A while ago, probably in 2017, I appeared on Tucker Carlson's Fox show to talk about God knows what. Afterwards a name I barely knew sent me a DM on twitter and told me I did a great job. It was Charlie Kirk, and that moment of kindness began a friendship that lasted until today.
Charlie was fascinated by ideas and always willing to learn and change his mind. Like me, he was skeptical of Donald Trump in 2016. Like me, he came to see President Trump as the only figure capable of moving American politics away from the globalism that had dominated for our entire lives. When others were right, he learned from them. When he was right--as he usually was--he was generous. With Charlie, the attitude was never, "I told you so." But: "welcome."
Charlie was one of the first people I called when I thought about running for senate in early 2021. I was interested but skeptical there was a pathway. We talked through everything, from the strategy to the fundraising to the grassroots of the movement he knew so well. He introduced me to some of the people who would run my campaign and also to Donald Trump Jr. "Like his dad, he's misunderstood. He's extremely smart, and very much on our wavelength." Don took a call from me because Charlie asked him too.
Long before I ever committed (even in my mind) to running, Charlie had me speak to his donors at a TPUSA event. He walked me around the room and introduced me. He gave me honest feedback on my remarks. He had no reason to do this, no expectation that I'd go anywhere. I was polling, at that point, well below 5 percent. He did it because we were friends, and because he was a good man.
When I became the VP nominee--something Charlie advocated for both in public and private--Charlie was there for me. I was so glad to be part of the president's team, but candidly surprised by the effect it had on our family. Our kids, especially our oldest, struggled with the attention and the constant presence of the protective detail. I felt this acute sense of guilt, that I had conscripted my kids into this life without getting their permission. And Charlie was constantly calling and texting, checking on our family and offering guidance and prayers. Some of our most successful events were organized not by the campaign, but by TPUSA. He wasn't just a thinker, he was a doer, turning big ideas into bigger events with thousands of activists. And after every event, he would give me a big hug, tell me he was praying for me, and ask me what he could do. "You focus on Wisconsin," he'd tell me. "Arizona is in the bag." And it was.
Charlie genuinely believed in and loved Jesus Christ. He had a profound faith. We used to argue about Catholicism and Protestantism and who was right about minor doctrinal questions. Because he loved God, he wanted to understand him.
Someone else pointed out that Charlie died doing what he loved: discussing ideas. He would go into these hostile crowds and answer their questions. If it was a friendly crowd, and a progressive asked a question to jeers from the audience, he'd encourage his fans to calm down and let everyone speak. He exemplified a foundational virtue of our Republic: the willingness to speak openly and debate ideas.
Charlie had an uncanny ability to know when to push the envelope and when to be more conventional. I've seen people attack him for years for being wrong on this or that issue publicly, never realizing that privately he was working to broaden the scope of acceptable debate.
He was a great family man. I was talking to President Trump in the Oval Office today, and he said, "I know he was a very good friend of yours." I nodded silently, and President Trump observed that Charlie really loved his family. The president was right. Charlie was so proud of Erika and the two kids. He was so happy to be a father. And he felt such gratitude for having found a woman of God with whom he could build a family.
Charlie Kirk was a true friend. The kind of guy you could say something to and know it would always stay with him. I am on more than a few group chats with Charlie and people he introduced me to over the years. We celebrate weddings and babies, bust each other's chops, and mourn the loss of loved ones. We talk about politics and policy and sports and life. These group chats include people at the very highest level of our government. They trusted him, loved him, and knew he'd always have their backs. And because he was a true friend ,you could instinctively trust the people Charlie introduced you to. So much of the success we've had in this administration traces directly to Charlie's ability to organize and convene. He didn't just help us win in 2024, he helped us staff the entire government.
I was in a meeting in the West Wing when those group chats started lighting up with people telling Charlie they were praying for him. And that's how I learned the news that my friend had been shot. I prayed a lot over the next hour, as first good news and then bad trickled in.
God didn't answer those prayers, and that's OK. He had other plans. And now that Charlie is in heaven, I'll ask him to talk to big man directly on behalf of his family, his friends, and the country he loved so dearly.
You ran a good race, my friend.
We've got it from here.
Donald Trump was mocked for sounding the alarm on the California water/fire crisis during his interview with Joe Rogan.
Turns out, he was right.
Trump spent nearly 7 minutes ranting about the issue, blasting Newsom for doing nothing to fix the problem.
Trump specifically discussed the Californian Delta Smelt controversy, where rainwater is wasted by being directed into the Pacific Ocean to protect a tiny fish species.
"You know in Los Angeles, you can't get proper amounts of water."
