Listen to all three minutes. No notes, just a mom who doesn't play about her kids. This is the new standard for parents who care about what their kids are learning in school.

This is exactly correct. The GOP wants to hand him Ohio as a consolation prize for getting kicked out of DOGE on Inauguration Day when he couldn’t get along with Musk. They made such a big deal about him being part of it during the campaign - when it didn’t last they had to pretend there was a reason, like he had something else important to do instead. It happened to line up with Ohio’s governor race. It’s so transparent.

This is such a dumb take. MAGA was always economic, the left turned it racial so they could rally their sheep against the movement. Nobody cares Vivek is Indian. He is a billionaire globalist who hates American culture. He loves H1Bs because he thinks Americans are too stupid and lazy to hold those jobs. He has zero ties to working class Ohioans. He’s not talking about how to get Ohio’s computer science graduates jobs in the industry. He’s talking about how it’s necessary to import people instead. He’ll put a data center on every corner and put the everyman’s interests dead last. The GOP thought they could hand him Ohio as a consolation prize for getting kicked out of DOGE when he and Musk couldn’t get along. The GOP made a big mistake.

Saying that Lindsay Clancy lost her children is like saying Ted Bundy lost his girlfriends.

The best part of this is the chest tap to the secret service guy to wave him away just before he cracks a cheshire cat grin

A lot of people posted how this 9/11 anniversary felt different. It definitely did to me… I spent hours looking and hearing things I never saw before in 2001. I'm peak millennial. 9/11 was sophomore year of high school for me. I didn't fully get it then, but it shaped everything about my life. I was in Colorado that day, nowhere near the East Coast, and you still felt it. It was simply undeniable how American we felt. Somebody could cut you off in traffic, scream at you, and you'd wave them on and smile with an American flag in your hand. I had friends sign up for the military immediately. That's the moment I decided military service was the choice for me. I graduated from the Air Force Academy in 2009, peak Great Recession, and I actually lost a house in the housing mess. After my military service I built a business I was proud of… and watched COVID lockdowns take it. Meanwhile a bunch of us who lost businesses watched the elite take BS loans and get them forgiven. When Afghanistan fell, a lot of us who signed up after 9/11 had to sit with our friends' deaths and what exactly happened. I can't blame younger folks for how they feel right now. The system's been rigged for decades by older generations they've just realized it faster than millennials did. I want America to dream again. It's why I've always loved America’s space adventures. I'm loving the rocket launches we're seeing, watching us push further than we have in decades reaching for something bigger than ourselves again. Not some BS political purity test. America is in my veins. I'm that annoying guy showing up in 20 American flag outfits, and that's got nothing to do with my politics. I believe in this country. Disagree with me? Cool, fight with me. Especially, if you are in Maryland. Bring it to the mat. Be vicious if you have to. We argue hard because we care hard. That's why this year felt different for me. For a few hours, we were a team again before we were sides. People are remembering America is a team sport.

My experience of 9/11/01.

Transcript of Letterman’s 9/11 monologue that always brings me to tears.

This is very personal for me to share. My biological mother was a stripper working at a club in downtown Seattle. My biological father was one of her clients. She became pregnant with me while struggling with addiction and used drugs throughout her pregnancy. When I was born, I was immediately taken to the ICU to detox and was eventually placed for adoption. By God’s grace, I was adopted by two wonderful parents who loved me deeply. I was four months old when they picked me up from the orphanage, and they are the only parents I’ve ever known. I never grew up feeling like something was missing. I never felt some deep longing to find my biological parents. I had a mom and dad who loved me, cared for me, sacrificed for me, and gave me a wonderful home. Years later, after I got married and we had our first child, my wife encouraged me to learn more about my biological history. If for no other reason, she thought it might be good for the sake of our daughter to know whether there was anything medically or genetically significant in my family history. So I eventually submitted my DNA to Ancestry. Through that, I discovered a half brother, aunts, cousins, and eventually was put in contact with my biological mother. We were able to meet. And when I met her, I got to tell her something I’d wanted to tell her for as long as I could remember: thank you. Thank you for giving me life. I got to tell her about the wonderful parents who adopted me. I got to tell her that I’d had a good life. I got to tell her about my wife and my children. I wanted her to know that the baby she carried in the middle of all that chaos became a man with a family, a calling, people he loves, people who love him, and a life for which he is profoundly grateful. I’ve never been angry with her. Never. Not once. For years I told my wife and children that if my biological mother ever found me, I knew exactly what I would say. I wouldn’t condemn her. I wouldn’t demand explanations. I’d simply thank her for allowing me to live. Because without that decision, I wouldn’t have the extraordinary wife I have today. I wouldn’t know the indescribable joy of my children. I wouldn’t have experienced the friendships, ministry, laughter, sorrow, beauty, failures, victories, and ordinary moments that have made up my life. There are people I love who wouldn’t know me, children who wouldn’t exist, and a story that never would’ve been written. She gave me the chance to live it. We still stay in contact. We speak every few months, and I genuinely enjoy hearing her stories and learning about her life. Since the day I met her, I’ve prayed that the Lord would bring her to Himself. I still pray that. I share all of this because lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about the choices parents make. About life and death. About how much hangs in the balance of decisions made in moments of fear, desperation, darkness, or confusion. And yes, I’ve been thinking about those three little children whose lives were taken by the very person entrusted with protecting them. It’s difficult for me not to think about my own story alongside theirs. Their lives mattered. Their futures mattered. Everything they might’ve become, everyone they might’ve loved, every ordinary Tuesday morning and Christmas morning and wedding and child and friendship that might’ve filled the decades ahead of them mattered. And it makes me profoundly grateful that my mother chose differently. So if there’s a mother or father reading this who’s in a dark place and wondering whether your presence matters, whether your decisions matter, or whether the people who depend on you would somehow be better off without you, please hear me: your choices matter more than you can see from where you’re standing. Choose life. Don’t make an irreversible decision in the middle of a season that will pass. Don’t allow a moment of darkness to make a permanent decision about a future you can’t yet see. Trust the Lord. Ask for help.