The horrors of Planned Parenthood with Abby Johnson

Former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson joined Glenn on radio Tuesday to relate some of the horrors she experienced while working for the now highly scrutinized organization.

At first, she said she became numb to everything she was doing, but then something happened that woke her up and changed her life.

Listen or read the transcript below.

Below is a rush transcript of this segment, it might contain errors.

GLENN: Now, I read a story about a woman named Abby Johnson. This is a remarkable, remarkable woman. She is a woman who went to work for Planned Parenthood, and she was named the employee of the year in 2008. She left in 2009 because of the things that she saw from the first day and then she grew numb to it and then she had an awakening. She joins us now. Welcome to the program, Abby Johnson.

ABBY: Thank you so much for having me on.

GLENN: I'm thrilled to meet you. I've read your story and I've read what you have said and what you have seen. And I find it remarkable. Could you just take us through some of the things -- I'd like you talk about the refrigerator and the -- and the security codes and everything else that just show how dark and demonic this is.

ABBY: Sure. Well, I worked at Planned Parenthood for eight years. I was their clinic director in Bryan/College Station, Texas. And, you know, I got -- I got into Planned Parenthood because I was basically told the talking points. I was told that they were there to help women, that we were there to help, you know, poor women get health care, and that abortion was just a really small part of what we did.

And, you know, honestly, it was what I didn't know about Planned Parenthood, that's what really got me into trouble. You know, I was raised pro-life. But, you know, we weren't activists of any sort. We didn't sit around the dinner table and talk about Planned Parenthood or what they did or anything like that.

And so once I started working there, I mean, that was really when the numbing began. You know, I remember being told after, you know, working there for a while that our alarm code was 2229 because that spelled "baby." And everybody in the office thought that was just so funny and so ironic.

And I remember in August of 2009, the year I left, we had a meeting -- a budget meeting with my -- with my supervisor, and I remember looking at the budget and thinking, "You know, something has to be wrong," because they were beginning to impose an abortion clinic quota, a certain number of abortions that we had to perform in order to meet our budget and in order to receive financial incentives, in order to receive bonuses. And that number had doubled from 2009 to 2010.

And that didn't make sense to me because, you know, I believed -- I told the media, I told my family, I told my friends that our goal at Planned Parenthood was to reduce the number of abortions. So, you know, if that were true, why in the world were we doubling our abortion clinic quota? And I remember saying something to my boss about it, and she just started laughing. And she said, "Well, we wouldn't want to reduce the number of abortions, Abby. This is how we make our money."

And, you know, at the time I didn't know if it was that the organization was changing or if it was that I was just finally high enough up in management now that I was seeing what the organization had been about all along. And that was profit, that was money.

And then ultimately, in September of 2009, I witnessed a live ultrasound-guided abortion procedure. And that's different than how we usually performed abortions inside of Planned Parenthood.

Planned Parenthood Federation of America, their standard is that abortions are performed in a blind manner. And so the abortionist will take a suction instrument and will just blindly poke around inside the woman's uterus until he thinks he has enough blood and tissue in a glass jar. That glass jar goes through a pass-through in the wall to a lab called the POC lab. Now, POC stands for "products of conception." That's obviously the baby, but you can't say "baby" inside of an abortion clinic. so we said "POC" or "pock," or if the staff was feeling funny, we said that it stood for "pieces of children."

And someone inside of the lab, called the POC technician, would reassemble the parts of the baby to ensure that everything was accounted for, to make sure that we didn't leave a head or a hand or a leg inside the woman's uterus. And then it would either go to a research company that was paying for us the baby's body parts. Or it would go into a -- into a freezer that we called the "nursery." And there it would wait until a group like Stericycle, a medical waste company would come and pick it up.

And that was just the way that I knew abortions to be performed day in and day out. There's about 3500 abortions performed every day in the United States. And so this doctor though that came from out of town, he was explaining that in his facility, he actually uses an ultrasound because, surprisingly enough, it's safer if a doctor can see what he's doing while he's performing surgery on a woman.

And my job during the abortion was to hold the ultrasound probe on the woman's abdomen. We did the dating, and we found that the baby was 13 weeks gestation. And I could see on the screen that it looked like a baby. It had all the parts of a baby. And I watched really just in horror as the baby began to recoil and move away from the abortion instruments. And the baby was fighting and struggling for its life.

