THIS is one of the best Glenn monologues of the year!

November 06, 2013

Writer

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I’m telling you, we’re living in an America that I’ve never seen before. It’s an upside-down world. Remember, somebody said that a few years back, you won’t understand the world. One day, you’ll wake up, and the whole country has changed.

That’s it. It’s almost like we’re in a movie, and I just want to go home. Don’t you wish we had like little ruby slippers we could like there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home? I’m telling you, the flying monkeys are coming.

I was thinking about, because this is what I do, this is what I do for a living, I think about things like The Wizard of Oz. That’s the way I roll. And I was thinking about Dorothy. Wasn’t she just glam? And I was thinking, you know, Dorothy has this little problem of this little yappy dog. I hate these dogs, the kinds that are always like yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, and they’re as big as your foot, and yet you can’t kick them. That would be wrong.

Well, the old lady down the street wants to take the little yappy dog because it bit her, and the woman deserved to be bitten. It’s the only time I look at the little yappy dog, and I’m like, “Good dog, good dog.” You’re plastic. What’s wrong? What’s up with that?

Anyway, so the lady wants to take, and so Dorothy, what does Dorothy do? She puts it in the little basket where I keep all my little yappy dogs, and she’s like I’ve got to run away to the circus. And so she runs into the circus trying to find somebody who will give her hope and change, but then the storm comes – oh, there’s a storm in this one too and it’s really bad? Let’s sing about it – somewhere over the rainbow.

Okay? In the end, we find out that the whole thing’s a total sham, okay? When she goes, because I think like she gets in a house, and then a house falls on her or the house falls on a witch or her sister. Here, the house falls on like two little feet. It’s like the ruby slippers, the ruby slippers, get the ruby slippers, and then she comes over and she’s like I’ve got to put the ruby slippers on.

Oh, I don’t know why I’m doing it, except it’ll be really agonizing to run down the stupid brick road with these ruby slippers. I mean, who wears heels in a place like this? Anyway, can’t we have some comfortable shoes.

So what happens? The witch comes – I’ll get you, my pretty. But just in time, this one comes, and you think wait a minute, she’s a witch? She can’t be a witch. She’s too beautiful. Yeah, this is what a witch is supposed to look like. And so what does she do? Remember, she takes Dorothy and her little dog – and your little dog too – and she goes into the castle, and she’s sitting there at one point with that big huge, you know the big huge globe, and she’s like puppies, puppies, puppies.

And she’s in the zzzzzzzz and even Toto’s zzzzzzzz – yeah, sleep, sleep. What’s she doing? She’s watching everything, right? She’s monitoring. She’s harassing. Ooh, she’s scary. Meanwhile, I just want to go home. I’m so sleepy. I forgot to tell you some of the people that she meets along the way, people that keep promising I’m going to help you, some of them are well-intentioned, but they’re all deeply flawed, even this one, the “good witch.” Really?

What is the good which doing to Dorothy? Oh Dorothy, all you have to do is wear the ruby slippers and then just go for a long, long, long, long walk. Somebody’s going to set you on fire. Dorothy just wants to go home. She can help her, but she wants her enemies defeated, and she knows she can do it. She can’t, but she can. Got it?

Go see the Wizard. Who’s the Wizard? He’s the answer? When you get there, you’re like this guy is a loser. He’s corrupt. He presents himself as a loving and kind man just wanting to help, but he’s a complete phony in the end who actually sends Dorothy out into danger. Why? Because he too wants to kill her.

All you have to do, come back! All you have to do is bring me the broomstick. What? Why don’t you do it? He doesn’t care about Dorothy. He’s being selfish and ruthless. The only difference between the two is eventually the Wizard admits it. In the end, the Wizard says I don’t really have any power. I’ve got a bunch of crap in a closet. That’s all I’ve got.

And he says I can’t take you home. Oh, that’s when she reveals in the end oh, you know what, you actually had the power the whole time. That’s when if I were Dorothy, I would have – but she doesn’t. She’s like really, what do I have to do? Oh, just bear down, focus for a minute, and will yourself there – there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home. And you and you and you were there. The end.

Now, why am I telling you the story of The Wizard of Oz? Well, let me take you through some of the characters again. Who’s Dorothy? Dorothy is us, the American people. Dorothy is the one who has a little problem, got a little yappy dog, but I love the yappy dog. I love her. But you’re not taking care of him. You’re not paying attention, something else as it’s biting people. Oh yeah, but I love it.

So what we do because somebody’s like hey, there are some things you have to do? What do you do? You run, you run away, and you run to somebody offering hope and change at a carnival. That’s not going to work out well. And then when we run home, it’s too late because the house is about to be sucked up with you in it, a little too late.

