Category: Opinion & analysis
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.
RELATED: ‘Operation MRE’: Meals, reform, enforcement in a SNAP!
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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.
RELATED: Evil never announces itself — it seduces the hearts of the blind
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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.
RELATED: Here’s what exit polls reveal about Tuesday’s electoral bloodbath
Photo by Alexi J. Rosenfeld/Getty Images
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.
RELATED: ‘Lipstick on a pig’: How printing cash is destroying America — and crypto could be next
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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.
RELATED: The visa that ate America’s tech jobs
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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.
RELATED: The food pyramid big lie: How flawed science fed America a toxic diet
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.
Pity equals power for the progressive class
American politics once revolved around ideas — tax reform, national defense, energy independence, health care. But one side of the aisle has abandoned the work of persuasion for the theater of grievance. The modern left no longer campaigns on what it can build but on what has supposedly been done to it.
Victimhood has become the left’s organizing principle. The emotional currency of grievance has replaced the intellectual currency of ideas. That shift isn’t just cynical; it’s corrosive. It undermines the American spirit of self-reliance, accountability, and perseverance — the virtues that built this country in the first place.
Let others compete for who has suffered most. America’s story has never been written by its victims — only by its victors.
Consider New York mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani. Last month, he delivered a tearful campaign speech recalling how his “aunt stopped taking the subway after 9/11 because she didn’t feel safe in her hijab.” The story went viral. Media outlets rushed to elevate it as another morality play about post-9/11 Islamophobia.
Within days, however, fact-checkers discovered that the “aunt” didn’t live in New York City — and wasn’t his aunt at all but his father’s cousin. The story collapsed, but the damage was done.
Even if the tale were true, Mamdani’s framing was an insult to truth. His version turned the “victim” of 9/11 into someone who merely felt uncomfortable. The real victims were the firefighters who ran into burning towers, the police who breathed toxic dust for months, the passengers of Flight 93 who fought back knowing they would die, the families who never saw their loved ones again. To recast that national tragedy as a story about personal unease is moral inversion.
Privilege posing as persecution
Mamdani is no symbol of oppression. He was born in Uganda to two global elites: filmmaker Mira Nair and Columbia University professor Mahmood Mamdani. Educated at elite institutions, including Bowdoin College in Maine, he embodies privilege — not persecution.
He’s not alone. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has built her career on the same inversion. A graduate of Boston University, raised in a comfortable Westchester suburb, AOC is a product of the meritocracy she derides. Her father was an architect; her family owned a home. Yet her political persona depends on playing the perpetual underdog — the marginalized woman of color silenced by “the patriarchy.”
When criticized, she doesn’t answer with arguments but with emotion. Dissent becomes “hate.” Opposition becomes “bigotry.” As Newsweek once put it, “AOC’s weaponized victimhood undermines women.”
Grievance as status
This inversion — privilege masquerading as oppression — reveals something deeper about the left’s political psychology. Victimhood now confers moral authority. The more wounded you appear, the more virtuous you become. Pain is power.
But grievance politics reshapes the citizen’s role in democracy. Instead of the proud American who builds and contributes, we get the dependent petitioner, perpetually wronged and perpetually in need of government rescue. The state becomes therapist and provider, not guardian of liberty.
That’s why so many progressive campaigns sound like group therapy sessions. The message isn’t, “Here’s how we’ll improve schools or secure the border.” It’s, “Here’s who hurt us, and here’s who must atone.” The goal isn’t reform — it’s retribution.
The vanishing of virtue
When politics becomes a contest of feelings, truth and accountability vanish. Success is no longer measured by safer streets, better jobs, or stronger families, but by how “seen” or “unsafe” someone feels. Emotional satisfaction replaces objective progress.
But the American promise was never about comfort. It was about courage — the willingness to build, to sacrifice, to endure. This nation doesn’t owe its strength to grievance but to grit.
Think back to 9/11. The real victims weren’t the politically convenient ones. They were the firefighters who ran toward the towers, the police who never came home, the husbands and wives who never got to say goodbye, the children who grew up without parents. To twist their sacrifice into a sermon on discomfort dishonors them.
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Photo by Bloomberg / Getty Images
From grievance to gratitude
The contrast couldn’t be clearer. One version of politics says, “I was wronged, therefore I deserve.” The other says, “I was blessed, therefore I will serve.” The left has built a moral economy where pain is currency. Conservatives must offer a different creed — one grounded in purpose, gratitude, and resilience.
Freedom, not fairness, defines America’s promise. Adversity refines character; it doesn’t define it. As the nation nears its 250th birthday, we should remember who we are — a people forged by hardship and lifted by hope.
