Entertainment

Europe’s idea of defense is hiding under a welfare umbrella while whistling past the graves of wars it swore it would never repeat.

Putin’s war in Ukraine is starting to look less like a display of strength and more like a slow-motion replay of history’s costliest delusions.

We launched for war in the dead of night, rucks strapped tight and nerves tighter—only to turn around midair and win a battle no one would ever hear about.

When the apocalypse starts feeling like a diversity seminar on bath salts, you know the writers took a wrong turn somewhere after season one.

Behind vault doors and black budgets, there’s a Starbucks where the foam is classified, the espresso’s top secret, and even your cappuccino comes with plausible deniability.

Sometimes the secret to winning a war isn’t brute force—it’s Britney Spears, balloon tanks, or a chainsaw-wielding Uncle Sam staring down a dictator.

In the Comey-verse, truth wears purple trunks and a smirk, strolling beaches not for justice, but for one last shot at bestseller relevance.

Boeing signed up to build the crown jewel of presidential transport and wound up with a $2 billion headache instead.

MobLand does more than raise the bar—it carves your name into it with a broken bottle and buys you a drink after.

Andor Season 2 did more than raise the bar—it took a blowtorch to the kiddie table and built a war room.

Faced with a draining wound that refused to heal, I turned to a no-nonsense Green Beret medic whose swift action and no-frills approach reminded me that true grit and decisive action define the best of the best.

Two grown-ass nations playing nuclear chicken on quarter-fed pony rides, and we’re the clowns on the sidelines hoping they’ll knock it off before they kill everybody.