Sports Illustrated’s headline is “Sophie Cunningham got a bitter taste of karma” by getting clotheslined. Sports media is broken. It’s way more left wing than political media.
I attempted to take my wife to a restaurant she likes today called Kelley's Country Cookin'. It's one of her favorite breakfast spots.
We opened the door and went to be seated, and we hear and see a long table of 15-20 black women just hooting and hollering, cursing and carrying on, loud AF. REALLY loud.
The waitress yelled at us over the noise and asked if we wanted a booth or table. I shook my head, I said "Neither, we're leaving", and I pointed right at the table of cackling banshees and told her exactly why. I didn't make a scene, I just let them know why.
I'm not gonna listen to that garbage while I eat, and neither is she. Loud noises freaks out my kid too, since he's autistic and doesn't handle anything really loud well. He was the reason I left, honestly.
It's like the front staff was scared to tell them to be quiet. I saw discomfort on the other customer's faces too. It was awkward. And that's why we left.
I've seen enough videos to know that it's a recipe for disaster. Nope.
The Democrats pitch you "certainty" in exchange for EVERYTHING! One of those many things is freedom. When you exchange freedom, the quid pro quo is difficult to recover from as a citizen. Too many have given that up, from the inner cities to rural America.
Cui bono? Who benefits? What do you actually get in exchange for your freedom? In the Twin Cities we have a failing education system, crime and high taxes. What is even that? Do you like that deal? I hate that deal for Americans all across this country.
Royce White for U.S. Senate MN 2026
Vote Primary August 11th
Just so we are clear,when children are trafficked they are raped over & over every day, often for years. That can mean thousands and thousand of times. Sometimes violently, sometimes to the point of death. These are crimes against humanity. God help us all.
At 6:00 AM sharp, my neighbor Harold steps onto his lawn to raise the American flag.
He is seventy-four. He wears a pressed shirt, moves with the precision of a clockwork automaton, and treats the wind as a personal enemy.
If the flag twists against the pole, he stands there for twenty minutes, staring at the rope, calculating aerodynamic resistance until the breeze surrenders.
I began adjusting my morning tea schedule to observe this daily battle. A warrior respects proper protocol.
On a windy Tuesday, the flag caught on a high bracket. Harold reached up, but he was three inches short.
I crossed the grass without a word. I am six feet tall. I extended my arm, cleared the fabric, and stepped back into a formal stance.
Harold did not say thank you. He looked at the flag, looked at my shoulder angle, and said, "Your posture is acceptable. Tomorrow, six o'clock. You hold the rope tension."
I had not applied for a military position. I had simply reached for a piece of cloth. Yet by sunrise the next morning, I was standing at attention in my bathrobe, managing rope drag for a retired artillery officer.
We performed this silent ceremony for three months. We spoke a total of fourteen words. I learned that a three-degree tilt in the hoist is considered a national tragedy in Harold’s domain.
In October, the flag remained at half-mast for four days.
I walked to his porch. The house was quiet. Harold was sitting in a chair by the window, looking out at the empty yard.
He pointed to the second-floor window across the street.
"My wife had dementia," he said softly. "For five years, she couldn't remember my name. But every morning at six, she would look out that window, see me raising the flag, and know she was safe at home."
She had passed away on Monday.
Harold looked at his hands. "I don't know who I'm raising it for tomorrow."
I went back to my house. I did not sleep.
At 5:55 AM, I stood on his lawn in a dark suit. Behind me stood Kevin, Tony, and four other men from the street, all dressed in their finest jackets, standing in a straight line in the morning mist.
Harold walked out to the porch. He stopped.
Kevin stepped forward and said, "Sir. The wind is coming from the east. We require your orders."
Harold looked at the seven men standing at attention on his grass. His chest expanded. His shoulders straightened.
He walked down the steps, took the rope, and gave the command.
The flag went up. It has never flown higher.
My house is paid off.
No mortgage. No bank. Nothing owed.
Took I and my wife 22 years and every extra dollar we ever had.
Except property taxes are $11,000 a year now.
If we don’t pay, armed men show up and take a house we already own outright.
We also paid 32% in income tax this year.
Plus sales tax on everything we bought.
Plus gas tax every time we filled up.
We paid off the house.
We still don’t own the house.
We just stopped paying the bank and started paying everyone else instead.
TAXATION IS THEFT
Property taxes shouldn’t exist.
Not even 25 years after Muslim terrorists flew planes into the Twin Towers, New York City is being overrun by the very people who want to see this country burn.
This is an invasion. There is no other way to put it.
Every American who watched this country get attacked on its own soil and said "never again" deserved better than this.
DiJonai Carrington for clotheslining Sophie Cunningham then posting "white privilege" while appropriating white culture with fake ass straight blonde hair.
Retard of the day 🥇
At a sports bar in Ohio, my friend offered me an "Atomic" chicken wing.
"You handle heat?"
A samurai does not decline a challenge on foreign soil.
"I welcome the spice," I said.
I took one bite.
My soul left my body. My eyesight blurred. My throat felt like it had been sliced with a heated blade.
I wiped my lips with a napkin, forced a calm smile, and said, "A refreshing kick."
My friend blinked. "Dude... that's Carolina Reaper. You didn't even sweat."
He called the bartender. The bartender called the cook.
"He ate the Atomic with a straight face! He’s a demon!"
The manager brought out a bright yellow t-shirt that said "ATOMIC SURVIVOR" and draped it over my shoulders.
I sat there, unable to move a single muscle, my stomach burning to ash while 50 strangers chanted my name.
I have never been prouder.
I have never needed an ambulance more.
It came y'all... My 1st wig! Tomorrow I test it on the court. This is my feminine era glow up, did I slay? If y'all don't "yassss queen" you're transphobic. I really don't understand all the hatred, I just want to play some hoops with my fellow ladies. 💅🏽
Royce White for U.S. Senate MN 2026
WNBA #LetHerPlay
Black WNBA player clotheslines Sophie Cunningham on a lay up attempt. Gets ejected. Tweets “White privilege” from locker room to argue she was ejected because of racism. Identity politics destroys everything, even sports.
This is the perfect poster boy for communism. Fat, lazy, disheveled, disgusting Mr Potato Head body, complete loser: seduced by the prospect of wielding state power to crush the people who are more successful than him, because their success reveals what a loser he is.
He's been brainwashed by Hasan Piker to have a completely ignorant view of communism. Listen to how he describes it..."it hands the power to the people"? How dumb do you have to be to not know that communism = authoritarian dictatorship? Do you think a weak Mr Potato Head like him would have ANY place in communist society? This disgusting weirdo would literally be the first up against the wall after the revolution. WAKE UP! These communist freaks are the biggest threat to society right now.
Black American tells it like it is:
“Muslims are the reason blacks are here in America.
18 million blacks were taken from Africa to Arabia. They’re still enslaving people today!
90% of the enslavement was done by Muslims, not Europeans or Christians.”
Did you know that George Floyd said "I can't breathe" 8 times before he was ever on the ground?
8 times before Derek Chauvin ever touched his neck.
8 times before that viral video on Facebook—that sparked the so-called Summer of Love and the Black Lives Matter riots in Minneapolis—was ever even filmed.
Did you know the medical examiner found no evidence of strangulation or damage to the neck in George Floyd's autopsy?
Author TJ Harker explains: