Kari Cass

Wife, mom and friend. Love Jesus, USC football and all things baseball. Liberty, justice and freedom for ALL!

[Liz Churchill @liz_churchill10]

Novak, Aaron, and Kyrie risked everything by refusing the advice of ‘Dr. Fauci’ and were ridiculed for doing so. They proved that the best role models for children are those brave enough to stand alone when the world demanded obedience…

[TMK @themagaking]

He created a virus, lied about its origin, unleashed it on humanity, and then denied people treatment so he could force a vaccine on them that was more dangerous than the virus itself, forced people to wear masks, stay at home, not go to school, shut down businesses, arrested people, and separated families, while telling people they couldn’t celebrate holidays or gather in large crowds except for Black Lives Matter. All while he became a celebrity, made millions, wrote books, laughed about it, called himself Science, as 1.3 million Americans died under his watch. He can go straight to fucking hell.

[mike bski @BskiMike22802]

Bernie. Bernie, Bernie, Bernie.

Let me get this straight, because I want to make sure I am reading your economics homework correctly, and I did not eat a bowl of alphabet soup this morning so bear with me. You just listed UnitedHealth's $5.48 billion quarterly profit as proof of corporate greed. Cute. Except that profit happened WHILE the Affordable Care Act — the law that guarantees these insurers a captive, subsidized, taxpayer-fed customer base — has been the law of the land for fifteen years. You are not exposing corporate greed, Senator. You are reading me the receipt for your own bill. The ACA did not shrink the insurance industry. It turned it into a government-guaranteed cash cow, and now you are shocked, SHOCKED, that the cow got fat. Eats soup with a fork, this one.

And here is the part that should really sting. Your own party just finished a 43-day shutdown demanding MORE money be poured into that exact system, because the temporary COVID subsidies YOUR PARTY wrote into the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021 and the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 — zero Republican votes on either bill, by the way — expired right on schedule, exactly as YOU designed them to. Not a single Republican voted to end those subsidies. You did. Then you shut down the government to admit, out loud, on the record, that a law literally named the AFFORDABLE Care Act cannot survive without emergency pandemic cash. That is not an insult from me. That is a confession from you.

So now the solution is Medicare for All. Naturally. Because when a fifteen-year-old government program made the insurance companies richer, the answer is obviously MORE government program, just bigger. If ignorance is bliss you must be the happiest man in the Senate. Independent estimates put full single-payer implementation at somewhere between forty and sixty percent of the ENTIRE federal budget. Forty to sixty percent, Senator. Larger than Social Security. Larger than defense. You want me to hand over half the country's checkbook to the same apparatus that just admitted its last healthcare experiment doesn't work without a subsidy IV drip.

Let's talk about who's asking. You have served in the United States government for something like forty years between the House and Senate, and by my count the bills you personally got across the finish line as lead sponsor could be counted on one hand, mostly involving the naming of federal buildings. Somewhere out there is a tree tirelessly producing oxygen for you, Senator, and it owes itself an apology for the return on investment. This is also the same man who, as a young idealist, tried out communal living on a hippie commune and did not exactly stick around long enough to collect a pension from it. Now you want the reins to fifty percent of the national budget. I keep hearing "tax the rich" out of a man worth several million dollars who charters private jets on his "Fighting Oligarchy" tour because, in his own words, he isn't waiting in line at United with the rest of us peasants. Bless your heart. That is rich even by Congressional standards. Couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel, but sure, hand him the checkbook.

And before you tell me capitalism failed and it's finally socialism's turn — how's that working out for your ideological younger brother in New York? Zohran Mamdani just announced a THIRTY MILLION DOLLAR government grocery store in a city his own comptroller says is worse than broke. Kansas City tried this. Erie, Kansas tried this. That is not a hunch, Senator, that is a lab result, and I am a science teacher, so let me walk you through the peer review.

An experiment only counts as science if it has been REPLICATED. Not run once. Run again. And again. Under different conditions, different continents, different decades, different "well THIS time we'll do it right" true believers standing at the podium. So let's replicate it together, shall we, because apparently nobody handed you the lab notes.

Trial one: the USSR, 1920s and 1930s. Stalin seized the farms, collectivized the kulaks, and centrally planned the harvest. Result: the Holodomor, a man-made famine in Ukraine that starved somewhere between five and ten million people to death while grain was actively being EXPORTED past their starving bodies. That is not a rounding error. That is a control group that died.

