Dear Joe,
I wish I could sit down with you face to face and explain why so many of us were offended by the UFC fight on the South Lawn of the White House.
For me, it had nothing to do with the UFC or who showed up for the fights. The brand you and Dana have built is a bona fide American success story. More power to you. As for the fighters, in my book, anyone brave enough to put it all on the line in the arena is remarkable to witness. Their dedication and discipline inspire me. I don’t understand anyone who can’t admire that.
And as for the people who attended, I, for one, love Shane Gillis. I think he’s hilarious and brilliant. It was a show. A once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. I can’t blame anyone for wanting to witness it firsthand.
My problem is that I believe some of our public spaces are sacred. And unlike many of the great powers that came before us, these American monuments belong to all of us. Not to whoever happens to hold power at the moment.
The White House does not belong to Donald Trump. It does not belong to any President. It belongs to the people. To treat it as Caesar treated the Colosseum is antithetical to everything our founding fathers fought for.
This is not Rome. Presidents are not emperors doling out bread and circuses for the peasants. The White House is the People’s House. This “celebration” could have happened in any stadium within a stone’s throw of the South Lawn. No one would have had an issue with it.
But that was obviously Donald Trump’s whole point. By holding the event on the South Lawn, what he was saying to the rest of us is:
“This is my house. I own it. I will do with it what I please. I’ll build a colosseum and have the gladiators fight under my gaze. I’ll tear down the East Wing. I’ll pave over the Rose Garden. I’ll cover everything in gold and marble. I’ll erase the names of all the men who came before me.”
The fights were an exhibition of imperial domination, not a celebration of our 250th anniversary as a democracy.
The White House is not Buckingham Palace. It is not the Palace of Versailles. It is not the Forbidden City of Beijing. It does not belong to an emperor, or a king, or a commissar.
The White House belongs to us. All of us. The person who sits behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office is nothing more than an honored guest. A temporary caretaker.
The President is our servant. Not our Caesar.
Respectfully, Hunter
P.S. Cage match between me and Don Jr.? Your call on the venue. Anywhere but the South Lawn.
To everyone so eager to cancel someone for a tattoo they got at age 22, a drunk text, a selfie they took in the middle of a mental health crisis:
Show us your laptop.
Show us your iCloud.
Open your entire digital life to your worst enemy. No context. No filter. No explanation.
You won’t.
You won’t because you know what I know. Any one of us, frozen at our worst moment, photographed in our lowest hour, looks like a monster. Looks like a stranger. Looks like someone who deserves to be cast out.
That is not who we are.
My mom and baby sister were killed in a car accident when I was just a kid. Cancer took my brother Beau, my best friend and my rock. I battled alcoholism. I battled addiction. I chose the coward’s way out more times than I can count.
For years I believed the defining chapters of my life were written by tragedy, loss, and shame.
I no longer believe that.
Pain can shape us. Loss can humble us. Failures can leave scars that never fully fade. But none of them have the authority to define us.
And it sure as hell ain’t the critic that counts.
That authority belongs to us alone-the person in the arena.
Every setback presents a choice. Play the victim, or cut the bullshit and take ownership for who we become next.
Life does not determine our character. It reveals it.
Again and again we are asked the same question. When shit happens, what next?
We are not defined by what happened to us. We are not defined by the worst photo, the worst text, the worst tattoo, the worst night. We are defined by the person we choose to become. And by the courage to choose that person, every single day.
So before you reach for the gavel - show us your laptop.
You won’t.
The whole world saw mine. And I am still here. Still becoming. Still choosing. Still standing.
That is the only definition that matters.
After tireless struggle by victims and finally a 1-hour TV documentary this week, settlements south of Jerusalem admit their leaders have long created child pornography by filming when they gang-rape kids in the community: "No longer in denial: Gush Etzion admits to ritual abuse"
🕊️ JUSTICE FOR SAHARA DWIGHT
On June 3rd, a man convicted of murdering and raping 5-year-old Sahara Dwight could walk free.
