Victor Davis Hanson on why Sowell is finally winning:
He was treated unfairly for decades by the intellectual class. Condescending, leftist reviews. Caricatures. Isolation.
He never wrote a long rebuttal. He just kept writing — blunt, clear, Anglo-Saxon English. No fluff. Noun-verb-predicate.
YouTube made him unstoppable. Now young men of every race are finding him like water in the desert.
He overwhelmed his critics with the sheer power and volume of the work. And he was right.
To my Muslim brother: I’m not your enemy. I ran toward the same truth you’re seeking.
I prayed where you pray. I fasted when you fast. I defended what you defend, with everything I had.I
didn’t examine the Bible to betray anyone. I examined it because I loved the truth, and I believed the truth had nothing to fear from investigation.
What I found didn’t make me your enemy. It made me a man who has to tell you what he saw.
I found that the book we called corrupted is the true record, and that it’s been pointing to Jesus the whole time. I found a God who doesn’t wait at the end of a scale, but who came down, lived the life I couldn’t, died the death I feared, and rose so I’d never have to wonder again.
“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.
Brother, you are tired. I know, because I was too.
He’s not asking you to carry more.
He’s asking you to put it down.
I’m not writing to win. I already won and lost every argument. I’m writing because I found the One we were both looking for, and I can’t keep Him to myself.
His name is Jesus. And He is worth everything it costs.
I need more clarity as to why the guy on the left was just sentenced to 4 years of house arrest after shooting 4 people in a bar at Indiana University in 2022 while the grandma on the right was sentenced to two years in prison for praying outside of an abortion clinic in 2020:
🚨 BREAKING: A real American just stepped up.
30-year Minnesota State Trooper John Nagel just won the GOP nomination to take on Ilhan Omar.
His message? Clean up Minnesota’s massive fraud mess. The same fraud that’s drained hundreds of millions from taxpayers while Omar’s district became a progressive disaster zone.
Born and raised in Minnesota. Not a Washington plant. Not a career politician. A lawman who’s seen the chaos up close.
People are fed up. Time for accountability.
Let’s go, Trooper. 🇺🇸
J’ai 68 ans, un motard qui a plus de kilomètres sur ses bottes que la plupart des hommes n’en rêvent, et trois ans après avoir perdu ma femme, je ne pensais jamais que la vie me réservait encore de grandes surprises. Puis, par pur hasard, j’ai rencontré Maya.
Elle avait quatre mois, allongée dans l’unité de soins intensifs pour nouveau-nés, pleurant comme si le monde avait déjà renoncé à elle. Née avec un syndrome de Down, un grave défaut cardiaque et une addiction à la méthamphétamine dès la naissance, elle avait été refusée par douze familles. Trop de complications. Trop de risques. Trop cher. On se préparait à l’envoyer en institution.
J’avais atterri par erreur au mauvais étage en rendant visite à un pote quand une infirmière m’a vu là, debout dans mon gilet de cuir, et m’a dit : « Ce bébé pleure depuis des heures. Rien ne la calme. Vous voulez essayer ? »
Je l’ai prise dans mes bras, je l’ai serrée contre ma poitrine et j’ai commencé à fredonner une note basse et grondante – la même façon que j’avais autrefois pour calmer ma Harley par les matins froids. Maya a arrêté de pleurer instantanément. Sa petite main s’est enroulée autour de mon doigt, et quelque chose dans ma poitrine, qui était gelé depuis le décès de ma femme, s’est remis à rugir avec force.
