills. We live in a world where adult responsibilities matter. You can’t love someone properly when you’re dodging debt collectors and hoping your date orders from the appetizer menu. A man who’s financially unstable is not ready for a relationship. He’s barely ready for himself.

Let’s bring in some facts, not fantasies. Surveys from the last couple years show that over 50% of women say financial stability is the number one trait they look for in a partner. Another study found that nearly one in three millennials and Gen Zers have broken up with someone over financial stress. These are not bougie women with unrealistic expectations—they are working women who don’t want to carry another grown adult on their back like a backpack full of unpaid bills.

And don’t get it twisted. This isn’t about materialism; it’s about maturity. If you can’t hold down a job, stick to a budget, or even afford your own car insurance, you’re not ready to carry the weight of another person’s emotional needs. Relationships cost money—dates, gifts, emergencies, the whole package. Trying to build a relationship while you’re flat broke is like trying to build a house during a hurricane with no tools and a prayer. It’s doomed from the start.

Some men think it’s romantic to say, “I don’t have money, but I have love.” That’s not romantic. That’s reckless. Love is not a substitute for rent. If you love her, the least you can do is not drag her into your financial mess. Imagine a guy proposing to a woman and saying, “Will you marry me—and help me consolidate my student loans?” That’s not a proposal. That’s a cry for help.

And don’t come with the exception stories. Yes, some broke guys end up with women who believed in their potential. But those stories are rare, like lottery winners. For every broke man who became a millionaire, there are thousands who stayed broke and dragged someone down with them. Michelle Obama didn’t fall in love with a broke Barack because she loved struggle; she saw vision, purpose, and potential backed up with action. The difference is, Barack had ambition and direction, not just vibes and excuses.

It’s crazy how so many broke men expect loyalty from women they can’t even afford to take to Wendy’s. You want her to stick around while you “figure it out”? That’s not a girlfriend, that’s a babysitter. And even babysitters get paid. The bare minimum for being in a relationship is being able to stand on your own two feet financially. If your idea of a good date is splitting a $10 pizza and sitting in your mom’s basement watching free YouTube videos, stay single. That’s not a relationship, that’s a recession.

And let’s talk about emotional consequences. Financial stress is one of the leading causes of arguments and breakups. Broke men bring more than empty wallets—they bring anxiety, stress, and drama. A relationship built on broke bones can't stand. It's not romantic, it's tragic. Women don’t want to play counselor every night because their man overdrew his checking account buying Jordans.

Now don’t get me wrong—nobody’s saying a man has to be a millionaire. But he should at least be able to carry his own weight. If you need your parents to fund your dating life, maybe they should go on the date instead. If you can't afford gas to pick her up, why are you picking women up at all? You can’t pay for Netflix but you’re out here trying to chill. That’s delusional.

The truth is, the dating market is a competition, and broke men are entering with flip-flops and hope. Hope doesn’t pay for brunch. Hope doesn’t keep the lights on. Hope is not a financial plan. If you want a girlfriend, get a job first. If you want love, learn how to budget. Until then, your only real relationship should be with your hustle.

So to all the broke guys out there thinking love will save them: wake up. This ain’t a fairy tale. Women want a partner, not a project. And if you can’t even afford your own dates, then no—you can’t afford a girlfriend. Period. Try loving yourself first. It’s free, and it won’t call you out for forgetting your wallet again.

Because if women are gold diggers, then broke men must be buried treasure—hidden, unclaimed, and completely worthless in the market.

Death to Red Tape: Elon Musk’s DOGE Declares War on Federal Freeloaders

Elon Musk’s DOGE is doing what Congress has never had the guts to do: firing some redundant federal employees, cutting the fat, and making taxpayers the real shareholders of America.

When Elon Musk launched DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency, critics rolled their eyes as if he had just tweeted another meme. But while some are busy mocking the name, Musk is busy drawing blood from the stone of federal spending. That’s right—he’s hacking at the thick jungle of bureaucracy with the same chainsaw energy that Argentina’s Javier Milei used to slice through decades of economic rot. If government waste were a dog, DOGE just chased it out of the park.

Yes, I’ve heard the complaints. “He’s overstepping.” “He’s moving too fast.” “He’s gutting programs people depend on.” But come on—proceeding with all due caution is often just a recipe for permanent paralysis. Remember the Grace Commission? Probably not. That’s because its careful recommendations to cut waste under Reagan gathered dust in some forgotten archive while the government ballooned in size. Everyone talks about change. Elon is actually changing things.

Take a look around. The federal budget is a leviathan of automatic spending—entitlements, Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security. You can’t even poke those sacred cows without an army of lobbyists screaming. DOGE, for now, targets the little slice of the pie labeled “discretionary,” which is only about 15% of the federal budget. It’s not much—but it’s something. And something is better than the nothing that most politicians have offered for decades.

And let’s be honest: it’s about time someone smashed the vending machine of federal grants and asked, “Who ordered this garbage?” Elon shut down some obscure commissions, killed off a few DEI grants, and suddenly he’s being called a tyrant. But maybe the real tyranny is making taxpayers fund programs that produce reports nobody reads and pay salaries for agencies that couldn’t survive in a private-sector fish tank.

People scream about the methods—but what if the madness works? Musk's “break-it-first” style is nothing new. At Twitter—now X—he walked in, kicked over the desk, fired half the staff, and asked, “Now, what’s left that actually matters?” The app still works, trolls are still trolling, and news still spreads. Maybe his chaotic strategy is more strategic than people think. Destruction first, creation after.

That kind of boldness is not without historical precedent. Ronald Reagan didn’t politely ask if he could tame inflation. He slammed interest rates through the roof, took the hits, and changed the trajectory of the U.S. economy. Margaret Thatcher didn’t nibble at Britain’s bloated unions—she went to war with them. Both were hated at the time. They were mocked, protested, and cursed. But history had the last word: both are now credited with reversing their countries’ decline.

Argentina’s Javier Milei is proof that shock therapy can work. He defunded ministries, slashed energy subsidies, froze government hiring, and stopped public works projects. The result? Inflation, which had reached a blistering 276%, fell by over 90% in a few months. That’s not fiction. That’s a fact. Sure, the people are angry. But sometimes, the cure burns before it heals.

Musk is trying to apply that same bitter medicine to America. He’s not hiding it. He’s saying it plainly: the system is too fat, too slow, and too comfortable. And he’s not waiting for Congress to greenlight every snip. That’s what terrifies the swamp dwellers—he’s doing things they didn’t vote on, using a mandate they didn’t approve, with a speed they can’t match. It’s the creative destruction they read about in business school but hoped would never come for them.

Now, here come the same old scare tactics. “Musk is going to ruin essential services!” “He’s dismantling the safety net!” “He’s a billionaire dictator!” But the facts keep getting in the way. Social Security checks? Not touched. Defense spending? Left alone for now. Core services? Still running. What’s actually happening is that the gravy train is finally slowing down—and the folks in first class are furious.

Even the promise of sharing the spoils—$5,000 “DOGE dividend” checks to every taxpayer if the trillion-dollar cut succeeds—hasn’t quieted the critics. They call it a gimmick. But it’s more like a performance bonus from the world's most reluctant CEO. Think about it: the private sector rewards success. Why shouldn’t taxpayers get a cut when the government finally trims its waistline?

Naturally, the protests have begun. A Tesla dealership in Pasadena became the backdrop for activists chanting slogans and waving signs. The irony? They were using smartphones made possible by private innovation to protest a man trying to inject private-sector efficiency into government. That’s like biting the hand that builds your broadband.

