Too many modern parents are choosing the path of victimhood for their children instead of the hard road of discipline, effort, and accountability. The result? A society that confuses struggle with oppression and laziness with disability.

Pretending something isn’t true just because it’s uncomfortable doesn’t preserve dignity—it delays disaster.

When we justify violence on “our side” and condemn it on the other, we give violence a permission slip. It's time to stop making excuses and start raising the standard for civil discourse in America.

Burning cars and assaulting cops isn’t protest…it’s lawless chaos dressed up in political righteousness. If your idea of justice includes vandalism and violence, you’re not fighting for rights, you’re fighting for control.

We keep fighting over who’s in charge while ignoring the real problem: it doesn’t matter anymore. The presidency has become a mask—an illusion of control—while unelected power brokers run the show. We’ve normalized deception in the name of protecting democracy, not realizing we’re dismantling it piece by piece. You can’t give consent to a government you don’t understand. And you can’t defend liberty if you’re still distracted by the wrong threats.

Politics, at its best, isn’t about power—it’s about people coming together, in all their differences, to build something better.

Nevada itself has been in our hearts ever since we left. Every week, for the past decade, we’ve found ourselves missing it. The bold, earthy colors of the landscape, the harshness of the geology, the unrelenting heat of the summer—it all calls to us. More than anything, though, we miss the spirit of Nevada, the adventure, and the people who make it feel like home.

Watching the capsule re-enter the atmosphere and splash down safely was nothing short of awe-inspiring. There’s something incredible about seeing these advances unfold in real time, a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance. It’s a reminder that, despite all our terrestrial troubles, we are capable of reaching for the stars and achieving the seemingly impossible.

There was a time when debate was an art—when discussions about pressing societal issues were opportunities to challenge perspectives, refine ideas, and build bridges between differing worldviews. Today, however, discourse has become a battlefield where the goal is not to engage or respectfully disagree, but to label, shame, and silence.

One of the most troubling aspects of modern dialogue is the obsession with labels. We are increasingly defined by neat and convenient tags—liberal or conservative, pro-this or anti-that. These labels, once mere descriptors, have evolved into rigid identities that dictate how we perceive those who disagree with us. Instead of engaging with ideas, we categorize individuals as "the other"—not just wrong, but fundamentally flawed or even evil.

The consequences of this shift are profound. Disagreements that once fueled intellectual growth now lead to severed relationships. I experienced this personally when a close friend of two decades cut me off simply because I refused to mirror her hatred of President Trump and Elon Musk. I wasn’t an outspoken supporter of either, but my unwillingness to conform to absolute disdain was, in her eyes, an unforgivable offense.

Even more alarming is the reckless weaponization of extreme labels. Terms like "Nazi," "Hitler," and "fascist" are thrown around with little regard for historical accuracy, eroding their meaning and trivializing the atrocities they represent. If every political opponent is a "Nazi" and every policy disagreement is "fascism," the words lose their weight, making it harder to identify and combat real extremism when it arises.

This breakdown in discourse has led to ideological extremism, where debates are no longer about problem-solving but about ideological purity. The result? A society that prioritizes vengeance over progress, emotional reactions over rational thought.

The good news is that this trend can be reversed—if we make a conscious effort to reintroduce critical thinking and open dialogue. We must resist the urge to label, embrace discomfort, separate people from their ideas, and prioritize solutions over ideology. Only then can we reclaim the ability to have thought-provoking, society-improving conversations.

If we continue down our current path, we risk further fragmenting our society into hostile, irreconcilable factions. But if we choose conversation over confrontation, understanding over outrage, and progress over purity tests, we may find that the very people we once saw as enemies could be our greatest allies in building a better future.

At an hour and forty minutes, this was the longest address to Congress by any president—a record I suspect was broken intentionally. It served two purposes: first, to highlight the contrast between Trump and President Biden, and second, to push the Democratic response later into the night when fewer Americans would be watching. Strategically, this was a smart move. It’s always advantageous to control the narrative and dominate the media cycle.

In terms of delivery, Trump’s speech was more structured than usual. While he’ll never match the eloquence of Obama or Clinton, he had fewer awkward pauses and less rambling than I expected. That’s an improvement.

What if Trump’s push to buy Greenland isn’t just about Arctic dominance, but a preview of America’s next frontier—space?

Throughout history, nations have raced to secure uncharted territories rich in resources and strategic value. The Arctic, once an overlooked expanse of ice, has become a geopolitical battleground, much like space is poised to become.

The same logic that drove America to stake its claim in the Arctic should shape its approach to space. From the Arctic to the Moon, the game is the same: those who control the land, control the future.

We started going to church this year, and through that, I’ve realized how much I longed for community. Growing up without strong religious ties, I never saw the importance of congregating with others to worship. But as I’ve grown older, the need for belonging and connection has become more pronounced. One thing I’ve learned is that "community isn't about sameness; it's about togetherness."

It’s easy to surround yourself with people who share the same beliefs and values, but what happens when those who are different from us are vilified? This post explores how we’ve lost the ability to engage with people who disagree with us and the dangers of hating those with differing beliefs. The true essence of community lies in accepting others, not in demanding sameness.

I met my husband in Greenland while stationed at Thule Air Base—an isolated military outpost with significant strategic value due to its proximity to Russia and China. Thule, now renamed Pituffik, plays a critical role in missile detection and space surveillance. The Trump administration’s interest in Greenland and the Arctic region isn't just about the island itself, but about global security and maintaining control over the rapidly melting Arctic. As adversaries like Russia and China expand their presence, it’s essential for the U.S. to take a more active role in the region to safeguard our national defense.

While some may mock Trump’s idea of purchasing Greenland, history shows this isn't a new concept, and the U.S. must prioritize its defense interests, regardless of global perception.

I grew up in a Republican household, but as I’ve gotten older and experienced more of the world, my views have evolved. From my time in the military to seeing firsthand the failures of foreign conflicts, I’ve developed a more nuanced perspective on issues like gun control, military involvement, and foreign aid—views that often put me at odds with my parents and my brother. I still hold onto conservative values, but I’ve found myself caught between political ideologies, not quite fitting into either camp.

Throughout my journey, I’ve continued to support individual rights, equality, and the pursuit of open dialogue. But as I’ve seen the rise of divisiveness, cancel culture, and the weaponization of political correctness, I’ve grown tired of being labeled as evil or ignorant simply for having differing views. It’s time for a new approach to debate and engagement—one where we can disagree without demonizing each other.

The first and only family trip I ever took was to Washington, DC—a trip that changed my life. At just eight or nine years old, I was captivated by the city’s history, monuments, and the ideals that shaped our nation. Though the trip was primarily for my older brother, it sparked a lifelong passion for government and American ideals in me. The trip, along with the inspiring lessons of my 9th-grade teacher, Mr. Perkins, ignited my desire to be a part of the American Experiment. I realized that it wasn’t about being extraordinary; it was about having the courage to take action and work toward something greater than yourself. That’s the spirit I carry with me today, and one day, I hope to run for political office—not for power, but to contribute to the ideals that have always inspired me.