Trial two: Cuba, 1959 onward. Castro nationalized every business, every farm, every bank on the island. Sugar production, once the envy of the hemisphere, collapsed. The economy shrank thirty-five percent in a single decade when the Soviet training wheels came off. Extreme poverty today sits near eighty-eight percent. Same experiment. Same result.

Trial three: Venezuela, sitting on some of the largest oil reserves on the PLANET, nationalized its oil industry and ran the socialist playbook to the letter. Production collapsed from three and a half million barrels a day to under one million. Hyperinflation peaked past sixty-three THOUSAND percent. Nine million people fled. You cannot bribe your way out of the results with oil money. We tried. It's in the data.

Trial four, and this one should make every teacher in America wince: China's Great Leap Forward, 1958 to 1962. Mao abolished private farming, herded peasants into communes, melted down their pots and pans for backyard steel that was too low-grade to use for anything. Somewhere between fifteen and forty-five million people starved. Some regions saw cannibalism. That is not a typo. That is what happens when central planners replace the price system with a five-year plan and a slogan.

Trial five: North Korea, present day, running the same command economy with the Juche twist. Famine in the 1990s killed hundreds of thousands to over a million. Markets are technically illegal and thrive anyway in the shadows, because human beings will trade even when their government threatens to shoot them for it.

Trial six is my personal favorite because it is the cleanest natural experiment in the history of economics: East versus West Germany. Same people. Same language. Same culture. Same starting point in 1945. One half got markets, one half got the Stasi and collectivized industry. East German productivity settled at roughly thirty to seventy-five percent of the West's, and the population had to build a WALL to stop its own citizens from swimming, tunneling, and hot-air-ballooning their way out. Nobody builds a wall to keep people from fleeing prosperity, Senator.

Trial seven: Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge, 1975 to 1979. They abolished money entirely. No markets. No private property. Total state control, straight out of the textbook you apparently keep on your nightstand. One point seven to three million people, roughly a quarter of the country, died of starvation, overwork, and execution in FOUR YEARS.

And for the extra credit column: Ethiopia's Derg collectivization, Tanzania's Ujamaa villages, Yugoslavia's market-socialism ceiling, Vietnam before it finally abandoned the model, India's decades of License Raj stagnation, and Poland and the rest of the Eastern Bloc running factories that burned three times the steel per unit of output compared to the free market next door. Every single trial, same hypothesis, same result. I have seen middle schoolers design better controlled experiments during a volcano science fair.

That is not one anecdote, Bernie. That is a stack of peer-reviewed, historically documented, independently verified trials spanning four continents and a full century, and the conclusion section reads the same every time: shortages, queues, corruption, and a body count north of a hundred million people once you tally every collectivized farm, every purged kulak, and every commune that ran out of rice. If an experiment fails this many times in this many labs, a real scientist stops blaming the equipment and starts questioning the hypothesis. You, apparently, would rather run trial number eight on 340 million Americans and call it "finally getting it right." Trying to reason with some folks really is like trying to baptize a cat.

Quinn's First Law of Liberalism: liberalism always generates the exact opposite of its stated intent. You want cheaper healthcare, you get record insurer profits. You want affordable food, you get a thirty-million-dollar failed grocery store. You want to fight the oligarchy, you fly private. Every single time. Set your watch by it.

I keep asking Democrats this question and I never get an answer: what have YOU actually done to help people, versus just handing out someone else's money? Because handouts without a ladder out is not compassion. It is a leash. And I think deep down you know that, Senator, or you wouldn't need the private jet to get away from the people you claim to be fighting for. You're about as useful as a screen door on a submarine when it comes to actually running anything, but boy can you point fingers.

You are the human version of period cramps on this topic, Bernie, and I mean that with the utmost respect for a man who has spent forty years discovering new ways to spend money he didn't earn. Has a leak in the think tank if he genuinely believes THIS is the moment socialism finally works. Unless your name is Google, Senator, you need to stop acting like you know everything about running an economy you have personally never had to run.

But what do I know. I am only a medically retired Army combat medic and a science teacher who actually reads the Congressional Budget Office numbers before I open my mouth about a trillion-dollar healthcare takeover.

