Greatest upgrade in the history of upgrades.

What’s better than a rare Super Delta formation featuring the Thunderbirds and the @USNavy Blue Angels over Washington, D.C.? Watching it from four different views for #UFCWhiteHouse as part of #Freedom250. 🇺🇸

All you alphabet mafia pricks come off as is the "wear the ribbon or else" bullies. The way youve built up pride month, no longer has anything to do with Pride or past struggles. You've now turned into struggle sessions. It's extremely pathetic, making you even more so.

Super annoying Chimpin' Out! Here's your song Homey

Europeans online: “stay away from America, it’s horrible!” @FreddyLA7 discovering a new state:

Any whiny college graduates boo AI at their graduation ceremony. It may very well save their life one day, but they’re too stupid to understand it.

Your terms are acceptable.

🚨 I’m a Black man, a proud conservative, and a follower of Jesus Christ. When I see protesters outside the Collin County Courthouse chanting “FUCK WHITE LIVES!” after Karmelo Anthony’s sentencing for murdering Austin Metcalf, my soul grieves. This isn’t justice. This isn’t “community.” This is demonic hatred — plain and simple. All lives are made in the image of God. Every single one. Black, White, Brown — doesn’t matter. Celebrating the loss of any innocent life, or cheering on evil because of skin color, is straight from the pit of hell. And here’s the truth they don’t want you to say out loud: When Black conservatives, Christians, or truth-tellers like me call this out, we get labeled “traitors,” “Uncle Toms,” or “betrayers of the community.” Let them talk. I’d rather be disliked by some in my own community than stand before a Holy God and be found guilty of excusing evil, hating my neighbor, or twisting justice for racial points. My allegiance is to Christ first — not color, not tribe, not political pressure. “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” (Isaiah 5:20) I choose truth over tribe. Light over darkness. God over man. Who else is tired of the hate? Drop a 🙏 if you stand for real justice — not skin color. #AllLivesMatterToGod #FaithOverFear #TruthOverTribe

Hey Jasmine… Black pilot here. I think you missed the plot. Then again, that’s becoming a pattern. I graduated from West Point. I went through Army flight school. I learned to fly the AH-64 Apache. I deployed to combat and flew 55 combat missions over Baghdad. Nobody handed me a cockpit because of my skin color. Nobody lowered the standards for me. Nobody looked at me and said, “Let’s check a diversity box.” That’s what people like you don’t seem to understand. Suggesting that Black pilots, Black engineers, Black doctors, or Black leaders need special preferences to succeed is not empowering, it’s insulting. I didn’t want a different standard. I wanted the same standard. And when you’re flying into combat, the American people don’t care what race the pilot is. They care whether the pilot is qualified. Merit isn’t racist. Excellence isn’t discriminatory. And reducing every achievement to skin color says far more about your worldview than it does about mine.

😂😂

We have lost over 3 thousand followers from this post. We feel like we just took out the garbage 💯