Let others compete for who has suffered most. We’ll compete for who can spread the most good. America’s story has never been written by its victims — only by its victors.
Riot, repeat: How America’s unrest became a bad rerun
History doesn’t just move forward — it echoes. Karl Marx once said history repeats itself, “first as tragedy, second as farce.” He meant it as a jab at 19th-century France, where Napoleon’s nephew attempted to replicate his uncle’s revolutionary drama not on the battlefield but rather through bureaucratic spectacle. Nevertheless, Marx’s insight fits modern America. Our cycles of unrest and outrage have become predictable theater — each act beginning with moral panic and ending in absurdity.
The summer of 2020 was a national trauma. The killing of George Floyd was a tragedy that radicals turned into revolution. Riots swept through more than 2,000 cities, torching businesses, destroying neighborhoods, and leaving dozens dead. Egged on by the race-baiting activists at Black Lives Matter, mobs looted stores, assaulted police, and terrorized communities.
The line between tragedy and farce is thinner than ever — and this time, we can’t afford to play the fool.
Media outlets downplayed the carnage as “fiery but mostly peaceful.” Political leaders joined the chorus, afraid to confront the mob. Corporate America rushed to signal its virtue by taking the knee, pouring billions into “racial equity” schemes that enriched activists but divided the country.
The real tragedy wasn’t just the damage — it was the betrayal. Spineless mayors and governors surrendered their cities. Police were handcuffed, budgets gutted, and criminals emboldened. The riots hollowed out public trust, replacing civic order with cultural resentment. America’s guardians became scapegoats, and justice itself became negotiable.
From riot to parody
Five years on, the rebellion has devolved into a pathetic sideshow. Antifa’s latest “resistance” — a handful of masked agitators harassing Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents as they carry out long-overdue deportations — feels less like revolution and more like performance art.
Their vandalism is designed for TikTok, not for change: laser pointers at officers, graffiti on walls, choreographed scuffles for social media. It’s a boutique insurgency — staged in deep-blue enclaves, broadcast for dopamine hits, and forgotten the next day.
The chaos of 2020 burned cities. The tantrums of 2025 barely dent a precinct wall. The tragedy has become farce.
Still, both movements spring from the same poisoned root: a left-wing ideology that despises America’s foundations. BLM targeted police as enforcers of “white supremacy.” Antifa brands border agents as fascists for upholding immigration law.
Both rely on the same tactics — decentralized mobs, anonymous online organizing, and emotional manipulation amplified by social media. Both seek power through grievance, not through persuasion. And both reveal how progressive rage, unmoored from reality, becomes self-parody.
In 2020, rioters burned precincts and seized city blocks. They demanded “defund the police” and got it — along with record crime rates and broken neighborhoods. In 2025, their heirs spray-paint slogans and livestream tantrums. Their only victory is visibility.
The digital theater of rage
Social media turned riots into content. In 2020, doctored clips of “police brutality” fueled nationwide hysteria, empowered anti-cop lunatics, and enriched grifters. Today, the same algorithms push Antifa’s posturing, turning vandalism into viral spectacle.
These platforms profit from outrage. They amplify emotion, suppress context, and reward hysteria. The result is a feedback loop of performative politics — activism as cosplay.
After years of indulgence, government crackdowns have finally returned. ICE operates under firm executive backing. Local police departments no longer hesitate to enforce the law. The radicals, once protected, now find themselves exposed and outmatched.
But even as law enforcement regains its footing, the left’s playbook remains unchanged. The grievances are repackaged, the slogans recycled, the media coverage predictable. It’s cultural Marxism with a TikTok filter — ideology as entertainment.
Farce doesn’t mean harmless. Every protest turned stunt still corrodes civic life. Each viral act of defiance feeds distrust in law, borders, and the rule of order itself.
The radicals thrive on illusion: fake oppression, fake urgency, fake rebellion. Meanwhile, real Americans bear the cost — higher crime, divided communities, and institutions too timid to defend themselves.
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Photo by serazetdinov via Getty Images
The lesson we refuse to learn
The tragedy of 2020 proved that surrendering to the mob invites ruin. The farce of 2025 shows that ridicule alone isn’t enough to defeat it. Both demand resolve — the courage to confront lies, restore order, and defend the institutions that safeguard freedom.
History doesn’t stop repeating itself; it stops being repeated. Whether America ends this cycle depends on whether its citizens choose firmness over fear, enforcement over appeasement, and truth over spectacle.
Enough with the doctored outrage porn. The burning question is whether we’ll tolerate this clown show recycling into catastrophe or crush it with resolve that honors real American values.
The line between tragedy and farce is thinner than ever — and this time, we can’t afford to play the fool.