So once it gets too late, then you have somebody up here going ah, puppies, watching you the whole time. Who’s this? NSA, is that you? Government regulators, is that you? The IRS, ObamaCare, is that you? Ah, puppies, puppies, yes, it is.

Gee, if Dorothy would’ve paid attention a little earlier, maybe this one wouldn’t have had happened.

So what does she do? She gets advice from this one.

But why won’t this one actually take care of the problem? Why won’t this one just tell her hey, you know what, you could go home. I am a bad witch in the end because you could go home right now, but I’m going to send you on this really, really nasty, nasty adventure.

She could’ve done it, but she didn’t, because she wanted her enemies defeated. Gee, is there anybody that’s like that that could stop things but really doesn’t because he’s got some people he wants taken out? Bingo, Mitch McConnell. Now, who’s the Wizard? Well, we keep going to the Wizard right? Everybody says go to the Wizard because he has all of the answers. Boom, Karl Rove, is that you. Uh huh.

Now, along the way we meet a couple of other dopes, somebody who’s like I don’t know which way to go, I’m Lindsey Graham, I have no idea which way to go, the Scarecrow. Then, of course, you have the Tin Man, the old broken-down rusty machine, John McCain. And if you don’t think John McCain will take an axe to you if somebody oils him up, you can’t see John McCain going oh, oil my arms, oil my arms?

Yeah, he would, and then he’d cut you up into little pieces with his axe. And he’s an old rusted piece of crap from the last century left in the woods. Don’t oil him. Oil my arms – don’t do it.

And the Cowardly Lion, somebody who says I’m going to help you, yeah, I’m going to help you lots, and then soon as trouble starts up – John Boehner? – doesn’t do jack. I was afraid. I was afraid. Look, here’s the thing, puppies, this is real – puppies, puppies. May I suggest you get your little dog too and your little ruby slippers, okay?

I mean, I would like to wake up from this dream. I’d like to be able to say I had a crazy dream, and there was this guy who was the president and the NSA and the drones and then all that stuff. I’d like to be able to say and you were there and you and you and you. Sure, when we wake up, our world won’t be quite as colorful. It’ll be black and white and more of a sepia tone.

It won’t be as exciting, of course, but at least it will make sense. At least it’ll have everything in it that is meaningful. In the end, all of these things that you were looking for, all these people that you were saying oh gee, they’re going to have the answers, remember, they’re only circus people or hired hands. You have to dig deep and just say there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

What our response to Israel reveals about us

JOSEPH PREZIOSO / Contributor | Getty Images

I have been honored to receive the Defender of Israel Award from Prime Minister Netanyahu.

The Jerusalem Post recently named me one of the strongest Christian voices in support of Israel.

And yet, my support is not blind loyalty. It’s not a rubber stamp for any government or policy. I support Israel because I believe it is my duty — first as a Christian, but even if I weren’t a believer, I would still support her as a man of reason, morality, and common sense.

Because faith isn’t required to understand this: Israel’s existence is not just about one nation’s survival — it is about the survival of Western civilization itself.

It is a lone beacon of shared values in the Middle East. It is a bulwark standing against radical Islam — the same evil that seeks to dismantle our own nation from within.

And my support is not rooted in politics. It is rooted in something simpler and older than politics: a people’s moral and historical right to their homeland, and their right to live in peace.

Israel has that right — and the right to defend herself against those who openly, repeatedly vow her destruction.

Let’s make it personal: if someone told me again and again that they wanted to kill me and my entire family — and then acted on that threat — would I not defend myself? Wouldn’t you? If Hamas were Canada, and we were Israel, and they did to us what Hamas has done to them, there wouldn’t be a single building left standing north of our border. That’s not a question of morality.

That’s just the truth. All people — every people — have a God-given right to protect themselves. And Israel is doing exactly that.

My support for Israel’s right to finish the fight against Hamas comes after eighty years of rejected peace offers and failed two-state solutions. Hamas has never hidden its mission — the eradication of Israel. That’s not a political disagreement.

That’s not a land dispute. That is an annihilationist ideology. And while I do not believe this is America’s war to fight, I do believe — with every fiber of my being — that it is Israel’s right, and moral duty, to defend her people.

Criticism of military tactics is fair. That’s not antisemitism. But denying Israel’s right to exist, or excusing — even celebrating — the barbarity of Hamas? That’s something far darker.

We saw it on October 7th — the face of evil itself. Women and children slaughtered. Babies burned alive. Innocent people raped and dragged through the streets. And now, to see our own fellow citizens march in defense of that evil… that is nothing short of a moral collapse.

