King David was furious over his son’s sin, but he did nothing. He kept his anger to himself and never brought correction. His silence opened the door to rebellion and tragedy in his family. The same silence is destroying our homes and our nation today.

Years ago, a small number of parents went too far and abused their children. The government stepped in to stop the abuse, and that was right. But instead of holding the guilty few accountable, society changed the rules for everyone. Because of the one percent who could not control their anger, the ninety-nine percent who loved their children lost the right to discipline them. The line between correction and cruelty was erased.

How the Laws Changed

In the 1970s and 1980s, laws were passed to protect children from real abuse. That was needed. But over time, the definition of abuse became so broad that even a firm correction could be questioned. In 1974, the Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act gave states power and funding to investigate abuse. In 1977, the Supreme Court allowed corporal punishment in schools in Ingraham v. Wright, yet most states soon banned it. Today, in many places, if you discipline your child too firmly, child protective services could show up at your door — and in some cases, remove your children.

Parents became afraid to discipline. Teachers became afraid to correct. Leaders became afraid to speak the truth. And as discipline disappeared, so did accountability.

Children grew up believing that actions have no consequences. They were rewarded for showing up, praised for effort they never gave, and taught that feelings matter more than facts. Now those children are adults, and they expect reward without work, rights without duty, and freedom without boundaries. They get angry when life tells them “no,” because they grew up in a world that never did.

But actions do have consequences, and every individual must bear them. No law, government, or movement can protect anyone from the results of their own choices. The truth is simple: discipline teaches responsibility, and responsibility builds character. Without either, people stay children no matter their age.

My wife often says, “If it does not hurt, it does not work.” She is right. Growth only comes through correction and hardship. When discipline stops, decay begins.

Billy Graham once said, “When discipline is absent, chaos takes control.” That is exactly what we see today. Our classrooms are chaotic, our families are broken, and our culture celebrates rebellion while mocking authority. King David’s failure to correct his children destroyed his house. Our failure to correct this generation is destroying our nation.

“LORD, do not let evil people have their way, or allow their evil schemes to succeed. Do not let liars prosper here in our land.” — Psalm 140:8, 11

Love is not letting people do whatever they want. Love is teaching them what is right and standing firm when they resist. Discipline is not cruelty — it is care in action. We cannot stay silent any longer. If we keep doing nothing, rebellion will rule, truth will fade, and the next generation will not know that actions have consequences they must bear.

Lord, give us the courage to correct, the strength to stand, and the wisdom to stop this madness.

But my Lord was silent—except for one verse that echoed again and again in my heart:

“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever. So, we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen.”

— 2 Corinthians 4:16–18 (NLT)

I struggled with that. “Lord,” I said, “this sickness is no small thing. It could last for years, or it could take their life. How can I call that small?” Yet nothing else came—just this verse. A quiet reminder that even in our greatest pain, God is doing something eternal.

Then last night, I had a dream. I found myself in a home overshadowed by deep trouble. As I prayed, the Lord revealed that a demonic presence was tormenting the household. I stood my ground and commanded it to reveal itself. It obeyed. The refrigerator began to move, trembling under an unseen power. Then I demanded to see its ruler—the head of the demonic host.

When that dark presence appeared, I called upon my guardian angel—the one God told me each of His children has. I felt the strength of heaven beside me.

What happened next stunned even the darkness. I looked at the demonic power and said, “Thank you.”

I thanked it for the suffering it brought—not because I loved the pain, but because I finally saw what it produced: glory.

This confused and enraged the demon. It could not understand gratitude in the face of suffering. It tried to harm me but could not, for the angel of the Lord stood guard. The more I thanked God for the trials that refine us, the more powerless the darkness became, until it fled completely.

When I awoke, I understood. Suffering is not meaningless; it is the furnace where eternal glory is forged. What looks like loss is often heaven’s hidden gain.

As C.S. Lewis once wrote,

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

I thank the Lord for these young couples and for all who are walking through the fire of affliction. Their pain is not wasted. It is producing a glory that will outshine every sorrow.

