D. Baker (Dman) 🇺🇸 @bakdman

@OANN @mattgaetz The government, any government, should not be surveilling anyone without probable cause. These cameras are a violation of our civil rights period!

Do you remember when you joined X? I do! #MyXAnniversary

@BuzzPatterson You’re the man Buzz!

@NobodymrRobert @helen44767171 Possibly brake pads.

@AllieJade1 @1OgOutlaw Might help to remove the snow from in front of the passenger side wheel, that snow acts like a wheel chock.

I walked through a county courthouse square On a park bench, an old man was sittin' there. I said, "Your old court house is kinda run down, He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town". I said, "Your old flag pole is leaned a little bit, And that's a ragged old flag you got hangin' on it". He said, "Have a seat", and I sat down, "Is this the first time you've been to our little town" I said, "I think it is" He said "I don't like to brag, but we're kinda proud of that ragged old flag" You see, we got a little hole in that flag there When Washington took it across the Delaware. And It got powder burned the night Francis Scott Key sat watching it Writing "Say Can You See" It got a bad rip in New Orleans, with Packingham & Jackson Tugging at it's seams. And it almost fell at the Alamo Beside the Texas flag, But she waved on though. She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville, And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill. There was Robert E. Lee and Beauregard and Bragg, And the south wind blew hard on that ragged old flag On Flanders Field in World War I She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun She turned blood red in World War II She hung limp, and low, a time or two She was in Korea, Vietnam, she went where she was sent By her Uncle Sam She waved from our ships upon the briny foam And now they've about quit wavin' back here at home In her own good land here She's been abused She's been burned, dishonored, denied an' refused And the government for which she stands Has scandalized throughout out the land And she's getting thread bare, and she's wearin' thin But she's in good shape, for the shape she's in Cause she's been through the fire before And I believe she can take a whole lot more So we raise her up every morning And we take her down every night, We don't let her touch the ground, And we fold her up right. On a second thought I do like to brag 'Cause I'm mighty proud of that ragged old flag. (Song by Johnny Cash)

A man said "I accept Jesus Christ" on his deathbed. The church asked if he really meant it. I need to ask you something. When did we become the gatekeepers of grace? I've watched Christians dissect Scott Adams' final words like prosecutors. They parsed his phrases. They weighed his tone. They measured his faith against some invisible scale and found it wanting. "That doesn't sound like surrender," they said. "That sounds like a man hedging his bets." And I understand the instinct. I do. But there's a verse that haunts me. Not because it's obscure—because it's too simple. "Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." (Romans 10:13) Whosoever. Not "whosoever truly believes in their heart of hearts." Not "whosoever demonstrates sufficient sincerity." Not "whosoever calls early enough in life that we trust their motives." Whosoever. The moment we add prerequisites to that promise, we've traded the Gospel for religion. We've smuggled works back in through the side door labeled "authentic faith." I know what some of you are thinking. But he admitted he wasn't a believer. He talked about "risk and reward." He said he hoped he'd "qualify." Yes. He did. And those words make us uncomfortable. They don't sound like the confident declarations we want from converts. They sound uncertain. Calculating. Human. But here's what I need you to hear: The thief on the cross didn't have time to develop mature theology either. He was a criminal. Hours from death. He looked at Jesus and said, "Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom." That's it. No profession of belief in the resurrection. No renunciation of his former life. No evidence of transformed character. Just a desperate man, reaching for a hand he wasn't sure would take his. And Jesus said, "Today you will be with me in paradise." We have a problem, and it's not Scott Adams. It's us. We've internalized a law that God never gave us. A natural sense of fairness that says late arrivals should get less. That deathbed conversions are suspicious. That the math should somehow work out—more faith, more years, more sacrifice equals more standing before God. Jesus told a parable about this. We skip over it because it offends us. A landowner hired workers throughout the day. Some came at dawn. Some at noon. Some showed up with one hour left. At the end, he paid them all the same. The early workers were furious. "These who were hired last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day." (Matthew 20:12) And the landowner replied: "I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius? Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?" There it is. The scandal of grace is that it feels unfair. A man who mocked God for sixty years gets the same inheritance as the saint who served since childhood. A skeptic who hedged his bets at the last breath stands in the same kingdom as the martyr who gave everything. And something in us recoils. That's not grace rejecting us. That's us rejecting grace. Let me tell you what I see when Christians interrogate a dead man's faith. I see the older brother standing outside the party, refusing to go in. The prodigal came home reeking of pig filth and poor decisions. The father ran to him. Threw a robe on his back. Killed the fattened calf. And the older brother? "Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!" (Luke 15:29-30) He couldn't celebrate the return because he was too busy auditing the journey. Sound familiar? Here's the truth we don't want to face: We can't see hearts. We can only see words. And the words Scott Adams spoke were: "I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior." Were they perfect? No. Were they confident? No. Were they the words we would have scripted? No. But they were the words. And the God who receives those words is not checking for tone. He's not running sentiment analysis. He's not grading on a curve. He's looking for open hands. Paul wrote something that lands differently now: "Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand." (Romans 14:4) Scott Adams was not our servant to judge. He answered to his own Master. And the Lord is able—able—to make him stand. That's not my promise. That's Scripture's promise. The question is whether we'll submit to it. I know why we do this. I know why we parse and weigh and question. Because if grace is really this free, then we didn't earn our place either. If the deathbed convert gets in, then our decades of service weren't the price of admission. They were the privilege of knowing Him longer. And that reframes everything. It means the faith we've built isn't a resume. It's a relationship. It means our years weren't buying something. They were receiving something. It means we were never the workers earning a wage. We were always the prodigals coming home. So did Scott Adams get saved? I don't know. But I know what the Scripture says. Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. I know what Jesus promised the thief who had nothing to offer but a desperate plea. I know what the father did when his son came crawling home with a rehearsed speech that never even got finished. And I know what the landowner said to the workers who were angry that grace didn't do math the way they wanted. "Are you envious because I am generous?" The gate is narrow, but it's not locked. The standard is high, but it's not ours to enforce. The Judge is holy, but He is also the one who ran to meet the prodigal while he was still a long way off. Stop auditing the dead. Start marveling at the grace that let you in. "Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." Whosoever. Even him. Even you. What saith the Scriptures? That's the only question that matters.