And the doctor asked the technician to turn on the suction machine. And he said, "Beam me up, Scottie." And the machine was turned on. And, you know, I remember watching just part of this baby being suctioned into that -- that cannula, that suction tube.

And the very last thing I saw on the screen -- you know, x-ray on ultrasound, anything that's hard, anything that's dense tissue like a bone shows up as white, bright white, on the screen. And the last thing I saw was this little tiny backbone floating around in the woman's uterus, and finally I thought, "Go into the suction tube."

And, you know, I left the room that day just feeling sick, just feeling the numbness removed from my body. And I suddenly realized that this was a child in the womb. That there was humanity there. If there was humanity, that meant there was a human being. And if there was a human being, that meant that that child had human rights and should be given the rights of any -- any of us human beings.

And I knew that if there were human rights, then that child had infinite dignity and infinite worth and that I had to start standing up against abortion, against Planned Parenthood, against other abortion providers that were manipulating and coercing women into having abortion procedures. And so that's essentially what I do now.

GLENN: Abby, for you to do this, first of all, you're an amazing woman of courage. Because for you to do this, it requires you to damn yourself for the things that you were a part of, the things that you turned a blind eye to, and then you've had two abortions yourself.

ABBY: Uh-huh. Yeah, I have.

I -- you know, one of the -- you know, it's really crass to say. But one of the perks of working inside the abortion industry is that you can get free abortions if you find yourself pregnant. And I've had two abortions myself. One surgical abortion and 1RU46 abortion. And actually then got married and got pregnant with my daughter Grace.

And I remember being in the clinic and it was -- it was like a joke with my coworkers. You know, "Oh, Abby is pregnant." You know, I had nausea, typical morning sickness when I was pregnant with Grace. And, you know, every day, you know, if I would get sick at work, they would say, "Oh, you know, we can take care of that." And, you know, just sort of the callousness, you know, about the unborn, and even babies that are wanted. I mean, my baby was wanted. But it was just a big, sick joke in the clinic, you know. And I remember thinking -- when I got past 24 weeks, I thought, "Oh, I'm so glad I'm past 24 weeks because now it's too late for me to have an abortion, and now they'll stop making jokes about it."

GLENN: Did they?

ABBY: They did, for the most part. I mean, at that time, you know -- I mean, there's still -- you know, Dr. Warren Hern, in Boulder, Colorado, he will abort babies up until the date of birth. So, you know, every once in a while they would make a comment like, you know, "Oh, well, you know, it's not too late for Dr. Hern." But, you know, generally the comments sort of died down. And then eventually they had a baby shower for me inside the clinic after a busy abortion day.

GLENN: Unbelievable.

ABBY: So just the irony. It's completely lost on them inside the industry.

GLENN: What made -- just -- I read this line over and over and over again, and I couldn't believe that they call the freezer where they keep the body parts the "nursery." And how women could be this callous and this dark about something is remarkable, is truly remarkable.

Abby, you can find her story and you can find out how you can help her. Because she travels the world now speaking out about this. And she is a very clear voice on it. She runs AbbyJohnson.org. AbbyJohnson.org. But I would invite you to find out how you can help her. How can we help you, Abby? What can we do?

ABBY: Well, I mean -- about three years ago, I started an organization called And Then There Were None. And it is a ministry that reaches out to abortion clinic workers, those who are still in the industry. And, you know, we were -- I mean, we started looking around. I mean I thought, surely, you know, in 40 years of fighting Roe v. Wade, there is an organization out there nationally that is seeking to help abortion clinic workers leave. But there was nothing. There was none. And I knew there had to be workers like me that were in the industry that wanted to leave, but needed help. Needed assurance that somebody was going to help them find a job. That somebody --

GLENN: And is all of that information on your website?

ABBY: Yeah, and people can go to abortionworker.com. And in the past three years, we've had 181 abortion clinic workers leave the industry. And that includes sick abortionists who have permanently put down their instruments and now fight for life.

GLENN: Holy cow.

PAT: That is great. Wow.

GLENN: Abby, I would love to have you in the studio with us and spend an hour with you because I think you're fascinating and I think you're doing God's work, clearly. Find out more information at AbbyJohnson.org. Or is it abortion workers --

ABBY: Worker.com.