If the chants in our streets were, “Hamas, return the hostages — Israel, stop the bombing,” we could have a conversation.

But that’s not what we hear.

What we hear is open sympathy for genocidal hatred. And that is a chasm — not just from decency, but from humanity itself. And here lies the danger: that same hatred is taking root here — in Dearborn, in London, in Paris — not as horror, but as heroism. If we are not vigilant, the enemy Israel faces today will be the enemy the free world faces tomorrow.

This isn’t about politics. It’s about truth. It’s about the courage to call evil by its name and to say “Never again” — and mean it.

And you don’t have to open a Bible to understand this. But if you do — if you are a believer — then this issue cuts even deeper. Because the question becomes: what did God promise, and does He keep His word?

He told Abraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” He promised to make Abraham the father of many nations and to give him “the whole land of Canaan.” And though Abraham had other sons, God reaffirmed that promise through Isaac. And then again through Isaac’s son, Jacob — Israel — saying: “The land I gave to Abraham and Isaac I give to you and to your descendants after you.”

That’s an everlasting promise.

And from those descendants came a child — born in Bethlehem — who claimed to be the Savior of the world. Jesus never rejected His title as “son of David,” the great King of Israel.

He said plainly that He came “for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” And when He returns, Scripture says He will return as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” And where do you think He will go? Back to His homeland — Israel.

Tamir Kalifa / Stringer | Getty Images

And what will He find when He gets there? His brothers — or his brothers’ enemies? Will the roads where He once walked be preserved? Or will they lie in rubble, as Gaza does today? If what He finds looks like the aftermath of October 7th, then tell me — what will be my defense as a Christian?

Some Christians argue that God’s promises to Israel have been transferred exclusively to the Church. I don’t believe that. But even if you do, then ask yourself this: if we’ve inherited the promises, do we not also inherit the land? Can we claim the birthright and then, like Esau, treat it as worthless when the world tries to steal it?

So, when terrorists come to slaughter Israelis simply for living in the land promised to Abraham, will we stand by? Or will we step forward — into the line of fire — and say,

“Take me instead”?

Because this is not just about Israel’s right to exist.

It’s about whether we still know the difference between good and evil.

It’s about whether we still have the courage to stand where God stands.

And if we cannot — if we will not — then maybe the question isn’t whether Israel will survive. Maybe the question is whether we will.

America’s moral erosion: How we were conditioned to accept the unthinkable

MATHIEU LEWIS-ROLLAND / Contributor | Getty Images

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Chicago, Portland, and other American cities are showing us what happens when the rule of law breaks down. These cities have become openly lawless — and that’s not hyperbole.

When a governor declares she doesn’t believe federal agents about a credible threat to their lives, when Chicago orders its police not to assist federal officers, and when cartels print wanted posters offering bounties for the deaths of U.S. immigration agents, you’re looking at a country flirting with anarchy.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

This isn’t a matter of partisan politics. The struggle we’re watching now is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between good and evil, right and wrong, self‑government and chaos.

Moral erosion

For generations, Americans have inherited a republic based on law, liberty, and moral responsibility. That legacy is now under assault by extremists who openly seek to collapse the system and replace it with something darker.

Antifa, well‑financed by the left, isn’t an isolated fringe any more than Occupy Wall Street was. As with Occupy, big money and global interests are quietly aligned with “anti‑establishment” radicals. The goal is disruption, not reform.

And they’ve learned how to condition us. Twenty‑five years ago, few Americans would have supported drag shows in elementary schools, biological males in women’s sports, forced vaccinations, or government partnerships with mega‑corporations to decide which businesses live or die. Few would have tolerated cartels threatening federal agents or tolerated mobs doxxing political opponents. Yet today, many shrug — or cheer.

How did we get here? What evidence convinced so many people to reverse themselves on fundamental questions of morality, liberty, and law? Those long laboring to disrupt our republic have sought to condition people to believe that the ends justify the means.

Promoting “tolerance” justifies women losing to biological men in sports. “Compassion” justifies harboring illegal immigrants, even violent criminals. Whatever deluded ideals Antifa espouses is supposed to somehow justify targeting federal agents and overturning the rule of law. Our culture has been conditioned for this moment.

The buck stops with us

That’s why the debate over using troops to restore order in American cities matters so much. I’ve never supported soldiers executing civilian law, and I still don’t. But we need to speak honestly about what the Constitution allows and why. The Posse Comitatus Act sharply limits the use of the military for domestic policing. The Insurrection Act, however, exists for rare emergencies — when federal law truly can’t be enforced by ordinary means and when mobs, cartels, or coordinated violence block the courts.

