An Independent Wrestler has been arrested for sending intimate pictures of himself to an underage girl. This is not the first time that he has done this, either.

On September 10, 2025, Charlie Kirk—founder of Turning Point USA, conservative activist, and one of the most polarizing figures in American political life—was shot and killed while speaking at Utah Valley University. He was 31 years old. His death, like the assassinations and attempted assassinations of other political figures in recent years, is a grim reminder that political violence is not an abstraction. It is a direct assault on the democratic principle that ideas—not bullets—should decide the course of a nation. Kirk’s passing has prompted tributes from allies, condemnation of violence from across the political spectrum, and renewed debate about his role in shaping the political consciousness of a generation. For those committed to democracy, his life offers a complex case study: a man who championed free speech and civic engagement, yet also embraced a style of politics that often deepened polarization and eroded trust in democratic institutions. The Rise of a Conservative Prodigy Born Charles James Kirk in 1993 in Arlington Heights, Illinois, Kirk grew up in the Chicago suburbs, active in church and sports. His political awakening came early—campaigning against a cafeteria price hike in high school and volunteering for Republican Senate candidate Mark Kirk (no relation). At 18, he co-founded Turning Point USA (TPUSA) with encouragement from Tea Party activist Bill Montgomery. From the outset, TPUSA’s mission was unapologetically ideological: to “identify, educate, train, and organize students to promote the principles of fiscal responsibility, free markets, and limited government”. Kirk’s genius was not in policy innovation but in branding and mobilization. He understood that in the age of social media, politics is as much about identity and belonging as it is about legislation. Turning Point USA: Movement-Building in the Age of Polarization Under Kirk’s leadership, TPUSA grew into a sprawling network with a presence on over 3,500 campuses. It became a pipeline for conservative youth activism, hosting flashy conferences with strobe lights and pyrotechnics4, and featuring marquee Republican figures from Donald Trump to Nikki Haley. From a pro-democracy lens, TPUSA’s success is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it engaged young Americans in politics—a vital function in a democracy where youth turnout often lags. On the other, its tactics frequently mirrored the zero-sum logic of partisan warfare, framing opponents not as fellow citizens with different views, but as existential threats to be defeated. Kirk’s “prove me wrong” campus debates embodied this tension. They were, at their best, exercises in civil discourse—public forums where ideas could be tested. At their worst, they became viral spectacles designed to “own” the opposition, reinforcing echo chambers rather than bridging divides. The Faith Factor In later years, Kirk expanded his activism into explicitly religious territory, co-founding Turning Point Faith with Pastor Rob McCoy. This initiative aimed to “empower Christians to put their faith into action” in the political sphere. For Kirk, politics was not merely about governance; it was a moral and spiritual battle. From a pro-democracy standpoint, faith-based organizing is not inherently problematic—religious groups have long been engines of civic engagement. The challenge arises when political rhetoric frames opponents as enemies of God, as Kirk sometimes did. Such framing risks transforming political disagreement into moral absolutism, making compromise—the lifeblood of democracy—nearly impossible. The Trump Era and the Politics of Loyalty Kirk’s rise was inseparable from the political ascent of Donald Trump. He became one of Trump’s most visible surrogates, defending him on college campuses, in the media, and through TPUSA’s political arm, Turning Point Action. He embraced Trump’s populist style, casting politics as a battle between “real Americans” and corrupt elites. This alignment brought Kirk influence and access, but also tied his legacy to the fortunes of a single political figure. In a healthy democracy, political movements are bigger than any