Category: Opinion & analysis
Stop feeding Big Tech and start feeding Americans again
America needs more farmers, ranchers, and private landholders — not more data centers and chatbots. Yet the federal government is now prioritizing artificial intelligence over agriculture, offering vast tracts of public land to Big Tech while family farms and ranches vanish and grocery bills soar.
Conservatives have long warned that excessive federal land ownership, especially in the West, threatens liberty and prosperity. The Trump administration shares that concern but has taken a wrong turn by fast-tracking AI infrastructure on government property.
If the nation needs a new Manhattan Project, it should be for food security, not AI slop.
Instead of devolving control to the states or private citizens, it’s empowering an industry that already consumes massive resources and delivers little tangible value to ordinary Americans. And this is on top of Interior Secretary Doug Burgum’s execrable plan to build 15-minute cities and “affordable housing.”
In July, President Trump signed an executive order titled Accelerating Federal Permitting of Data Center Infrastructure as part of its AI Action Plan. The order streamlines permits, grants financial incentives, and opens federal properties — from Superfund sites to military bases — to AI-related development. The Department of Energy quickly identified four initial sites: Oak Ridge Reservation in Tennessee, Idaho National Laboratory, the Paducah Gaseous Diffusion Plant in Kentucky, and the Savannah River Site in South Carolina.
Last month, the list expanded to include five Air Force bases — Arnold (Tennessee), Davis-Monthan (Arizona), Edwards (California), Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst (New Jersey), and Robins (Georgia) — totaling over 3,000 acres for lease to private developers at fair market value.
Locating AI facilities on military property is preferable to disrupting residential or agricultural communities, but the favoritism shown to Big Tech raises an obvious question: Is this the best use of public land? And will anchoring these bubble companies on federal property make them “too big to fail,” just like the banks and mortgage lenders before the 2008 crash?
President Trump has acknowledged the shortage of affordable meat as a national crisis. If any industry deserves federal support, it’s America’s independent farmers and ranchers. Yet while Washington clears land for billion-dollar data centers, small producers are disappearing. In the past five years, the U.S. has lost roughly 141,000 family farms and 150,000 cattle operations. The national cattle herd is at its lowest level since 1951. Since 1982, America has lost more than half a million farms — nearly a quarter of its total.
Multiple pressures — rising input costs, droughts, and inflation — have crippled family farms that can’t compete with corporate conglomerates. But federal land policy also plays a role. The government’s stranglehold on Western lands limits grazing rights, water access, and expansion opportunities. If Washington suddenly wants to sell or lease public land, why not prioritize ranchers who need it for feed and forage?
The Conservation Reserve Program compounds the problem. The 2018 Farm Bill extension locked up to 30 million acres of land — five million in Wyoming and Montana alone — under the guise of conservation. Wealthy absentee owners exploit the program by briefly “farming” land to qualify it as cropland, then retiring it into CRP to collect taxpayer payments. More than half of CRP acreage is owned by non-farmers, some earning over $200 per acre while the land sits idle.
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Those acres could support hundreds of cattle per section or produce millions of tons of hay. Instead, they create artificial shortages that drive up feed costs. During the post-COVID inflation spike, hay prices spiked 40%, hitting $250 per ton this year. Even now, inflated prices cost ranchers six figures a year in extra expenses in a business that operates on thin margins.
If the nation needs a new Manhattan Project, it should be for food security, not AI slop. Free up federal lands and idle CRP acreage for productive use. Help ranchers grow herds and lower food prices instead of subsidizing a speculative industry already bloated with venture capital and hype.
At present, every dollar of revenue at OpenAI costs roughly $7.77 to generate — a debt spiral that invites the next taxpayer bailout. By granting these firms privileged access to public land, the government risks creating another class of untouchable corporate wards, as it did with Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac two decades ago.
AI won’t feed Americans. It won’t fix supply chains. It won’t lower grocery bills. Until these companies can put real food on real tables, federal land should serve the purpose God intended — to sustain the people who live and work upon it.
The gatekeepers are fighting each other now
For most of human history, people could only dream of having ready access to all the world’s knowledge. Books were highly prized rarities, literacy was uncommon, and news could take weeks or months to arrive. The idea that the sum of human experience could fit into a little box in everyone’s pocket once sounded utopian — a paradise of informed, free citizens.
Instead, when handed access to everything, most people went looking for someone to tell them what to think.
The information age isn’t a utopia or a nightmare — it’s a permanent revolution. And it’s only getting wilder from here.
Humans are social creatures, political animals, as Aristotle observed. We crave belonging more than truth. We need a story about our place in the social order, status to pursue, and a circle to protect. Our minds aren’t wired to handle thousands of relationships. Dunbar’s number — about 150 — marks the natural limit of our social world. Online, we can connect with millions, but our capacity to process that much humanity collapses. We stop seeing people as people.
The same is true of information. In theory, access to all knowledge should make us wiser. In practice, it’s like drinking from a fire hose. Facts alone don’t illuminate anything without context, and the flood is too vast for anyone to master.