I’m not here to say DOGE is perfect. Its reach is still limited. Its savings, so far, smaller than promised. And its strategy is loud, messy, and unpredictable. But if the goal is true transformation, then some transgressions might be worth it. Revolution doesn’t come with a return policy. It comes with broken glass, shouting matches, and second thoughts. But the alternative is standing still while the world sprints forward.

I see Musk’s tactics as necessary chaos. The old way hasn’t worked. The polite memos and blue-ribbon panels gave us nothing but more spending, more deficits, and more excuses. Maybe now, in a time of peacetime stagnation and peacetime spending, we need wartime urgency. Maybe we need to break the system before it breaks us.

And if a few toes are stepped on in the process, so be it. Because the last time government got serious about waste, Reagan had a full head of black hair, and people still used typewriters. Musk is taking a flamethrower to bureaucracy, and maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly what it takes to clear the dead wood.

If nothing else, DOGE has shown us that when government is treated like a business, it gets scared. It panics. It howls. But it also starts paying attention. And maybe that’s the biggest efficiency of all.

Because if we wait for Congress to cut spending, we’ll be using Bitcoin to buy toilet paper in 2030.

And if Musk’s plan fails? At least he’ll fail faster than the government’s usual slow-motion collapse into debt.

Myanmar Earthquake: Sorrows, Tears and Blood

I return to Habakkuk, one of my favorite books in the Bible, every time the earth splits open like it did in the Myanmar (Burma) Earthquake, because Habakkuk too saw the innocent buried while the powerful stayed untouched and dared to ask God the question that now burns in my chest: why do you let this happen?

When the earth shakes, it’s not just buildings that fall—faith does too. One of my favorite books in the Bible is Habakkuk, because the author asked God the kind of question that burns in my chest today: “Why do you let this happen? Why do you just watch when people are crushed, their homes flattened, their futures stolen?” Simply put, the Book of Habakkuk is unique because it presents a dialogue between the prophet and God, where Habakkuk boldly questions divine justice. Unlike other prophetic books, it begins with complaints and ends in a psalm of trust, showing a personal journey from doubt to faith.

But today, I’m stuck right in the complaints.

When I saw the earthquake that just occurred in Myanmar on Saturday, March 28th, I froze. A 7.7-magnitude monster tearing through Mandalay, toppling buildings, collapsing the historic Ava Bridge, and crushing people under rubble—what lesson is buried under that destruction? Over 1,000 dead already, more than 2,300 injured, hospitals overwhelmed, and entire cities like Yangon and Naypyidaw shaken to their foundations. Do earthquakes come with spiritual purpose, or are we just pawns tossed around in nature’s cruel game?

The tremor came from the Sagaing Fault, Myanmar’s ticking time bomb. It runs like a scar beneath the feet of millions of people. This is the biggest earthquake to hit the Myanmar mainland in over 75 years, the strongest since the one that rocked Turkey and Syria in 2023, killing 55,000. Now Myanmar joins that grave list. Mandalay, the second-largest city with 1.5 million people, has been shattered—streets swallowed, homes reduced to splinters, and cries buried under collapsed concrete. But even that wasn’t the end. Thailand felt it too. At least ten people in Bangkok died when a skyscraper under construction crumbled like a poorly baked cake. Eighty-one others remain trapped under the rubble as rescuers claw through ruins, hour by agonizing hour.

Meanwhile, water flooded from rooftop pools in tall buildings as people screamed and fled through the streets of Bangkok. The metro shut down. The Prime Minister called it an emergency zone. But even leaders can’t command aftershocks to halt. The ground is moving and so are the people—running, crying, searching for safety. And I'm here asking, just like Habakkuk did, “How long, Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?”

Some might say earthquakes are natural, and I get that. They are the earth’s way of stretching after a long sleep. But I don’t care if it’s natural when it flattens an entire neighborhood. Just because it’s nature doesn’t make it okay. Tornadoes spin in, hurricanes tear apart lives, wildfires eat up homes—and we’re supposed to say what? “It’s nature, let it burn”? Why does nature’s wrath always pick on the poor and the vulnerable? Why does the earth’s fury not shake up the mansions of the powerful first?

And then there’s the irony. Myanmar’s already been torn apart by a civil war since 2021. Over 3.5 million people displaced. People were already sleeping in tents, hiding from bullets. Now they’re hiding from falling buildings and landslides. Before this quake even struck, 20 million people—35% of the population—needed humanitarian help. That’s not a statistic. That’s suffering stacked on top of suffering.

To make it worse, the United States recently slashed the help it sends to Myanmar. Last year, USAID spent $240 million there, most of it on humanitarian aid. This year, they’ve axed most of those programs. From 18 down to just 3. And some of the hospitals on the Myanmar-Thailand border, which got American support, have now shut down. You can’t heal broken bones in buildings that have already collapsed. You can’t treat quake injuries in clinics that have lost power, beds, and even walls.

The Myanmar junta, a military regime rejected by most of the world, has made a rare plea for help. That’s how bad things are—they’ve dropped their pride. But even now, they’re still trying to control where aid goes. The army only wants supplies to reach government-friendly areas, not rebel-controlled zones. So, aid is being blocked from where it’s needed most. During Cyclone Nargis in 2008, the same military dragged their feet accepting foreign help. That delay killed over 130,000 people. Are we going to watch history repeat itself?

And just when you think it can’t get worse, geologists warn of “liquefaction.” That’s when the earth turns to mush under your feet. Mud volcanoes have formed. That means the very land that people used to stand on is now bubbling up to devour them. The control tower of Naypyidaw Airport collapsed. And in Mandalay, even more decrepit buildings might still come down. People now live in fear not just of aftershocks, but of collapsing dams and more chaos. The earthquake is over, but the danger is just beginning.

Habakkuk ended his dialogue with God on a note of faith: “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” That’s nice, but let’s not rush there too quickly. I’m still in chapter one, shouting my questions, and I’m not afraid to keep asking: “Why do you let this happen, God? Why are people buried under the silence of heaven?”

Some theologians will say God works in mysterious ways. I say mystery isn’t comforting when you’re digging your child out of rubble. Some preachers will say pain builds character. I say earthquakes break bones, not build backbones.

We live on a planet that seems to have a temper problem. The ground rumbles when it’s angry, the skies roar when they’re fed up, and water comes crashing in when the oceans throw a fit. We talk about climate change, tectonic shifts, and atmospheric pressure like it’s science—but it feels like punishment.

If this is the design of a perfect world, I’d like to see the blueprint.

Until then, I’ll keep asking like Habakkuk did. Not because I don’t believe, but because I refuse to blindly accept a world where the earth can swallow a family in seconds and we call it “natural.” Earthquakes may be natural, but that doesn’t make them noble. Hurricanes may be common, but they are not kind. And if “acts of God” include this kind of destruction, then somebody needs to check God’s job description.

I used to believe the earth was our home. Lately, it feels more like we’re squatters on a landmine.

And if this is nature’s way of reminding us who’s boss, I say it’s time we fired the landlord.

Sanction the Devil: Why Europe Must Keep Its Boot on Putin’s Neck

              Source: The Economist

Europe has everything it takes to snap the spine of Putin’s power structure, and they don’t really need America to whisper ceasefire lullabies while Russian missiles still fall on Ukrainian schools.

