David Geffen, the elusive billionaire and kingmaker of the entertainment world, lived a life most wouldn’t dare to dream. Without a college degree or formal credentials, he carved his name into the bedrock of music, film, and power. He wasn’t just successful. He was seismic. Long before his name adorned buildings and theaters, Geffen navigated the treacherous waters of Hollywood and emerged as a master. He briefly dated Cher while she was still legally married to Sonny Bono. But it was another woman who captured Geffen’s heart in a way no one else could, songbird, Laura Nyro. Nyro, the brilliant and enigmatic singer-songwriter, was a thunderstorm of soul and silence. She wrote hauntingly beautiful songs recorded by legends like Barbra Streisand, The 5th Dimension, and Blood, Sweat & Tears. Yet she retreated from fame just as the world was beginning to understand her genius. Private, spiritual, and fiercely independent, she stunned Geffen when she chose not to sign with his ...

Los AngelesMayor Karen Bass is pulling out all the stops to fan the flames of chaos and criminal defiance against the deportations the American people clearly demanded when they gave Donald Trump his second term. This isn’t leadership. It’s sabotage. She’s practically begging for a showdown with federal law enforcement, as if turning Los Angeles into a sanctuary for criminals is some kind of twisted legacy project. This woman isn’t just lawless, she’s a menace. And when it came to the horrific reports of unaccompanied children being forced to toil in marijuana grow operations run by illegal alien slave masters? She didn’t even blink. Not a word of condemnation. Apparently, child labor and human trafficking don’t register anywhere on her moral radar, not when there’s political grandstanding to be done.

No matter how much Team Trump tries to distance him from Epstein and his high-society madam, Ghislaine Maxwell, the scandal just won’t die. Like a rotting corpse under a thin rug, it keeps stinking up the room. Now let’s talk reality. Maxwell isn’t done. Not by a long shot. Her legal team is already hammering the courts with allegations that prosecutors withheld exculpatory evidence. That is a direct violation of Brady v. Maryland. That alone should be enough to crack this thing open. But wait, there’s more. New evidence is surfacing, and it’s not looking good for the narrative the DOJ sold to the public. Here’s my call. Ghislaine Maxwell is going to get a new trial. Bet on it. As for those missing names, the rich and powerful who feasted off Epstein’s twisted empire, don’t pretend the DOJ just forgot to mention them. This reeks of a carefully orchestrated cover-up. We are talking about the highest levels of protection for the dirtiest people on earth. More leaks are coming. More u...

The Joe Biden auto-pen administration didn’t just drop the ball. They hurled it into the abyss and opened the gates to ten million unvetted foreign nationals. Many were violent career criminals, mentally unstable, or openly hostile to the United States. They didn’t immigrate, they trespassed. They squatted. And they were welcomed with a wink and a rubber-stamped stack of phony asylum claims. Let’s stop pretending this was incompetence. This was coordinated, deliberate, and absolutely treasonous. The administration conspired against the American people by greenlighting a full-scale invasion. That’s not immigration. That’s betrayal. Each one of these entries is a separate criminal act. Ten million violations. And who helped? Biden’s auto- pen-pushing bureaucrats and their army of open-border activists, turning the Executive Branch into a cartel-friendly welcome center. That’s conspiracy, plain and ugly. Fixing this requires seven thousand deportations per day. Every single day. Rain o...

The fiery and fearless Amy Jacobson isn’t just a broadcaster, she’s a Chicago institution with a razor-sharp tongue and a mind that cuts through the noise like a blowtorch through butter. She takes the hottest issues, grabs them by the throat, and drags them into the light, live on air. But in a jaw-dropping act of corporate stupidity, the suits at WIND tossed her aside in a so-called “reorganization” that smelled more like inside sabotage. Now she’s unchained, unfiltered, and ready for her next chapter. If WLS AM has an ounce of sense left, they’ll grab her before someone else does. Because Amy Jacobson doesn’t just do radio, she owns it. And when she’s behind the mic, Chicago doesn’t just listen… it wakes up.

For over two decades, Americans have endured one of the most idiotic rituals in modern history, being forced to take off their shoes at the airport like inmates lining up for a cavity search. All thanks to the bloated disaster known as the TSA, a government creation born not out of necessity, but out of Congress’s insatiable lust to waste billions on a make-work program for the barely employable. They rounded up people who couldn’t pass a fast food application test, dressed them in cop costumes, handed them gold badges, and told them they were heroes. What followed was a nationwide reign of incompetence and abuse. These clowns got off on frisking nuns, patting down kids in wheelchairs, and stealing your shampoo while pretending your Converse sneakers were a threat to national security. Every flight was a performance of bad theater, complete with barking orders, pointless delays, and the lovely aroma of 300 passengers’ fungal foot odor wafting through the terminal. And for what? Not s...

Sounds like fiction, doesn’t it? Something out of Stalin’s playbook. But this is the real-life horror show playing out in the land of deep-dish pizza, machine politics, and corrupt judges who smile as they trample the Constitution. Steve Fanady is rotting in the Cook County Jail, now entering his fourth year, not because he broke the law, but because two vindictive ex-wives want a luxury retirement they didn’t earn. And a bunch of hack judges are more than happy to oblige. Fanady has no history of violence. What he does have is a beautiful young daughter who misses him dearly and a target painted on his back. You see, years ago, Fanady lived somewhat large. Nice home, serious income, the kind of lifestyle that makes divorce lawyers drool. Now he’s flat broke, burned by endless legal fees, and being punished for money he doesn’t have. Money that exists only in the imaginations of greedy ex-spouses, delusional lawyers and judges. A trial judge actually guessed that Fanady had millions...