Je suis revenu tous les jours pendant deux semaines. Quand l’assistante sociale a dit qu’ils n’avaient d’autre choix que de l’envoyer dans un foyer collectif, je l’ai regardée droit dans les yeux et j’ai dit : « Non. Je la prends. »
Ils m’ont exposé toutes les raisons pour lesquelles je ne devrais pas : mon âge, mon mode de vie, les chirurgies à venir, les années de thérapie et de soins spéciaux. J’ai écouté tout ça, puis je leur ai dit la seule chose qui comptait : « Elle mérite de grandir avec quelqu’un qui la choisit. »
Mes frères motards sont arrivés comme une cavalerie. Ces types rudes, tatoués, ont passé tout un week-end à peindre sa chambre d’un jaune soleil doux et à se bagarrer avec un berceau qui nous a pris trois heures à quatre pour l’assembler. Ils ont apporté des couches, des vêtements et assez de plats en casserole pour nourrir une compagnie. Pour la première fois depuis des années, ma maison était vivante.
À cinq mois, Maya est passée sur le billard pour une chirurgie à cœur ouvert avec seulement soixante-dix pour cent de chances de s’en sortir. J’ai attendu six longues heures dans cette salle d’attente, promettant à Dieu tout ce qui me passait par la tête. Quand le médecin est enfin sorti avec un sourire, j’ai pleuré comme un gosse.
Aujourd’hui, Maya a neuf mois et c’est la lumière la plus éclatante de mon monde.
Elle sourit dès que j’entre dans la pièce, s’illuminant comme si j’étais la meilleure chose qu’elle ait jamais vue. Son petit rire remplit la maison quand je fais des grimaces idiotes ou que je la fais danser dans le salon sur d’anciennes ballades rock. Elle atteint ses étapes avec cet esprit de combattante têtue que j’ai appris à aimer tant. Le défaut cardiaque est derrière nous, et chaque jour elle grandit plus forte, plus heureuse et plus curieuse du monde.
Je sais que je ne serai pas là pour toute sa vie. Je suis vieux, et la route que j’ai parcourue a été longue. Mais je serai là pour chaque jour qui me reste, et j’ai déjà pris des arrangements avec mes frères et leurs familles pour que Maya ne connaisse jamais un jour sans amour ni protection.
Elle n’était la bébé de personne autrefois. Maintenant, elle est la mienne – complètement, farouchement, et pour toujours.
Chaque soir, je la couche dans sa chambre jaune, je l’embrasse sur le front et je lui murmure la même chose : « Tu as été choisie, petite fille. Tu es désirée. Tu es aimée au-delà de toute mesure. »
Et tandis qu’elle s’endort avec mon doigt encore dans sa petite main, je réalise quelque chose de magnifique : je n’ai pas seulement sauvé Maya.
Elle m’a sauvé.
Je suis l’homme le plus chanceux qui ait jamais vécu.
@KingMVP225
"Those who want to ‘spread the wealth’ almost invariably seek to concentrate the power. It happens too often, and in too many different countries around the world, to be a coincidence. Which is more dangerous, inequalities of wealth or concentrations of power?"
— Thomas Sowell
Mi nombre es Shani Louk, soy una joven judía de 23 años, fui asesinada por terroristas palestinos el 7 de octubre — mi cuerpo sin vida fue paseado por Gaza en la parte trasera de una camioneta de Hamás.
Los civiles inocentes de Gaza me ultrajaron con escupitajos, palazos, insultos y maldiciones. Yo les aseguro que no hay inocentes allí.
Me convertí en un símbolo internacional del terror que azotó ese día, pero yo hubiera preferido estar viva y continuar con mis sueños, como los de todos Uds.
No me olviden, soy Shani Louk.
Did you know that 42% of all income taxes go to paying the interest on the national debt?
If my Penny Plan were signed into law, instead of the monstrous spending bills that expand government, we could balance the budget in less than 10 years.
https://t.co/JwfLZXU31A
Why does nobody care?
In Africa, Arab Muslims are enslaving black African Christians.
The media, progressives, Palestinian protesters, the UN, and even the Pope remain silent.
She took on the Deep State, exposed Fauci, stood unbreakable beside her husband through his rare cancer…and thanked God for her strength. Tulsi Gabbard is one of the strongest women alive…🙏🏻
This is the most detailed MRI scan of an unborn baby.
