The Democrats Gave Us President Donald J. Trump (and It’s Hilarious)

Donald Trump: the man, the myth, the showman. Loved by Washington insiders, adored by the media, and a king of the entertainment world. That is, until he uttered the most terrifying words imaginable to the establishment: “I’m running for president.”

What happened next? They flipped faster than a pancake at an IHOP. Suddenly, the guy who threw the best parties and cracked the best jokes became Public Enemy #1. Why? Because they feared one thing: Trump wasn’t an insider. He was the wild card sheriff who just might shut down their gravy train of institutional corruption.

And then came the Democrats. Oh, the Democrats. Every time they tried to take him down, they accidentally made him stronger. It’s like they were Trump’s hype men, constantly reminding his supporters why they loved him in the first place. The lawsuits, the indictments, the breathless media meltdowns—each one was like handing Trump a free ticket to the top of the polls. Talk about reverse psychology!

But let’s get to the real comedy gold. The Democrats unintentionally boosted Trump into icon status with their over-the-top antics. McDonald’s French fries? Trump turned that into a populist culinary statement. Manning a garbage truck? That’s blue-collar charisma right there. And eulogizing Little Peanut the squirrel and Fred the raccoon? Only Trump could turn roadkill into a rallying cry for unity.

Then there’s Barron Trump. The kid became the Gen Z whisperer, turning TikTok into TrumpTok. Meanwhile, Donald himself—hardly a spring chicken—embraced the memes, learned the tech, and proved that even a man of his age can outmaneuver “Word Salad Lady” without breaking a sweat.

Now, with four more years of Trump ahead, it’s not just Republicans cheering. It’s anyone who wants health, wealth, security, and a chance to watch America’s greatest showman do what he does best: Make America Great Again—again.

So thank you, Democrats. You really outdid yourselves this time.

Will the Political Left Succeed in Assassinating Donald Trump?

The battle for America’s soul has reached a fever pitch. Tomorrow, the socialist cabal entrenched in the White House faces the reckoning they have long dreaded. The self-proclaimed champions of “progress” have torched, shredded, and erased every incriminating document they could get their hands on—desperately trying to conceal the evidence of their corruption. Meanwhile, countless new boxes of top-secret files are undoubtedly now stashed in Joe Biden’s garage, a fitting symbol of his disdain for accountability.

But the threat to Donald Trump—and by extension, the Republic—goes far beyond bureaucratic sabotage. There exists a fanatical and unhinged contingent of Trump-haters who are so consumed by their hatred that they would stop at nothing, including murder, to silence him. It wasn’t enough for them to orchestrate the 2020 coup d’état through blatant voter fraud. Now, their obsession with eliminating Trump has taken a more sinister and dangerous turn.

Trump has already survived two bona fide assassination attempts, and there’s no doubt the attempts will continue. The Secret Service must remain not only vigilant but absolutely unwavering in their loyalty. Yet, history shows us the grim reality: most attempts on a president’s life have ended in tragedy—either death or grievous injury. The frightening possibility of heavy weapons like bombs, mortars being deployed against Trump looms over this volatile chapter in American history.

The stakes have never been higher. The next four years could bring a renaissance of constitutional fidelity and national strength.  America has a Constitution, and it cannot be rewritten with fraud, betrayal, or violence. Our system demands lawful amendments, not disloyal politicians, bullets, and bombs.

As for tomorrow, the words of Kamala Harris hang in the air with dark irony: “We will become unbound by what has been.” But the question remains—unbound from socialism or a free Republic?

The political left and women’s rights

 

Ah, the political left—champions of drama and masters of fear-mongering! They’d have you believe that conservatives are lurking behind every corner, ready to snatch away women’s rights and slap a second-class citizen badge on them. Next thing you know, they’ll claim conservatives want women in bonnets, churning butter, and attending compulsory etiquette classes.

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t endorse total abortion bans. I’m not about to hold a “ban everything” rally. But hey, can we agree on some boundaries here? If you’re going to make that decision, maybe consider doing it earlier rather than treating it like a last-minute Amazon return.

This isn’t about rights—it’s about unrestricted, no-holds-barred abortion access. The Supreme Court in Roe v. Wade didn’t just overstep; they took a running leap off the constitutional cliff. Apparently, they found a magical “right” hidden between the lines of the Constitution—maybe in invisible ink? Last I checked, “abortion” and “reproductive rights” were about as common in the Constitution as UFO landings.

Let’s talk about a real threat to democracy. Roe v. Wade bypassed the American people completely. No vote, no discussion—just nine unelected judges deciding for 330 million people. But democracy works better when states decide for themselves, right? You know, that whole “government closer to the people” idea. Crazy concept.