@JoJoFromJerz @atrupar @TheYoungTurks #MAGA #Veterans #Trump

[Charlie Kirk @charliekirk11]

Birthright Citizenship was written for freed slaves, NOT the anchor babies of illegals.

Pass it on.

[Dr. Dawn Michael @DawnsMission]

😡 My heart is breaking watching this...

Justice Clarence Thomas just dropped the TRUTH that every American needs to hear. Progressivism isn’t just some harmless idea — it’s a direct assault on the very soul of this country. It wants to replace God-given rights with government-granted privileges. It demands we become weak, subservient, and dependent.

This is an OUTRAGE. I sure do hope that Congress will finally step up and FIX THIS before it’s too late. Justice Clarence Thomas is a TRUE PATRIOT — a man of courage, conviction, and unwavering love for the Constitution and the America our Founders envisioned.

In a time when so many are afraid to speak truth, he stands tall. I am sure that you are just as OUTRAGED over this as I am. If this video moves you like it moved me, share it. Loudly. Our rights don’t come from Washington. They come from God. And no government will ever take that away from us.

[jess ⚡️ @JessNoFace]

as a soccer fan of 3 weeks it is unforgivable what these refs are doing to our beautiful game

[U.S. Air Force @usairforce]

What’s better than a rare Super Delta formation featuring the Thunderbirds and the @USNavy Blue Angels over Washington, D.C.?

Watching it from four different views for #UFCWhiteHouse as part of #Freedom250. 🇺🇸

[Shruti @heyshrutimishra]

Elon just created 4,400 millionaires in a single day.

400 of them are now worth over $100 million.

These aren't VCs. They're SpaceX employees, and the list includes welders, technicians, and cafeteria staff, because for two decades the company paid every level of the workforce in stock instead of higher salaries.

Juan Hernandez immigrated from Mexico and took a $28 an hour contractor welding job in 2015. He says he didn't even know what SpaceX was. The company gave him a $10,000 equity grant and let him buy more shares through payroll deductions. That stake is now worth $880,000.

Trevor Hise's parents wanted him to take a stable job at General Electric. He picked SpaceX instead, stayed 12 years, and accumulated over 100,000 shares. At the $135 listing price that's $13.5 million. He's 37 and semiretired. His words: "The magnitude of this has been ridiculous."

The most telling detail came before the listing. Over 100 employees quietly banded together and negotiated a group wealth management deal covering up to $5 billion, because none of them had ever needed a wealth manager before.

Software IPOs have minted millionaires for 30 years. This is the first one where the money went to the factory floor.

[Arrogant Nation✌🏻 @FightOnRusty]

*clears throat* 🗣️🗣️DREW JOHNSON IS HIM ✌🏻

[Kari Cass @Kari_Cass]

@martinamcbride Dead to me.

[Kari Cass @Kari_Cass]

@brendanmjones This is ridiculous. Give the man his dog!!!!!

[Spencer Pratt @spencerpratt]

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down

[LHGrey™️ @Grey_0G]

Not. A. Fucking. Word.

The barbarians of the Khamenei regime didn’t just kill a boy yesterday...they publicly hanged a 19-year-old prodigy, Saleh Mohammadi, bronze medalist on Iran’s national wrestling team, a rising star who bled for glory on the mat and dared to bleed for freedom in the streets of January’s protests.

They dragged him to Qom Central Prison, strapped the noose around that young neck, and dropped the floor while the world watched.

“Enmity against God,” they called it...torture-extracted confessions from show trials that would shame the Inquisition.

This wasn’t execution; this was ritual slaughter, medieval psychopathy dressed in clerical robes, the regime’s pathology laid bare:

terrified of its own vitality, it devours its strongest sons to instill fear in the herd.

And the Western Left?

Those pathological frauds, those soulless architects of selective outrage?

Not. A. Fucking. Word.

Where are the campus screamers who torch cities over “genocide” when a Hamas butcher stubs his toe?

Where are the blue-check “human rights” clerics who flood timelines with keffiyeh cosplay and crocodile tears for every narrative that flatters their ideological masturbation?

Crickets.

Deafening, gut-wrenching silence.

Because this atrocity doesn’t fit their Freudian script:

the oppressor isn’t the white West or Israel...it’s their beloved “resistance” incarnate, a theocratic death cult that aligns perfectly with their inverted morality.