Thank You, Lord, for renewing their spirits and giving them a future that will last forever. When Your children begin to see pain and hardship through Your eyes, they will find that suffering itself is the very grace You gave to Paul when he prayed for his sickness to be removed — a grace that says, “My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, began with good intentions. In 2000, about seventeen million Americans were on food stamps, costing the nation roughly seventeen billion dollars. By 2024, those numbers had more than doubled to over forty-one million people, with costs surpassing one hundred billion dollars a year. That is not compassion — that is unsustainable.

SNAP was designed as a safety net, not a lifestyle. It was meant to help children, the elderly, and those who truly could not help themselves. But today, according to the United States Department of Agriculture, about forty-one percent of all SNAP households are single-person homes. In 2023, that meant around 4.1 million single adults living alone and receiving assistance — many of them able-bodied, working-age adults without dependents. These are not the families the program was built for.

That shift represents the real problem. The issue is not whether we feed the hungry — every decent nation must. The issue is whether we create a society that rewards effort or excuses idleness.

President Ronald Reagan once warned, “Welfare’s purpose should be to eliminate, as far as possible, the need for its own existence.” Yet the liberal left has done the opposite. They have fought every attempt to enforce work requirements, broadened eligibility, and sold dependency as compassion. Under their leadership, the number of recipients has soared while the incentive to work has declined.

King Solomon said, “A sluggard’s appetite is never filled, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied.” (Proverbs 13:4) That timeless truth exposes the lie. When government replaces diligence with dependency, it robs people of the satisfaction that comes only through work. Dependency is not mercy — it is bondage.

Thomas Jefferson warned, “If we can but prevent the government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of taking care of them, they must become happy.” That warning was prophetic. The more citizens look to government for their survival, the less they look to themselves for strength. And a people who no longer value self-reliance will soon trade freedom for comfort — and call it fairness.

The liberal left twists truth to make accountability look cruel and dependency look kind. But true compassion tells a man he is capable, not helpless. It says, “You can work. You can rise. You can contribute.” False compassion keeps him where he is — dependent, controlled, and politically useful.

SNAP is not just a line item in a budget; it is a reflection of our national character. The question before America is not whether we will feed the poor, but whether we will continue feeding a system that keeps millions from ever leaving poverty behind.

The time has come to pair compassion with courage — to tell the truth, even when it offends the powerful. Because compassion without truth is corruption, and a nation built on deception will eventually collapse under its own good intentions.

The interviewer smiled and followed up with a question that brought those ideals down to a personal level. He asked, “If equality means fairness, would you be willing to give part of your grade point average to students with lower grades so that everyone could be equal?”

The mood changed instantly. Every student said no. One quickly replied, “That is different. I worked hard for my grades.”

And there it was—the truth that exposes the illusion. Equality sounds noble until it costs us something. It is easy to cheer for redistribution when it affects someone else’s wallet, someone else’s effort, someone else’s success. But when the cost becomes personal, conviction turns to self-preservation.

This moment revealed something deeper than political ideology. It exposed human nature. We crave fairness, but only when we are on the receiving end. We admire generosity, but only when it comes from others. We demand equality, but we also cling tightly to the fruits of our own labor.

True compassion is not about forced equality—it is about voluntary generosity. There is a world of difference between taking from someone to make things even and giving of yourself to lift someone higher. One is driven by envy; the other by love. Ronald Reagan once said, “We should measure welfare’s success by how many people leave welfare, not by how many are added to it.” A government that promises to give you everything must first take everything from someone else. Eventually, when it runs out of “someone else’s” resources, it comes for yours.

What those college students revealed was not just hypocrisy—it was honesty. They instinctively knew their grade point average was the result of effort, sacrifice, and personal responsibility. They understood fairness when it applied to their own work. But in that realization lies the deeper moral: everyone believes in sharing until it costs them something valuable.