So people specialize. Like workers on an assembly line, each focuses on one task and trusts others to handle the rest. Expertise becomes a kind of currency, and every expert becomes a gatekeeper, a choke point through which understanding must pass.
Manufacturing consent
Control over that flow of information is control over perception itself. From the birth of mass media, political actors understood this. In “Public Opinion” (1922), journalist Walter Lippmann argued that elites must guide the public toward the “right” decisions because ordinary citizens couldn’t process the flood of modern information. Governments — including our own — and corporations eagerly agreed, building propaganda systems to shape consent.
Mass communication democratized information but kept control in a few hands. Printing presses, radio networks, television studios, and movie production required massive capital. The means of communication were concentrated in a small elite that decided what counted as “truth.” These media barons and their favored experts built a system in which opinion was managed from the top down. The gatekeepers defined what the public got to see, hear, and believe.
For decades, political and media elites relied on this system to shape public sentiment. Academics, think-tank analysts, and professional commentators framed policy for the masses. People felt informed while repeating narratives crafted by others. The monopoly on expert opinion kept both left- and right-wing elites secure.
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Blaze Media Illustration
Then came the internet, which shattered the old paradigm and plunged our system into chaos. Anyone with a microphone and a laptop could broadcast to the world. Legacy media cut costs, and now its anchors sit in home offices on the same streaming platforms as the amateurs they used to mock. The line between credentialed gatekeeper and average guy with an opinion has all but disappeared.
The result? Panic.
Mutating information war
Liberal elites were horrified to see Donald Trump, JD Vance, and countless populists bypass their filters and speak directly to millions of people. Podcasts hosted by comedians or outsiders broke through censorship walls. Conservative leaders cheered — until their own control started slipping. As legacy conservative networks fractured and independent creators rose, the movement’s “approved experts” lost their monopoly too.
Now both sides are scrambling to rebuild the gates. The establishment insists that chaos proves we need “trustworthy experts.” But the expert class discredited itself, and the internet made gatekeeping technologically impossible. The average citizen may not always discern truth from falsehood, but the public no longer trust those who claim to decide it for them.
The information war isn’t ending. It’s mutating. Every collapse of authority spawns a new order, and every new order fights to become the next gatekeeper. Unless governments impose hard censorship, as Europe has begun to do, the chaos will continue. The information age isn’t a utopia or a nightmare — it’s a permanent revolution. And it’s only getting wilder from here.
The thoroughly unimpressive Mr. Fuentes
Tucker Carlson’s interview with Nick Fuentes was supposed to be explosive. It wasn’t.
Far from normalizing Fuentes or advancing his strange brand of “right-wing” politics, the two-hour conversation exposed him as a shallow, aggrieved figure without the intellect or maturity to lead anything. Carlson didn’t destroy Fuentes with debate. He did something worse: He made him boring.
Fuentes built his notoriety as a young “influencer” who mixes nationalism with online provocation. He’s outspokenly racist, anti-Semitic, and obsessed with pushing the limits of shock. And he’s managed to attract a following among disaffected young men — the “Groypers.”
Fuentes’ interview marks his peak — and his decline. Once the outrage fades, he’ll return to obscurity.
In recent years, Fuentes has tried to rebrand himself as something somewhat more serious. He talks about immigration breaking working families, foreign wars enriching elites, and a culture that mocks masculinity. Those themes resonate because they tap real frustrations that many Americans share.
But Fuentes offers no coherent moral or political vision. Others — better read, more disciplined, and far less toxic — make similar arguments with insight and integrity. The late Charlie Kirk, for example, famously wanted nothing to do with Fuentes and his followers for precisely that reason.
The grudge-filled path
Carlson’s interview focused less on ideas than on Fuentes’ grievances. He recounted his early days as a libertarian campaigning for Ted Cruz in 2015, his shift to Trumpism, and his viral rise after a debate with a leftist opponent. Soon he was clashing with prominent conservatives, especially the Daily Wire’s Ben Shapiro.
According to Fuentes, Shapiro and his allies sabotaged his career and drove him into exile on the “dark web.” At no point does Fuentes wonder whether Shapiro recognized instability and immaturity in him — or simply concluded that he wasn’t worth the investment.
Like many in his Gen Z cohort, Fuentes mistakes online engagement for substance. Without outrage, he has nothing. He’s poorly educated, reads little, and shrugs off legitimate criticism. The result is a young man trapped in perpetual adolescence, angry that the world won’t take him seriously.
Carlson’s indulgence
Carlson tries to humanize Fuentes, appealing to Christian charity and the value of learning from failure. But Fuentes clings to his score-settling. His list of enemies includes not just Shapiro but Charlie Kirk, Joe Kent, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) — and even Carlson himself, though he gets a temporary reprieve for offering the platform.
Carlson also attempts to rationalize Fuentes’ anti-Semitism, giving him space to “clarify.” Fuentes insists he doesn’t hate Jews personally — he just opposes Judaism as a “force against Western civilization.” He repeats conspiracy theories about Jewish control of institutions and denies the Holocaust.