When you give a bear a cookie, don’t be surprised when it swallows the pantry. That’s exactly what President Trump is doing—handing Putin the cookie jar and watching him grin. By now it’s obvious that Trump likes Putin, maybe even idolizes him. And from the way his team is negotiating a so-called peace deal in Ukraine, it looks like America might start peeling off those tough sanctions that once had Russia gasping for economic air. But here’s the thing: even if Trump decides to cozy up to Putin and unbutton the sanctions belt, Europe must not follow America’s lead. In fact, Europe must do the exact opposite—it must tighten the screws on Putin harder than ever before.

Why? Because Putin’s regime is cracking. And when you see cracks in a dam that has held back a flood of oppression, you don’t patch it up—you blow it wide open.

First, let’s talk dollars and sense. Europe, not America, holds the economic key to Putin’s kingdom. Before Russia invaded Ukraine, trade between the EU and Russia totaled around €258 billion—compare that to the relatively puny $35 billion in U.S.-Russia trade. After sanctions, EU-Russia trade collapsed by more than 69%. Russia’s oil, gas, and military sectors lost billions. Russia’s car production has fallen over 60%. Its aviation industry is in shambles, and high-tech imports have dried up like an old Soviet well. America loosening sanctions won’t fix that. Only Europe can choke off the pipelines of cash that keep Putin’s war machine running.

Let’s face it—Putin’s economy is now a Frankenstein stitched together with Chinese knockoffs, Central Asian reroutes, and dreams of Soviet grandeur. But those black-market tricks won’t last. Without access to Western banks, ports, and insurance networks, Russia’s economy is walking with a limp. And Europe is the one holding the crutch. If it kicks that crutch away now, Putin falls.

Second—and more important—Europe can help bring down Putin himself. That’s not a pipe dream. That’s history waiting to repeat itself. Dictators don't die in bed; they fall under the weight of their own lies, their own bloodshed, and their own bankrupt treasuries. Think of Ceaușescu. Think of Gaddafi. The same fate waits for Putin, who now leads a country where dissent is criminal, elections are rigged, journalists are jailed or killed, and young men are dragged to war they don’t believe in.

The cracks in Putin’s power are already showing. His circle is shrinking. His economy is shrinking. His grip is weakening. His war is failing. Ukraine didn’t fall in three days. It’s been fighting for over three years. And Russians know it. That’s why over a million have fled the country since the invasion. That’s why Russian mothers protest silently, hiding their grief behind shuttered windows. That’s why even Putin’s inner circle whispers in fear. A cornered rat is dangerous, but it’s also vulnerable. And right now, Putin is cornered.

But then comes Trump, waltzing in like a peace fairy with an olive branch dipped in oil money. His team is reportedly asking Russian firms what sanctions they want lifted. They’re talking about removing bans on banks that finance oil exports. They want to unfreeze assets and loosen the leash. But why? Because Trump wants to play kingmaker in Eastern Europe? Because he sees himself as the hero who ended the war?

Let’s not pretend. This isn’t about peace. It’s about power. Trump sees an opportunity to score political points and maybe cut some deals. But appeasing Putin has never worked. In 2014, Russia took Crimea. The West responded weakly. In 2022, Russia tried to take all of Ukraine. What will happen in 2026 if we ease up now? Will Latvia be next? Poland? The past is a prophet—ignore it, and it repeats itself with a vengeance.

The only way to stop Putin is to bankrupt his war and shake the throne under him. Europe must not just keep the sanctions—it must sharpen them like a guillotine blade. Stop letting Russian oil ships dock in European ports. Stop insuring those shadowy tankers sailing under third-country flags. Ban European banks from processing any ruble-linked transaction. Freeze more oligarch assets. Squeeze the pressure points until the Kremlin chokes.

And don’t worry about Trump’s tantrums. Europe has played this game before. When Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Accord, Europe stayed in. When he fumbled NATO commitments, Europe doubled down. Europe can—and must—stand on its own spine. It doesn’t need Trump’s permission to protect its borders, its values, or its future.

Because here’s what happens if Europe blinks: Putin wins. He gets a lifeline. He rebuilds. He rearms. And the next invasion becomes only a matter of time. If Europe lifts sanctions now, it sends a message to every dictator watching: you can invade a neighbor, butcher civilians, and eventually get forgiven. That’s not diplomacy. That’s moral bankruptcy.

There’s an African proverb that says, “When the roots of a tree begin to decay, it spreads death to the branches.” Putin is that tree. His roots are rotting—economically, politically, morally. Letting up now only lets the poison spread. But if Europe pushes harder, those roots will snap. The branches will fall. And finally, Russians might plant something new in the ashes.

So, let Trump toast champagne with the Kremlin and play Santa to Russian billionaires. Let him wave a peace plan that smells like surrender. But Europe must bring the hammer down—and keep hammering until the walls of Putin’s palace crack like dry plaster.

After all, if Putin is planning for Christmas, Europe should give him the only gift he deserves: a one-way ticket to history’s trash bin, with sanctions so strong they make his ruble weep.

Mike Waltz’s Blunder Makes America Look Like a Circus

If Mike Waltz won’t apologize for leaking war plans, he should be stripped of his title, his security clearance, and his delusions of competence. In plain English, his behavior proves that giving him national security clearance was like handing car keys to a blindfolded man and hoping he’d drive straight.

When the cat’s away, the mice will play — but when Mike Waltz is texting, even the mice look more competent. Let’s not sugarcoat what just happened. Waltz, Trump’s National Security Adviser, committed a mistake so dumbfounding, so reckless, so unworthy of his post, that the nation ought to pause and ask: is this the kind of man we trust with classified war plans?

He added a journalist—yes, a journalist—to a Signal group chat where they were discussing detailed, emoji-laced plans to bomb Yemen. Precise targets. Weapon packages. Timing. The whole nine yards. Sent directly to Jeffrey Goldberg, the editor-in-chief of The Atlantic. This isn’t a high school gossip thread—this is America’s national security.

And guess what? He wasn’t alone in the chat. Seventeen other bigwigs were reportedly in there too, including JD Vance, Marco Rubio, Pete Hegseth, and Tulsi Gabbard. The room read like a reality TV reunion—except instead of drama, they were coordinating airstrikes. And instead of security, we got absurdity.

Let me be clear: Mike Waltz committed an embarrassing mistake—the kind of mistake that one can lose his job over. But that decision is up to President Trump. This isn’t a case of forgetting to mute a mic or misspeaking at a press conference. This is about sending war plans to the press. It's about putting lives at risk through sheer stupidity.

But there's precedent. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin under President Biden also made a serious mistake. He kept his cancer treatment a secret and didn’t inform the White House he was hospitalized. And what did he do? He apologized. Publicly. Ashamed, yes. Embarrassed, of course. But he said the words America needed to hear: “I’m sorry.” And Biden, in turn, allowed him to keep his job.

So here’s the fair deal: if Mike Waltz apologizes to the nation—no excuses, no spin—then it makes sense not to judge his competence or condemn him based on one horrifyingly stupid mistake. We’re all human. Even high-ranking officials can slip. But if he refuses to apologize, if he acts like nothing happened, if he treats this as another day in the swamp—then he is one incompetent, arrogant, and rude white man who thinks national security is just a meme game, who laughs while our soldiers risk their lives, who pretends sending classified information to journalists is no big deal—and he should be fired. Period.

