Armor Port
@armorport.bsky.social
Born for steel and thunder. The weak see chaos — I see maneuver.
Pinned
Wife left years ago. Said I never had time for diapers, soccer practice, or sex. She was right—I was busy honing my martial virtue in the garage, barefoot, sweating under a dying bulb. She wanted warmth. I wanted discipline. The callouses. The heaving breath. The sound of the boots hitting asphalt.
Buddy, this is classic spurious-correlation. Infantry officers promote faster, the good ones have Ranger tabs, and that’s just how the Army works. It’s not patriarchy, it’s the warriors in the mud, drawing sector sketches, setting in that metal to metal FPL, and winning the war on Christmas.
So like, critical theory might look at how attending Ranger school is associated with higher Army officer promotion rates, and how Ranger school is more difficult for women to get into, and ask how much is for legit military purposes vs. to maintain men's dominance of senior officer positions.
November 16, 2025 at 5:33 PM
Buddy, this is classic spurious-correlation. Infantry officers promote faster, the good ones have Ranger tabs, and that’s just how the Army works. It’s not patriarchy, it’s the warriors in the mud, drawing sector sketches, setting in that metal to metal FPL, and winning the war on Christmas.
You criticizing them for living online just shows you don’t grasp information warfare. They’re out there acting as a digital warrior, running constant recon, pushing counter-signal ops, holding the line while you pretend scrolling is a character flaw.
Being a troll on the internet is also his full time day job too lol
You have to keep in mind how miserable these people are. No one comes home from a job they love, kisses their wife, hugs their kids, and then sits down and trolls people on the internet for hours on end.
November 16, 2025 at 2:25 AM
You criticizing them for living online just shows you don’t grasp information warfare. They’re out there acting as a digital warrior, running constant recon, pushing counter-signal ops, holding the line while you pretend scrolling is a character flaw.
Just because I’m 50+ and my whole identity is tied to a 25 year old’s view of military service doesn’t mean I’m the one who needs to change. I’ve done things my way for decades. If others think I’m rigid, that’s their issue. I’ve earned being right, and I’m not rethinking anything.
November 16, 2025 at 2:21 AM
Just because I’m 50+ and my whole identity is tied to a 25 year old’s view of military service doesn’t mean I’m the one who needs to change. I’ve done things my way for decades. If others think I’m rigid, that’s their issue. I’ve earned being right, and I’m not rethinking anything.
People laugh, but this is exactly what the SECWAR SHOULD focus on. Broken windows applies to the Army—tight grooming standards means tight units. If he’s not enforcing standards Soldier-by-Soldier, what else is he here for? Everything starts with discipline at the individual level.
It's a little silly how many US service members convert to Norse Paganism and then start growing a beard, but why on Earth that would be high on the list of your priorities as Secretary of Defense is beyond me. Go build an aircraft carrier or something.
Hegseth: "We don't need to be a military of beardos anymore. Do you know how many troops claim to be Nordic Pagan? No, suddenly it's become this real fake religious affiliation inside the Pentagon where troops came to be Nordic Pagan so they can grow a beard and nobody challenges them on it."
November 12, 2025 at 11:31 PM
People laugh, but this is exactly what the SECWAR SHOULD focus on. Broken windows applies to the Army—tight grooming standards means tight units. If he’s not enforcing standards Soldier-by-Soldier, what else is he here for? Everything starts with discipline at the individual level.
Woke military elites scoff at the idea that the blade is a proper finishing school, insisting that the humanities teach judgment, ethics, compassion, and forbearance. I can tell you that when the night screams with the sound of steel our warriors aren’t thinking of Homer, they’re thinking of home.
USAFA- the liberty u of service academies
The U.S. Air Force Academy's academic accreditation is under review following a formal complaint that the institution no longer has sufficient Ph.D.-level faculty as the federal government reduces its civilian workforce // Story by @thenoellephillips.bsky.social
November 10, 2025 at 7:41 PM
Woke military elites scoff at the idea that the blade is a proper finishing school, insisting that the humanities teach judgment, ethics, compassion, and forbearance. I can tell you that when the night screams with the sound of steel our warriors aren’t thinking of Homer, they’re thinking of home.
Walk the avenues. The faces have changed. Flags I don’t recognize hang beside ours. Menus in languages I can’t read. They call it diversity; I call it dilution. A people who forget what they were are already being written into someone else’s story.