Carlson pushes back, but only mildly. Both men protest that they “don’t hate Jews” and have Jewish friends, as if that were exculpatory. It isn’t. The exchange casts neither in a good light.
Empty provocateurs
The rest of the interview dissolves into incoherence. Fuentes casually praises Joseph Stalin, of all people, before the conversation fizzles. Carlson’s attempt to recast Fuentes as a misunderstood outsider backfires. The result is a portrait of a man whose only real claim to relevance is being disliked — and even that feels undeserved.
Carlson’s indulgence of fringe figures is becoming a pattern. Andrew Tate. Darryl Cooper. Now Fuentes. Each enjoys a sizeable online following built on provocation and grievance. And each, when pressed, collapses into self-pity and incoherence. These men are charlatans and grifters who don’t challenge the establishment; they merely rehearse falsehoods and conspiracy theories to raise their profiles among mostly lonely, disaffected young men.
RELATED: Tucker Carlson, Nick Fuentes, and the war for the conservative soul
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The decline of two brands
Fuentes’ interview marks his peak — and his decline. Once the outrage fades, he’ll return to obscurity, remembered mostly as a cautionary tale about what happens when empty charisma meets unearned confidence.
Carlson, meanwhile, risks following him down that path. His willingness to platform attention-seekers may boost short-term clicks, but it erodes long-term credibility. Each indulgence costs him a little more trust.
The tragedy isn’t just Fuentes’ wasted potential. It’s the spectacle of one of the right’s most talented communicators lending his megaphone to a man who long ago proved himself unworthy of it.
Turn off the money; they’ll leave: Elon Musk nails the border truth
Elon Musk’s appearance on “The Joe Rogan Experience” last week should be required listening for anyone who still believes “one citizen, one vote” is the bedrock of our republic. For more than three hours, Musk — engineer, entrepreneur, and agent provocateur — peeled back the curtain on what he called Washington’s longest-running con: a taxpayer-funded pipeline that turns illegal immigrants into future Democrat voters.
Musk didn’t hedge. The ongoing government shutdown, he said, isn’t about continuing resolutions or fiscal cliffs. It’s about Democrats refusing to cut the hundreds of billions in welfare spending that draw migrants across the border. Turn off the cash, and the migrants leave. Cut the flow of migrants, and the left’s imported electorate vanishes.
When the rule of law returns to our borders, it returns to our ballot boxes. That’s a future worth shutting down the swamp to secure.
Joe Rogan was gobsmacked, for good reason. The former head of the Department of Government Efficiency described, in clear terms, what many Americans have long suspected but have been told was a conspiracy theory: The government’s own spending has become a political machine.
The welfare magnet
Musk’s argument is simple. Blue-state welfare programs — Medicaid expansions, housing vouchers, EBT cards, in-state tuition — advertise America as “free everything” for those who cross the border. When Rogan asked what would happen if those benefits stopped, Musk replied, “The Democratic Party will lose a lot of voters.”
Not some — a lot. California’s supermajority didn’t appear by chance, he noted; it was built city by city, sanctuary by sanctuary.
That blueprint is now spreading to Georgia, Arizona, Nevada, and other battlegrounds with generous welfare systems. The U.S. Census already rewards high-immigrant states with extra congressional seats and Electoral College votes. Add motor-voter laws, same-day registration, and ballot harvesting, and you don’t need a single illegal ballot to tip the scale. The counting itself does it.
This is arithmetic, not a conspiracy theory. Since 2021, the Department of Homeland Security’s parole programs have admitted more than a million people under “humanitarian” pretexts. Federally funded NGOs meet them at the border, fly or bus them to swing districts, and sign them up for every benefit imaginable.
Musk argued that ending the handouts would prompt a voluntary exodus within weeks — no ICE raids or roundups required. Yet Democrats treat any effort to cut those programs as existential sabotage. Why? Because their own numbers show what happens when the inflow stops: Red states stay red, blue states fade to purple, and the Electoral College map becomes competitive again.
The real shutdown fight
That, Musk said, is why Democrats would rather grind Washington to a halt than surrender their demographic advantage. The “shutdown” isn’t a budget fight — it’s a fight to preserve a political machine.
Enter Donald Trump’s enforcement agenda: the program many voters thought they were getting after the 1986 amnesty deal that never delivered. Mass deportations. Mandatory E-Verify. The end of catch-and-release. A full audit of every federal dollar funneled to “new arrivals.”
Critics reflexively cry “xenophobia,” the same way they called a border wall “immoral.” But this isn’t about left versus right — it’s citizens versus cartels. A union welder in Pennsylvania, a black business owner in Atlanta, and a Latino pastor in Miami all lose when the voting power of citizens is diluted by noncitizens who bypass the legal system their grandparents followed.
Representative government dies when representation is determined by who sneaks across the border first. Real elections require verifiable citizens, not harvestable bodies. Ethical leaders don’t traffic in future ballots; they protect the franchise like nuclear codes.