What makes this even worse is the attitude behind it all. These weren’t somber discussions filled with strategic wisdom. No. It was full of mockery for our European allies. Waltz and others sneered about “European freeloading,” joked about making our partners pay the bill for American bombing, and pushed for military strikes not out of necessity, but to look tougher than Biden. Their diplomacy strategy? Emoji fist-bumps and flexed biceps. Their worldview? America acts, others pay.

Even Pete Hegseth—the Secretary of Defense in this reality-show administration—admitted they feared the operation might leak. Irony had a front-row seat. “This might leak,” they said... while a journalist silently sat in their chat, probably wondering if he’d accidentally opened an episode of Veep.

JD Vance tried to be the voice of reason. He said, “I just hate bailing Europe out again.” But instead of caution, they went full-throttle. Waltz declared that the Europeans were too weak, and America alone had to carry the burden. Their solution? Bomb now, bill later.

And then came the greenlight. Trump, through his deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller, apparently gave the go-ahead, with a clear directive: if we bomb for freedom, then we expect something in return. Not peace. Not security. But economic gain. “There needs to be some further economic gain extracted in return,” Miller said. That’s not foreign policy—that’s gangster politics.

And what happened after the first bombs dropped? Mike Waltz cheered. “Amazing job,” he posted, along with a fist, a flag, and a flame emoji. Steve Witkoff, Trump’s envoy to the Middle East, threw in five more emojis—like it was a football game. This is not leadership. This is lunacy.

Witkoff, by the way, doesn’t even hold a cabinet position, but he was in the group. Treated like a “principal.” This man openly fawns over Vladimir Putin, and recently claimed on live TV that Putin commissioned a portrait of Trump and prayed for him at church. That’s who Waltz was trading military strategy with. A Putin fanboy who dreams of a U.S.–Russia alliance in oil, gas, and AI, while dismissing the idea that Russia poses any threat to Europe.

Let me ask plainly: if Waltz is this careless with war plans, what else is he careless with? Our alliances? Our troops? Our democracy? If you give a fool a sword, don’t be surprised when someone bleeds.

And don’t mistake this for partisanship. This is about basic competence. About knowing the difference between war plans and WhatsApp jokes. If this had been a Democrat, conservatives would’ve gone nuclear. But because it’s Trump’s man, we’re supposed to shrug and say “boys will be boys”? Not this time.

Even the National Security Council scrambled to explain it away, calling it “inadvertent.” Really? That’s the best we’ve got? What if Goldberg had tweeted the messages? What if foreign intelligence picked it up? What if lives were lost because Waltz can’t tell the difference between a journalist and a general?

The U.S. military has protocols for a reason. This wasn’t a glitch in the system—it was a glitch in judgment. A breach of trust. A failure of leadership.

So again, let Waltz apologize—publicly, sincerely, and humbly. Let him stand before the American people and admit that he screwed up. Not a “notes app” apology. Not a half-hearted statement through a spokesperson. A real apology. Because that’s what adults do. That’s what leaders do. That’s what people who respect their jobs do.

But if he stays silent or arrogant, then he must go. No fanfare. No honor. Just pack up and leave. America is not a frat house where your status buys you protection. This is the highest level of national security. And if you can’t keep your chat secure, you don’t belong at the table.

Because at the end of the day, if Mike Waltz can leak war plans with the same fingers he uses to send emojis, then maybe his next job should be hosting a podcast—not advising the President of the United States.

Unlike President Trump’s Tariff Model, The Free Market Fights Dirty—And That’s Why It Wins

Protectionism is the graveyard of ambition—every economy buried under it stopped competing, stopped innovating, and started decaying. In contrast, a free market doesn’t coddle mediocrity—it crushes it, and that’s exactly why it works. In plain English, if you need government shielding to stay in business, you don’t deserve to be in business—go compete or go extinct.

Tariffs may sound like tough love, but in Trump’s economy, it’s more like a toxic relationship—loud promises, high drama, and a painful breakup waiting to happen.

President Trump’s obsession with reviving American manufacturing through tariffs and tax credits is like trying to fix a flat tire by pumping it full of hot air. He may think these protectionist tools are the golden keys to economic greatness, but anyone who’s taken a basic econ class knows better. It’s not tax breaks or tariff walls that build a nation’s innovation engine. It’s competition. Pure, brutal, relentless competition—the kind that sharpens ideas, slashes waste, and fuels breakthroughs.

But Trump wants to put U.S. companies on life support, shielding them from foreign rivals like overprotected toddlers in a playground brawl. In his world, a tariff is a warm blanket, not a barrier to growth. He’s rolling out tax credits and depreciation rules like candy at a parade, convinced that corporate handouts will somehow trigger a manufacturing miracle. But they won’t. Because countries don’t invent the future through subsidies—they compete for it. When you block out global challengers, you also block out urgency, and urgency is the father of invention.

Let’s call it what it is: the President is sweet-talking the economy into stagnation.

Back in 1890, President William McKinley tried a similar trick with his tariffs. The result? A recession that nearly tanked the country. Britain, on the other hand, went all in on free trade, mechanized its factories, and outpaced rivals. The lesson? Tariffs may help politicians win elections, but they rarely help nations win the future.

Today, Trump is turning back that same dusty page of economic history, and expecting a different ending. He slapped tariffs on Canadian steel and Chinese electronics, jacking up prices across the board. Consumers got hammered. Small businesses had to choose between layoffs and bankruptcy. And what did the President do? He cheered as if something great had happened—like a man clapping after lighting his own house on fire.

Even when companies like Nvidia announce massive U.S. investments, let’s be honest—it’s not patriotism. It’s panic. They’re scared stiff of the trade chaos Trump’s created. They aren’t innovating because they’re inspired; they’re fleeing uncertainty. It’s damage control, not dynamism. And when companies invest to avoid tariffs instead of to outsmart their competitors, the innovation edge dulls.

I have heard the argument: “We’re protecting American workers!” But tariffs don’t protect workers. They protect inefficiency. A worker in a factory shielded from global competition becomes like a muscle never exercised. Eventually, it weakens. Then what happens when the protection ends? Mass layoffs, empty plants, and another government bailout.

The free market works for a simple reason—it forces you to be better, or get out of the way. When you compete globally, you can’t be lazy. You can’t overcharge. You can’t fall behind in technology. You either innovate or you evaporate. That’s how we got the smartphone revolution, Tesla, cloud computing, and mRNA vaccines. Not from tariffs, but from a ruthless race to be first, fastest, and best.

Trump, however, wants to turn this race into a backyard picnic, where only the invited guests get the goodies, and the rest are locked outside. That’s not capitalism. That’s cronyism in a red hat.

And don’t forget what tariffs actually do to ordinary people. They raise prices—period. Poor and middle-class families end up paying more for everything from food to furniture. It’s a tax in disguise. Trump might not want to call it that, but when your groceries go up and your paycheck doesn’t, it doesn’t take a Ph.D. to see the con.

Tax credits? Sure, they sound nice. But they reward the wrong thing. You don’t get ahead by handing out favors to whoever screams the loudest on K Street. You get ahead by letting the best idea win. You get ahead by making companies fight for every dollar and forcing them to improve or die trying.

If Trump really wanted to unleash America’s innovative spirit, he’d tear down trade barriers, not build them. He’d tell companies: “No more safety nets. No more sweetheart deals. If you want to lead the world, prove it.” That’s the only way to reignite the creative fire that once made this country a global powerhouse.