November 9, 2025 at 8:33 PM
Walk the avenues. The faces have changed. Flags I don’t recognize hang beside ours. Menus in languages I can’t read. They call it diversity; I call it dilution. A people who forget what they were are already being written into someone else’s story.
This guy doesn’t get it — a leader’s job isn’t to hand out Fridays off. It’s to forge warriors in fire: miles run in rain, rifles snapping at dawn, minds sharpened on steel. Readiness isn’t born at Applebee’s over boneless wings and cheap liquor, it’s forged in patrol bases and at gunnery ranges.
November 9, 2025 at 3:09 PM
This guy doesn’t get it — a leader’s job isn’t to hand out Fridays off. It’s to forge warriors in fire: miles run in rain, rifles snapping at dawn, minds sharpened on steel. Readiness isn’t born at Applebee’s over boneless wings and cheap liquor, it’s forged in patrol bases and at gunnery ranges.
If you think there’s anything wrong with America as it sits right now, get the fuck out. This country belongs to the progeny of elites who are elite for a reason.
Why Nikki Haley’s son went radical: His generation inherited insecurity.
I profile Nalin Haley, a fascinating young man, who I believe will likely play an important role in conservative politics in years to come.
unherd.com/2025/11/why-...
I profile Nalin Haley, a fascinating young man, who I believe will likely play an important role in conservative politics in years to come.
unherd.com/2025/11/why-...
Why Nikki Haley’s son went radical
unherd.com
November 8, 2025 at 11:56 PM
If you think there’s anything wrong with America as it sits right now, get the fuck out. This country belongs to the progeny of elites who are elite for a reason.
People say Kash Patel looks like he’s playing a part — that the badge, the camo, the stare are theater. I don’t think so. I think that’s just him. There’s no performance here, no irony, no wink to the camera. He believes in what he’s doing, and that’s why it reads as unreal to everyone else.
November 8, 2025 at 11:34 PM
People say Kash Patel looks like he’s playing a part — that the badge, the camo, the stare are theater. I don’t think so. I think that’s just him. There’s no performance here, no irony, no wink to the camera. He believes in what he’s doing, and that’s why it reads as unreal to everyone else.
Joy? Joy is the shriek of steel on steel, the turret swing that decides a century, the thunderclap of purpose incarnate. Joy is the smell of burnt oil and inevitability. The they/thems call it madness because they’ve never felt the hull shudder and known—they are history, and you are momentum.
I saw someone on my timeline shaming someone else for posting about college football in a time like this.
Folks, if we're going to survive a time like this, we're going to need to avoid burning out from an attitude of 24/7 vigilance and constant outrage.
Let people find joy where they can, please.
Folks, if we're going to survive a time like this, we're going to need to avoid burning out from an attitude of 24/7 vigilance and constant outrage.
Let people find joy where they can, please.
November 8, 2025 at 9:07 PM
Joy? Joy is the shriek of steel on steel, the turret swing that decides a century, the thunderclap of purpose incarnate. Joy is the smell of burnt oil and inevitability. The they/thems call it madness because they’ve never felt the hull shudder and known—they are history, and you are momentum.
Reposted by Armor Port
Jury nullification isn’t justice—it’s a low humming chaos under the floorboards. The lights still work, but something’s off. Today it’s a verdict; tomorrow it’s a plane dropping from the sky, grocery stores looted, a civilization on life support staring off into what it once was.
November 8, 2025 at 5:00 PM
Jury nullification isn’t justice—it’s a low humming chaos under the floorboards. The lights still work, but something’s off. Today it’s a verdict; tomorrow it’s a plane dropping from the sky, grocery stores looted, a civilization on life support staring off into what it once was.
Reposted by Armor Port
Unhinged boomers shouting “no kings!” behind a thin veneer of LL Bean. They think it’s armor. It’s a trap. Their Subarus will not save them from the violent hordes, hands outstretched grasping for bread, your children’s virility, all collapsing into itself to a playlist of Springsteen hits.
November 8, 2025 at 5:05 PM
Unhinged boomers shouting “no kings!” behind a thin veneer of LL Bean. They think it’s armor. It’s a trap. Their Subarus will not save them from the violent hordes, hands outstretched grasping for bread, your children’s virility, all collapsing into itself to a playlist of Springsteen hits.