The fix
The appeal of Trump’s immigration plan is that it’s universal. America First means American tax dollars for American citizens, not for an imported electorate. Require proof of citizenship to register to vote. End chain migration and the visa lottery. Finish the wall. Empower ICE and Customs and Border Protection to do their jobs. The crisis collapses the moment the incentives do.
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No more midnight ballot drops in swing districts. No more census manipulation. Just the restoration of an old promise: play by the rules, and the rules will protect you.
A choice bigger than party
This fight transcends party and personality. It’s about whether your grandchild’s vote will still count in 2050. Support strong immigration enforcement. Demand audits of federal spending. Tune out media race-baiting and sentimental excuses. End the programs that siphon taxpayer money into the hands of those who broke the law to get here.
When the rule of law returns to our borders, it returns to our ballot boxes. That’s a future worth shutting down the swamp to secure.
What it really means to be a conservative in America today
Our movement is at a crossroads, and the question before us is simple: What does it mean to be a conservative in America today?
For years, we have been told what we are against — against the left, against wokeism, against decline. But opposition alone does not define a movement, and it certainly does not define a moral vision.
We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.
The media, as usual, are eager to supply their own answer. The New York Times recently suggested that Nick Fuentes represents the “future” of conservatism. That’s nonsense — a distortion of both truth and tradition. Fuentes and those like him do not represent American conservatism. They represent its counterfeit.
Real conservatism is not rage. It is reverence. It does not treat the past as a museum, but as a teacher. America’s founders asked us to preserve their principles and improve upon their practice. That means understanding what we are conserving — a living covenant, not a relic.
Conservatism as stewardship
In 2025, conservatism means stewardship — of a nation, a culture, and a moral inheritance too precious to abandon. To conserve is not to freeze history. It is to stand guard over what is essential. We are custodians of an experiment in liberty that rests on the belief that rights come not from kings or Congress, but from the Creator.
That belief built this country. It will be what saves it. The Constitution is a covenant between generations. Conservatism is the duty to keep that covenant alive — to preserve what works, correct what fails, and pass on both wisdom and freedom to those who come next.
Economics, culture, and morality are inseparable. Debt is not only fiscal; it is moral. Spending what belongs to the unborn is theft. Dependence is not compassion; it is weakness parading as virtue. A society that trades responsibility for comfort teaches citizens how to live as slaves.
Freedom without virtue is not freedom; it is chaos. A culture that mocks faith cannot defend liberty, and a nation that rejects truth cannot sustain justice. Conservatism must again become the moral compass of a disoriented people, reminding America that liberty survives only when anchored to virtue.
Rebuilding what is broken
We cannot define ourselves by what we oppose. We must build families, communities, and institutions that endure. Government is broken because education is broken, and education is broken because we abandoned the formation of the mind and the soul. The work ahead is competence, not cynicism.
Conservatives should embrace innovation and technology while rejecting the chaos of Silicon Valley. Progress must not come at the expense of principle. Technology must strengthen people, not replace them. Artificial intelligence should remain a servant, never a master. The true strength of a nation is not measured by data or bureaucracy, but by the quiet webs of family, faith, and service that hold communities together. When Washington falters — and it will — those neighborhoods must stand.
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This is the real work of conservatism: to conserve what is good and true and to reform what has decayed. It is not about slogans; it is about stewardship — the patient labor of building a civilization that remembers what it stands for.
A creed for the rising generation
We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.
For the rising generation, conservatism cannot be nostalgia. It must be more than a memory of 9/11 or admiration for a Reagan era they never lived through. Many young Americans did not experience those moments — and they should not have to in order to grasp the lessons they taught and the truths they embodied. The next chapter is not about preserving relics but renewing purpose. It must speak to conviction, not cynicism; to moral clarity, not despair.
Young people are searching for meaning in a culture that mocks truth and empties life of purpose. Conservatism should be the moral compass that reminds them freedom is responsibility and that faith, family, and moral courage remain the surest rebellions against hopelessness.
To be a conservative in 2025 is to defend the enduring principles of American liberty while stewarding the culture, the economy, and the spirit of a free people. It is to stand for truth when truth is unfashionable and to guard moral order when the world celebrates chaos.
We are not merely holding the torch. We are relighting it.
Democrats are running as Bush-era Republicans — and winning
Republicans have given voters no reason to support them beyond the claim that Democrats are dangerously radical.
Well, sure. But when voters look around and see rising prices, rising crime, and no clear plan from the party in power, they turn to the other side. That’s what happened in Virginia, and it will keep happening as long as life stays unaffordable and Republicans offer nothing but excuses.
Republicans can still win — but not with hollow slogans or billionaire donors. They need to fight for affordable living, strong families, and safe communities.
Democrats’ victories in Virginia and New Jersey shouldn’t shock anyone — Trump didn’t need either state to win the presidency in 2024. What should alarm Republicans are the margins. Democrats crushed their opponents by 15 points in Virginia and 13 in New Jersey, performing better than Kamala Harris did against Trump in New York.