one leader. By rooting TPUSA so firmly in Trumpism, Kirk risked narrowing its appeal and deepening the personalization of politics—a trend that undermines institutional stability. The Contradictions of Free Speech Advocacy Kirk’s defenders rightly note his commitment to speaking on hostile campuses, often facing protests and petitions to disinvite him. He argued that free speech was under siege, particularly for conservatives in academia. His willingness to engage in open debate, even with ideological opponents, is a democratic virtue. Yet, Kirk’s own rhetoric sometimes blurred the line between defending free speech and amplifying misinformation—on topics from COVID-19 to election integrity. In a democracy, free speech is essential, but so is a shared commitment to truth. When public figures use their platforms to spread falsehoods, they erode the informational foundation on which democratic decision-making depends. The Human Dimension Beyond politics, Kirk was a husband and father of two. Friends and allies describe him as a man of deep personal faith, loyal to those close to him, and generous with his time7. These humanizing details matter—not to excuse harmful rhetoric or tactics, but to remind us that political figures are more than their public personas. In a democracy, it is possible—and necessary—to hold two truths at once: to condemn political violence unequivocally, and to critically examine the ideas and strategies of those who shape public life. The Cost of Polarization Kirk’s assassination is part of a disturbing trend: the normalization of political violence in America. Whether the target is a conservative activist, a Democratic lawmaker, or a former president, such acts strike at the heart of democratic governance. They silence voices, harden divisions, and make public service more dangerous. Kirk’s own career both benefited from and contributed to this polarized environment. His skill at mobilizing supporters was matched by his talent for provoking outrage—a dynamic that drives engagement in the digital age but corrodes the norms of mutual respect and shared citizenship. Lessons for a Pro-Democracy Future From a pro-democracy perspective, Kirk’s life offers several lessons: Engagement Matters – Kirk proved that young people can be mobilized around political ideas. The challenge is to channel that energy toward inclusive, pluralistic goals. Rhetoric Shapes Reality – Words can inspire civic participation or incite division. Leaders must choose language that invites debate without dehumanizing opponents. Institutions Over Individuals – Movements tied too closely to a single leader risk collapse when that leader falters. Healthy democracies require loyalty to principles, not personalities. Free Speech Requires Truth – Defending the right to speak must go hand in hand with a commitment to factual integrity. Conclusion: Beyond the Man, Toward the Republic Charlie Kirk’s death is a tragedy—for his family, his supporters, and for a nation already fraying under the weight of division. His life’s work will be remembered differently depending on one’s politics: as a heroic defense of conservative values, or as a cautionary tale about the perils of populist polarization. From a pro-democracy standpoint, the task is not to erase his contributions or vilify his memory, but to learn from the contradictions he embodied. He demonstrated the power of youth engagement, the importance of showing up in contested spaces, and the dangers of framing politics as a holy war. If America is to emerge from this era of division, it will require leaders—left, right, and center—who can inspire passion without inflaming hatred, who can defend their beliefs without undermining the democratic system that allows those beliefs to be contested. That is the legacy worth striving for, and the one by which we should measure all who step into the public square. You don't have to agree with what Charlie Kirk has said, but at least he wanted to have dialogue with people who disagree with him. Mainstream Democrats have universally condemned the murder of Charlie Kirk. MAGA Republicans are declaring “war” against their political opponents. I do not mourn Charlie Kirk, but his murder was wrong, full stop, and is likely to lead to an escalation in repression and political violence.