"In order to protect a tiny little fish, the water up north gets routed into the Pacific Ocean. Millions and millions of gallons of water gets poured [into the Pacific]."
"I got it all done. Nobody could believe it. It was all done. I said, I got it. You got so much water. All you have to do is sign, and [Newsom] didn't wanna sign."
"Every time I go to California, I say you have so much water. They don't know it... I'm telling you, people living in Beverly Hills, they turn off the water. Same thing with the electric."
Gio Reyna: "One of these days I really need to say thank you to Sergio Agüero.
For a long time I have been like, I need to play against this guy, just so that I can talk to him. Not just because my grandfather is Argentine, or because Sergio is one of my family’s favorite players, or because at the World Cup two years ago we all sat in front of the TV rooting for Argentina.
Nah. I have a story to tell him. Many years ago Sergio scored a goal that gave me one of the happiest moments of my life.
To understand why, you need to know about my older brother, Jack.
Jack was my hero when I was a kid. Some people think that my dad, Claudio, made me a good player, since he was a pro himself. Sure, he gave me great advice and some pretty good genes. But when I was growing up in Manchester, where Dad was playing for Manchester City, the one who always played with me in the backyard was Jack.
We had the old Samba goals, you know? One-on-one, nowhere to hide. I was four years old and Jack was three years older, so he would sometimes let me win by letting a few shots slip under his foot. Most of the time, though, Jack would make sure I lost. And I’d get angry. I’d kick him, bite him, fight him. Then I’d cry and run to my mum, Danielle. Those games made me grow up a lot, and Dad will tell you the same thing. My competitiveness, my feistiness, all that came from trying to beat Jack.
He was the perfect brother. I was always a shy kid, so he would include me in whatever he was doing with his friends, which meant that I got used to playing against kids who were several years older. That gave me confidence. When I wasn’t around, he’d say nice things about me. When he realized that I was going to be better than he was, he pushed me to become the best I could possibly be. And if I had played a good game, he would be the first person to call me to tell how well I had played.
In 2007, our family moved to New York, where Dad played for the New York Red Bulls. In the summer of 2010, Jack was diagnosed with brain cancer. He was 11 years old. At one point it looked like he was going to make it, but in December 2011, the doctors discovered that the tumor had come back. Shortly after that, when we went on a vacation to Mexico, Jack started to get sick and put on pounds because of the chemotherapy. He could still walk and swim, but he got tired very quickly. That was when I figured out that this could end in a very bad way.
Over the next few months I did everything I could to help him. I had to grow up fast. He couldn’t pull himself up. There was a point where he had to wear diapers. I learned how to microwave food, I did the dishes, stuff like that. I also hung out a lot with my younger brother, Joah-Mikel, and my younger sister, Carolina, who were having a tough time, too. I just wanted to make my family happy, and to make Jack happy, of course. All of us did, especially when we knew that he only had a few months left to live. Every night at the dinner table we would tell each other stories and laugh. Every night. Somehow, even in such a devastating situation, we managed to have some fun.
One day in May 2012, when Jack was 13, we gathered in the living room to watch the final day of the Premier League. I think even my grandparents were there. We are all big City fans, because Dad played there, and on that particular day City could win its first league title in 44 years by beating Queens Park Rangers at home. If City didn’t win, we had to hope that Manchester United, which was behind City only on goal differential, didn’t win either.
We were all pretty positive that City was going to beat QPR, one of the smaller teams in the league. When City scored in the first half, the win, and the title, seemed like a formality.
But QPR turned the game around and took the lead in the second half. Since United was winning, City needed two goals. In our living room nobody was smiling anymore. I felt bad for Jack. He was so sick at that time that he couldn’t walk or talk. Now he wasn’t going to see City win the league either.
Two minutes into stoppage time Edin Džeko equalized. That gave us some hope, even though the game was almost over. Two minutes later Agüero scored the winner.
You’ve seen the goal. You’ve heard the commentary.
“AGÜEROOOOOOO!!”
We went crazy in the living room. We were jumping around, shouting and celebrating and hugging each other. A first league title in 44 years! Won in the most incredible manner. We looked at each other in disbelief.
Suddenly we heard someone gasping for air. It was Jack. He was rolling around on the floor, which came out of nowhere because he barely had any energy left in his body. We got very concerned. For 20 seconds it looked like he couldn’t breathe.
Then, slowly, Jack broke into a smile and began to laugh. We realized that he was celebrating the goal. He was just as happy as we were.
I’ll never forget that moment. It was so amazing, so funny, so crazy.
A bit more than nine weeks later, on July 19, Jack passed away."
I’m going to give 5 people that retweet this tweet $10,000 each to celebrate Christmas! (Make sure you follow me so I can dm you if you win!). I will show proof!