GLENN: Great. Thank you very much. Abby Johnson.

The truth behind ‘defense’: How America was rebranded for war

PAUL J. RICHARDS / Staff | Getty Images

Donald Trump emphasizes peace through strength, reminding the world that the United States is willing to fight to win. That’s beyond ‘defense.’

President Donald Trump made headlines this week by signaling a rebrand of the Defense Department — restoring its original name, the Department of War.

At first, I was skeptical. “Defense” suggests restraint, a principle I consider vital to U.S. foreign policy. “War” suggests aggression. But for the first 158 years of the republic, that was the honest name: the Department of War.

A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

The founders never intended a permanent standing army. When conflict came — the Revolution, the War of 1812, the trenches of France, the beaches of Normandy — the nation called men to arms, fought, and then sent them home. Each campaign was temporary, targeted, and necessary.

From ‘war’ to ‘military-industrial complex’

Everything changed in 1947. President Harry Truman — facing the new reality of nuclear weapons, global tension, and two world wars within 20 years — established a full-time military and rebranded the Department of War as the Department of Defense. Americans resisted; we had never wanted a permanent army. But Truman convinced the country it was necessary.

Was the name change an early form of political correctness? A way to soften America’s image as a global aggressor? Or was it simply practical? Regardless, the move created a permanent, professional military. But it also set the stage for something Truman’s successor, President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower, famously warned about: the military-industrial complex.

Ike, the five-star general who commanded Allied forces in World War II and stormed Normandy, delivered a harrowing warning during his farewell address: The military-industrial complex would grow powerful. Left unchecked, it could influence policy and push the nation toward unnecessary wars.

And that’s exactly what happened. The Department of Defense, with its full-time and permanent army, began spending like there was no tomorrow. Weapons were developed, deployed, and sometimes used simply to justify their existence.

Peace through strength

When Donald Trump said this week, “I don’t want to be defense only. We want defense, but we want offense too,” some people freaked out. They called him a warmonger. He isn’t. Trump is channeling a principle older than him: peace through strength. Ronald Reagan preached it; Trump is taking it a step further.

Just this week, Trump also suggested limiting nuclear missiles — hardly the considerations of a warmonger — echoing Reagan, who wanted to remove missiles from silos while keeping them deployable on planes.

The seemingly contradictory move of Trump calling for a Department of War sends a clear message: He wants Americans to recognize that our military exists not just for defense, but to project power when necessary.

Trump has pointed to something critically important: The best way to prevent war is to have a leader who knows exactly who he is and what he will do. Trump signals strength, deterrence, and resolve. You want to negotiate? Great. You don’t? Then we’ll finish the fight decisively.

That’s why the world listens to us. That’s why nations come to the table — not because Trump is reckless, but because he means what he says and says what he means. Peace under weakness invites aggression. Peace under strength commands respect.

Trump is the most anti-war president we’ve had since Jimmy Carter. But unlike Carter, Trump isn’t weak. Carter’s indecision emboldened enemies and made the world less safe. Trump’s strength makes the country stronger. He believes in peace as much as any president. But he knows peace requires readiness for war.

Names matter

When we think of “defense,” we imagine cybersecurity, spy programs, and missile shields. But when we think of “war,” we recall its harsh reality: death, destruction, and national survival. Trump is reminding us what the Department of Defense is really for: war. Not nation-building, not diplomacy disguised as military action, not endless training missions. War — full stop.

Chip Somodevilla / Staff | Getty Images

Names matter. Words matter. They shape identity and character. A Department of Defense implies passivity, a posture of reaction. A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

So yes, I’ve changed my mind. I’m for the rebranding to the Department of War. It shows strength to the world. It reminds Americans, internally and externally, of the reality we face. The Department of Defense can no longer be a euphemism. Our military exists for war — not without deterrence, but not without strength either. And we need to stop deluding ourselves.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Censorship, spying, lies—The Deep State’s web finally unmasked

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From surveillance abuse to censorship, the deep state used state power and private institutions to suppress dissent and influence two US elections.

The term “deep state” has long been dismissed as the province of cranks and conspiracists. But the recent declassification of two critical documents — the Durham annex, released by Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa), and a report publicized by Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard — has rendered further denial untenable.