YouTube video by Matthew Hollie

His lying and temper tantrums aside, evidence abounds that the president's most important, and dangerous, feature is his ignorance.

There is no other way to put this, but I’m going to do my best.

Why the Black and Jewish Vote Must Be Central to Democracy’s Future

Israel has the right to defend itself.

In July 2025, the FCC greenlit the Paramount-Skydance merger, a decision sold to the public as a routine business consolidation in the entertainment sector.

YouTube video by Matthew Hollie

In the quiet hours before dawn on July 4, 2025, Central Texas was jolted awake—not by fireworks, but by the fury of water. What began as a rhythmic summer rainfall transformed into one of the deadliest floods in U.S. history, swallowing entire stretches of the Texas Hill Country and exposing the structural and political fissures that have long been ignored. Fueled by an extraordinary convergence of tropical moisture from the Gulf of Mexico and the eastern Pacific, the skies over Kerr County unzipped their fury. More than 15 inches of rain fell in the span of hours. The Guadalupe River—a beloved spine of the region—rose a staggering 26 feet, turning summer memories into tragedy. At least 82 people died, including 28 children, with dozens still missing. Among the hardest hit was Camp Mystic, a near-century-old Christian summer camp, where ten girls remain unaccounted for. The physics of the flood were shocking, but not unforeseeable. Central Texas is no stranger to such events. Branded “Flash Flood Alley,” its rocky terrain and dense river systems have always made it vulnerable. Kerrville, the epicenter, saw over 10 inches of rain in just three hours—a once-in-a-millennium deluge under stable climate conditions. Except our climate is no longer stable. And this wasn't just nature’s wrath. This was policy failure writ large. The timeline of catastrophe reads like a case study in missed signals. On July 3, the National Weather Service issued a “moderate” flood watch. By the time it escalated to a Flash Flood Emergency at 4:30 a.m. the next morning, it was already too late. Riverbeds had morphed into lethal torrents. Homes and campsites were engulfed. The delay wasn't just tragic—it was systemic. After years of budget slashing, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) is a shell of its former self. Nearly half of National Weather Service offices were operating with 20% staffing shortages as of April 2025. It's difficult to issue warnings when you don't have enough scientists to read the models. Former NOAA director Rick Spinrad diplomatically stopped short of drawing a straight line between the layoffs and the flood—but he didn’t need to. The correlation hangs in the air, heavy as the storm clouds that brought this nightmare. What unfolded at Camp Mystic was particularly gut-wrenching. Generations of Texans knew the camp as a sanctuary of youth and tradition. It is now a ground zero of loss. Blair and Brooke Harber, ages 13 and 11, were swept away while visiting their grandparents. Campers Renee Smajstrla, Janie Hunt, and Sarah Marsh—once smiling faces in tie-dye and friendship bracelets—are now names etched in grief. And yet, heroism flickered through the darkness. Julian Ryan, a father in Ingram, shattered a window to save his children and fiancée, then bled to death from a severed artery. Carl Jeter dove into the current to pull a camper to safety. Nearly 850 people were rescued in the first 36 hours—testament to the bravery of first responders and ordinary citizens alike. But no amount of valor can substitute for preparedness. That preparedness is further undermined by a broken infrastructure ethos. Posts on X and reports from outlets like The Guardian pointed to a disturbing truth: many campsites and residences—Camp Mystic included—are situated in flood zones long identified as high-risk. And yet permits were granted. Warnings ignored. Development encouraged. Nature didn’t build in harm’s way. We did. Politicians, predictably, offered prayers faster than they offered policy. President Donald Trump’s Major Disaster Declaration enabled FEMA relief, but the administration's initial response was criticized as sluggish and performative. Vice President JD Vance and Melania Trump offered the obligatory “thoughts and prayers.” MAGA congressional candidate Kandiss Taylor went a step further, calling the floods “fake” and alleging weather manipulation—a conspiracy theory as offensive as it is delusional. Meanwhile, Governor Greg Abbott declared a “day of prayer,” sidestepping tough questions about forecasting gaps and climate readiness. Prayer is not policy. Hope is not a substitute for infrastructure. And “once-in-a-lifetime” events are happening with startling regularity. In eastern Texas, heavy rainfall days have increased by 20% since 1900. Scientists project another 10% rise within the next decade. That’s not coincidence. It’s consequence. The Texas floods of 2025 must not be written off as a freak disaster. They were a mirror held up to our values, our budgets, our inaction. The children lost at Camp Mystic deserved more than a moment of silence—they deserved a system that saw them coming. Let this be the last time we are caught unprepared. Let heroism be matched by accountability. Let the new normal of weather usher in a new normal of foresight. We owe it to the lives already lost not to waste the next warning.