Now, the abortion zealots don’t stop at claiming women are losing a right—they insist women are losing every right. Calm down, Chicken Little. The sky isn’t falling. As propaganda master Joseph Goebbels said, repeat a lie often enough and people will believe it. And boy, has the left taken that advice to heart.

Let’s face it, abortion hasn’t disappeared in America—it’s alive and well, especially in states where leftists are busy screeching the loudest. If you live in a Bible Belt state and just can’t resist the urge to “terminate,” pack a bag and book a budget flight to a liberal state. Spirit Airlines can get you there for the price of an Uber ride. Just don’t forget the snacks—they charge for everything else.

TikTok is Officially Toast: A Celebration of Vertical Video’s Demise

Wfell, folks, it finally happened—TikTok is offline, and I, for one, couldn’t be happier. TikTok was a platform that brought us cringe-inducing dances, questionable life hacks, and the soul-sucking horror of vertical videos. Seriously, who decided that filming through a keyhole was the way to go? I get it, everyone’s glued to their phones, but have we forgotten that screens can turn sideways? It’s not hard, people.

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the drama behind TikTok’s shutdown. The official story is that we were worried about the Chinese government using it to spy on us. Because apparently, seeing Becky from Iowa lip-sync to Taylor Swift is a matter of national security. But really, why would the Chinese bother with TikTok when they could probably just hit up Hunter Biden for a discount on classified intel? The guy’s got a laptop full of goodies, after all. Throw in Nancy Pelosi, Barack Obama, and Joe Biden, and you’ve got a discount espionage dream team. Who needs TikTok when your politicians are basically handing out state secrets like IHalloween candy?

And let’s not forget, TikTok didn’t just ruin video aesthetics—it ruined lives. People have literally died trying to one-up each other with daredevil stunts for likes. Darwin Awards, meet your new sponsor. But sure, TikTok was the real threat to America, not the NSA logging every phone call, text, and late-night Google search you’ve ever made. Nope, it’s the dancing teens we should be afraid of.

In reality, the Patriot Act and other government snoop-fests are far scarier than a platform that’s 90% cats and people falling off treadmills. But hey, at least now I don’t have to endure another poorly filmed vertical cooking tutorial. That, my friends, is the real victory.

My favorite actress may surprise people

Carice van Houten is, without a doubt, my favorite actress. She first captured my admiration in the electrifying Dutch film Black Book,directed by the legendary Paul Verhoeven. It’s a cinematic masterpiece that showcased the full spectrum of her talent—acting, singing, and even dancing. And yes, she looked absolutely stunning throughout, including in her daring nude scenes, which were integral to the story.

Life after 2006 wasn’t all glitz and glamour for Carice. Fame brought its challenges, including dealing with stalkers and the complexities of her personal life. During Black Book, sparks flew between her and co-star Sebastian Koch. Their romance was passionate but short-lived, as the distance between her home in Amsterdam and his in Berlin proved too much. Secretly, I hoped I might have a chance to step in—but alas, that wasn’t meant to be. Instead, Carice found love with Australian actor Guy Pearce. While they keep a low profile, they share a son, Monty. She used to share glimpses of him on social media (carefully protecting his identity), but even those updates have stopped, likely out of security concerns.

Now approaching 50, Carice stands at a crossroads where many actresses face an uncertain future. But I believe she still has plenty of magic left to offer.  She’s going to begin production shortly on a UK film.  While I never cared much for her role in Game of Thrones,her depth and versatility as an actress have never wavered. In a perfect world, I’d cast her in a million films. She’s long dreamed of playing Greta Garbo, and I hope she gets that chance before time runs out.

Carice isn’t just a brilliant actress; she’s also a gifted singer. Her album See You on the Ice, co-produced by my friend Ken Stringfellow, is a beautiful testament to her musical talent. And let’s not forget her haunting rendition of “100 Years From Today” on the Black Book soundtrack. She also made memorable appearances in films like Race, where she portrayed Hitler’s cinematographer, Lini Riefenstahl and Valkyrie, as Tom Cruise’s onscreen wife.

Carice is a rare gem—a true talent who has managed to stay grounded despite the chaos of fame. While her career seems quieter these days, I’m holding out hope for a big comeback. She deserves to shine on screen again, and I’ll be cheering her on every step of the way.

Update:  I have some very sad news and that is that Carice and her husband Guy Pearce have decided to split the sheets.  In many ways that not so surprising considering that their entertainment careers go in two different directions and that requires them to be a part a great deal of the time.  As we know that is not good for any marriage, but the question is about their little boy Monty.  I know he’s gonna have a tough time being only with one parent at a time, and hopefully both parents will go out of their way to share love and custody for this little guy.