Instead, he’s playing matchmaker with mediocrity. He’s cuddling up with tariffs and calling it strength. He’s flirting with economic nationalism while real innovators are sprinting ahead in places like Germany, South Korea, and Taiwan—countries that know competition isn’t the enemy, it’s the coach.

Let me put it plain: America didn’t get to the moon on subsidies. We got there because we were in a race—and failure wasn’t an option.

So when Trump wraps himself in the flag of economic patriotism, just remember the old proverb: “Empty barrels make the loudest noise.” He can bang his tariff drum all day long, but it won’t create a single new idea, or a single world-beating product. It’ll only lull the economy into a nap we can’t afford.

And when the music stops—when the tariffs bite back, when the credits dry up, when companies realize they’ve been pampered into uselessness—President Trump’s love affair with protectionism will collapse faster than a Made-in-America plastic chair.

Rome wasn’t built with tax credits. It was built with ambition, competition, and grit. If Trump wants to make America great again, he should start by letting it compete. Otherwise, we’ll keep throwing punches at our own reflection and wondering why the world left us behind.

And as for his love story with tariffs? Well, even fairy tales come with a wicked twist—and this one ends with the prince charming himself into a recession.

Tariff Nation: Trump’s Love Letter to a Dead Industry

President Trump’s tariffs are nothing but welfare for failing industries—proof that when government picks winners, taxpayers always lose. Free markets don’t need training wheels, but tariffs are just that: a crutch for industries that refuse to evolve.

When President Trump says he wants to make American manufacturing great again, it sounds like he's trying to glue back together a broken factory with duct tape and patriotism. Let’s be honest with ourselves: Trump’s goal to stage a great American manufacturing comeback is a noble and seductive goal. But a seductive goal without a sound plan is just a dangerous flirtation with economic disaster. And unfortunately, tariffs won’t deliver that comeback. They’ll just make things worse—like trying to grow crops by blocking the sun.

Here’s the real story. In America today, services account for over 80% of all non-farm jobs, while manufacturing makes up less than 10%. This isn't some liberal talking point—it’s cold, hard economic reality. America doesn’t build its wealth with factories full of sparks and smoke anymore. It builds wealth with intellectual horsepower, ideas, and services that flow through fiber optic cables, not conveyor belts.

President Trump talks as if the U.S. trade deficit is proof that America is being “ripped off.” But here’s the kicker: when it comes to services, America actually runs a trade surplus with the rest of the world. In fact, America exports more services than it imports. The surplus in services has been steady and growing. And that’s because America’s main exports aren’t cars or steel beams—they’re software and software services, entertainment, financial services, and other intangible things. These are where the real money is.

Take the iPhone as an example. It might cost $100 to manufacture—most of that money going to countries like China or Vietnam. But it sells for $700 or more. Why? Because the value is in the design, branding, software, marketing, and sales strategy—areas where America dominates. We own the magic, even if others make the hardware.

And let’s not forget SWIFT—the global banking network. America controls it. Every bank across the world needs it to move money. America can sanction a country and freeze their assets simply because it owns this plumbing of the global economy. That's raw financial power.

But wait, there’s more. America dominates in entertainment. From Hollywood movies to Netflix series, America’s cultural exports reach billions of eyes and ears across the globe. It’s hard to find a corner of the world that isn’t humming along to Taylor Swift or quoting lines from Marvel films.

Then there’s Big Tech. Google, Amazon, Apple, Microsoft, Meta—these are not just American companies; they’re planetary platforms. They deliver cloud services, data infrastructure, advertising technologies, and e-commerce logistics to businesses worldwide. You don’t need a trade show to sell these products—they’re already embedded into global business models. And here's the part Trump doesn’t get: we don’t run deficits here. We run surpluses. We own the digital highways.

And let’s not forget financial services. Wall Street isn't just a street—it’s a global control room. American banks and investment firms manage trillions of dollars for clients around the world. When a sovereign wealth fund in Singapore wants to invest, it often does it through JPMorgan or Goldman Sachs. This is American control without boots or tariffs—just smart, strategic dominance.

President Trump might want to bring steel jobs back to Pennsylvania and coal jobs back to West Virginia, but here’s a brutal truth: automation and global market efficiencies have already buried those jobs. Tariffs won’t resurrect them. Trying to do so is like trying to stream Netflix on a VCR.

The problem is that President Trump still doesn’t seem to understand the theory of comparative advantage—the simple economic idea that countries should do what they do best and trade for the rest. Trying to force America to make everything it consumes is like telling a surgeon to sew their own scrubs and sterilize their own tools before each operation. It’s not just inefficient—it’s absurd.

Tariffs may look patriotic. They sound tough. But they function like taxes on American consumers and businesses. When Trump slaps a 25% tariff on imported steel, guess who pays? American manufacturers, who then raise prices. American consumers, who face inflation. And American exporters, who get hit by retaliatory tariffs from other countries. It’s a self-inflicted wound, dressed up in red, white, and blue.

And what has it achieved so far? The trade deficit hasn't vanished—it’s grown. China didn’t collapse—they found new trading partners. American farmers got hit with retaliatory tariffs and had to be bailed out with billions in government subsidies. So much for free-market capitalism.

You can’t bring back a 1950s economy with 1930s policies in a 2025 world. If Trump wants to help workers, he should focus on job retraining, better education, and investment in new industries. Robotics, renewable energy, artificial intelligence, biotech—these are the arenas where American dominance will matter tomorrow. You don’t win the next war by polishing old swords.

A wise man once said, “Don’t try to row upstream when the current is pulling you forward.” Yet here we are, watching the president row furiously in the wrong direction, demanding that the river change course.

Here’s what’s ironic: while President Trump claims to be a capitalist, tariffs are just socialism for old industries. They pick winners and losers. They protect the past instead of building the future. And they let government—not the free market—decide which sectors deserve to survive.

And still, Trump clings to tariffs like a rusty tool in a modern toolbox, convinced that squeezing foreign competitors will revive American greatness. But America doesn’t need to squeeze—it needs to lead. Lead in what we’re good at. Lead in what the world wants from us.

I don’t need to tell you what happens when you put a tollbooth on a global freeway. Traffic finds another route. And that’s exactly what other countries are doing—finding ways to bypass America’s heavy-handed policies.

So if President Trump thinks he’s going to tariff his way to prosperity, he should remember the old American proverb: "You can’t tax your way out of a recession, and you can’t tariff your way into greatness."

But maybe that’s too much economics for a man who thinks a trade war is a chess game with only one player.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t try to fix the national debt with Monopoly money next.

Woke and Broke: How Democrats Turned a Political Party into a Cult of Chaos

 

While Americans begged for jobs, safety, and lower grocery bills, Democrats handed out drag shows, gender lectures, and climate hallucinations.

The Democratic Party has become a circus—and the elephants aren't the ones doing the juggling. It's the donkeys now tangled in their own ropes. From the rise of fiery far-left radicals like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders to the teetering whispers of moderation from Chuck Schumer, the party is in complete disarray. Democrats are no longer fighting Republicans; they’re fighting each other. And while they stage their internal civil war, Americans are fuming—mad that these Democrats have traded solutions for slogans, dumped law and order for chaos and confusion, and sold patriotism for performative politics.

