🚨BREAKING: Senator Josh Hawley says “innocent people don’t plead the Fifth” when describing Dr. Fauci’s testimony.
Here’s the video of Donald Trump pleading the Fifth 400 times during his civil fraud trial.
OK I'll be the one to say it: No one is holding Nancy Guthrie for ransom.
If they were, her daughter’s $40 million net worth would have produced a seven-figure demand by now, and the woman would be home safe, case closed.
Instead, we’re fed a slow drip of non-facts, non-evidence, and carefully curated ambiguity designed to keep the spotlight locked in place.
I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.
The sad, infuriating truth is that what we call “the news” has become a reality-control device.
Nancy Guthrie vanishes, and suddenly—poof:
No more ICE protests clogging the airwaves.
No discussion of the SAVE Act.
No scrutiny of border numbers or cartel pipelines.
No follow-up on the thousands of unaccompanied minors still missing from HHS custody.
One carefully amplified disappearance, and the entire national conversation pivots on command.
The MEDIA MACHINE selects which crisis gets oxygen - and which ones suffocate in silence.
And we’re left watching the approved story while the real ones bleed out off-screen.
Just thought you should know.
Did you know that Luciano Pavarotti, Plácido Domingo, and José Carreras performed "Nessun Dorma” at the Dodgers Stadium in 1994. It captivated 1.3 billion viewers worldwide the night before the US World Cup final.
They didn’t sing in English.
It’s odd that the religious right is so upset about a halftime show that celebrated marriage, love, community, small business, hard work, and family. 🤔
Super Bowl is happening in a Spanish-named state (California), in a Spanish city (Santa Clara), surrounded by San Jose, San Francisco, Los Gatos, Los Altos, etc., and people are mad Bad Bunny speaks Spanish?
She waited in a trailer for six hours to make television history.
On May 21, 1990, Suzanne Pleshette arrived at the CBS studio to film one scene—a scene so secret that even the cast of the show didn't know she was there.
This was the finale of Newhart, Bob Newhart's second hit sitcom. For eight seasons, he had played Vermont innkeeper Dick Loudon. But the show's ending would reveal something nobody saw coming.
The idea had come from an unlikely source: Bob's wife, Ginny Newhart.
Years earlier, at a dinner party, Ginny suggested that the show end with Bob waking up and revealing the entire series had been a dream. But here was the twist—he wouldn't wake up as Dick Loudon. He would wake up as Dr. Bob Hartley, his character from The Bob Newhart Show, the beloved 1970s sitcom.
And lying next to him would be Emily Hartley, his original TV wife.
Suzanne Pleshette.
When the producers called Pleshette to ask if she would do it, she accepted before they even finished the question. "If I'm in Timbuktu," she told them, "I'll fly home to do that."
But keeping the secret was crucial. Tabloids were everywhere. A fake ending was leaked—one where Bob dies and meets God, played by George Burns. Even the Newhart cast didn't know what was really happening.
On the day of filming, Pleshette was hidden in a trailer with no phone for six hours. They built a replica of the old Bob Newhart Show bedroom set in complete secrecy. When it was time, she was whisked onto the set with her face covered and slipped under the covers.
She and Bob held hands in the darkness, waiting.
"Wait for the laugh," Bob whispered.
"What if there isn't one?" she whispered back.
The lights came up.
The studio audience saw the familiar bedroom set and began applauding—they recognized it instantly. Then Bob turned on the bedside lamp, looked over, and there she was. Suzanne Pleshette. That dark hair. That unmistakable voice.
The audience erupted. A fifteen-second standing ovation before she could even speak.
What followed was television perfection. Bob describing his "crazy dream" about running an inn in Vermont. Emily's deadpan response: "That settles it. No more Japanese food before you go to bed." Bob mentioning he was married to "a beautiful blonde." Emily's dry reply: "Go to sleep, Bob."
They performed it in one take.
When the applause finally died down and the cameras stopped rolling, Pleshette knew exactly what they had created.
"I knew," she said later, "it was a piece of television history."
TV Guide and TV Land later named it the most unexpected moment in TV history. Twenty-nine million Americans watched it live. It remains one of the greatest series finales ever made.
Suzanne Pleshette passed away in January 2008. But that moment—that perfect collision of surprise, chemistry, and trust between two performers who understood each other completely—lives on.
Sometimes the best things in entertainment happen when everyone agrees to keep a secret.
And sometimes, all it takes is one perfect scene to become immortal.
ICE and CBP agents seem to enjoy gratuitously breaking glass—from car windows to store fronts to homes. It’s an expression of unchecked power and dominance: “We’re in charge. We break and shatter what we want.”
And nights of broken glass have been a harbinger of worse to come.
He died helping women. He died for being gentle. He died for taking care. He died because he stepped forward instead of away, because he put himself between human beings and monsters who wanted to hurt them, because he did the thing we teach, the thing we praise, the thing we raise our children to believe still matters. And it has torn something open inside me that I cannot close.
https://t.co/hgb0M0QSjK
“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right,” Martin Luther King Jr.
If you ever questioned how people sided with the Nazis, but today you’re twisting yourself into pretzels to justify the murderous actions of ICE, congratulations… you’ve answered your own question.