Brandon Webb Discusses His Life and Careers on the “Calm in the Chaos” Podcast
Brandon Webb’s life reads like a classified op with footnotes in blood and saltwater—equal parts sniper, author, surf rat, and entrepreneurial insurgent.
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Brandon Webb’s life reads like a classified op with footnotes in blood and saltwater—equal parts sniper, author, surf rat, and entrepreneurial insurgent.
When Uncle Sam sends billion-dollar batwings halfway around the world to knock on your uranium door with thirty thousand pounds of ‘nope,’ the message isn’t subtle—it’s seismic.
Iran’s generals are dropping faster than bar tabs at a Navy port call, and even the Devil’s starting to lose track.
Bob Lang’s cartoon is a bayonet-sharp jab at a culture where shouting over ceremony has become the new form of patriotism.
If Gavin Newsom’s idea of leadership is grinning through the smoke while LA burns, then I guess all it takes to run California these days is a flak vest, a hair gel sponsorship, and a complete disregard for reality.
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.
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.
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.
Slap an Amazon logo on a Reaper drone and suddenly the Houthis aren’t sure whether to duck or sign for a package.