Charlie Chen @DocCYChen

Never forget these images. This is Islam. This is the cult of death and violence that was created by Satan’s prophet Muhammad (Piss Be Upon Him). This is Islam. It’s not radical, militant, extremist, fundamentalist, terrorist Islamism. It’s just Islam. And don’t let anyone tell you different.

Fact check true

Dallas Texas TV @DallasTexasTV

10 hours ago

DFW Airport ranks dead last in new study on the easiest airports for passenger pickup

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youtube.com/shorts/Xq_MKZs…

@KatieMiller TDS

Everyday Christians are STILL being slaughtered across Nigeria!!! I was there earlier this year and it HAS NOT STOPPED! We are going to help them rebuild and fight back!

Islamic culture in Egypt 🇪🇬 🧕 🤮 Egyptian women having their tongues burned for suspected adultery. Islamic societies are sick 🤒

x.com/TheBabylonBee/…

Gad Saad @GadSaad

16 hours ago

My wife and I are sitting next to each other at the cafe. We are texting one another.

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Pray for the persecuted.

Dr. Maalouf ‏ @realMaalouf

a day ago

Said Abdelrazek, an Egyptian man who converted from Islam to Christianity, was arrested and is now facing the death penalty along with 107 other Christians. Their conversions were labeled ‘terrorism’, as leaving Islam is a capital crime under Sharia law. Said was detained after

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Canada wants a trade war with Trump? Here’s the actual math Ottawa can’t ignore: 🇺🇸 The U.S. buys roughly $404 BILLION in Canadian goods. That makes America a market roughly 16X the size of China for Canadian exports — and about 2.3X the REST OF THE WORLD COMBINED!! Canada can talk tough about Washington. But these numbers tell you EXACTLY who has ALL the leverage.

Everything looks like a skit these days

Message McKinney!

A love letter to America’s national parks The national parks make America feel like mine. Not mine in the petty sense of possession. Mine in the strange, almost sacred sense that something can belong to you simply because you belong to it. We live in an age where everything is brought to us. Food arrives at the door. Entertainment plays on demand. The entire accumulated knowledge of civilization sits inside our pockets. The national parks make you go get the thing. The view does not come to you. You climb for it. You drive down some ridiculous road for it. You wake up before sunrise. You lose reception. You wonder halfway up the trail why you thought this was a good idea. Then the view opens. And there it is. Some enormous piece of America that cannot be delivered, streamed, optimized, or felt through a reduced thumbnail. It is one thing to look at the outline of America on a map. It is another to know what Montana smells like after rain. To feel how cold an alpine lake is when you first put your hand into it or to hear the waterfall before you see it. To wipe the orange dust of Utah off your face. To hear the silence of the caves hundreds of feet below the earth’s surface in Kentucky. To learn that distance in the dunes of Colorado is deceptive. To watch the last light turn a mountain pink in Texas. To see a bison standing in the middle of the road and remember, suddenly, that this continent was once unimaginably wild. Every park reveals another personality of the same country. Yet somehow, no matter how different the landscape, there is a familiarity waiting inside the unfamiliar. You drive hundreds of miles into a place you have never been. You see the sign warning LAST GAS. Civilization thins out behind you. The road stretches ahead into mountains or desert or badlands, and for a moment you feel very far away from everything you know. And then, almost like a mirage, you see it. The brown national park service sign. A little further down the road is the entrance station. And there, beneath that familiar wooden roof, is a park ranger topped with their unmistakable hat. Waiting for you. As if they were expecting you. This arrival stirs something in me. Because no matter how far I have driven, no matter how strange the landscape outside my windshield, no matter how long it has been since I saw another town, there is something instantly reassuring about it. I know this place. Not this place. I have never been here before. But this place. And even though it is a trail I have never walked before, somehow, I am home. See, you think you know America. But that is just the thing about the national parks: they make America mysterious again. You realize how much of your own country has been hiding from you. You understand that to access some of her best parts, you still have to work for it. You have to earn it. We spend so much time talking about America as if it is something we have already figured out. We quickly reduce it to politics and demographics. Red states and blue states. Coastal elites and flyover country. And then you stand on the edge of Yosemite Valley and the arguments become very small. Not unimportant. Just small. These places were here before our political parties. These rivers crossed the continent before our borders. These forests grew and burned and grew again before anyone had invented any of the words we now hurl at each other. And somehow, through an extraordinary act of national foresight, we decided that some of the most beautiful places among them should not belong to a king, or a corporation, or the person rich enough to buy the view. They belong to Americans. Perhaps this is why I have started thinking that hiking, climbing, rappelling, slogging, spelunking, sand surfing, snow shoeing, and paddle boarding through these parks as a kind of claiming. Not claiming the land. Claiming my relationship to it. Every trail walked makes the map a little less abstract. You stop saying “Somewhere out West” because now you know exactly what that particular stretch of America looks like at dusk. You begin collecting the country. The smell of pine. The crisp breeze of the altitude. The sound of boots on loose dirt. A bear spray canister bouncing against your backpack. The circle on your map drawn for you by a ranger. The first glimpse of snow on a distant peak in August. The simple sandwich that tastes better than a Michelin star dinner because you carried it miles up above the treeline. These are the small things. But love of country is built from small things. Patriotism can be grand. It should be. Flags and anthems and fireworks have their place. But there is another, quieter kind of patriotism. It is knowing the place. These parks are ours. Not because we conquered them (which we did). But because, at our best, we had the wisdom to leave them alone. There is another gift these places give us. They are the evidence we didn’t know we needed for ourselves. There are versions of ourselves we can only meet when we go far enough from the familiar – selves that are waiting somewhere in the silence, the altitude, the exhaustion, the danger, the enormity of it all. And once you know that person, you want to know them again. I found parts of myself I didn’t know existed on mountains I didn’t know I could climb. She was stronger, more comfortable in the uncomfortable than I could have predicted. Now, when I stand in front of something daunting and new, I no longer wonder whether I am the kind of person who can do it. I know that I am. I have met this version of myself on too many mountaintops to doubt her anymore. Ah, the national parks. Of course, the goal is to explore them all. And there is something deeply satisfying about watching the map fill in, about turning names I dreamed of visiting into places I have walked and touched and breathed. These places all keep a version of me, too. In the beginning, I was eager to cross off as many parks as I could. Another park, another pin on the map. I wanted to collect them quickly, almost greedy for the next one. But somewhere along all those miles, across all those states, I understood. I love knowing there are still places that remain mysterious to me. Wonders I still get to see for the first time. And after visiting some of the parks more than once, I know that it is impossible to meet the same mountain twice. People often ask me how “quickly” I want to finish the list. How many parks I have left. How many years I think it will take. Finishing is the goal, but it was never the point. See, here’s the secret to this grand adventure: I never want it to end. Arynne Wexler August 25, 2026