The blue wave swept deep into Republican territory. Democrats unseated Virginia’s attorney general — a respected conservative — with Jay “Two Bullets” Jones, a radical, scandal-prone candidate, and still won by nearly seven points. They gained at least 13 legislative seats, leaving Republicans with half the representation they held just eight years ago.
In Georgia, Democrats flipped two public service commission seats — their first statewide wins since 2006 — and won them by 24 points. They broke the GOP supermajority in the Mississippi Senate, flipped a state House seat, and took local races across Pennsylvania. In New Jersey, where Republicans didn’t even see the blowout coming, Democrats regained a supermajority in the General Assembly.
Taken together, these results point to a coming wipeout. Democrats have outperformed their 2024 presidential baseline by an average of 15 points in special elections this year, according to Ballotpedia — more than double the overperformance seen during Trump’s first term. In 45 of 46 key contests, Democrats either held or improved their position.
All liabilities, no benefits
Republicans now face the worst possible political scenario: They hold power, which unites and energizes Democrats, but they’ve done almost nothing with it to inspire anyone else.
The first year of Trump’s second term has been defined by trivial fights and tone-deaf priorities: tax favors for tech investors, special deals for crypto, and zoning disasters for rural and suburban voters. The data center explosion in Virginia, which has raised utility bills and wrecked communities, could have been an easy populist target. Instead, Gov. Glenn Youngkin (R) vetoed a bill to rein it in.
Despite cozying up to Big Tech, Republicans haven’t reaped any benefit. The Virginia Republican Party is broke, its candidates are outspent, and the grassroots are demoralized. The GOP keeps selling out to special interests that will never back the party. How have the ties to crypto, Big Tech, and Qatar paid off?
The reality is, Republicans don’t need those donors — they need a message to inspire a new generation of activists.
How Democrats outflanked the GOP
Democrats have learned to look like the party of normalcy while Republicans drift between populist posturing and corporate servitude. In Virginia, Abigail Spanberger ran on cutting costs, lowering taxes, and fighting crime — and she did it in the language of moderation. Republicans, who should own those issues, barely showed up for the debate.
Spanberger’s ads promised relief from inflation and touted her background in the CIA and law enforcement. She presented herself as steady and practical while Republicans floundered. Once again, Democrats outflanked the GOP on the right.
Republicans could have drawn blood by hammering Democrats on crime in Northern Virginia. Instead, they ran away from tough-on-crime policies. Winsome Earle-Sears even toyed with “criminal justice reform” while voters begged for accountability and order.
The result: Democrats ran as Bush-era Republicans, while Republicans looked like corporate consultants. Democrats talked about affordability and safety. Republicans talked about crypto and zoning boards.
The Trump paradox
The GOP’s reliance on one man has hollowed it out. Trump won the presidency in 2016 by talking about forgotten workers and American industry. But his divided message, personal vendettas, and fixation on media attention have since consumed the movement.
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Now the party gets the worst of both worlds — all of Trump’s baggage, none of his appeal. Democrats use him to rally turnout. Independents recoil. The GOP lacks infrastructure, vision, and discipline. The movement that once promised to fight the establishment has become addicted to social media applause.
A party in search of conviction
If Virginia had a commanding figure like Ron DeSantis at the top of the ticket, Republicans might have dampened the blue wave. But without an inspiring message, voters in an economic crisis will always drift to the other side.
The problem isn’t demographics; if it were, Democrats would campaign in Virginia the same way they do in California or New York City. Instead, they skate by on empty promises because Republicans, trapped by special interests and lacking a winning message, have become easy targets — and surrendered the very issues that could win back suburban voters.
Republicans can still win — but not with hollow slogans or billionaire donors. They need to fight for affordable living, strong families, and safe communities. They need a moral and economic vision that reaches beyond social media and into the lives of working Americans.
The question conservatives must ask is the one George Patton once put to his men in another context: When will we finally fight and die on our own hills instead of dying on someone else’s?
Twitter is not America. And unless Republicans start acting like they know the difference, they’ll keep losing — and keep deserving it.
Bitcoin and the return of honest money
Bitcoin. Cryptocurrency. Blockchain. A decade ago, most Americans hadn’t heard those words. Even now, many don’t fully grasp what they mean. Some still dismiss Bitcoin as an internet fad — yet with one coin worth roughly $119,000, the joke is wearing thin.
The real story isn’t the price. It’s what Bitcoin represents: freedom, trust, and control over your own money. Those are conservative principles — and conservatives should embrace them.
Honest money for a dishonest age
In Denton County, Texans understand independence. We work hard, save what we can, and expect our money to keep its value. But Washington keeps printing dollars to solve political problems, and every new round of “stimulus” steals a little more of what Americans earn. That’s a big reason groceries, gas, and housing cost so much more today.
At its heart, Bitcoin isn’t about tech or speculation. It’s about trust — and keeping financial power in the hands of citizens instead of bureaucrats and corporations.