Even then, the Constitution demands limits: a public proclamation ordering offenders to disperse, transparency about the mission, a narrow scope, temporary duration, and judicial oversight.

Soldiers fight wars. Cops enforce laws. We blur that line at our peril.

But we also cannot allow intimidation of federal officers or tolerate local officials who openly obstruct federal enforcement. Both extremes — lawlessness on one side and militarization on the other — endanger the republic.

The only way out is the Constitution itself. Protect civil liberty. Enforce the rule of law. Demand transparency. Reject the temptation to justify any tactic because “our side” is winning. We’ve already seen how fear after 9/11 led to the Patriot Act and years of surveillance.

KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic. The left cannot be allowed to shut down enforcement, and the right cannot be allowed to abandon constitutional restraint.

The real threat to the republic isn’t just the mobs or the cartels. It’s us — citizens who stop caring about truth and constitutional limits. Anything can be justified when fear takes over. Everything collapses when enough people decide “the ends justify the means.”

We must choose differently. Uphold the rule of law. Guard civil liberties. And remember that the only way to preserve a government of, by, and for the people is to act like the people still want it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Stand with Voddie Baucham’s family in this time of loss

In the quiet aftermath of a profound loss, the Christian community mourns the unexpected passing of Dr. Voddie Baucham, a towering figure in evangelical circles. Known for his defense of biblical truth, Baucham, a pastor, author, and theologian, left a legacy on family, faith, and opposing "woke" ideologies in the church. His book Fault Lines challenged believers to prioritize Scripture over cultural trends. Glenn had Voddie on the show several times, where they discussed progressive influences in Christianity, debunked myths of “Christian nationalism,” and urged hope amid hostility.

The shock of Baucham's death has deeply affected his family. Grieving, they remain hopeful in Christ, with his wife, Bridget, now facing the task of resettling in the US without him. Their planned move from Lusaka, Zambia, was disrupted when their home sale fell through last December, resulting in temporary Airbnb accommodations, but they have since secured a new home in Cape Coral that requires renovations. To ensure Voddie's family is taken care of, a fundraiser is being held to raise $2 million, which will be invested for ongoing support, allowing Bridget to focus on her family.

We invite readers to contribute prayerfully. If you feel called to support the Bauchams in this time of need, you can click here to donate.

We grieve and pray with hope for the Bauchams.

May Voddie's example inspire us.

From isolation to connection: Overcoming loneliness

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

Loneliness has become an epidemic in America. Millions of people, even when surrounded by others, feel invisible. In tragic irony, we live in an age of unparalleled connectivity, yet too many sit in silence, unseen and unheard.

I’ve been experiencing this firsthand. My children have grown up and moved out. The house that once overflowed with life now echoes with quiet. Moments that once held laughter now hold silence. And in that silence, the mind can play cruel games. It whispers, “You’re forgotten. Your story doesn’t matter.”

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

It’s a lie.

I’ve seen it in others. I remember sitting at Rockefeller Center one winter, watching a woman lace up her ice skates. Her clothing was worn, her bag battered. Yet on the ice, she transformed — elegant, alive, radiant.

Minutes later, she returned to her shoes, merged into the crowd, unnoticed. I’ve thought of her often. She was not alone in her experience. Millions of Americans live unseen, performing acts of quiet heroism every day.

Shared pain makes us human

Loneliness convinces us to retreat, to stay silent, to stop reaching out to others. But connection is essential. Even small gestures — a word of encouragement, a listening ear, a shared meal — are radical acts against isolation.

I’ve learned this personally. Years ago, a caller called me “Mr. Perfect.” I could have deflected, but I chose honesty. I spoke of my alcoholism, my failed marriage, my brokenness. I expected judgment. Instead, I found resonance. People whispered back, “I’m going through the same thing. Thank you for saying it.”

Our pain is universal. Everyone struggles with self-doubt and fear. Everyone feels, at times, like a fraud. We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

We were made for connection. We were built for community — for conversation, for touch, for shared purpose. Every time we reach out, every act of courage and compassion punches a hole in the wall of isolation.

You’re not alone

If you’re feeling alone, know this: You are not invisible. You are seen. You matter. And if you’re not struggling, someone you know is. It’s your responsibility to reach out.

Loneliness is not proof of brokenness. It is proof of humanity. It is a call to engage, to bear witness, to connect. The world is different because of the people who choose to act. It is brighter when we refuse to be isolated.

We cannot let silence win. We cannot allow loneliness to dictate our lives. Speak. Reach out. Connect. Share your gifts. By doing so, we remind one another: We are all alike, and yet each of us matters profoundly.

In this moment, in this country, in this world, what we do matters. Loneliness is real, but so is hope. And hope begins with connection.