Crystal Critchfield

America turns 250 today. Let me read back the resume. We started by telling a king to pound sand, in writing. By 1803 we bought half a continent from France for about four cents an acre. We fought a war with ourselves and somehow stayed one country. We strung a railroad across the entire thing. We handed the world the lightbulb, the telephone, and the airplane in about thirty years flat. Then a man named Willis Carrier invented air conditioning and made half the planet actually livable. You are welcome, Texas. You are welcome, Dubai. Twice the whole world caught fire, and twice we showed up and helped put it out. We split the atom. We put men on the moon in 1969. Then we went back and hit golf balls up there, because why not. We invented jazz, blues, rock and roll, and hip-hop, and the whole planet is still dancing to it. We put a burger and fries on every corner of the earth. We built rockets that fly themselves home and land standing straight up. We flew a helicopter on Mars. We launched a car into actual space and it is still out there cruising. We also invented ranch dressing and somehow talked the entire world into putting it on pizza. Priorities. We even invented three of our own sports so we could win them. Baseball, basketball, and football. Real football, the kind with hands, because we named it and we are not taking corrections. The rest of the planet can keep soccer, which is fine, we are hosting it in our backyard this summer anyway. And yes, Canadian football exists, wider field, extra man, one fewer down, and we try very hard not to think about it. Frankly it was generous of us to invent our own games. If we put all that energy into soccer, nobody else would ever lift that trophy again. We would win it so often they would just rename it the America’s Cup and hand us the keys. You are welcome for the suspense. And in 2026 we threw a birthday so big a German tourist live-tweeted our gas stations to 750,000 people. Not every chapter was clean. We argued, we stumbled, we fixed what we broke, and we kept building. That is the whole trick. Two hundred and fifty years in, and we are still the loudest, brightest, most improbable experiment on the map. Not bad for a country that started as a strongly worded letter to a king. Happy birthday, America. 🦋

Selene_Mariposa's tweet photo. America turns 250 today.

Let me read back the resume.

We started by telling a king to pound sand, in writing.

By 1803 we bought half a continent from France for about four cents an acre.

We fought a war with ourselves and somehow stayed one country.

We strung a railroad across the entire thing.

We handed the world the lightbulb, the telephone, and the airplane in about thirty years flat.

Then a man named Willis Carrier invented air conditioning and made half the planet actually livable.

You are welcome, Texas. You are welcome, Dubai.

Twice the whole world caught fire, and twice we showed up and helped put it out.

We split the atom.

We put men on the moon in 1969.

Then we went back and hit golf balls up there, because why not.

We invented jazz, blues, rock and roll, and hip-hop, and the whole planet is still dancing to it.

We put a burger and fries on every corner of the earth.

We built rockets that fly themselves home and land standing straight up.

We flew a helicopter on Mars.

We launched a car into actual space and it is still out there cruising.

We also invented ranch dressing and somehow talked the entire world into putting it on pizza.

Priorities.

We even invented three of our own sports so we could win them.

Baseball, basketball, and football.

Real football, the kind with hands, because we named it and we are not taking corrections.

The rest of the planet can keep soccer, which is fine, we are hosting it in our backyard this summer anyway.

And yes, Canadian football exists, wider field, extra man, one fewer down, and we try very hard not to think about it.

Frankly it was generous of us to invent our own games.

If we put all that energy into soccer, nobody else would ever lift that trophy again.

We would win it so often they would just rename it the America’s Cup and hand us the keys.

You are welcome for the suspense.

And in 2026 we threw a birthday so big a German tourist live-tweeted our gas stations to 750,000 people.

Not every chapter was clean.

We argued, we stumbled, we fixed what we broke, and we kept building.

That is the whole trick.

Two hundred and fifty years in, and we are still the loudest, brightest, most improbable experiment on the map.

Not bad for a country that started as a strongly worded letter to a king.

Happy birthday, America.

🦋

398

11K

231K

Crystal Critchfield @Crystal_Critch

17 days ago

@caroljsroth Lou Malnoti’s is my favorite! 🇺🇸

Crystal_Critch retweeted

Wesley Hunt

@WesleyHuntTX

about 1 year ago

This is the definitive rendition of our National Anthem. Whitney Houston didn’t just sing it—she made us feel it. Patriotism. Pride. Purpose. A moment that reminded us why we love this country. Happy Birthday, America. 🇺🇸

87K

16K

Crystal Critchfield @Crystal_Critch

17 days ago

@ericmetaxas ❤️🇺🇸❤️🇺🇸❤️

Crystal_Critch retweeted

The White House

@WhiteHouse

17 days ago

The Stars and Stripes are the ultimate symbol of resilience.