These documents lay bare the structure and function of a bureaucratic, semi-autonomous network of agencies, contractors, nonprofits, and media entities that together constitute a parallel government operating alongside — and at times in opposition to — the duly elected one.

The ‘deep state’ is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment.

The disclosures do not merely recount past abuses; they offer a schematic of how modern influence operations are conceived, coordinated, and deployed across domestic and international domains.

What they reveal is not a rogue element operating in secret, but a systematized apparatus capable of shaping elections, suppressing dissent, and laundering narratives through a transnational network of intelligence, academia, media, and philanthropic institutions.

Narrative engineering from the top

According to Gabbard’s report, a pivotal moment occurred on December 9, 2016, when the Obama White House convened its national security leadership in the Situation Room. Attendees included CIA Director John Brennan, Director of National Intelligence James Clapper, National Security Agency Director Michael Rogers, FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe, Attorney General Loretta Lynch, Secretary of State John Kerry, and others.

During this meeting, the consensus view up to that point — that Russia had not manipulated the election outcome — was subordinated to new instructions.

The record states plainly: The intelligence community was directed to prepare an assessment “per the President’s request” that would frame Russia as the aggressor and then-presidential candidate Donald Trump as its preferred candidate. Notably absent was any claim that new intelligence had emerged. The motivation was political, not evidentiary.

This maneuver became the foundation for the now-discredited 2017 intelligence community assessment on Russian election interference. From that point on, U.S. intelligence agencies became not neutral evaluators of fact but active participants in constructing a public narrative designed to delegitimize the incoming administration.

Institutional and media coordination

The ODNI report and the Durham annex jointly describe a feedback loop in which intelligence is laundered through think tanks and nongovernmental organizations, then cited by media outlets as “independent verification.” At the center of this loop are agencies like the CIA, FBI, and ODNI; law firms such as Perkins Coie; and NGOs such as the Open Society Foundations.

According to the Durham annex, think tanks including the Atlantic Council, the Carnegie Endowment, and the Center for a New American Security were allegedly informed of Clinton’s 2016 plan to link Trump to Russia. These institutions, operating under the veneer of academic independence, helped diffuse the narrative into public discourse.

Media coordination was not incidental. On the very day of the aforementioned White House meeting, the Washington Post published a front-page article headlined “Obama Orders Review of Russian Hacking During Presidential Campaign” — a story that mirrored the internal shift in official narrative. The article marked the beginning of a coordinated media campaign that would amplify the Trump-Russia collusion narrative throughout the transition period.

Surveillance and suppression

Surveillance, once limited to foreign intelligence operations, was turned inward through the abuse of FISA warrants. The Steele dossier — funded by the Clinton campaign via Perkins Coie and Fusion GPS — served as the basis for wiretaps on Trump affiliates, despite being unverified and partially discredited. The FBI even altered emails to facilitate the warrants.

ROBYN BECK / Contributor | Getty Images

This capacity for internal subversion reappeared in 2020, when 51 former intelligence officials signed a letter labeling the Hunter Biden laptop story as “Russian disinformation.” According to polling, 79% of Americans believed truthful coverage of the laptop could have altered the election. The suppression of that story — now confirmed as authentic — was election interference, pure and simple.

A machine, not a ‘conspiracy theory’

The deep state is a self-reinforcing institutional machine — a decentralized, global bureaucracy whose members share ideological alignment and strategic goals.

Each node — law firms, think tanks, newsrooms, federal agencies — operates with plausible deniability. But taken together, they form a matrix of influence capable of undermining electoral legitimacy and redirecting national policy without democratic input.

The ODNI report and the Durham annex mark the first crack in the firewall shielding this machine. They expose more than a political scandal buried in the past. They lay bare a living system of elite coordination — one that demands exposure, confrontation, and ultimately dismantling.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Trump's proposal explained: Ukraine's path to peace without NATO expansion

ANDREW CABALLERO-REYNOLDS / Contributor | Getty Images

Strategic compromise, not absolute victory, often ensures lasting stability.

When has any country been asked to give up land it won in a war? Even if a nation is at fault, the punishment must be measured.