AI can fake a face — but not a soul
The New York Times recently profiled Scott Jacqmein, an actor from Dallas who sold his likeness to TikTok for $750 and a free trip to the Bay Area. He hasn’t landed any TV shows, movies, or commercials, but his AI-generated likeness has — a virtual version of Jacqmein is now “acting” in countless ads on TikTok. As the Times put it, Jacqmein “fields one or two texts a week from acquaintances and friends who are pretty sure they have seen him pitching a peculiar range of businesses on TikTok.”
Now, Jacqmein “has regrets.” But why? He consented to sell his likeness. His image isn’t being used illegally. He wanted to act, and now — at least digitally — he’s acting. His regrets seem less about ethics and more about economics.
The more perfect the imitation, the greater the lie. What people crave isn’t flawless illusion — it’s authenticity.
Times reporter Sapna Maheshwari suggests as much. Her story centers on the lack of royalties and legal protections for people like Jacqmein.
She also raises moral concerns, citing examples where digital avatars were used to promote objectionable products or deliver offensive messages. In one case, Jacqmein’s AI double pitched a “male performance supplement.” In another, a TikTok employee allegedly unleashed AI avatars reciting passages from Hitler’s “Mein Kampf.” TikTok removed the tool that made the videos possible after CNN brought the story to light.
When faces become property
These incidents blur into a larger problem — the same one raised by deepfakes. In recent months, digital impostors have mimicked public figures from Bishop Robert Barron to the pope. The Vatican itself has had to denounce fake homilies generated in the likeness of Leo XIV. Such fabrications can mislead, defame, or humiliate.
But the deepest problem with digital avatars isn’t that they deceive. It’s that they aren’t real.
Even if Jacqmein were paid handsomely and religious figures embraced synthetic preaching as legitimate evangelism, something about the whole enterprise would remain wrong. Selling one’s likeness is a transaction of the soul. It’s unsettling because it treats what’s uniquely human — voice, gesture, and presence — as property to be cloned and sold.
When a person licenses his “digital twin,” he doesn’t just part with data. He commodifies identity itself. The actor’s expressions, tone, and mannerisms become a bundle of intellectual property. Someone else owns them now.
That’s why audiences instinctively recoil at watching AI puppets masquerade and mimic people. Even if the illusion is technically impressive, it feels hollow. A digital replica can’t evoke the same moral or emotional response as a real human being.
Selling the soul
This isn’t a new theme in art or philosophy. In a classic “Simpsons” episode, Bart sells his soul to his pal Milhouse for $5 and soon feels hollow, haunted by nightmares, convinced he’s lost something essential. The joke carries a metaphysical truth: When we surrender what defines us as human — even symbolically — we suffer a real loss.
For those who believe in an immortal soul, as Jesuit philosopher Robert Spitzer argues in “Science at the Doorstep to God,” this loss is more than psychological. To sell one’s likeness is to treat the image of the divine within as a market commodity. The transaction might seem trivial — a harmless digital contract — but the symbolism runs deep.
Oscar Wilde captured this inversion of morality in “The Picture of Dorian Gray.” His protagonist stays eternally young while his portrait, the mirror of his soul, decays. In our digital age, the roles are reversed: The AI avatar remains young and flawless while the human model ages, forgotten and spiritually diminished.
Jacqmein can’t destroy his portrait. It’s contractually owned by someone else. If he wants to stop his digital self from hawking supplements or energy drinks, he’ll need lawyers — and he’ll probably lose. He’s condemned to watch his AI double enjoy a flourishing career while he struggles to pay rent. The scenario reads like a lost episode of “Black Mirror” — a man trapped in a parody of his own success. (In fact, “The Waldo Moment” and “Hang the DJ” come close to this.)
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Photo by imaginima via Getty Images
The moral exit
The conventional answer to this dilemma is regulation: copyright reforms, consent standards, watermarking requirements. But the real solution begins with refusal. Actors shouldn’t sell their avatars. Consumers shouldn’t support platforms that replace people with synthetic ghosts.
If TikTok and other media giants populate their feeds with digital clones, users should boycott them and demand “fair-trade human content.” Just as conscientious shoppers insist on buying ethically sourced goods, viewers should insist on art and advertising made by living, breathing humans.
Tech evangelists argue that AI avatars will soon become indistinguishable from the people they’re modeled on. But that misses the point. The more perfect the imitation, the greater the lie. What people crave isn’t flawless illusion — it’s authenticity. They want to see imperfection, effort, and presence. They want to see life.
If we surrender that, we’ll lose something far more valuable than any acting career or TikTok deal. We’ll lose the very thing that makes us human.