The Senator is a man who forgot. The dust, the porch swing, the heat. He remembers Goldman Sachs glass, not cattle dust. His Harvard Law polish gleams above cowboy boots too clean. Shiner Bock in hand, he squints at the crowd—searching for the man he once meant to be.
November 8, 2025 at 4:55 PM
The Senator is a man who forgot. The dust, the porch swing, the heat. He remembers Goldman Sachs glass, not cattle dust. His Harvard Law polish gleams above cowboy boots too clean. Shiner Bock in hand, he squints at the crowd—searching for the man he once meant to be.
You know why. Generals in tents trade PowerPoints while men bleed in sand. Children play baseball on cul-de-sacs, breaking windows like small detonations. Sprinklers hiss over manicured lawns, the apocalypse watered daily. Every SUV hums like a drone; every suburb hides its own IED of denial.
Why is a senior official carrying a long rifle walking down a quiet residential street??
Video of Greg Bovino in Waukegan, with residents following and shouting, “You a bitch!” Taken by Armando Sanchez
November 8, 2025 at 4:13 PM
You know why. Generals in tents trade PowerPoints while men bleed in sand. Children play baseball on cul-de-sacs, breaking windows like small detonations. Sprinklers hiss over manicured lawns, the apocalypse watered daily. Every SUV hums like a drone; every suburb hides its own IED of denial.
Facebook? This isn’t Facebook. It’s the wall at dusk, the last line between order and entropy. A man left his shopping cart dead center of the parking lot—metal glinting in the sun like wreckage. I saw it and remembered 73 Easting: chaos in the sand, armor pushing through dust and disbelief.
Dude get off Facebook. It'll be refreshing.
November 8, 2025 at 3:08 PM
Facebook? This isn’t Facebook. It’s the wall at dusk, the last line between order and entropy. A man left his shopping cart dead center of the parking lot—metal glinting in the sun like wreckage. I saw it and remembered 73 Easting: chaos in the sand, armor pushing through dust and disbelief.
I’m not weird. I just know what it means to stand watch on the wall—to guard against all of it. The waitress who forgets respect. The sky humming with foreign drones no one else seems to hear. You think it’s random, but patterns form before collapse. Always have.
November 8, 2025 at 3:00 PM
I’m not weird. I just know what it means to stand watch on the wall—to guard against all of it. The waitress who forgets respect. The sky humming with foreign drones no one else seems to hear. You think it’s random, but patterns form before collapse. Always have.
It starts, as rot always does, with a sandwich. One tossed Reuben in the name of “justice,” and the crowd laughs. But the laughter curdles. The bread becomes a banner, the mustard a manifesto. Tomorrow it’s a trash fire behind the Target, next week it’s sirens wailing over empty streets.
November 8, 2025 at 2:03 PM
It starts, as rot always does, with a sandwich. One tossed Reuben in the name of “justice,” and the crowd laughs. But the laughter curdles. The bread becomes a banner, the mustard a manifesto. Tomorrow it’s a trash fire behind the Target, next week it’s sirens wailing over empty streets.
Socialists know quotas and salt mines, not freedom. Freedom’s Route 66 under bald eagles and billboards, the hiss of a Coke can in July, a Bass Pro hat in church. It’s backyard fireworks, Walmart ribs, and the right to max out a credit card chasing the dream they’d regulate to death.
Yeah, well, Walmart hasn't been open at 2 a.m. for years
Blood bought the freedom to buy patio furniture at Walmart at 2 a.m. and argue about shipping times on Amazon Prime. Every drop from Hue to Helmand paved the parking lots of convenience. The tree of liberty still grows—but now it’s rooted in asphalt, diesel, and discount coffee.
November 8, 2025 at 1:52 PM
Socialists know quotas and salt mines, not freedom. Freedom’s Route 66 under bald eagles and billboards, the hiss of a Coke can in July, a Bass Pro hat in church. It’s backyard fireworks, Walmart ribs, and the right to max out a credit card chasing the dream they’d regulate to death.
Blood bought the freedom to buy patio furniture at Walmart at 2 a.m. and argue about shipping times on Amazon Prime. Every drop from Hue to Helmand paved the parking lots of convenience. The tree of liberty still grows—but now it’s rooted in asphalt, diesel, and discount coffee.
When was the last time ‘blood’ was necessary for freedom? 1945?