The infighting is no longer behind closed doors—it’s playing out on live calls and social media for all of America to see. On one side, you have the far-left firebrands like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Sen. Bernie Sanders, preaching an unapologetically socialist gospel. On the other, the beleaguered moderates like Sen. Chuck Schumer and what’s left of the old guard, desperately trying to rein in the insanity. The divide has grown into a chasm. After the 2024 election drubbing, centrist Democrats practically begged their colleagues to never use the words “socialist” or “socialism” again—acknowledging that the radical branding cost them dearly. Rep. Abigail Spanberger, a moderate Democrat who barely clung to her seat while watching colleagues fall to Republicans, blasted her party’s obsession with "defunding the police" and other far-left slogans. In plain English, Spanberger told her progressive peers: Cut the crap, or we’re all doomed.

But did the socialist wing listen? Of course not. Ocasio-Cortez (AOC) and her squad fired back with characteristic snark. "We didn’t lose because we’re too far left," they insisted. "We lost because you moderates ran lousy campaigns!" AOC pointed out that some complacent Democrats spent zero dollars on digital advertising in the final stretch of 2020—essentially bringing butter knives to a gunfight. She and her progressive allies feel unappreciated and scapegoated, with AOC even musing aloud whether she wants to remain in politics given the hostility from her own party. Imagine that: one of the Democrats’ brightest young stars considering quitting because her colleagues treat her as the enemy. It’s a circular firing squad, and every Democrat is getting splattered with friendly fire.

The mutual resentment is palpable. Moderates resent being branded as sellouts by the left; progressives resent being treated as pariahs by the establishment. After the 2024 loss, both wings amazingly claimed vindication—each arguing that their approach was the righteous path. It’s the left hand versus the far-left hand, each accusing the other of losing the fight. In their echo chambers, the progressives believe milquetoast moderates failed to energize the base, while moderates believe socialist extremism alienated Middle America. They’re both right, of course—and both dead wrong. The truth is, the party’s identity crisis is turning into a suicide mission. The Democrats are like a two-headed donkey trying to run in opposite directions: they’re not going anywhere but apart.

While Democrats squabble over how blue is too blue, ordinary Americans are livid—and for good reason. People care about putting food on the table, feeling safe in their neighborhoods, and having a decent job. What did Democrats prioritize instead? Fantasy land proposals and culture war crusades. They harped on a "Green New Deal" that would spend trillions and eliminate cows and cars. They championed open-border posturing and looked the other way as cities drowned in crime. In the summer of 2020, as riots and looting rocked American cities, too many Democratic leaders were busy virtue-signaling about “racial justice” while businesses burned. In Minneapolis, a Democrat-dominated city council voted to dismantle their police department in a spasm of woke fervor—only to backpedal furiously when violent crime spiked and terrified residents screamed for help. It’s hard to take a party seriously when its answer to crime is to cancel cops and pray for the best.

Even President Barack Obama tried to knock some sense into his party. He warned Democrats that “snappy” slogans like "Defund the Police" are disastrously counterproductive, noting "you lost a big audience the minute you say it." Obama was being polite: in reality, you don’t just lose an audience—you lose elections. Voters don’t want police funding slashed when they’re worrying about their family’s safety. They don’t want lectures on critical race theory when their kid can’t read at grade level. They’re sick of being told they’re deplorable or racist because they don’t march in lockstep with the left’s social agenda.

Don’t take my word for it—look at the stampede of voters away from the Democratic Party. During the Biden years, more than one million voters switched to the GOP across 43 states. That’s not a typo: a million Americans said “thanks but no thanks” to the Democrats and walked into the arms of Republicans. And why? Many cited the party’s support for mandatory COVID-19 vaccine rules, inability to stop violent crime, and frequent focus on racial grievances. Americans aren’t necessarily falling in love with the GOP; they’re running away from a Democratic Party that seems to have lost its mind.

Instead of focusing on kitchen-table issues, Democrats spent years chasing radical ideologies and pet projects. They obsessed over impeaching Trump (twice!) while average folks just wanted relief from pandemic lockdowns. They prattled on about free college and loan forgiveness, delighting woke university elites, while the working class with no degree asked, “What about us?” The party that once claimed to stand for working people has morphed into a party that stands for elite virtue-signallers, bureaucrats, and the Twitter mob. Bernie Sanders even blasted his own party for "abandoning working-class voters" after 2024’s losses. Think about that: even Bernie—the socialist—thinks the Democrats have lost touch with workers. He’s not wrong.

The polls are devastating. The Democratic Party’s favorability just plunged to the lowest level on record in modern polling. One survey in March 2025 found only 29% of Americans viewed the Democratic Party favorably, while 54% had an unfavorable view. That 29% is the lowest rating for the party in over 30 years. It’s a drop of 20 points since January 2021. Even rank-and-file Democrats are looking at their leaders and saying, "You’ve let us down."

Leadership? What leadership? The once-formidable Nancy Pelosi is gone. Chuck Schumer is a Senate minority figurehead who can't corral his own caucus. Hakeem Jeffries is herding cats in the House. Kamala Harris has faded into political irrelevance. And Joe Biden? He was shown the door in 2024 after one term of sleepy speeches and declining support.

Now Donald Trump is back in the White House, steamrolling forward with a renewed mandate while the Democrats hold a match and a gas can. The only unity Democrats seem to have is their hatred of Trump—but hatred is not an agenda. Voters saw through the hysteria. They want competence, not chaos.

Bernie Sanders is now encouraging his followers to abandon the Democratic label and run as independents. Ocasio-Cortez is traveling the country with him, rallying her base not just against Trump but against her own party’s establishment. The Democrats are imploding. The far left wants revolution. The moderates want rehabilitation. And the American people? They just want results.

The Democrats have become the gift that keeps on giving—mostly to the Republican Party. At this rate, the DNC's new slogan should be: "We put the ‘party’ in party implosion."

Is Trump Scrapping Voice of America (VOA) to Let Dictators Do the Talking?

If Trump silences VOA, he won’t just be canceling a media outlet—he’ll be canceling America’s credibility as a global defender of truth. Simply put, only tyrants, traitors, and trolls celebrate the shutdown of VOA—because they fear what happens when oppressed people start hearing the truth.

When America turns off its own loudspeaker, you have to wonder—who’s really calling the shots? President Trump’s March 14th executive order to scrap Voice of America (VOA) isn’t just a policy blunder; it’s a megaphone handed to America’s enemies wrapped in a red, white, and blue bow. He says he wants to “eliminate” VOA, but what he’s really eliminating is a vital voice for freedom that echoes where dictators rule with iron fists and where free press is just a dream stuffed in a prison cell.

Let’s be blunt. The same Voice of America (VOA) that President Trump now wants to gut once played Miles Davis and Duke Ellington over airwaves to men and women hiding in Soviet basements, teaching them that freedom had rhythm and truth had power. It’s the same VOA that beamed the full text of The Gulag Archipelago when Russia didn’t want its own people to know what their leaders were doing to them. And now, the man who says he wants to make America great again is the one muffling its greatest international voice.

To kill VOA is to throw away a sword in the middle of a war of narratives. China censors its own people. Russia locks up journalists. North Korea broadcasts fairy tales about unicorns and Supreme Leaders. And the U.S.? Well, under Trump, we’re now shutting down the only global network that tells people the truth about their own dictators, in their own language. It’s like torching your house because you don’t like the wallpaper.

The strength of VOA and its sister outfits—Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Radio Free Asia, and others—isn’t in their budget size. It’s in their backbone. They’ve reported from behind enemy lines, spoken truth to power, and told stories that state-run media dare not whisper. These aren’t "radical left crazy people" as Elon Musk tweeted like a teenager with a vendetta. These are seasoned journalists, often exiles themselves, who’ve risked their lives to tell the truth. Many still do.