“My kind of guy.” - Elizabeth Warren

Anyone who has ever extracted themselves from a relationship with a narcissistic abuser knows it isn’t clean or easy. I cringe remembering how many times I tried to play the “cool girl” or fawn in response to what was clearly abusive, coercively controlling behavior by Graham. I also know how dangerous it is to become the target of a narcissist — so even long after our relationship ended I continued to be upbeat any time he reached out, though I would also immediately shut down any attempts on his part to initiate flirting or romanticizing of the past. Yes, the day I saw him announce he was running I wanted to make sure people knew he had a Nazi tattoo — and I was terrified he would find out it was me. But of course he knew it was me. What’s ironic is I absolutely never would have shared my story if he hadn’t been relentlessly attacking my character behind the scenes for months once the tattoo story came out. I tried to signal that I wasn’t the source and stayed completely silent about him on social media even as most of my friends posted regularly about what a bad person he is. But then in early April the New York Times came to me. I asked how they got my number. I said I was not interested in sharing my story. They said but wait—there are other women. Women terrified to tell their stories, too, and you need to band together. WE will help you. We will protect you. Men can’t keep getting away with this. Hours before their first call to me I saw Eric Swalwell’s name plate get removed from his office door in Cannon. It felt like fate. I welcomed the two journalists into my home days later, nervous and overwhelmed. Justin Fairfax had just murdered his wife and himself the previous day and even conservative pundits were conjecturing that “if only those women hadn’t accused him of abuse, this never would have happened…” But I told them my story. I let them take pictures of my diary pages. I sent them screenshots of messages and gave them phone numbers and contacts. It was excruciating. I was surprised by what details I remembered, and as I poured through old messages I was horrified by how much I had forgotten. I explained very clearly that, like many women abused by their partners, I had not told anyone about his violence at the time—I had covered for and defended it. I accepted his earnest apologies. They said that’s fine because the diary entries and my on the record story was enough. They connected me to two of the other victims so we wouldn’t feel so alone. I insisted to each of them that I trusted the NYT journalists and that we were doing the right thing despite their (sadly very accurate) sense that something was wrong. One of the victims and I realized our relationships with Graham overlapped completely - he had been cheating on both of us the entire time we were together. I should note here that my life is just… beautiful. These are the best years of my life. Raising two young girls in a safe, beautiful neighborhood where I work from home and shuffle my children from dance classes and soccer to church events — I am blessed far beyond what I deserve with wonderful friends and family and the most loving, brilliant husband in the world. Why would I blow my life up like this? Why would I risk the psychotic doxxing from violent leftist activists? Because while I have been terrified to come forward I decided this was the “hard right thing” to do. The guilt of staying silent has nagged me. Most therapists recommend a “gray rock” approach to extracting yourself from narcissistic abuse — it works really well, but it is a gift to the abuser, allowing them to persist in their delusion that they’ve done nothing wrong. I couldn’t stay silent as he continued to lie and lie and lie. I want my daughters to boldly speak out if they’re ever abused as I was.

I bucked all advice from my friends (and resisted my conservative bias) and decided to fully trust the Times journalists. As they left my home they asked that I not talk to any other outlets and I insisted then and repeatedly over the following weeks that I would keep my word and only share this story with them. But then the weeks dragged on. They kept coming back to us saying the editors needed more. I needed to go on the record (okay). We need more screenshots (okay). I met every bench mark they set, eager to provide more sources or evidence as needed. After the story went up I began to ask them … wait, where are the stories from the other women? Where are their accusations of sexual assault? Why am I the focus? Why are there 11 paragraphs dedicated to detailing my work history (more than has been published about Graham’s by far)? Why does it say “nobody could corroborate” when I offered them sources that COULD corroborate? Why did they include an out of context quote from a friend joking “do not call Graham” after I called off my wedding? (Because she knew I would never). Where were the screenshots they’d said they would use? Or the mention that I’d supported local democrats and that most of my family (and husband) are liberal? The editors said it was too much, they explained. The Times also failed to include any mention that I DID confide in multiple friends through the years that Graham had been abusive — long before he was running for office. Those friends confirm they told the Times so. It dawned on me that this really was a set up all along. The journalists I trusted who convinced me to share a story I never wanted to tell methodically delayed and twisted this into a gift to the Platner campaign. Violating the trust of his victims. Shattering the trust I placed in them with the most vulnerable story of my life. And at the end of my call with them I reluctantly accepted their insistence that this was still a powerful story and that I had done a brave thing. And I thanked them for all the hard work they had put into it. Still fawning after all these years.

Its a good start. Pelley was a complete dick. The graduation speech was illuminating as to his character. F him.

Everyone freaking out in Pigeon Forge for the last two days that ICE has been arresting and shipping these illegal aliens out of our country… You’re welcome. I MADE THE CALL! 1,700 illegal aliens are now shipped back to their third world country!

Scott Pelley fired. This commencement address last year was peak Pelley: The drama. The theatrics. The self-important preening and performative outrage. The sermonizing. The propaganda. Scott can now bring this kind of energy to Substack and hits on the Jim Acosta podcast.