392

11K

269

410K

Crystal_Critch retweeted

Insurrection Barbie

@DefiyantlyFree

18 days ago

In September of 1814, America was once again in trouble. The young republic was only thirty-eight years old. The War of 1812 had gone badly. British troops had marched into Washington, burned the Capitol, set the White House ablaze, and now turned their sights toward Baltimore. If Fort McHenry fell, the harbor would be open, the city would likely follow, and another devastating blow would be dealt to the fragile nation. Amid this uncertainty, a young American lawyer named Francis Scott Key sailed under a flag of truce to the British fleet. He had come to negotiate the release of a friend, a physician the British had captured. He succeeded. The British agreed to free the doctor. But there was a catch. Because Key and his companions had seen too much of the British fleet and learned too much about its plans, they were not allowed to return to shore. Instead, they were detained aboard a ship in the harbor and forced to watch the coming battle from behind enemy lines. On the morning of September 13, the bombardment began. For the next twenty-five hours, British warships unleashed somewhere between 1,500 and 1,800 bombs and rockets upon Fort McHenry. These were the “bombs bursting in air” and the “rockets’ red glare” of the song—not poetic embellishments, but terrible realities. Key stood on the deck through the endless day and the long, terrifying night. Every explosion lit the darkness for a fleeting instant before the smoke swallowed everything again. Somewhere beyond that wall of fire stood the fort. Somewhere beyond it flew an American flag if it still flew at all. He could not see. He could only listen. As long as the guns continued firing, there was reason to hope. The British would not waste ammunition on a fort that had already surrendered. Then, just before dawn… The guns fell silent. For the first time all night, there was only stillness. It was the most frightening sound of all. Had the fort finally fallen? Had the defenders surrendered? Had the flag been torn down in the darkness while no one could see? There was nothing to do but wait. As the first light of September 14 slowly pushed back the smoke, Francis Scott Key strained his eyes toward the distant fort. Then he saw it. Not a British flag. The American flag. Still there. Still flying. That flag was no ordinary banner. Months earlier, the fort’s commander had commissioned a Baltimore flagmaker, Mary Pickersgill, to sew a flag so enormous “that the British would have no difficulty seeing it from a distance.” It measured roughly thirty by forty-two feet, carried fifteen stars and fifteen stripes, and was so large it had to be assembled on the floor of a brewery because no ordinary room could contain it. That was the Star-Spangled Banner. The very flag Key saw through the morning mist. The very flag that still survives today in the Smithsonian. Overcome by what he had witnessed, Key reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and began writing. The words came from a heart that had spent an entire night fearing his country might disappear with the dawn. He first titled the poem Defence of Fort M’Henry. Within days it was printed and circulating throughout the country. Before long, people began singing it to a melody they already knew—an old British tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven,” originally written for a London social club. There is something beautifully ironic in that: America’s most beloved patriotic song borrowed the melody of the very nation it had just survived. It also explains why the anthem is so notoriously difficult to sing. It was never written for ordinary voices gathered in stadiums or school assemblies. The song spread quickly and became one of America’s favorite patriotic hymns, but it would wait more than a century before receiving official recognition. Not until 1931 did Congress declare “The Star-Spangled Banner” the national anthem of the United States.

DefiyantlyFree's tweet photo. In September of 1814, America was once again in trouble.

The young republic was only thirty-eight years old. The War of 1812 had gone badly. British troops had marched into Washington, burned the Capitol, set the White House ablaze, and now turned their sights toward Baltimore. If Fort McHenry fell, the harbor would be open, the city would likely follow, and another devastating blow would be dealt to the fragile nation.

Amid this uncertainty, a young American lawyer named Francis Scott Key sailed under a flag of truce to the British fleet. He had come to negotiate the release of a friend, a physician the British had captured.

He succeeded.

The British agreed to free the doctor.

But there was a catch.

Because Key and his companions had seen too much of the British fleet and learned too much about its plans, they were not allowed to return to shore. Instead, they were detained aboard a ship in the harbor and forced to watch the coming battle from behind enemy lines.

On the morning of September 13, the bombardment began.

For the next twenty-five hours, British warships unleashed somewhere between 1,500 and 1,800 bombs and rockets upon Fort McHenry. These were the “bombs bursting in air” and the “rockets’ red glare” of the song—not poetic embellishments, but terrible realities.

Key stood on the deck through the endless day and the long, terrifying night. Every explosion lit the darkness for a fleeting instant before the smoke swallowed everything again. Somewhere beyond that wall of fire stood the fort. Somewhere beyond it flew an American flag if it still flew at all.

He could not see.

He could only listen.

As long as the guns continued firing, there was reason to hope. The British would not waste ammunition on a fort that had already surrendered.

Then, just before dawn…

The guns fell silent.

For the first time all night, there was only stillness.

It was the most frightening sound of all.

Had the fort finally fallen? Had the defenders surrendered? Had the flag been torn down in the darkness while no one could see?

There was nothing to do but wait.

As the first light of September 14 slowly pushed back the smoke, Francis Scott Key strained his eyes toward the distant fort.

Then he saw it. Not a British flag.

The American flag. Still there. Still flying.

