‘As you wish’ - Glenn interviews Princess Bride star Cary Elwes

We'll never survive.

Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has.  - The Princess Bride, 1987

If you have been listening to Glenn for awhile, you are very well aware that 'The Princess Bride' is one of his favorite movies. He loves it so much he declared the film a "right of passage" in his family. Glenn was honored to have actor Cary Elwes on radio today to talk about his new book As You Wish, which takes readers behind-the-scenes on the making of 'The Princess Bride'. The book includes photographs, exclusive interviews and never before told stories.

That's a lot of content! Why it's..."INCONCEIVABLE!"

During the interview, Glenn took the opportunity (as any proper fan would) to ask Elwes some of the stories during the making of the film. The story about the Rodents of Unusual Size (better known as R.O.U.S') is definitely one that is worth a listen.

So don your black mask and "prepare to die" of laughter as you listen to this great interview.

GLENN: We are thrilled to have somebody on today that has a new book on called As You Wish. You know that phrase if you're our kind of people. And when I say that, I don't care how you vote. Where you're from in the world. If you know the word as you wish, and it brings back fond memories, you're my kind of people. We've used this -- I have used, do you like the Princess Bride when I was dating. If they said no, we're not going to get along.

[laughter]

We've done this with friends, with writers, with everybody we know. This is perhaps the Wizard of Oz of our time. This is a magical movie that will last for generations and has become such a part of our culture. And Cary Elwes is the guy who played Wesley, who said, as you wish. Twenty-fifth anniversary of the movie came and went, and he decided, I have to write some of the stories down. And he put out a new book called As You Wish. And Cary is with us now.

Hello, Cary, how are you?

CARY: I'm well, Glenn. How are you, sir?

GLENN: I'm really good. I will tell you, I feel a little for you today because you must be sitting in your hotel room, wherever you are, thinking to yourself, good God, is my career over? I'm on the Glenn Beck Program. I can't go any lower than this.

CARY: No. Not at all, sir. I'm happy to be on your show. Thank you.

GLENN: So, Cary, first of all, thank you for the joy that you have given me, my family, my children. Just recently we watched the Princess Bride. Again, that was a magical movie, and I would imagine one that people would look to make their entire life and don't usually get to make. But more importantly, thank you for appreciating the fact that you were in that and you're not shunning it and saying, I'm above that now.

CARY: No. I'm beyond grateful to be apart of it. I think I can speak for everyone on the film when we say we feel blessed to be a part of it. It's the film that gave me my career and gave me the life I lead today. So I'm eternally grateful.

GLENN: I've wondered this about the movie Moulin Rouge. I don't know if you saw that.

CARY: Sure.

GLENN: But Baz Luhrmann is a genius. And Rob Reiner is a genius. And I think those are probably the only two that could make actors stand in a room and say, okay, have you way out of a -- you'll be dancing in an elephant in Moulin Rouge or you'll be wrestling with rodents of unusual size, and feel comfortable.

CARY: Yes.

GLENN: Was there any time on the set that you thought, this is either going to be magic or a disaster?

CARY: There was one moment. When the little fellow who was playing the rodent of unusual size I was put to wrestle with didn't show up to work. And Rob decided that the only alternative available to us, because we were going to lose the set that day, was to have me wrestle a rubber rat. And that -- I had some -- I had some moments there while Rob was directing me on how to make the rubber rat seem more realistic. I was definitely going to myself, hmm, I wonder if this is going to sell.

[laughter]

We didn't have the money for CGI or anything back then, you know.

GLENN: And the guy actually had been arrested the night before.

CARY: Correct. That is correct. He was driving 5 miles an hour in a 25-mile per hour zone. And I think he had had a couple of drinks. And he was -- had to spend the night in jail. Poor guy.

GLENN: Right.

CARY: He did eventually arrive and saved me from having to wrestle the latex foam rodent of unusual size.

GLENN: The scene, you describe that whole fire swam in great detail. There were a lot of problems in that scene. I mean, the dress really didn't catch fire over and over again.