Bitcoin doesn’t play that game. Its supply is capped at 21 million coins forever. No bureaucrat or central banker can “stimulate” the economy by diluting your savings. It’s steady, transparent, and immune to the inflationary habits of modern government.
That’s not radical — it’s a return to honest value. Early Texans traded cattle, crops, and tools, and a handshake sealed the deal. Bitcoin is a digital version of that same trust: value backed by proof of work, not political decree.
Freedom in your own hands
Bitcoin is, at its core, a conservative idea. It rewards effort, limits government control, and protects personal liberty. You can own every rifle and round of ammunition in the world, but if the government freezes your bank account, you’re stuck. With Bitcoin, you control your money. Nobody can seize it.
The network itself is decentralized — millions of computers around the globe share the ledger. No single government, company, or regulator can shut it down. If one node fails, the others keep the system alive. It’s built to endure.
Lessons for a digital age
That model should guide how we build other technologies. Take artificial intelligence. Meta just poured $14 billion into one massive data center — a single point of failure. One cyberattack or natural disaster could wipe it out. America should follow Bitcoin’s example: distribute computing power, build smaller centers across the country, and bring skilled jobs to local communities like ours.
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Bitcoin also saves money. Send $1,000 through a credit card processor and you’ll lose $40 in fees. Send it through Bitcoin and it costs about four cents. That difference matters to small businesses, churches, and local campaigns. Political donations in Bitcoin should be legal nationwide — transparent, secure, and independent of the big banks that profit from the current system.
A return to honest value
At its heart, Bitcoin isn’t about tech or speculation. It’s about trust — and keeping financial power in the hands of citizens instead of bureaucrats and corporations.
Here in Denton County, we understand that kind of freedom. It’s the same spirit that settled Texas: work hard, hold what’s yours, and keep government out of your pockets.
Bitcoin isn’t the future of money. It’s the return of honest money — and conservatives should lead the charge to make it America’s next great success story.
Like it or not, Dick Cheney paved the way for Donald Trump
The great British statesman Enoch Powell observed nearly 50 years ago: “All political lives, unless they are cut off in midstream at a happy juncture, end in failure, because that is the nature of politics and of human affairs.” Dick Cheney is no exception to Powell’s hard rule.
Our newspapers and publications in the coming days will be rife with surreal and false remembrances of the former vice president, who died Tuesday, age 84.
Surreal, because Democrats who spent a lifetime vilifying the man will laud him in death as a great statesman who opposed President Donald Trump and the populist right, while members of his own party will hold his legacy in significantly lower esteem.
Fake, because political commentators are incapable of remembering a time before Trump and can only “remember” the past by projecting their present emotions onto it.
When reviewing the former vice president’s complete antipathy for President Trump, it’s difficult to see it as having been anything but deeply personal.
Before many of my colleagues seem able to remember, Cheney was the consummate political badass, an archetype of ruthlessness, a meme before the meme wars. His economics and foreign policy deserve their exile from today’s Republican Party, but in his day, he bucked hard against the Republican urge to compromise with the rising American left and showed little sympathy for the wails of his opponents.
Cheney refused a role as polite, controlled opposition. He wielded political power without apology and helped rebuild the executive authority and culture Trump and the populists now wield to great effect. In a final irony, Cheney’s arrogance abroad — using military power to secure American energy interests and spread democracy — achieved neither. Instead, his failures cleared the way for the populist revolt that remade his party beyond recognition.
First, Dick Cheney the badass. He left Wyoming for Yale on a scholarship — and quickly flunked out. Undeterred, he returned — and flunked out again. Yale decided he wasn’t cut out to be a Yalie after all.
Despite his considerable intelligence, young Cheney headed back west, took a job as a power-company lineman, and began dating Lynne Ann Vincent, the woman who would become his wife of 61 years.
But his time back in Wyoming didn’t start off so well. Five days before the 2000 election, when news broke that George W. Bush had been arrested for drunk driving a quarter-century earlier, Cheney trumped his boss (for the first of many times), revealing he had two DUIs. It was Lynne, the more disciplined scholar, who convinced him to get his act together and go back to school.
“Lynne, after spending a semester in Europe, had graduated summa cum laude from Colorado College,” Cheney later wrote about those early days. “And I was sleeping off a hangover in the Rock Springs jail.”
After earning his degree, Cheney went to Washington, where his lifelong friend Donald Rumsfeld recruited him into Richard Nixon’s White House. When President Gerald Ford made Rumsfeld defense secretary, Cheney succeeded him as White House chief of staff.
After Ford’s defeat in 1976, Cheney ran for Congress. At 37, he suffered the first of five heart attacks while campaigning — but still won, beginning a five-term House career that ended when President George H.W. Bush named him secretary of defense. In this role, he successfully prosecuted the Gulf War.
After Bush’s loss to Bill Clinton in 1992, Cheney left public life, only returning after Bush’s son tapped him to find the best possible vice president for his ticket. In typical Cheney fashion, he found himself — and accepted the oft-derided job only if it came with a broad and influential portfolio of responsibilities.
