Editorial

If we’re going to call it war when it sells and justice when it burns, then we’re not the good guys, we’re a cartel with better branding and a flag.

New York doesn’t need a free stuff messiah with a bullhorn; it needs a budget hawk who can show the receipt and keep the lights on.

America isn’t a dream anymore; it’s a rigged casino where grocery lists read like defense contracts, your rent notice is a hostage note, and the house will keep winning until we break the machine.

What rattled the ranks wasn’t haircuts or PT scores but the clear signal that oversight would be trimmed and those who balked should leave, a pressure play dressed up as readiness.

America isn’t losing its edge to Moscow or Beijing—it’s bleeding it out on the battlefield of bathroom debates and Twitter tantrums.

Hamas isn’t fighting for freedom—they’re a death cult that turns ceasefires into reload breaks and children into human shields.

We’re one late-night mushroom cloud away from realizing the only fallout shelter most Americans have is their comments section.

Israel’s failure to recognize the full extent of Hamas’ capabilities and intentions leading up to October 7th, 2023, shows that even the most advanced intelligence agencies can overlook critical threats when they make dangerous assumptions about their adversaries.

While Trump took a bullet and a patriot died, a not so intrepid reporter mistook side-eye from the bleachers for incoming fire and called it PTSD.

The DOJ wants you to believe Epstein ran a global sex ring without clients, kept no records, and killed himself off-camera—because pretending none of it ever happened is easier than naming names.

Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” throws a fat wad of cash at the Pentagon like a drunken high roller in Vegas, while quietly gutting social programs and daring the debt ceiling to blink first.

Israel’s nuclear strategy is like a loaded pistol tucked under the table of a poker game—never acknowledged, always implied, and pointed squarely at anyone thinking about cheating.