You could call it the mirror test. Everyone loves equality until they see their own reflection in the equation. True justice does not come from taking what others have earned—it comes from being willing to give what you can, freely and without resentment. Equality that demands no personal cost is not equality at all—it is entitlement disguised as virtue.

King Solomon wrote, “A sluggard’s appetite is never filled, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied” (Proverbs 13:4). Those words cut to the heart of it. Laziness always wants the reward without the work. The diligent, however, find satisfaction because their fulfillment comes from effort, discipline, and purpose. God honors hard work, not entitlement.

The Reverend William Boetcker once said, “You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.” Those words still ring true. Real fairness begins with personal responsibility, not government control. It is born from character, not coercion.

Until we learn that truth, we will continue to live in the illusion of fairness—a world where everyone wants equality, but no one wants to work for it.

Through the years, I have learned that peace begins with trust. Trust does not erase fear; it simply decides to believe in the midst of it. I have walked through seasons when everything I thought I could depend on fell apart—plans, security, even my own understanding. Yet in those very places, I met the unshakable faithfulness of God. When you have seen Him carry you through what should have broken you, trust becomes more than a word; it becomes a way of life.

As trust deepens, something beautiful happens—the heart begins to delight again. It is difficult to find joy when life feels uncertain, but delight is not about circumstances; it is about presence. I began to see the Lord not only as my protector, but as my portion—the quiet joy behind every sunrise, the whisper of grace in the middle of a storm. Delight comes when you stop trying to use God to fix your life and start loving Him for who He is. The more I delighted in Him, the more my desires began to change—my prayers grew quieter, my heart softer, and my focus clearer.

That joy eventually taught me the art of surrender. I realized that everything I placed in God’s hands flourished, and everything I clung to too tightly slipped away. Committing my ways to Him became less of an obligation and more of a release—a daily act of freedom. From commitment came stillness, and from stillness, patience. I had to learn that waiting is not weakness; waiting is worship. God often does His best work in the unseen, and faith grows strongest when it has no proof but still believes. I spent years trying to rush God’s timing, only to discover that His delays were never denials; they were lessons in trust disguised as silence.

But even with trust and surrender, the mind can still wander into worry. Worry has a way of creeping in quietly, whispering questions that drown out truth. I have spent many nights turning over burdens I could not carry, trying to fix what only God could handle. It took me years to realize that worry changes nothing except my peace. Prayer, however, changes everything. When I finally learned to hand my fears back to God, I found that He did not just take the weight—He replaced it with calm. I do not need to know what tomorrow holds, because I have learned to rest in the One who already stands there.

Anger was another teacher, and one I had to face more than once. I used to think anger made me strong—that it proved conviction—but anger without grace is pride in disguise. It took time for me to understand that holding on to anger only kept me chained to the very things I wanted freedom from. I have watched words spoken in haste destroy peace that took years to build. So I began to ask God not merely to calm my temper, but to change my heart. I learned that true strength is not in conquering others but in mastering yourself. The person who rules his own spirit is stronger than the one who conquers a city. When I chose peace over pride, I found a freedom I had never known before.

Looking back now, I can see the thread that ties it all together. Trust opened the door to delight. Delight taught me surrender. Surrender led to stillness and waiting. Waiting produced patience, and patience gave birth to peace. Worry and anger still knock sometimes, but I no longer answer as quickly. I have learned that peace does not come from perfection; it comes from presence—from knowing that God is near, and that His nearness is enough.

My journey has not been without struggle, but it has been full of grace. I have learned that fruitfulness is not measured by what I have accomplished, but by what God has cultivated within me—love, patience, humility, and peace. The storms have not stopped coming, but I have stopped fearing them. The presence of Christ in the storm is greater than the calm that follows it.

So this I know: peace is not found by chasing it, but by walking with the One who is peace Himself. And when you walk with Him, even through the darkest valleys, your life begins to bear fruit that lasts—not because of what you have done, but because of whom you have trusted.

The first changes never come through law — they come through culture. Conviction gives way to compliance. Words once used for honest debate are branded as hate. Questions are treated as rebellion. Policies born of compassion harden into commands. And beneath the weight of forced virtue, the human spirit grows quiet, afraid to speak.