Nietzsche warned us:

Resentment poisons the soul until evil becomes virtue and strength becomes sin.

The Left didn’t just look away; they enabled it with their philosophical cowardice, their postmodern relativism that excuses barbarism as “cultural,” their Marxist pathology that sees only power dynamics when it serves the tribe.

This is the necrotic core of progressive hypocrisy exposed:

they don’t mourn the hanged athlete because mourning him would require admitting their “allies” are the real monsters.

They don’t rage because rage would shatter the fragile edifice of their self-deception.

They are not compassionate...they are complicit cowards, psychological vampires who feed on manufactured victims while real ones swing from ropes.

Saleh Mohammadi’s blood is on their hands too, every silent one of them.

The regime’s rope is physical; the Left’s silence is the noose they tighten around truth itself.

Fuck their performative piety.

Fuck their selective tears.

History will record this not just as Iranian savagery, but as the West’s moral suicide...willingly, gleefully, one hanged wrestler at a time.

🗡️💀🗡️

[Apple Lamps @lamps_apple]

Dear Americans of the 2020s,

My name is Elias Grant. It is 2076. I am seventy-six years old, and I am writing this from a freezing concrete box in what they now call the Great Lakes People’s District... formerly the South Side of Chicago. The power is out again. The radiator is dead. My government-issued tablet has thirty percent battery and a permanent camera that never turns off. I am recording this in the dark because I need you to hear it from someone who actually lived it. Someone who cheered for the revolution and then watched it eat my country alive.

Your America was loud, brash, unequal, and overflowing with life. Grocery stores open at 3 a.m. with mountains of food. Highways that went anywhere you could afford gas. A military that made the world tremble. A kid from the projects could teach himself to code, borrow money, start a company, and become a millionaire... or lose everything trying. Both options felt like freedom. The flag meant something. The future felt infinite.

Then we burned it all down.

The crash of ’37. The panic. The lies. The smooth-talking politicians promising “equity” and “justice” and “no more billionaires.” I was forty-one. I marched. I voted. I screamed along with the crowds when they seized the banks, the factories, the farms, the hospitals, the internet, the guns, the minds. “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need,” they chanted. We believed it. God help us, we believed it.

Within five years the shelves were empty. The lights started flickering. The bread lines stretched for blocks. They told us it was temporary. Then they told us it was necessary. Then they told us it was glorious.

Now look at us.

No one starves to death in the official statistics... because they stopped counting after the first famine. The hospitals have no medicine, no surgeons under sixty, and three-month waits for a broken bone. My granddaughter waited nine hours with a ruptured appendix before they gave her the “people’s priority” slot; she survived, barely. Fresh meat is a memory. Electricity is rationed to four hours a day. Heat in winter is a lottery. The black market keeps us alive, but if they catch you with real coffee or real antibiotics they call it “economic sabotage” and send you to a re-education farm for two years.

Travel? You need a permit. Speech? You need approval. Thought? They read your social-credit score every time you log into the People’s Network. The old Sears Tower is still there, but now it’s the Ministry of Equality... top floors reserved for Party officials who somehow live in heated apartments and eat steak flown in from the ruling families’ private dachas.

The spirit is gone. That wild, stubborn, American refusal to kneel... that thing that built skyscrapers and moon rockets and every life-saving drug you ever took.... is dead. Replaced by gray, shuffling compliance. Everyone is equal now. Equally poor. Equally afraid. Equally silent.

They call this “liberation.” I call it the slow murder of a nation.

I want you to understand something, and I want you to understand it in your bones: socialism does not fix problems. It nationalizes them. It turns every flaw into a permanent feature. It does not make the rich poorer; it makes everyone poorer except the new ruling class. It does not create justice; it creates informants, bread lines, and secret police. It does not elevate the working man; it chains him to the state and calls the chains “solidarity.”

We were warned. Every single time it has been tried... Russia, China, Cuba, Venezuela, every miserable place that fell for the same slogans... the result was the same: tyranny, poverty, corpses. We told ourselves “this time will be different.” We were idiots. Arrogant, murderous idiots.

So here is my message from the other side of the grave you are digging for yourselves:

Do not let it start. Do not vote for it. Do not tolerate the professors who romanticize it. Do not shrug when they call your freedom “privilege” and your success “oppression.” Fight them with everything you have... votes, words, money, laws, and, if it ever comes to it, the cold steel your ancestors kept ready for exactly this reason.