There is however good to be, and that is I have a chance to get next to Carice! However, the chances of that are far less than me winning the Powerball lottery twice in a row.

In any event, I wish Carice the very best. She’s got a long life ahead of her and lots of exciting films that I hope to see her in soon. .  

A Flashlight Could Save Your Life

 

The night was suffocatingly dark in Paradise Valley, Arizona in October of 1987—a town shrouded in quiet and lit only by the stars above. There were no streetlights, no safety in visibility, just shadows stretching endlessly into the void. I was there as a process server, having just served an eviction notice to a woman.  What I didn’t know was that the shadows would soon hide a predator—and my fight for survival.

I was making my way back to my car when her husband, seething with rage, emerged from the darkness. Without warning, he struck me with the heavy steel of a Colt 1911 .45. The force sent me reeling, blood streaming into my left eye. Disoriented and half-blinded, I staggered, but his intentions were clear. The cold, merciless muzzle of his gun found me, and I saw death in his eyes.

Instinct roared to life. My hand reached for my own weapon, a modest five-shot .38. In the chaos, I managed to fire—not once, but five times. Each shot tore through the darkness and into his body. My attacker stood motionless, and I was left standing, bloodied and shaking, in the unrelenting black. I chose to flee rather than try to reload.

But what if things had been different? What if I had carried a flashlight powerful enough to turn the night into day, to shatter his advantage and blind him before he ever struck?

The flashlight I had that night was old technology, useless, its batteries spent—a mere deadweight in my pocket. Had I been armed with a high-powered light, perhaps I could have disarmed him with blinding brilliance, avoiding the bloodshed that still stains my memory.

Not long after, I discovered a groundbreaking tool: the SureFire 6 P flashlight. The SureFire 6P flashlight was first introduced in 1988.  This model marked a significant advancement in flashlight technology, combining the benefits of lithium batteries with a high-power xenon bulb, setting a new standard for compact, high-efficiency flashlights.  The bad news was this flashlight was not yet available for me. It did not come out until months later. Small enough to slip into your pocket yet powerful enough to pierce the deepest shadows, it was the tool I needed that night but didn’t have.  As soon as the 6P model hit the street it became a must have item for me.  

A few years later I  showed mine to Massad Ayoob, the legendary firearms expert, when he wrote about my incident. He immediately saw its value, picked up the same 6P model, and has carried it ever since—though I’m certain he now uses an upgraded version.

Today, SureFire not only makes incredible handheld lights but weapon-mounted ones as well. These tools don’t just illuminate—they dominate. The power to obliterate an attacker’s vision, to seize control of the encounter before it begins, is nothing short of life-saving.  I’d go visit their website and pick out what suits your needs. 

In the darkest moments, a powerful flashlight isn’t just a tool—it’s the difference between survival and tragedy. Never step into the shadows without one.

If Only I Had a Gun!

How many lives could have been spared—how many murders, kidnappings, robberies, or sexual assaults could have been stopped—if only the victims had a gun in their hands and the training to use it? A fighting chance against evil lies not in blind hope but in preparation and resolve.

Too many people cling to the fantasy that dialing 911 will summon instant salvation. Reality shatters this illusion: police response times often stretch into crucial, life-or-death minutes. In Los Angeles today, where emergency services are overwhelmed by catastrophic fires, criminals exploit this chaos, striking with impunity while victims wait helplessly for aid.

Do not underestimate the calculated cunning of criminals. They know the system’s flaws, the delays, and the naivety of a population lulled into complacency. The real tragedy is that so many believe their safety is someone else’s responsibility. They have forgotten—or worse, never considered—that their own defense begins with themselves.

The horrors of October 7, when Hamas unleashed a brutal assault on Israel, are seared into our collective memory. Men, women, and children were slaughtered without resistance, not because the attack was unforeseeable, but because Israel’s leaders had stripped civilians of their right to defend themselves. Disarmed and defenseless, the innocent became easy prey.

We in America must never allow such a fate to befall us. Our Constitution, through the Second Amendment, guarantees our right to keep and bear arms. Yet for decades, politicians have waged relentless campaigns to strip us of this right, leaving us vulnerable and dependent. Thankfully, they have not yet succeeded. But owning and carrying a firearm is not just a right—it is a duty.