The book is a well worth read !!!

Eric Metaxas @ericmetaxas

2 days ago

Christian faith was at the CENTER of the American Revolution. Why aren't we teaching this in US schools? Read all about it in REVOLUTION. amazon.com/Revolution-Bir…

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In Syria, they have the Crusader's Cross on almost every Church. Very based

🚨MASSIVE HIRING PUSH UNDERWAY🚨 We are going directly into colleges to recruit our future air traffic controllers: ✅ Students take a two-year degree ✅ Complete FAA academy curriculum ✅ Jump straight into a tower for on-site facility training These students are sharp, focused, ready to keep our skies safe... AND some of them are GAMERS 🇺🇸🎮

See, they only hate “Zionists.” Otherwise they are kind and peaceful.

Vivid.🇮🇱 @VividProwess

2 days ago

PALESTINIAN MOTHER: "We must kill the Jews with our bare hands. To kill them with our teeth. With our teeth we will eat the Jews."

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This👇should have MILLIONS of retweets. Dr. Jha was President Biden's Covid coordinator. "Rand Paul is right — NIH helped fund risky work in Wuhan that spliced bat virus fragments together like a game of chance, under weak safety rules." —Dr. Jha "Like a game of chance." Read BIOLOGICAL WAR: A SCENARIO to understand how the next *game* could end. @ashishkjha @RandPaul

Ashish K. Jha @ashishkjha

a week ago

This from my friend, Stanford's David Relman, on Covid origins is worth your time. David helped write federal biosecurity policy and is one of the most thoughtful, even-handed experts in the country. David says: Rand Paul is right — NIH helped fund risky work in Wuhan that

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Jake getting arrested as @FriscoPD uses Lawfare. This was right after lunch where he received more racism than most BLACK RAPPERS I’ve worked with 🇺🇸

Making the Great Lakes Even Greater! 🇺🇸

No need for DNA test , he is my son 🤣