Right now, these agencies reach 427 million people every week across over 100 countries. That's not “nobody,” that’s more than the population of the U.S. and Mexico combined. And they do it in 63 languages—from Mandarin to Pashto to Tigrinya—covering corners of the world where the New York Times won’t send a reporter and where CNN can’t safely walk the streets. You want America to be strong? Don’t silence its voice—amplify it.

Remember the Cold War? VOA and RFE weren’t just observers; they were warriors armed with facts. Lech Wałęsa didn’t credit freedom in Poland to Trump-style tweets. He credited it to Radio Free Europe and the Pope. These outlets inspired revolutions, preserved dignity, and reminded captives in totalitarian cages that they were not forgotten. Trump’s executive order tramples over that legacy like a toddler on a sandcastle.

Let’s talk about hypocrisy. This same government that cries about Chinese disinformation and Russian propaganda is now choosing to eliminate the very tools it has used for 80 years to combat those exact threats. That’s not reform. That’s surrender. That’s giving Putin the microphone and telling him to go ahead and sing.

And who did Trump nominate to head VOA? Kari Lake. A former news anchor turned political cheerleader. She called the agency “a giant rot.” But Kari, sweetheart, rot happens when you abandon your institutions, not when they fulfill their mission. The real rot is inside the idea that American values are negotiable and that truth can be outsourced to private podcasts and partisan blogs.

Meanwhile, inside the belly of autocratic states, people are trying to tune into something real. In Tibet and Xinjiang, Radio Free Asia has been among the only sources reporting on the ethnic cleansing of Uyghurs. These are stories Chinese media would bury and stomp on. In Russia, RFE continues to expose regional corruption—things the Kremlin would love to keep quiet. Yet here comes Trump, handing the scissors to cut those broadcast cables.

It’s not just tragic. It’s treacherous.

And let’s not ignore the symbolic poison in this move. VOA doesn’t even broadcast to Americans. It was never meant to be a domestic political weapon. It was—and still is—an arm of soft power. Its purpose is to influence hearts and minds globally by showcasing that America, with all its flaws, still believes in transparency, freedom, and dignity. Turning off VOA is like telling the world, “We’re done standing up for you.”

Soft power is real power. It wins wars without firing bullets. It defuses bombs without drones. That’s the kind of power VOA has wielded for eight decades, and it has done so at a price tag far lower than the Pentagon’s toilet seats. Roughly $900 million a year—that’s what we spend on all of USAGM’s outlets. That’s pocket change compared to the trillions we pour into defense. Yet here we are, ready to cut it loose like an unwanted dog.

What’s worse, it sends a message to every autocrat across the globe: keep jailing your journalists, keep censoring your press, keep lying to your people. America won’t be watching anymore. It’s almost poetic—except instead of sonnets, we’re writing surrender notes.

If Trump wants to save taxpayer money, there are a thousand better places to start. How about the golf trips? Or the golden toilets? Gutting VOA won’t balance the budget, but it will unbalance global democracy. And when the lights go off in places like Tehran, Havana, or Pyongyang, don’t be surprised if the only voices left are those praising their dictators and burning the American flag.

As an old African proverb says, “Until the lion learns to write, the story will always glorify the hunter.” For millions of voiceless people around the world, VOA has been the lion’s pen. Taking it away is not just censorship. It’s betrayal.

And so, as Trump swings the axe, believing he’s trimming the fat, what he’s really doing is slicing through the soul of American diplomacy. But hey, maybe that’s what “Project 2025” was about all along—shrink the government, grow the ego, and give tyrants front-row seats to the funeral of American influence.

Next thing you know, they’ll be replacing the bald eagle with a parrot trained to say “fake news.”

The Gang’s Best Friend: How One Judge is Sabotaging Trump’s War on Crime

Judge James Boasberg has become the unofficial defense attorney for international gangsters, protecting criminals instead of American citizens. Let me put it as politely as I can: Every time Boasberg blocks a deportation, a gang member gets another shot at terrorizing our streets—and he knows it.

When judges start playing defense for gangsters, don’t be surprised when justice ends up face down on the pavement. It is absolutely ridiculous that activist judges like James Boasberg are standing in the way of President Trump, who is simply trying to clean our streets of criminals and gang members. This is not about politics—it’s about public safety. But somehow, Boasberg thinks his black robe makes him the ultimate gang shield. Instead of cracking down on crime, he’s cracking down on the very people trying to stop it.

The gang in question is Tren de Aragua, a ruthless Venezuelan organization born out of prison chaos and now stretching its criminal tentacles across Latin America and into our backyard. They deal in human trafficking, extortion, drug smuggling, and cold-blooded murder. Yet here we are, watching a judge block the Trump administration from deporting nearly 250 suspected members of this group. Yes, you heard right—238 people flown out for public safety, only for Judge Boasberg to throw a legal tantrum and demand they be brought back.

Boasberg’s excuse? He claims Trump’s use of the 1798 Alien Enemies Act is legally flawed. But this is a law crafted during the presidency of John Adams, meant precisely for moments like this—when enemies of peace, security, and sovereignty are within our borders. If criminal syndicates coordinating across nations don’t count as enemies, then who does? But leave it to an Obama-appointed judge to twist a centuries-old law into a shield for criminals and a sword against the president.

The judge didn’t just block the deportations—he scolded the administration’s lawyers like a schoolteacher scolding a child for using the word “stupid” in class. He complained about their “tone,” said they were “intemperate,” and accused them of being “disrespectful.” What’s truly disrespectful is a judge more concerned with the tone of filings than the screams of victims of gang violence. It’s tone-deaf justice, if there ever was such a thing.

President Trump, never one to hold back, called Boasberg a “radical left lunatic” and demanded his impeachment. And let’s be honest—when a judge openly undermines the government’s ability to remove dangerous individuals and protect its citizens, maybe it’s time for Congress to bring out the broom and sweep the bench clean. Trump isn’t declaring war on the courts; he’s demanding accountability from people who seem more interested in defending foreign thugs than American lives.

And while some so-called legal “experts” cry about a constitutional crisis, what they’re really defending is a broken system where criminals have more rights than their victims. The Constitution demands balance between the branches, not a straitjacket for the president. When a judge stops the president from using a legal tool to remove people linked to violent gangs, we are not witnessing balance—we are watching sabotage.

Let’s talk real numbers: According to law enforcement, just in the past week, one member of Tren de Aragua was arrested in Florida for human trafficking, and another in Georgia for gang-related activity. These aren’t fairy tales—they’re facts. These criminals are here, they’re dangerous, and Trump is trying to get them out. But Boasberg would rather play legal hopscotch with technicalities than let the president do his job.

Some families of the deported are claiming their relatives are innocent. That’s expected. Every gang member has a mother or brother crying on TV. But law enforcement doesn’t operate on tears—they operate on intelligence, evidence, and threat assessment. If 238 people were on a deportation flight, they didn’t get there by winning a raffle. They were flagged for a reason, and that reason was public safety.

What’s truly shocking is that Boasberg isn’t even pretending to hide his contempt for Trump’s policies. He’s calling for more hearings, more delays, more paperwork, and threatening sanctions for defying his order. That’s not justice—that’s obstructionism dressed in judicial robes. Meanwhile, the streets stay dangerous and taxpayers foot the bill to house and process foreign criminals who should’ve been long gone.