That flag was no ordinary banner. Months earlier, the fort’s commander had commissioned a Baltimore flagmaker, Mary Pickersgill, to sew a flag so enormous “that the British would have no difficulty seeing it from a distance.” It measured roughly thirty by forty-two feet, carried fifteen stars and fifteen stripes, and was so large it had to be assembled on the floor of a brewery because no ordinary room could contain it.

That was the Star-Spangled Banner.

The very flag Key saw through the morning mist.

The very flag that still survives today in the Smithsonian.

Overcome by what he had witnessed, Key reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and began writing. The words came from a heart that had spent an entire night fearing his country might disappear with the dawn.

He first titled the poem Defence of Fort M’Henry.

Within days it was printed and circulating throughout the country. Before long, people began singing it to a melody they already knew—an old British tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven,” originally written for a London social club. There is something beautifully ironic in that: America’s most beloved patriotic song borrowed the melody of the very nation it had just survived. It also explains why the anthem is so notoriously difficult to sing. It was never written for ordinary voices gathered in stadiums or school assemblies.

The song spread quickly and became one of America’s favorite patriotic hymns, but it would wait more than a century before receiving official recognition. Not until 1931 did Congress declare “The Star-Spangled Banner” the national anthem of the United States.

233

15K

268K

Crystal_Critch retweeted

Clint Teeples

@TeeplesCY

17 days ago

“Mormons turned a swamp into a metropolis. Then they turned a desert into an empire. It’s the most American story.” Their religious beliefs take them to Missouri. Neighbors learn they are anti-slavery and violently drive them out. They go to Illinois and turn a swamp into a city that rivals Chicago. Only to have violent mobs run them out. They walk toward Utah. Hoping to find a safe place to gather. Jim Bridger mocks them. He bets $1,000 they can’t grow crops in Utah. They continue anyway. The Utah soil is so hard it breaks their plows. So they engineer a way to water a desert. Their crops grow. Salt Lake City sprawls. They expand. Latter-day Saints settle 500 towns across the West. A network of farms, commerce, and faith. Their women become the first women to vote. They elect America’s first female state senator. Their women organize themselves. With very little training, they create a system that lowers infant mortality to among the lowest rates in the country. When the Depression hits, Latter-day Saints implement the most effective welfare program in the country. Decades later, Ronald Reagan studies it and calls it a model for the country. Its impact is seen today as Utah has the lowest usage of federal food assistance in the country. The pursuit of knowledge and science becomes a hallmark. They start universities. They send their smartest men and women back east to learn the latest ideas and bring them back. They are innovative. Technology that changes the world emerges from their culture. The television. The artificial heart. The weapons that won WWII. The beginnings of the internet. The work ethic and cooperation that propelled them to develop the American West continues today. Their outsized influence on the world is famous. They know religious persecution better than most. So they champion religious freedom for all, even those they disagree with. Sociologists are obsessed with their outcomes. A Princeton researcher studied teens in America. She concluded that “Mormon teens are faring best.” Harvard data recently found that kids who grow up in Latter-day Saint homes are the most likely to say they feel loved by both parents. Other national studies consistently find them to be the happiest people in the country. Gallup finds they are the most observant Christians in the country, a dedication to their faith that is unrivaled. Pew Research finds they know many Bible stories better than any other Christians. A swamp became a metropolis. A desert became an empire. A persecuted people became the happiest in America. That’s the most American story ever told.

579

656

67K

Crystal_Critch retweeted

Freedom 250

@Freedom250

17 days ago

CELEBRATE THE 4TH OF JULY WITH US 🇺🇸🎉🦅https://t.co/ali1XLh2qG

559

54K

17M

Crystal_Critch retweeted

Peter Schweizer

@peterschweizer

17 days ago

There have been 4 major revolutions in the past 250 years: American, French, Russian, and Chinese. Only one led to individual rights and prosperity. The others led to mass death and tyranny. The US revolution was unique because it said two things: 1. Our rights come from God not from the govt. 2. Humans are power -hungry so we need to limit govt power. So the next time someone attacks the nation of one revolution that succeeded and recycles the the idea of those that miserably failed, you can ask them: are you ignorant, or malicious?

827

32K

642K

Crystal Critchfield @Crystal_Critch

17 days ago

@ConceptualJames @RubinReport 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Crystal_Critch retweeted

The White House

@WhiteHouse

17 days ago

Today, America wakes 250 years later as a beacon of hope, a republic entrusted to its people, an idea that changed the world. A nation worth preserving. A dream worth pursuing. A freedom defended by every generation. Happy 250th, America! 🇺🇸

67K

15K

Crystal_Critch retweeted

James Lindsay, anti-Communist

@ConceptualJames

18 days ago

On this 250th anniversary of the independence of the United States of America, let us Love life more than our enemies love death! Love freedom more than our enemies love submission! And love liberty more than our enemies love power and control! 🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲

260

16K