Dependence deepens as responsibility fades. Government expands — first to help, then to control. Businesses yield to political demands. Churches are pressured to bless what God has called sin. Schools stop teaching how to think and instead dictate what to think. Truth is rewritten to fit the moment, and morality becomes whatever power approves.

In the courts, justice bends toward emotion. Criminals are excused as victims, while true victims are forgotten. Compassion without accountability erases order; mercy without truth destroys peace. When law loses its anchor, chaos rushes in to fill the streets.

As power grows, the citizen shrinks. Rights turn into permissions. Liberty becomes conditional. People trade freedom for comfort, only to discover that once liberty is gone, comfort does not remain. The nation that once prized courage begins to fear truth — and in that fear, freedom fades.

But the real struggle for America’s soul is not waged in Washington — it is waged in the classroom. For decades the foundation has been shifting, lesson by lesson. Faith was quietly replaced by ideology. Our Christian heritage was labeled intolerance. Parents were told their voices no longer mattered. Those who dared to speak were branded extremists. And all the while, the hearts of children — the true future of this nation — were being shaped to forget the God who once blessed it.

Yet there is still hope — a hope no government can contain and no movement can silence. A spiritual awakening is rising. Parents are beginning to fight for their children again. Homes are teaching truth again. And when the light of God’s Word returns to America, lies will lose their power. Families will rebuild their foundations on faith in Jesus Christ, and the next generation will see clearly once more. When truth reigns again, righteousness will restore justice, and peace will follow where God is honored.

Now is the time to stand. To speak when silence feels safe. To defend truth when compromise seems easier. For freedom cannot survive without truth, and truth cannot live without courage.

“When truth falls silent, freedom soon follows.”

As a builder, I see the world differently. Builders and politicians approach problems in completely opposite ways — one focuses on results, the other on rhetoric.

Builders See Problems and Say, “Let’s Fix This — Now.”

When a builder faces an issue, they bring in the people who can solve it. They don’t care about political opinions, race, or ideology. What matters is knowledge, competence, and commitment to a clear timeline. Builders live by deadlines, budgets, and accountability.

President Dwight D. Eisenhower once said:

“Farming looks mighty easy when your plow is a pencil and you’re a thousand miles from the cornfield.”

That same truth applies to building and governing. It’s easy to talk about problems from behind a podium; it’s far harder to pour concrete, meet a deadline, and deliver something that stands. Builders are judged by what gets completed — not by how long they can talk about it.

Politicians See Problems and Say, “Let’s Keep This Front and Center.”

A politician’s instinct is often to keep an issue alive because it keeps them in the spotlight. The problem becomes the platform. Emotion replaces logic; publicity replaces progress.

A builder fixes the problem and moves on.

A politician keeps the problem alive so they can keep talking about it.

The Builder’s Approach

From a builder’s standpoint, President Trump’s actions reflect timelines and measurable goals: Action from Day One: On January 20, 2025, he launched a series of executive actions to “kick off America’s Golden Age.”

Results Over Rhetoric: He emphasized manufacturing revitalization, deregulation, trade reform, and job creation — all tied to deliverables and schedules.

“Made in USA” Focus: Multi-billion-dollar industrial investments designed to bring work back home.

Ending Endless Wars: He pledged to end unnecessary foreign wars and rebuild America’s strength at home.

Accountability on Cost: He called California’s high-speed rail “the worst cost overrun I’ve ever seen,” refusing to fund uncontrolled spending.

You may not agree with every decision, but from a builder’s lens you see momentum, deadlines, and visible results — traits that belong to doers, not talkers.

The Politician’s Playbook

Governor Newsom’s leadership style tells a different story.

Big Promises, Few Completions

He has announced ambitious plans — high-speed rail, zero-emission goals, and statewide transit networks — but without clear deadlines or cost controls. Builders deliver; politicians announce.