Let’s not forget that this is the same Judge Boasberg who’s made a name for himself as a left-leaning defender of government overreach—except when it’s the executive branch trying to protect American lives. In the past, he’s been a roadblock to surveillance programs and immigration enforcement. His loyalties lie not with the Constitution but with the political ideology of his appointers. A judge is supposed to be blind, but Boasberg's decisions suggest he’s wearing blue-tinted glasses.

And for the pundits who cry about democracy and due process, let’s use some common sense. Deportation isn’t the death penalty. It’s sending people back to their home countries—countries where, in some cases, they committed crimes before even stepping foot on U.S. soil. If sending known criminals back to their country of origin is considered cruel and unusual punishment, then we may as well hang a “Welcome Gangsters” sign at the border.

America has always stood for law and order. You cannot have peace without justice, and you cannot have justice when judges block every attempt to enforce the law. A system that favors the rights of foreign criminals over the rights of law-abiding citizens isn’t a justice system—it’s a joke. And Judge Boasberg just delivered the punchline.

President Trump’s goal is clear: secure the border, remove threats, and keep Americans safe. He’s using the tools Congress gave him—tools rooted in centuries of legal tradition. But activist judges, hiding behind hollow interpretations of ancient laws, are trying to rewrite the rules on the fly. It’s like calling a firefighter a pyromaniac because he’s using water without asking for a permit.

Some say the judiciary is the last line of defense for liberty. But when liberty is used as a hiding place for criminals, we’re not defending it—we’re destroying it. I say it’s time to stand up, not just for Trump, but for every citizen who wants to walk down the street without fear. The people elected a president to lead, not to kneel before judges who play politics from the bench.

And if Judge Boasberg is so worried about the tone of legal briefs, maybe he should try reading the room—because Americans are tired of playing courtroom charades while gangs play Russian roulette with their lives. One day, we’ll have a justice system where criminals face justice and judges don’t moonlight as defense attorneys. But until then, at least we’ll always have Judge Boasberg to remind us what happens when the law becomes a clown suit and the courtroom becomes a circus tent.

Woke and Wild: How the Radical Left Turned Tesla Dealerships into Bonfire Politics

  

These radical leftists who torch Teslas are not activists—they’re modern-day arsonists masquerading as freedom fighters with Molotov cocktails and no moral compass. In plain English, burning down Tesla dealerships because you hate Elon Musk is like punching a solar panel because you’re angry at the sun—stupid, self-destructive, and embarrassingly irrational.

In the world of electric dreams and political extremes, it seems some maniacs have mistaken torching Teslas for torching tyranny. But make no mistake: setting fire to someone’s car doesn’t make you a revolutionary—it just makes you a criminal with a lighter. The recent wave of Tesla vandalism is not a protest; it’s a tantrum with gasoline. And just like the radical left’s plan to tort President Trump into the poorhouse before the 2024 presidential election backfired and instead made Americans see him as a victim—helping him pull off one of the biggest political comebacks in U.S. history—these radical left maniacs who vandalize Elon Musk’s Teslas will end up achieving one thing they will not like, namely, turning Elon Musk into a folk hero and giving him the kind of street cred you can’t buy with billions.

Let’s call this what it is: unhinged left-wing lunacy. You don’t have to like what Elon Musk is doing with DOGE or his role in Trump’s Department of Government Efficiency—DOGE for short—but that doesn’t give you the right to act like a pyromaniac in protest gear. When did it become fashionable in America to respond to political disagreements by lighting up electric cars like it’s the Fourth of July? What kind of twisted and demented behavior is that?

A Tesla dealership in Las Vegas was set ablaze, and the word “resist” was scrawled across its windows like a desperate cry from an activist who skipped Civics 101. In Oregon, a Molotov cocktail was thrown into a showroom like it was a war zone, not a showroom for electric sedans. One radical was arrested and indicted—thankfully. And the FBI is now watching these radicals like hawks circling over a field of foolishness. If they thought they were fighting the system, they’ll soon find out that prison walls are the only walls they’ll be breaking through.

We’ve seen this play before. Remember when the far left thought dragging Trump through lawsuits and court cases would bankrupt him and bury his campaign? Instead, the man raised more money from grassroots supporters than ever before. The more they tried to destroy him, the more they built him up. Trump didn’t just survive—he won in a landslide. Americans don’t like bullies. They don’t like mobs. And they definitely don’t like seeing one man getting burned because of his beliefs.

Now, they’re trying the same with Musk. But Elon Musk is not just a billionaire CEO. He’s a symbol. A risk-taker. A genius. A disruptor who broke the automotive cartel, launched rockets while flipping off bureaucracy, and told the woke mob to take a hike. When you target someone like that, you don’t make them weaker—you make them larger than life. Just like Trump, he becomes the underdog, the outsider who stood up against the madness.

And what’s the excuse? That Musk is helping Trump cut government fat? That he laid off thousands of lazy bureaucrats through DOGE? Well, boo hoo. Maybe the government needed a reality check. Maybe some agencies needed to be gutted like a Thanksgiving turkey. Just because your buddy got fired from a six-figure do-nothing job doesn’t mean you get to torch someone’s property.

Everybody has the right to protest peacefully. But nobody—absolutely nobody—has the right to destroy someone’s car, building, or business. That’s not protest. That’s arson. That’s terrorism. And yes, President Trump is right: there won’t be any mercy when the perpetrators of these heinous acts are caught. If you throw Molotov cocktails at a Tesla dealership, don’t be surprised if you find yourself booking a long vacation in a prison far, far away—maybe even in El Salvador, where the prisons don’t serve vegan meals or let you Zoom into therapy sessions.

Let’s not forget what Tesla stands for. It's the future of green energy, self-driving innovation, and sustainable transport. It’s ironic that the same people who claim to care about climate change are burning down the very company that’s trying to stop it. That’s not just hypocrisy—it’s lunacy on autopilot.

Musk’s critics are so blinded by rage that they can’t see how much they’re helping him. With every Tesla they torch, they push another moderate voter into Musk’s corner. With every dealership they deface, they make the DOGE initiative look more sensible. With every camera that catches them in the act, they make Musk look more like the adult in the room. They’re not hurting him. They’re handing him a megaphone.

It’s a law of unintended consequences, folks. The more they scream, the more he shines. The more they vandalize, the more he capitalizes. He’s like the political version of a Tesla Cybertruck—ugly to some, but built like a tank and impossible to destroy.

And let’s be honest: this isn’t just about Elon Musk. It’s about the state of America. When disagreement turns into destruction, when debate turns into arson, we’ve crossed a line. You want to protest Elon Musk? Fine. Don’t buy his cars. Don’t use his satellites. Don’t invest in his companies. That’s your right. But the second you pick up a match and target his property, you’ve given up the high ground and jumped into the gutter of lawless radicalism.

If the left thinks they can burn their way to moral superiority, they’re in for a rude awakening. They’re not freedom fighters—they’re firebugs with Twitter accounts. And sooner or later, justice is going to hit them harder than a SpaceX rocket booster.

So while these torch-wielding Tesla-haters think they’re sparking a revolution, all they’re really doing is jump-starting Musk’s popularity and accelerating his rise as America’s next capitalist icon. If irony were fuel, their flames would power a fleet of Teslas all the way to Mars.

And to the radical left who think they can destroy their way to utopia, let me say this: if brain cells were batteries, yours wouldn’t power a flashlight in a blackout.