CARY: Yes. Well, the dress was made -- had a flame retardant liquid that had been -- it had been dipped in. And one area had, I believe, some, I guess, it was alcohol or some kind of area where the flame was supposed to catch the dress on fire, yeah. But Bill Goldman, the author and playwright, showed up in the middle of the first take and had no idea what we were shooting that day. And saw Robin catch fire and screamed out loud, she's on fire. Robin Wright is on fire, at the top of his lungs.

And Rob Reiner yelled, cut, and turned to him and went, Bill, she's supposed to catch fire. That's part of the script. You've written it in the last eight drafts.

And he was mortified, the poor guy. But he had no idea. Imagine anyone walking on the set and seeing Robin Wright on fire. If you had no idea what the context was, you'd probably do the same thing.

GLENN: Right. I would say pretty much anybody on fire. But Robin Wright -- and Robin Wright, let's be honest, is typically on fire, if you know what I mean.

CARY: Very good. Very good.

GLENN: I will tell you, when I saw in the book, that you did the -- the, you know, most passionate kiss ever, and it took you like seven or eight takes, I didn't feel badly for you.

CARY: No. Well, it had to do with the fact that we were giggling so much. Robin and I became very good friends. Still are good friends. And, you know, it's weird kissing your best friend. It's -- so Rob got a little frustrated with us because obviously Wesley and Buttercup were not supposed to be giggling while they were engaging in the passionate embrace. But we got it in the end.

GLENN: Right. Can you tell me about the -- and I'm trying to remember the name of the actor. He's a great actor. So I apologize. The inconceivable guy.

CARY: Wallace Shawn, yeah.

GLENN: So I love that guy.

CARY: Oh, he's great.

GLENN: He's brilliant, and just brilliant in it. Even reading the book, The Princess Bride, which if you haven't read the book, it's just brilliant. It reads just like the movie.

But he played that role so perfectly, but you say he broke out in hives because he was so convinced he was going to be cut.

CARY: Not just cut, but replaced. His agent had told him before he got on the plane to fly to England that, in fact, he was not the first choice to play that scene. The filmmakers wanted Danny DeVito. And he was convinced that he was merely standing in, waiting for Mr. DeVito to become available.

And I only had the one scene with him. The battle of wits scene. And he showed up to work. Here's the guy, always the smallest guy in the room. Fulbright scholar. Lectures at Oxford and Cambridge. Here he is sweating at this little scene. I didn't know what it was about.

But I found out from writing this book that he had actually -- he was convinced that his ticket had already been booked, and when you look at his performance now, it's inconceivable to think of anybody else playing that role, other than him. I mean, he's just perfect in that.

GLENN: When you are -- you're in the fight scene at the top of the cliffs of insanity. And you have to sword fight.

CARY: Yeah.

GLENN: I've always found it amazing that it was clearly you guys sword fighting.

In the book --

CARY: Yes.

GLENN: -- you say we should perhaps even be more amazed because of your foot and because of changes at the last minute.

CARY: Yes. So by the -- first of all, I broke my toe fooling around on Andre the Giant's all-terrain vehicle, which I had no business being on. But he kept taunting me to try it. Eventually -- you know, when a giant says you should try his toy --

GLENN: You do.

CARY: -- several times a day, at some point, you need to relent.

GLENN: Wait. Wait. Wait. Before you get to the sword fight scene. Just talk -- I have to verify, he never actually was riding -- I love the way -- I love the way you say that you walked on the set, and you saw him on the top of the horse and you realized, this is the craziest job in the world.

CARY: In the world.

GLENN: He never actually road the horse.

CARY: No. He was always on wires. Never touched -- the horse would never allow -- the horses are very smart. The horse took one look at Andre, all 460 pounds, 7'5" of him and said, there's no -- this was a Clydesdale. The kind you see on the Budweiser commercial. The biggest horse ever. It just refused. So they had to blindfold it and then lower Andre down on a wire, not actually touching the horse.

GLENN: Is that crazy?

CARY: Huh?

GLENN: That's crazy.

CARY: Crazy. Anyway, so I broke my toe fooling around on his all-terrain vehicle. Luckily, it was fairly reasonably well-healed by the time -- it was three weeks later we shot the sword fight.

But when we came to show it to Rob Reiner, Manny and I had become so fast at the routine that it clocked in at about a minute. And Rob turned to us and went, guys, you got to go back and add another two minutes. You know, look at this set I built for you. This beautiful set. You can't be in here for just a minute.