Taxes and Regulation

When Newsom took office, California had a $97.5 billion surplus.

Today, the state faces a deficit exceeding $30 billion. In just a few years, California went from overflowing coffers to cutting budgets.

His fiscal plans add nearly $16 billion in new taxes and fees from 2024 to 2029 — the opposite of what any builder would call responsible cost management.

Permits and Red Tape

After the Los Angeles wildfires, Newsom and the Mayor promised to “fast-track” rebuilding permits. Yet little has changed. Bureaucracy still blocks progress. Builders fix problems; politicians preserve them — because the problem itself keeps them relevant.

People and Businesses Leaving

Since 2020, more than 500,000 Californians have moved out. Between 2021 and 2022 alone, about 400,000 left while only 250,000 moved in — a net loss of nearly 150,000 residents.

Over 350 companies have relocated to other states, driven away by taxes, regulation, and cost of living. People and businesses are voting with their feet — and that’s a scoreboard no politician can spin.

The Decline of Great Cities

San Francisco, once a crown jewel, has lost more than 60,000 residents and is plagued by crime and vacancies. Newsom argues that some red states have higher crime rates, than San Francisco but he never mentions that in those red states, it’s the blue cities that inflate the numbers. That’s selective storytelling — something politicians do well.

Winston Churchill once said:

“However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results.”

A builder looks at results. A politician looks for the next press conference.

The Bottom Line

Builders don’t just talk about problems — they set timelines, bring in experts, measure progress, and finish the job. Politicians, by contrast, keep the problem alive, make the struggle part of their identity, and leave the outcome open-ended.

Trump acts like a builder: deadlines, accountability, and visible completion.

Newsom acts like a politician: grand visions, higher taxes, and endless regulation.

A builder’s motto is simple: “Get it done. Settle it. Move on.”

One approach operates on clear costs and deadlines.

The other runs on open checkbooks and shifting excuses.

So, when you hear Gavin Newsom talk about running for president, look at California — and you’ll see what a politician can do to one of the most beautiful states in America.

History and headlines tell the same story. When those in authority exchange integrity for influence, the people lose trust and the land grows weary. Across this nation, we have seen judges release the violent only for them to harm again, mayors and officials charged with bribery and fraud, and leaders who claim to fight corruption while standing accused of it themselves. Even those sworn to uphold the law are now being indicted under the same system they once used against others. When justice becomes selective, when law is bent by politics, peace flees from the streets.

Justice is lost whenever people love power more than truth. It dies when laws become shields for the corrupt instead of protection for the innocent. It cannot live where lies are rewarded and truth is punished, where the brave are silenced and the dishonest are praised.

Justice survives when those who do what is right even when it costs them something. It lives in the neighbor who speaks up for the voiceless, in the leader who chooses honesty over ambition, and in the citizen who refuses to call wrong “right.” Justice is simple — but it is not easy. It asks for courage, humility, and faith in something higher than ourselves.

When justice rules, peace follows. Families grow stronger, communities heal, and people live without fear. True justice always begins with God — for He alone defines what is good and right.

“Where there is no truth in the heart, there can be no justice in the land.”

The first is what I call “Saul-leadership.”

This kind of leader has power, charisma, and presence — everything that looks right on the outside — but beneath the polish lies fear. The fear of what people think. The fear of losing approval. The fear of standing alone when the crowd turns. This fear always undermines trust, direction, and purpose.

You see this kind of leadership in Washington today — strong in appearance, weak in conviction. Leaders falter not because they lack ability, but because they are more afraid of opinion than of disobedience. Their words shift with the wind; their convictions crumble when tested. All you have to do is look back in history and see how often they’ve flip-flopped. Senator Schumer is a clear example of this kind of leadership — intelligent, influential, but bound by fear of public reaction rather than anchored in principle. This is Saul-leadership: the kind that looks powerful but is ruled by fear instead of truth.

“When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice; but when the wicked rule, the people groan.” — Proverbs 29:2

Then there is “Samuel-leadership.”