Because once the revolution wins, there is no going back. Not peacefully. Not in my lifetime. Not in my children’s.

I miss the old country so badly it feels like a heart attack every morning. I miss abundance. I miss hope. I miss the arrogance of believing we could be great.

You still have it. For God’s sake, don’t throw it away.

With nothing left but the truth,

Elias Grant
Great Lakes People’s District
Formerly Chicago, Illinois
United Socialist Republics of North America
March 12, 2076

[The Biblical Man @Biblicalman]

There are pictures on my wall that don't exist anymore.

All seven of us. Five kids. Two parents. Two dogs. Taken before the exodus started.

Three of my kids live in Florida now. The oldest two left first. The third followed when he turned eighteen. My wife and I are in North Dakota with our two youngest girls and two dogs who still answer to the names of the ones we buried.

Chester. Ginger. We call the new ones by their names without thinking. Our mouths remember the ghost dogs before our brains catch up.

Thomas Wolfe wrote a novel in 1940 called You Can't Go Home Again. Published after he died. The last lines still cut like a blade:

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood... back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting, but which are changing all the time—back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

I didn't understand that quote until this year.

My dad was an Army Ranger. Police captain. The kind of man who made you feel like nothing on earth could touch you as long as he was in the building. I remember the smells of my mom's cooking. The noise of me and my brothers fighting and doing dumb things. My younger brother getting caught up in our foolishness whether he wanted in or not.

I remember the feeling of safety. That bone-deep knowing that your father has it handled.

I can't go back there. Those smells are memories. That noise is silence. That safety was a season—not a permanent address.

I'm a child of the 80s. Music was always playing. Always. And now a song doesn't remind me of a time—it relocates me.

Duran Duran and I'm in Germany.
An old country song and I'm in North Carolina.
A 90s track and I'm in Hawaii.

Three chords and I'm standing in a place that doesn't exist anymore.

The other day I was writing. Apple Music dropped in a song I didn't ask for.

"Welcome to the Machine" by Pink Floyd.

The opening synth hit me first. Then the lyrics.

Welcome my son. Welcome to the machine.

I stopped typing. Looked at that picture on the wall. All five kids. My wife next to me. And the thought came uninvited—are we inside a machine? Some system grinding us through its gears while we smile for photos we'll weep over later?

I grounded myself fast. The Word of God is my anchor and I don't drift long.

But the thought stung.

Because this week "Christian social media" was buzzing about the Grammys and Kid Rock and the TPUSA Super Bowl halftime show. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone was outraged or celebrating or performing discernment for an audience.

And all of it, every take, every hot post, every argument, reminded me of one thing:

We are not home.

Wolfe was right. You can't go home again. But Wolfe didn't have the answer. He diagnosed the ache. He couldn't name the cure.

Solomon could.

"He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end." —Ecclesiastes 3:11

That word—world—is olam in the Hebrew.

Eternity.

God set eternity in your heart.

That's why the pictures make you ache. That's why old songs teleport you. That's why you call the new dog by the dead dog's name. That's why you sit in a quiet house remembering when it was chaos—and realize the chaos was the gift.

You were built for a home that doesn't decay. Where time doesn't steal your children or silence your kitchen or bury your dogs in the backyard.

The ache isn't a malfunction. It's a homing signal.

"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth." —Hebrews 11:13
That's what Wolfe felt but couldn't name. That's what Pink Floyd reached for but couldn't grasp. That's what every 80s kid feels when the right song plays and the chest tightens and you're eight years old again for three seconds before time drags you back to the present.

You can't go home again.

Because you were never home to begin with.

"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." —John 14:2

He's building it right now.

And when you walk through that door, you won't have to leave again.

I wrote the full version of this tonight on Substack. It goes deeper. If this hit you in the chest, go read it.

@biblicalman

[Kari Cass @Kari_Cass]

@Biblicalman Beautiful.

[Matt Leinart @MattLeinartQB]

Congrats Sam!!!!!!

Way to go dude ✌️

[Matt Barkley @MattBarkley]

Sammy D!!!! Unbelievable, way to go brother.. Congrats!!!

[Kari Cass @Kari_Cass]

@greggutfeld @ScottAdamsSays Beautiful.