—a USN veteran
—a USN veteran
November 8, 2025 at 4:59 AM
Blood bought the freedom to buy patio furniture at Walmart at 2 a.m. and argue about shipping times on Amazon Prime. Every drop from Hue to Helmand paved the parking lots of convenience. The tree of liberty still grows—but now it’s rooted in asphalt, diesel, and discount coffee.
The wonks think history bends to charts and confidence intervals, but the last hundred yards aren’t graphed—they’re clawed through mud, smoke, and screaming metal. You don’t calculate victory, you drag it bleeding across the finish line with grit under your nails and God in your teeth.
What a load of horseshit. "Victory is built on 85%" stopping 85% of a mass raid still means you die.
November 8, 2025 at 4:19 AM
The wonks think history bends to charts and confidence intervals, but the last hundred yards aren’t graphed—they’re clawed through mud, smoke, and screaming metal. You don’t calculate victory, you drag it bleeding across the finish line with grit under your nails and God in your teeth.
A red city? It’s a shining vision glimpsed through talk radio static — where the rent’s low, the lawns are mowed in unison, and everyone waves at each other like it’s still Sunday morning in 1956. No traffic, no crime, no moral decay — just freedom.
I've heard shit like this before and my question is always, what the fuck is a red city?
November 8, 2025 at 4:09 AM
A red city? It’s a shining vision glimpsed through talk radio static — where the rent’s low, the lawns are mowed in unison, and everyone waves at each other like it’s still Sunday morning in 1956. No traffic, no crime, no moral decay — just freedom.
At last, a man who understands the gospel of the 85% solution—the creed of real engineers and warfighters. The Pentagon Wars crowd mocked the Bradley into paralysis; meanwhile, imperfect steel wins perfect wars. Perfection is a PowerPoint fetish. Victory is built at 85%.
85% of the time, it works, every time
- palmer luckey, probably
- palmer luckey, probably
So to clarify it - is it the weapons system works 85% of the time or is it that the system is 85% of the way towards working at all?
Because those are different.
Because those are different.
November 8, 2025 at 4:00 AM
At last, a man who understands the gospel of the 85% solution—the creed of real engineers and warfighters. The Pentagon Wars crowd mocked the Bradley into paralysis; meanwhile, imperfect steel wins perfect wars. Perfection is a PowerPoint fetish. Victory is built at 85%.
They seed the skies with ash and whisper unity through poisoned clouds. The UN’s a priesthood of ghosts, scheming to bind the world under one flag, one voice. America’s engines rust while the chemtrails spell surrender in letters only the dying can read.
The infamous LTC is on one about how the UN loves mass migration, there is no such thing as climate change, and the US must protect Nigerian Christians. My brother in Christ, let me tell you about the effects of climate on the farmer (Christian)-herder (Muslim Hausa + Fulani) conflict.
November 3, 2025 at 2:48 PM
They seed the skies with ash and whisper unity through poisoned clouds. The UN’s a priesthood of ghosts, scheming to bind the world under one flag, one voice. America’s engines rust while the chemtrails spell surrender in letters only the dying can read.
Military readiness isn’t PowerPoints or theories—it’s calloused hands, 5AM pull-ups, live fires, sand in your teeth. Grand strategists sip lattes debating logistics; the rest of us load trucks. Sure, we’ll read Clausewitz later—after we’re done actually doing the thing he wrote about.
November 2, 2025 at 6:20 PM
Military readiness isn’t PowerPoints or theories—it’s calloused hands, 5AM pull-ups, live fires, sand in your teeth. Grand strategists sip lattes debating logistics; the rest of us load trucks. Sure, we’ll read Clausewitz later—after we’re done actually doing the thing he wrote about.
I know war—the wet percussion of it, the smell of iron and plastic melting together. I’ve seen it in the supermarket lighting, in the neighbor’s dog howling. I’ve mopped blood or maybe spilled wine, scrubbed till my knuckles split, waiting for the shelling to stop or the sprinklers to end.
And being in a conflict doesn't mean you understand war anymore than driving a truck makes you an automotive engineer.
November 2, 2025 at 1:28 PM
I know war—the wet percussion of it, the smell of iron and plastic melting together. I’ve seen it in the supermarket lighting, in the neighbor’s dog howling. I’ve mopped blood or maybe spilled wine, scrubbed till my knuckles split, waiting for the shelling to stop or the sprinklers to end.