Haunted by what he saw as the post-Watergate diminishment of the presidency, Cheney spent eight years under George W. Bush pushing for a more muscular executive branch. He championed an aggressive, sometimes vicious foreign policy, restrained the administration’s more liberal impulses, and redefined the modern presidency for a generation.
But the years in Washington didn’t tame the old Wyoming lineman’s temper. During a Senate-floor photo op in 2004, he told Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.) to “go f**k yourself.” Charles Krauthammer wrote one of the better columns on the incident, calling it one of the great political moments of the era. When the comedian Dennis Miller brought it up in 2010, Cheney grinned and called it “sort of the best thing I ever did.”
His scowling visage became a fixture in the deeply Democratic press of the 2000s. When C-SPAN caught him lurking in the bushes while Bush delivered a Rose Garden address, the images instantly went viral. Far from shrinking from his villainous reputation — he embraced the nickname “Darth Vader” — the vice president reveled in the left-wing media’s scorn.
One of his lasting frustrations was his boss’ refusal to pardon Scooter Libby — the longtime aide wrongly accused of leaking a CIA agent’s identity. Bush and Cheney’s relationship never recovered.
By all appearances, Cheney seemed the sort of man who might have welcomed Donald Trump’s rise. He came from a blue-collar state, and the administration that followed his had toyed with prosecuting him for war crimes. Barack Obama’s attorney general, Eric Holder, even flirted publicly with the idea. Trump, in contrast, pardoned Cheney’s friend Libby during his first term.
Yet Cheney chose a different course — one that would define, and in many ways tarnish, his legacy.
His hostility toward Trump wasn’t ideological; it was personal. Trump had done much that Cheney once claimed to value: building close ties with Israel’s hawkish leadership, confronting Iran, reasserting U.S. dominance in the Western Hemisphere, and strengthening NATO by forcing European allies to pay more for their own defense. Their disagreements on trade hardly explain Cheney’s claim that “in our nation’s 246-year history, there has never been an individual who is a greater threat to our republic” than Trump.
The truth is that beyond simply challenging the foreign-policy blob consensus, Trump was the first Republican candidate for president since Rep. Ron Paul (R-Texas) to explicitly attack the Bush administration’s record on 9/11, Iraq, and Afghanistan. As president, Trump completely disavowed the reckless and destructive decades of war in the Middle East and Central Asia.
When Liz Cheney (R-Wyo.) joined Democrats in their campaign to destroy Donald Trump after the events of Jan. 6, 2021, the Republican base mocked her and unceremoniously ejected her from power. She lost her leadership post, her primary, and the loyalty of the movement her father helped build. That humiliation cut deep. For a man as proud — and prideful — as Dick Cheney, the rejection did not sit well.
His bitterness during Trump’s first term hardened into something darker. Cheney lent credibility to the Russia hoax and, in one of his final political acts, endorsed Kamala Harris. It was a sad, almost tragic coda to a long and consequential career.
In the end, Cheney fulfilled Enoch Powell’s old truth about politics — one he would have recognized but never admitted. “All political lives, unless they are cut off in midstream at a happy juncture, end in failure.” Powell’s words have echoed through this story from the start, but they fit Cheney too perfectly to ignore.
He left politics the way he lived it: defiant, scowling, and unwilling to bend. The man who once told a U.S. senator to “go f**k yourself” had one final message for the movement he ultimately could not control. Rest in peace.
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How H-1B hires broke USAA’s bond with veterans
The United Services Automobile Association is one of the most venerable names in banking and insurance, a company that prides itself on its service to members of the military and their families. In recent years, however, USAA has run into serious financial trouble due to a combination of mismanagement, fashionable diversity, equity, and inclusion policies, and the firm’s increasing reliance on incompetent and untrustworthy H-1B workers, most of whom are from India.
A significant number of current and former USAA employees have come forward to discuss what they describe as a toxic workplace culture, which has led to an alarming number of employee suicides, and the company’s outsourcing of critical functions to H-1Bs and Indian consultancies, putting at risk the financial data of its customers, which include high-ranking members of the U.S. armed forces.
What began as a cost-cutting strategy in the early 2000s now threatens the stability of an institution long trusted by veterans.
Insiders granted anonymity to avoid retaliation say USAA’s decline began in the 2000s under then-CEO Robert G. Davis, who outsourced IT and other core functions to H-1B contracting firms such as Tata Consultancy Services. Those firms imposed contracts requiring USAA to maintain minimum staffing levels, creating chronic overstaffing. Idle contractors were reportedly assigned “busywork” to meet quotas, with conference rooms converted into laptop farms where workers sat “packed like sardines.”
One insider described the result as “incredibly incompetent” operations. Projects that U.S.-based employees could complete on time were instead handed to H-1B contractors who often lacked the necessary skills and required retraining.
From cost-cutting to collapse
At the same time, USAA repeatedly laid off American staff and replaced them with foreign workers, driving labor costs higher and eroding institutional knowledge. Davis retired abruptly in 2007, but his successors continued his policies, expanding USAA’s offshore footprint with new IT centers in Guadalajara, Mexico, and Chennai, India.