This is the kind of leadership that does not chase popularity or applause but cares about the spiritual and moral condition of the nation. Samuels speak truth even when power despises them. They are not chosen by vote or by chart; they are called — ordained by God, not appointed by man.

In America’s history, we once had a generation of such leaders — they were called the Black Robe Regiment. These were pastors during the American Revolution who wore black clerical robes as they preached. But they did more than preach — they ignited the conscience of a nation. From their pulpits came sermons that stirred liberty, challenged tyranny, and called men to moral courage.

The British feared them so much that they blamed the Revolution itself on “that Black Regiment.” These men were Samuel-leaders — men who stood between God and the people, declaring truth without compromise, reminding a young America that freedom without righteousness is still bondage.

“It is impossible to rightly govern the world without God and the Bible.” — George Washington

Next comes “David-leadership.”

This kind of leader is rare — humble, courageous, and deeply devoted to God. David-leaders are called early and clearly. They love God and His Word. They are not perfect; they stumble and fall like all of us. But they repent, they grow, and they lead with heart. They defend the weak, fight for justice, and carry both strength and tenderness.

In our day, we saw glimpses of this kind of leadership in men who dared to speak truth, not for applause but for awakening. Charlie Kirk was one of these — unafraid to speak what was right, calling this generation to moral clarity and courage. David-leaders make people uncomfortable because they expose the line between right and wrong. They force us to choose. But they also inspire us to stand.

“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” — James A. Garfield, 20th U.S. President and minister of the Gospel

Finally, when neither Saul nor David is present, and when the Samuels are ignored, “Jehu-leadership” arises.

This kind of leader bursts onto the scene when corruption, complacency, and wickedness have gone unchecked for too long. Jehu is not refined; he’s not careful; he’s not diplomatic. In fact, people call him “mad.” But his mission is unmistakable — to cleanse the land from corruption and idolatry.

In modern words, Jehu comes to “drain the swamp.” He does not wait for permission or consensus. He moves fast, acts boldly, and disrupts everything that needs to be shaken. His rule is not long — just long enough to tear down the idols and make space for righteousness to rise again. People either move with him or get run over by the speed of his calling.

And today in America, we have a Jehu — because we have allowed too many Sauls to lead for too long. Fearful leadership has invited chaos, and when the people grow weary of weakness, God raises a Jehu to cleanse what others were too afraid to confront.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” — Edmund Burke

If we are to be great again, we must first be godly again.

We must be willing to stand when others sit, to speak when others stay silent, to call evil “evil” and righteousness “righteous.”

Leadership is not defined by polish or position — it is defined by courage, conviction, and truth. The measure of leadership is not how loud a man speaks, but how faithfully he stands when the world bows.

In America today, the question is not whether we have the ability to lead, but whether we still possess common sense.

Every day, decisions are being made that defy logic, reject morality, and mock truth. What used to be clear is now blurred. What was once considered right is now called wrong, and what was once wrong is now celebrated. Somewhere along the way, our nation exchanged wisdom for confusion and replaced truth with nonsense.

It is time we start calling things what they are: Common Sense or Nonsense.

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Sports and Biology

Nonsense is allowing biological men, men who believe they are women, to compete in women’s sports.

For generations, women fought for equality — to vote, to work, to earn fair pay, and to compete with honor and fairness. Those victories were not handed to them; they were earned through courage, endurance, and sacrifice. Now, in the name of “inclusion,” those hard-fought rights are being erased. Biological men are breaking women’s records, taking their scholarships, and entering their locker rooms and bathrooms. We are told this is progress.

That is not fairness. That is confusion.

Common sense says if biological males believe they are female, they can have their own league and their own bathrooms. Men compete against men, women compete against women, and those who choose otherwise can compete within their own division. This protects fairness, safety, and dignity for everyone. The rights of one group do not cancel the rights of another. Equality cannot exist when truth is denied and boundaries are ignored.

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Protests and Accountability

Nonsense is destroying cities and calling it justice.