@nettermike It is past time.

Doctors told us to abort our son. We didn't. He lived 19 months. It began at 19 weeks. The doctor saw he had a shrunk cerebellum. DORV (a heart problem). Couple of other issues. They told us he'd likely die in utero before 28 weeks. The doctors recommended the "merciful" choice: abortion. And we were hit with the weight of the world. We were forced to take the ultimate decision: Should our son live or die. I still remember the silence as we drove home from hospital. Later that evening my wife and I talked. About what we'd been told. What was the situation. Could it be wrong. We got a second opinion. Same conclusion. At that point, all we could do was surrender. And we chose life for him. "If God takes him, that's His choice. It's not ours to take." And survive he did. He was born at 35 weeks - beyond the doctors' prescriptions - and rushed straight to NICU. This was August 2021. The height of COVID restrictions. We were living in Thailand at the time and the hospital refused to let us see our son. We went in anyway. Every day. This caused a lot of conflict with the hospital staff, but as far as we were (and are) concerned? We didn't care if every nurse there hated us if we got to see our son. My wife struggled with this. It added extra pressure on her as she was still recovering from birth. After 5 weeks of constant conflict, they let him go home with us. And that's where the reality of having a son with Cerebral Palsy set in. Oral therapy. Physical therapy. Re-inserting feeding tubes. My wife was the star. She quit her job. Became his primary carer. Learnt more about physical therapy than any non-professional wants to know. But we soon realized we needed to be closer to one of our families. We had friends in Thailand - one couple helped us beyond expectations, and we'll never forget that - but friends are not the same as family. So we moved to Indonesia when he was 6 months old. And are thankful we were able to spend over a year there with our family. Due to my wife's diligence, he improved. He could roll. Laugh. Follow us with his eyes. But his life was hard. Every tiny win was a monumental effort. And he fought. And fought. And fought. Through this time I had my own internal fight. I was angry at God. Angry at why he'd done this to us. Angry at the pain my son suffered. And confused as to why. Why would he punish me? Why would he punish my son? Then 3 months after our second son's birth, he had a seizure and passed away. Burying your son is something I wouldn't want anyone to experience. It's hard to explain to those who haven't been through it. But he had a hard life. Every day was a struggle. Now he's at peace. And it taught me something I needed to learn: Humility. I was proud. Arrogant. Self-aggrandizing. And the 19 months we got to spend with my son humbled me. It took me months after his passing before I got it. Those 19 months weren't a tragedy. They were a gift from God. A gift to let us get to know him. A gift so that when we meet again in heaven, we won't be strangers. A gift we received because we trusted Him with the outcome. For anyone going through pain. Tragedy. Heartbreak. I feel you. The doubt. The confusion. The question of "why me?" But you're being given this burden to strengthen you. To force you through the flames. To shape you into who you're meant to become. It may not seem like that when you're living it. It didn't for me. But it all becomes clear in hindsight. My son taught me this lesson. His name was Jake.

@DefiantLs 🤷🏻‍♂️

🎶What a Wonderful World🎶 Angelica Nero❤️

@JulesUSA6 Looks like Joe Biden.

Frank Woodruff Buckles, last surviving American veteran of World War I, lies in state in the chapel beneath Memorial Amphitheater at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C. 🇺🇸🫡

@SirFlyzalot @EricaRN4USA @AGPamBondi @POTUS @VP @SenRickScott @SenAshleyMoody @JimmyPatronis @GOP @SenTuberville @SpeakerJohnson Is that the only way the ballot will fit in the envelope? Seems to me if you flip it over and insert it the other way then the problem is solved. 🤷‍♂️

Please help me honor Specialist Etienne J. Murphy, a dedicated soldier who gave his life in service to our country. Etienne enlisted in the Army in June 2013 at the age of 18. He served with the 10th Mountain Division at Fort Drum, New York. Specialist Murphy passed from injuries sustained in a vehicle rollover incident. He was 22 years old. His service was recognized posthumously with the Army Commendation Medal, alongside prior awards including the Parachutist Badge, Army Achievement Medal with three oak leaf clusters, NATO Medal, and Operation Inherent Resolve Campaign Medal with Campaign Star.

the dog is the only one who seems to know that’s a fuckin bobcat

@jjauthor @ToscaAusten All the time!

JUST IN 🚨 TPUSA just posted this beautiful video of Charlie Kirk and his accomplishments. AMEN It’s impossible to watch all of this without crying WE WILL NEVER FORGET