Insiders say H-1B contractors at USAA often lack basic programming skills, compounding inefficiency. In one case, a credit card processing problem baffled contractors for six months until the company brought back a retired American employee, who solved the problem in a matter of days. The constant visa turnover worsens the issue. Skilled H-1Bs leave after six years, draining institutional knowledge. Turnover is even higher at USAA’s Guadalajara facility, where Indian employees reportedly fear cartel violence.
Bureaucratic bloat magnifies these problems. Each team has dual directors, and many systems rely on outdated software. That dysfunction has drawn scrutiny from federal regulators, who fined USAA for failed audits and violations of anti-money-laundering laws. Those failures forced the company to sell off divisions, including real estate, and pushed USAA into persistent losses through much of the decade.
Customers have also felt the effects. Many complain that poorly trained H-1B staff struggle to handle basic service requests. One customer said resolving a fraud alert took hours — and that he now contacts USAA’s top executives directly to get results.
Security risks and cultural decay
USAA’s growing dependence on H-1B contractors and overseas labor has created potential security and compliance risks, according to multiple insiders. The company has outsourced anti-money laundering work to Tata Consultancy Services, which reportedly performs much of that work in India. As a result, the personal financial data of U.S. service members and veterans may be stored or processed abroad.
USAA also shares customer data — including names, addresses, and birth dates — with LexisNexis, with no option for customers to opt out. One customer said he only discovered this practice after receiving a notice in the mail.
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subodhsathe via iStock/Getty Images
Inside the company, these policies have coincided with a marked decline in morale. Mass layoffs of veteran employees have preceded at least three suicides, including one who shot himself in a company parking lot. A former director described intervening to stop another potential suicide. Tensions intensified during the COVID-19 pandemic, when USAA defied Texas Republican Gov. Greg Abbott’s executive order banning vaccine mandates.
Employees describe a sharp cultural shift away from USAA’s traditional military ethos toward a mishmash of corporate diversity programming. The company has hosted Diwali celebrations and mandatory DEI events while facing allegations of religious discrimination against Christian employees. One former employee has taken a case to arbitration. Internal surveys reportedly show employee satisfaction at just 33%.
An institution on the brink
Analysts say the company’s reliance on foreign labor and internal instability have eroded its reputation for customer service and financial stewardship. What began as a cost-cutting strategy in the early 2000s now threatens the stability of an institution long trusted by veterans.
Whether USAA can recover will depend on its ability to restore confidence — both among employees and the members it was established to serve.
Editor’s note: The headline and subheadline of this article have been edited after publication.
‘Operation MRE’: Meals, reform, enforcement
As the government shutdown drags on, media pundits warn about a looming “food insecurity crisis.” That’s liberal shorthand for hunger — and if government numbers are correct, some 42 million Americans are supposedly about to go hungry.
Wait a second. That means 1 in 7 Americans relies on food stamps — or, as Washington now calls it, the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program.
If a family of illegal aliens shows up, feed them an MRE, then put them on a bus to the nearest deportation flight.
Try this simple test: Look around and count the next seven people you see. Does anyone resemble a refugee from a third-world famine? If so, check his green card. If not, hand him one of Kristi Noem’s “get home free” cards and move along.
Among those 42 million, a fair question arises: How many are genuinely hungry — and how many haven’t missed a free government meal in years, maybe decades?
Here’s a modest proposal. The government shutdown could serve an unexpected purpose — sorting the truly needy from the habitual scammers.
Once the electronic benefit transfer cards run dry, the president should declare a national emergency and order the military to help distribute food directly to Americans in need. Set up relief stations at National Guard armories and military bases in every state.
At each station, ask for a valid government-issued ID and the now-worthless EBT card. Record both, take a quick photo, and hand each applicant a copy of the U.S. dietary guidelines. Then provide meals ready to eat — MREs — from existing military stores. Ask recipients to return the next day for actual groceries, in quantities matching the recommended dietary plan.
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Photo by Joe Raedle / Contributor via Getty Images
That’s how you end food insecurity overnight — while also eliminating “waste, fraud, and abuse.” It’s a win-win!
While they’re there, run basic checks for outstanding warrants, duplicate or fake IDs, and phony EBT cards. In this way, every needy American gets fed, and every scammer gets flagged.
If a family of illegal aliens shows up, feed them an MRE, then put them on a bus to the nearest deportation flight.
If the system works, maybe it’s time to replace the SNAP credit-card model entirely. Instead of government-issued plastic that funds junk food and fraud, Americans in need would receive actual food — efficiently and fairly.
The result? Less waste, lower costs, and fewer excuses for corruption disguised as compassion.
And if this plan exposes just how dependent Democrats have become on managing poverty rather than solving it, so much the better. Once it’s clear that the Bad Orange Man can feed Americans and deport freeloaders in a single stroke, watch how fast Chuck Schumer and company rush to vote for that continuing resolution.