We have watched as riots have burned neighborhoods, as stores have been looted, and as police officers have been attacked — all in the name of “freedom of speech.” Yet, when the damage is done, it is the taxpayer who pays for cleanup, repair, and overtime. Leaders call it progress, but it is destruction.

Common sense says freedom and accountability must walk together. Yes, every American has the right to protest, but every protester must be responsible for his or her actions. Require organizers to post a cash bond, carry insurance, and take financial responsibility for the damage caused. Freedom is not the absence of order; it is the presence of responsibility.

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Immigration and Borders

Nonsense is calling an open border compassion.

Every day, thousands cross into this country illegally. Our cities, hospitals, and schools are overwhelmed. Fentanyl pours across the border. The cartels grow richer, and American families suffer. Politicians stand behind podiums and call it “humanitarian,” but there is nothing compassionate about chaos.

Common sense says America is a nation of immigrants, and we need them. Immigrants have built our farms, factories, and communities. They have fought in our wars and strengthened our culture. But immigration must be done the right way. Enter through the front door, not through the fence. Secure the border, fix the system, and welcome those who respect our laws and love this nation. Compassion without control destroys everyone.

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Crime and Justice

Nonsense is turning criminals into victims and police into enemies.

Across America, offenders are released without bail, violent criminals are back on the streets, and honest citizens live behind locked doors. Businesses close because theft has become acceptable. Prosecutors refuse to prosecute, and police officers are condemned for doing their jobs. That is not justice. That is lawlessness.

Common sense says enforce the law, support the police, and protect the innocent. Justice means accountability. When wrongdoing is excused, chaos rules. Mercy without truth is weakness, not compassion.

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Education and Indoctrination

Nonsense is turning classrooms into political stages.

Schools were once the heart of learning, where children were taught truth, discipline, and respect. Today, many schools push ideology instead of education. Children are taught to question their identity but never their curriculum. Parents are treated as obstacles, and morality is replaced with confusion.

Common sense says education must return to the basics: reading, writing, mathematics, history, and civics. Teachers should teach truth, not trends. Parents should be partners, not outsiders. Reward the educators who truly build young minds and remove those who use classrooms to divide them. Education should enlighten, not indoctrinate.

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Drugs and Addiction

Nonsense is enabling addiction and calling it compassion.

Our cities are filled with tents, needles, and hopelessness. Families are being destroyed. Fentanyl and opioids are taking more lives every day. Yet, government programs hand out clean needles and call it “harm reduction.” That is not compassion. That is surrender.

Common sense says confront the drug crisis with strength and mercy. Secure the border to stop the supply. Hold traffickers accountable. Invest in real recovery that restores body, mind, and spirit. Addiction should not be managed; it should be defeated. We do not need more tolerance for destruction — we need transformation.

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Gerrymandering and Representation

Nonsense is drawing political boundaries to preserve power rather than represent people.

Through gerrymandering, politicians carve and twist districts to guarantee their own victories. Communities are split apart, cities are divided, and voices are silenced. Representation has become about control, not service. America is now being governed more like a democracy ruled by the loudest crowd rather than a republic guided by law and balance. The result is a government that no longer reflects the people it represents.

Common sense says America was founded as a republic, not a mob-ruled democracy. In a republic, every community deserves fair and balanced representation. Districts should follow natural county and city lines, not political manipulation. If a county is too small to stand alone, join it with a neighboring county so that communities remain whole and citizens are heard. Representation must reflect the people, not the politics.

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The Truth

America’s greatest crisis is not a lack of intelligence. It is a lack of moral courage and common sense.

Once, common sense guided our homes, schools, and government. Today, it has been replaced by emotion, fear, and political gamesmanship.

If this nation is to survive, we must return to truth, order, and accountability. Common sense brings clarity; nonsense brings confusion.

Common sense once built this country.

Nonsense is what is tearing it apart.

“The further a society drifts from truth, the more it will hate those who speak it.” – George Orwell

“Right is right, even if everyone is against it; and wrong is wrong, even if everyone is for it.” – William Penn