Every law-abiding American must embrace this responsibility. Arm yourself. Train yourself. Recognize that in a moment of crisis, you are the first responder. Criminals will not wait for the police to save you, and neither should you. Additionally, learn the skills of trauma care. Beyond basic CPR, you should know how to stop bleeding, stabilize injuries, and give yourself or others a fighting chance to survive.

Stop living in denial. Stop waiting for miracles. Get up, get trained, and equip yourself with the tools to protect your life and the lives of those you love. Never again should you find yourself thinking, If only I had a gun.

The Lame Los Angeles Legacy Media Bears Responsibility for the Fires

Los Angeles, CA – The so-called “news organizations” in Los Angeles love to market their flashy “I-Teams” to gullible viewers, but the truth is, these outlets are nothing more than propaganda arms for the radical left-wing politicians who run California into the ground. Their loyalty isn’t to the truth or the public—it’s to the corrupt, single-party oligarchy controlling this state.

California is no longer governed like a democracy. It is a dystopian wasteland of de facto one-party rule, eerily resembling authoritarian regimes like China, Cuba, and North Korea. The so-called “journalists” in this state? They’re accomplices. In over two decades of observing Los Angeles media, I have yet to see them uncover one meaningful scandal involving the Democrats who hold unchallenged power here. Not one.

Media Silence Fuels Public Safety Disasters

While the city careens toward catastrophe, where has the media been? Sleeping. Los Angeles, with its long history of fires, earthquakes, and riots, is a ticking time bomb. But instead of holding politicians accountable for gross mismanagement, especially in public safety funding, these media cowards stay silent. The budgetary neglect that has left our city unprepared for disasters isn’t just scandalous—it’s criminal.

Rather than pressuring politicians to invest in fire prevention or emergency preparedness, the media cheerleads for policies that prioritize illegal immigrants and failed social experiments. They gush over “compassionate” programs for homelessness but never ask the hard questions about where the money is going—or how much is being squandered.

And when it comes to policing taxpayer dollars? Forget it. The legacy media in Los Angeles has been on a decades-long vacation. They refuse to dig into the misappropriations, incompetence, and outright corruption that have drained this state dry.

A Crisis Manufactured by Media Cowards

Let’s make this crystal clear: the devastating fires, the unpreparedness, and the human suffering we’re witnessing are not just natural disasters—they are man-made disasters. The legacy media has blood on its hands. By refusing to investigate and expose governmental incompetence and corruption, they have allowed this to happen.

Their abdication of journalistic duty is so profound that it borders on treason. George Orwell’s words perfectly describe this betrayal:

“Journalism is printing what someone else does not want published; everything else is public relations.”

California’s media doesn’t practice journalism—they practice public relations for the ruling elite. And in doing so, they’ve helped whitewash the gross malfeasance of the state’s leadership. They have betrayed the people of Los Angeles and enabled the ongoing destruction of the state.

Time to Hold the Media Accountable

It’s time for a reckoning. Californians are fed up with the lies, the spin, and the outright negligence. Calls to oust the governor and the mayor are just the beginning. The federal government should revoke the broadcast licenses of every so-called “news organization” that has spent decades operating as nothing more than a propaganda machine for these corrupt officials.

Real journalism is nearly dead in America, and nowhere is this more apparent than in California. The fires that are devastating this state are a symbol of what happens when the media fails to do its job. This isn’t just a failure—it’s a betrayal. And it’s time to make them answer for it.

Is this the future of American housing? Do we really wanna live this way?

Imagine achieving the pinnacle of the American dream: a three-or even a five bedroom home, complete with a garage, a sprawling front and backyard, and perhaps even a sparkling swimming pool. With this home comes something far greater than comfort—true, unshakable privacy.

This isn’t some flimsy townhouse or suffocating condo ruled by meddling bureaucrats. No, your single-family home is a fortress against the creeping surveillance of authoritarian busybodies. Homeowner associations, often little more than breeding grounds for petty tyrants, won’t have their claws in your personal life. These so-called “HOA Nazis” won’t know where you work, where you bank, or who lives under your roof. That level of intrusion? It’s more than invasive—it’s dangerous.

Now look at China. There, the government herds its citizens into bleak high-rise apartments—towering concrete prisons where every move is monitored. In these vertical cages, the state controls who enters, who leaves, and every aspect of life in between. It’s a system of absolute control, and it’s no accident.

Here in America, the same forces are coming for the sanctity of single-family neighborhoods under the guise of “progress.” R3 zoning, the backbone of suburban life, is under relentless attack—especially in areas dominated by Democrats. These policies are about more than housing. They’re about control, compliance, and the eradication of independence. Every inch given up to this ideology is a step closer to a system that strips you of privacy, freedom, and the right to live without constant interference.