So we had literally four or five days to go. We had to go back and add another two minutes to the fight, which we did. And we added the whole acrobatic piece, where we had this gymnast do this wonderful flip on the bars. And it was fun.

GLENN: I was going to say, Cary is obviously a great storyteller. He just butchered that. It's great in the book. It's great in the book.

So, Cary, you are -- and I let you decide or want to leave it for the reader to discover. But when you get to the end of the book, you talk about Peter Falk and the touching scene between a grandfather and his grandson.

CARY: Yes.

GLENN: And how that became real. Do you care to go into that at all?

CARY: Sure. I lost my own grandfather during the making of the film. And my grandfather was the hero in my life. He was a real-life World War II veteran. He had been sort of a commando. He worked for special operations executives, SOE, and their job was to fly behind enemy lines and create a fit column (phonetic) to fight the Germans and the Italians in Albania and in many other places.

Anyway, he died of complications related to diabetes. And he was the kind of guy who used to tell tales to me as a kid, much like Peter Falk did with Fred Savage.

And when I went to the hospital after I wrapped the movie, I started to share with him -- because he was unable to come to the set, he was too sick. I shared with him the whole story of my experience making the film. And he was under a lot of medication at the time. I don't know how much he really could understand what I was saying. But I wanted to share it with him anyway. And I realized while I was sharing the whole making of the film with him that I was having my own as-you-wish moment with him. So it was very moving for me. And, yeah, it was -- it was very sad. Very touching.

GLENN: Cary, we were talking before you came on about the movie Galaxy Quest with Tim Allen. Okay. You know that. So I can't remember the guy or the character he plays. But he plays basically the Spock character.

CARY: Right.

GLENN: And he is -- he's pissed that he's been in this movie and that's all people -- he's like, yeah, I got it. I got it. There has to be times that even if you love -- and, I mean, that character he didn't love it. He was really pissed that's what he turned into be. You've done so much. You've been in really critically acclaimed movies. You're a great actor.

CARY: Thank you.

GLENN: But there has to be times that you run into fans where you're like, okay, it's a movie, dude. It's a movie.

CARY: I got to share with you this. Here's how I look at it, Glenn. I think as an actor you are blessed to have anyone resonate with your work. Some actors go through life and don't have a single movie that anyone has even cared to watch or have -- you know, feels anything about.

And I look at it like, how blessed am I that I have a film that has touched so many people. I call this the gift that keeps on giving. This is like a generational film. I meet families who have passed down their VHS copies from grandparents to grandkids. It's just incredible.

GLENN: It's a rite of passage. It really is. We shared it with our kids. I have kids in their 20s and an 8-year-old. And it is a rite of passage that we're watching this movie.

So, Cary, I thank you very much for being on the program.

CARY: Thank you, sir.

GLENN: I've never done this before. But I would like to ask if we could send you a few copies of your book and you could sign them so we could give some away.

CARY: Absolutely.

GLENN: Thank you for being so cool. I appreciate it.

CARY: Happy Holidays to you and all your listeners. And thank you for having me on your show.

GLENN: God bless you. Thank you very much.

CARY: God bless you too.

GLENN: Name of the book is As You Wish: The Inconceivable Tales From the Making of the Princess Bride.

STU: He was great.

GLENN: I have to tell you, after my experience with B.B. King, where my wife fell asleep at a B.B. King concert, and I am a huge B.B. King fan. And we went backstage to meet him, and he couldn't give a flying crap about me.

STU: He was hitting on Tania, wasn't he?

GLENN: He was hitting on my wife the whole time. And I wanted to say to him, she fell asleep. She hates you. She's like, stop with B.B. King all the time.

And after that, and then an experience with Billy Joel and Elton John right in the same summer, I swore off meeting anyone that I liked. If I liked your music, I liked your work. I don't want to meet you. It's going to be disappointing. That was a cool interview. Really, really gracious guy. Really great.

STU: Yeah. I must remind you that I brought that to the table. So there's one for the last ten or 15 years.

[laughter]

GLENN: As You Wish the name of the book. The inconceivable tales of the making of the Princess Bride.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

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The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

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Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

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The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

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Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Why do Americans feel so empty?

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Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.