On July 4th, amid fireworks and fanfare, President Donald Trump celebrated his second-term legislative crown jewel: the “One Big Beautiful Bill.” Touted as a historic triumph, the bill promised sweeping tax reform, muscular border security, and economic rejuvenation. But beneath the patriotic packaging lies a stark and unsettling reality: this legislation is not a victory for the people—it’s a betrayal of them. Framed as a populist achievement, the bill is in fact a vehicle for deepening inequality, deregulating environmental protections, and dismantling the fragile scaffolding of America’s social safety net. Its beauty is in its branding. Its betrayal is in its substance. A Tax Code for the 1% The bill’s extension of the 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act locks in a regressive tax architecture that benefits the wealthiest Americans at the expense of working- and middle-class families. According to the Congressional Budget Office, the top 1% will enjoy an estimated $664 billion in tax breaks over the next decade. In contrast, most American households will see only modest relief—ranging from $380 to $1,800 a year—while paying for it through eroded public services. Temporary deductions for tips, overtime, and auto loan interest are politically convenient but economically hollow. And while the child tax credit sees a boost, the bill breaks a major promise by failing to eliminate taxes on Social Security benefits—a decision that hits seniors the hardest. This isn’t reform. It’s redistribution—upward. Safety Nets Slashed The moral cost of this legislation is most evident in its gutting of programs that serve the nation’s most vulnerable. The bill slashes $1 trillion from Medicaid over ten years, implementing work requirements and eligibility checks that will, by CBO estimates, strip 11.8 million Americans of health coverage. The ripple effects are not abstract—they are visceral. They are real people with chronic illnesses, children with disabilities, and elderly patients facing impossible choices. Likewise, adding work requirements to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program puts food security in jeopardy for millions, including roughly four million children. These are not just numbers. They are lives, and this bill treats them as liabilities. Climate Crisis, Deferred The environmental rollback embedded in the legislation is an open invitation to fossil fuel industries. By repealing tax credits from the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act and introducing new incentives for coal and oil production, the bill actively undermines America’s path to a sustainable future. Renewable energy job growth? Discarded. International climate leadership? Abdicated. Opening public lands and waters to expanded extraction risks irreversible ecological damage. This is not “energy independence.” This is climate denial by another name—crafted not for the future, but for corporate shareholders. Border Politics Without Mercy The bill’s $350 billion border security package—nearly $30 billion of which expands ICE’s detention and deportation operations—makes it clear: enforcement is the priority, not humanity. Mass deportation plans and wall-building escapades cater to nativist impulses while ignoring the root causes of migration and the dignity of those who seek refuge. Liberals don’t oppose border security. We oppose security that dehumanizes. We support reform that balances safety with compassion and recognizes immigrants not as threats, but as contributors to our shared fabric. Fiscal Fiction and Democratic Erosion Supporters claim the bill will unleash economic growth. Yet the CBO projects it will balloon the federal deficit by $3.3 trillion. By raising the debt ceiling another $5 trillion without securing investments in infrastructure, education, or health care, this legislation doesn’t build a future—it borrows from it. Even more troubling is how it passed: through a narrow 51-50 Senate vote, circumventing bipartisan cooperation via reconciliation. House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries’ marathon speech sounded the alarm, but the process silenced dissent and short-circuited deliberation. A June 26 Quinnipiac poll showed 55% of Americans opposed the bill—yet their voices were ignored. This isn’t how democracy is supposed to work. The Resistance Begins Now To those cheering this bill, understand: policies have consequences. And history will judge not the size of your tax cut, but the strength of the society you helped dismantle. As for me, I stand with working people, the middle class, and those pushed to the margins—because real patriotism means caring for your neighbor, not just your portfolio. It’s time to rise up—not in violence, but in vision. In the words of Étienne Parent, progress lies in education, political economy, and industry—not rebellion. So tell the politicians who bow to lobbyists and trample on your voice these three words: You are done. You are done with the lies and the spin. You are done sacrificing your future for their fortunes. You are done mistaking cruelty for courage. Because change doesn’t begin in a bill—it begins in the will of the people. And that will is rising.