We cannot let that happen.
Sahara was only 5 years old a beautiful, innocent little girl whose life was brutally taken. Her family has already suffered the unimaginable. Now they face the pain of a possible release.
That’s why we’re gathering:
To stand with Sahara’s family, to pray for justice, and to peacefully show that our community will not stay silent while a child’s killer may be released.
📍 Peaceful Prayer Vigil & Support Rally
🗓️ Tuesday, June 3rd
⏰ 7:30 AM
Oregon State Penitentiary
2605 State St, Salem, OR 97310
We will pray together before the family goes into the hearing. Bring your signs, your prayers, and your peaceful presence. We will stay outside showing support until the family exits the hearing.
This is about protecting our children and demanding real justice. No violence. No hate. Just prayer, presence, and love for Sahara and her family.
Who’s coming with us? Share this post and bring a friend.
On July 9, 2010 five year old Sahara Dwight was r*ped and murdered. That man has a high probability of being released from prison next week. We can’t let that happen. Please share this video to get the word out. Link to petition for the family is below:
https://t.co/l990CM704i
🏙️ A man decides to finally drone-map one of the wealthiest and most private cities in America — North Oaks, Minnesota, the only unmapped city left in the country.
After he posts the footage, the city sends him a legal letter accusing him of invading their privacy and telling him never to return.
He then discovers something that completely flips the script: the city has been using Flock surveillance cameras at every single entrance and exit, tracking every vehicle that comes and goes.
This double standard launches him into a two-month deep dive into America’s massive surveillance system.
In the end, he removes all his Street View images from Google Maps — except for one drone selfie of himself — and immediately re-uploads the rest to an open-source mapping platform.
These kinds of privacy hypocrisies always reveal the real story.
Republicans in 2021: Kyle Rittenhouse is a hero for being armed at a political protest.
Republicans in 2026: Alex Pretti is a domestic terrorist who deserved to die for being armed at a political protest.
Incredible and inevitable—
Police chief says ICE agents violated his own officers' civil rights while off-duty.
A female officer was boxed in by ICE agents who demanded her papers, pulled their guns on her, and knocked her phone down as she tried to film
I live in an apartment complex. The guy above me stomps around at 2 AM every night. I was fed up. I marched upstairs to bang on his door and give him a piece of my mind. The door opened before I could knock. He was holding a crying baby. The apartment was bare. No furniture. Just a mattress on the floor and boxes. He looked exhausted. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm trying to walk him to sleep. The floor is creaky. I know we're loud." I looked past him. "Where's your furniture?" "Bed bugs in the last place," he said. "Had to toss everything. We just moved in. I’m saving up for a crib." My anger evaporated. "Hold on," I said. I went downstairs. I dragged my spare rocking chair up the stairs. "Sit," I told him. "Rocking is quieter than walking." He sat. The baby settled instantly. The next day, I posted on our building’s group chat: "New neighbor in 4B needs a restart. Who has spare stuff?" By noon, he had a crib, a sofa, a table, and three casseroles. He knocked on my door tonight. No stomping. just a quiet knock. "Thank you," he said. "We slept for six hours." Judge less. Ask more.
Anonymous
Yolanda Adams on homophobia in the Church
"Listen, I am 64 years old. I have seen everything in the church. And again, it has everything to do with the way you were nurtured. My family nurtured us to believe and know that everyone that gets to this earth got here because they are God's children. And why would you want to ever hurt anything that God loves? I have cousins, I have friends, I have dear, dear friends in and out of all music and arts and sports genres. And I never looked at them as anything other than beautiful people. And it is not my job ever to, to hurt anyone or debase anyone because of who they are. God is not surprised by anyone he created. He knew who you would be before your mom and dad got together. So, why am I disrespecting what God respects and loves?"
Jesse Ventura shared his thoughts about the ICE shooting in Minneapolis and a confrontation between ICE officers and staff at Roosevelt High School on Wednesday.