At just 20 weeks, she is moving, turning her head, kicking, even standing. Her beating heart is also visible.
Human life is a miracle. 😊❤️🙏
🚨 MICHIGAN, TAKE A HARD LOOK AT JOHN JAMES.
John James isn’t just another politician with an “R” next to his name. He is a Black Michigan businessman, West Point graduate, decorated Army veteran, Iraq War combat pilot, husband, father, and Congressman. Before Congress, he led his family’s Detroit-based logistics business. (Congressman John James)
He has spent his life serving, building businesses, creating jobs, and fighting for Michigan.
Now he is running for Governor with an agenda focused on lower taxes, economic growth, education freedom, public safety, parental rights, and making Michigan more competitive. His campaign has proposed eliminating the state income tax and has emphasized restoring law and order and expanding school choice. (John James for Michigan)
And yet, some Black voters will dismiss him before even examining his record simply because he is a Republican.
That should bother us.
You don’t have to agree with John James on every issue. But evaluate the man. Evaluate the record. Evaluate the policies.
Being Black does not require you to vote Democrat.
And being Republican does not make a Black candidate anti-Black.
Black voters in Michigan deserve political freedom—not political conditioning.
And yes, I believe we need more than political change. We need a spiritual awakening. We need Jesus. 🙏🏾🇺🇸
John James has earned the opportunity to be heard. Michigan—are you listening?
#JohnJames #JohnJamesForGovernor #Michigan #MichiganPolitics #BlackConservatives #BlackRepublicans #BlackVoters #Conservative #Republican #VoteYourValues #PoliticalFreedom #BlackLeadership #LawAndOrder #SchoolChoice #EducationFreedom #LowerTaxes #EconomicFreedom #Jesus #Faith #MichiganGovernor
And now... the rest of the story.
Every year, families across America gather around the television.
They watch a bald kid try to kick a football. A beagle dance on a dog house. Charlie Brown get a rock instead of candy.
They laugh.
They don't know they're watching a man's autobiography.
When Charles Schulz was a boy, the other children called him Sparky. The name of a horse in a comic strip. A joke horse.
He failed every single subject in eighth grade.
Not one or two.
Every. Single. Subject.
But the grades weren't the worst part.
Paul Harvey told this story, and his voice cracked on this line:
"Sparky wasn't actually disliked by the other youngsters. No one cared enough about him to dislike him."
He wasn't hated. He was nothing.
The one thing he had was his drawings. He submitted cartoons to the school yearbook.
Rejected.
He wrote to Walt Disney. Poured everything into the drawings.
The reply was a form letter. Disney only hired the very finest artists. Sparky was not among the very finest.
Harvey paused there. Then: "I think deep down, Sparky expected to be rejected."
This is where the motivational speakers lie to you.
The rest of the story isn't about winning.
Sparky didn't try to prove them wrong. He wrote his autobiography in cartoons.
He drew himself. The loser. The kid who failed everything.
He named him after himself.
Charlie Brown.
You know what Charlie Brown never does?
Win.
His kite crashes. Lucy pulls the football. The Little Red-Haired Girl doesn't notice him.
And sixty years later, we still watch.
Not because Charlie Brown succeeds.
Because Charlie Brown keeps showing up.
Here's the part even Paul Harvey didn't tell.
Schulz taught Sunday school. He read the Bible so constantly his strips are filled with scripture.
When network executives tried to cut Linus reciting Luke 2 from the Christmas special, Schulz refused.
Either the Gospel stays, or there's no special.
It stayed.
A boy called a horse.
A student who failed everything.
An artist Disney rejected.
Planted the Gospel of Luke in front of sixty million homes.
The loser became the messenger.
God has a history of using the rejected ones.
Moses had a stutter. David was the forgotten son. Peter denied Him three times.
The kite never flew.
But the Gospel did.
Still falling?
Good company, brother.
Get up.
He's not done with you yet.