  Forget the fairy tales of six-shot or less showdowns. We’re long past that. Today’s shootouts often involve dozens of fired rounds. Just flip on the news and look at the crime scene photos. Those yellow markers next to all those shell casings? That’s modern reality. The much-hyped 9mm round? Overrated. It’s everywhere, sure, but don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll get a clean, one-shot stop. You won’t. The only smart answer is to carry a dependable semi-automatic pistol and carry it with at least two spare magazines. I don’t recommend those oversized, awkward extended mags. They get in the way and can screw up your draw or your aim. Instead, practice fast and clean magazine changes until they’re second nature. Now let’s talk about what happens in the dark. You need a compact, high-lumen flashlight. Not to fumble for your keys, but to blind and disorient a potential threat before they can close the gap. Darkness is the predator’s playground—don’t let it become your grave. ...

If you know me, you know this. I live for cameras. Big ones, small ones, hidden ones. They’re expensive, unforgiving, and absolutely essential to doing this job right. Use them correctly, and you’re a star. Use them wrong, or worse, not at all and you’re just another hack with a license. Let me hit you with two hard truths: 1. The best camera is the one in your hand. 2. The worst photo is the one you didn’t take. You’ve got a miracle of technology sitting in your pocket—your smartphone. But like most people, you barely use it. And when you do, you shoot vertical video like a teenage TikTok addict. Knock it off. We live in a widescreen world. Your phone shoots 16:9 for a reason. Want your footage to look professional, not pathetic? Turn that damn phone sideways. No one needs ten feet of floor and a ceiling fan in the shot. Legal Landmines Before you start playing James Bond, don’t be a dumbass. Never, ever record in places where there’s a reasonable expectation of privacy. Bathro...

When the Volstead Act was finally repealed, Americans were told that the nightmare was over and liquor could once again flow from taps across the land. That’s the official story. The truth? The liquor never stopped flowing. The only thing that really changed was the sudden drop in gunfire between rival bootlegger gangs. With Prohibition’s end, the blood-soaked streets of Chicago and Kansas City quieted. Peace—however tenuous—returned. But Congress wasn’t satisfied. They were spooked by years of gangland carnage and wanted a silver bullet to make sure it never happened again. They knew they couldn’t outright ban guns. The Second Amendment was still standing in their way like a stone fortress. So they pulled a sneaky, unconstitutional end-run: The National Firearms Act of 1934. This wasn’t legislation. It was sabotage. They created a backdoor registration scheme, tied to a brutal $200 tax—a small fortune during the Great Depression—on items like machine guns, silencers, short-barreled...

I’ve spent decades around principled, conservative Americans who love the Constitution and cherish liberty. At some gatherings, people show films and clips tracing our nation’s founding, exposing early financial corruption, and detailing how control of our monetary system shifted from public to private hands. There’s some disturbing truth in that history, no question. But where the movement veers off the rails is in its legal fantasyland, a place no court in this country takes seriously. Despite the slick rhetoric and seductive promise of freedom from taxes, licenses, and legal responsibility, the cold truth is this: the courts have repeatedly shut down these theories. Every time. Let’s talk names. Winston Shrout, one of the movement’s more vocal figureheads, was convicted in 2017 of issuing fake financial instruments — worthless documents he claimed could discharge debts. He’s now doing ten years in federal prison. Heather Ann Tucci-Jarraf, a former attorney turned sovereign adher...

There’s no doubt anymore. Wednesday night’s bloodbath outside the Artis Lounge on Chicago Avenue wasn’t random. It was a hit. And the primary target appears to have been Mello Buckzz, real name Melanie Doyle, and her boyfriend Devonte Terrell Williamson, 23, who was among the four killed when gunmen opened fire into a crowd of mostly women. Eighteen people were shot. Four are dead. But this wasn’t just senseless violence. This was a music industry beef that ended the way too many of them do in blood. In Chicago’s underground rap scene, egos are bigger than the paychecks, and everyone with a SoundCloud link thinks they’re the next mogul. Look around and you’ll find promoters, producers, and self-declared A&Rs who model themselves after Suge Knight, and not in a good way. They want power. They want control. And sometimes, they want revenge. The rap world has long been haunted by the shadows of men like Suge, think of Irv Gotti, Birdman, Big Meech, and others who blurred the lines b...

Another bloodbath exploded in the heart of Chicago’s so-called “River North”,   not exactly a war-torn country, but you wouldn’t know it from the body count. Eighteen people shot. Four are dead. And once again, the media tiptoes around the real issue like it’s made of glass. This isn’t about skin color. It’s about a toxic, self-destructive culture that’s been coddled, glorified, and excused for far too long. Politicians won’t touch it. Journalists won’t name it. And until someone grows a spine and calls it what it is, we’ll just keep counting bodies. Here’s the scene: a group of mostly women was gathered outside the Artis Lounge at 311 W. Chicago Ave., fresh off a rapper party. Suddenly, a dark SUV rolls up. Gunmen open fire into the crowd like it’s open season. Screams, chaos, bodies hitting the pavement. Blood everywhere. Mello Buckzz,  real name Melanie Doyle was apparently the host of this glamorous disaster. Her boyfriend and best friend are among the dead. That doesn’...