After World War I, Germany, the main aggressor, faced harsh penalties under the Treaty of Versailles. Germans resented the restrictions, and that resentment fueled the rise of Adolf Hitler, ultimately leading to World War II. History teaches that justice for transgressions must avoid creating conditions for future conflict.

Ukraine and Russia must choose to either continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

Russia and Ukraine now stand at a similar crossroads. They can cling to disputed land and prolong a devastating war, or they can make concessions that might secure a lasting peace. The stakes could not be higher: Tens of thousands die each month, and the choice between endless bloodshed and negotiated stability hinges on each side’s willingness to yield.

History offers a guide. In 1967, Israel faced annihilation. Surrounded by hostile armies, the nation fought back and seized large swaths of territory from Jordan, Egypt, and Syria. Yet Israel did not seek an empire. It held only the buffer zones needed for survival and returned most of the land. Security and peace, not conquest, drove its decisions.

Peace requires concessions

Secretary of State Marco Rubio says both Russia and Ukraine will need to “get something” from a peace deal. He’s right. Israel proved that survival outweighs pride. By giving up land in exchange for recognition and an end to hostilities, it stopped the cycle of war. Egypt and Israel have not fought in more than 50 years.

Russia and Ukraine now press opposing security demands. Moscow wants a buffer to block NATO. Kyiv, scarred by invasion, seeks NATO membership — a pledge that any attack would trigger collective defense by the United States and Europe.

President Donald Trump and his allies have floated a middle path: an Article 5-style guarantee without full NATO membership. Article 5, the core of NATO’s charter, declares that an attack on one is an attack on all. For Ukraine, such a pledge would act as a powerful deterrent. For Russia, it might be more palatable than NATO expansion to its border

Andrew Harnik / Staff | Getty Images

Peace requires concessions. The human cost is staggering: U.S. estimates indicate 20,000 Russian soldiers died in a single month — nearly half the total U.S. casualties in Vietnam — and the toll on Ukrainians is also severe. To stop this bloodshed, both sides need to recognize reality on the ground, make difficult choices, and anchor negotiations in security and peace rather than pride.

Peace or bloodshed?

Both Russia and Ukraine claim deep historical grievances. Ukraine arguably has a stronger claim of injustice. But the question is not whose parchment is older or whose deed is more valid. The question is whether either side is willing to trade some land for the lives of thousands of innocent people. True security, not historical vindication, must guide the path forward.

History shows that punitive measures or rigid insistence on territorial claims can perpetuate cycles of war. Germany’s punishment after World War I contributed directly to World War II. By contrast, Israel’s willingness to cede land for security and recognition created enduring peace. Ukraine and Russia now face the same choice: Continue the cycle of bloodshed or make difficult compromises in pursuit of survival and stability.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The loneliness epidemic: Are machines replacing human connection?

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Seniors, children, and the isolated increasingly rely on machines for conversation, risking real relationships and the emotional depth that only humans provide.

Jill Smola is 75 years old. She’s a retiree from Orlando, Florida, and she spent her life caring for the elderly. She played games, assembled puzzles, and offered company to those who otherwise would have sat alone.

Now, she sits alone herself. Her husband has died. She has a lung condition. She can’t drive. She can’t leave her home. Weeks can pass without human interaction.

Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

But CBS News reports that she has a new companion. And she likes this companion more than her own daughter.

The companion? Artificial intelligence.

She spends five hours a day talking to her AI friend. They play games, do trivia, and just talk. She says she even prefers it to real people.

My first thought was simple: Stop this. We are losing our humanity.

But as I sat with the story, I realized something uncomfortable. Maybe we’ve already lost some of our humanity — not to AI, but to ourselves.

Outsourcing presence

How often do we know the right thing to do yet fail to act? We know we should visit the lonely. We know we should sit with someone in pain. We know what Jesus would do: Notice the forgotten, touch the untouchable, offer time and attention without outsourcing compassion.

Yet how often do we just … talk about it? On the radio, online, in lectures, in posts. We pontificate, and then we retreat.

I asked myself: What am I actually doing to close the distance between knowing and doing?

Human connection is messy. It’s inconvenient. It takes patience, humility, and endurance. AI doesn’t challenge you. It doesn’t interrupt your day. It doesn’t ask anything of you. Real people do. Real people make us confront our pride, our discomfort, our loneliness.

We’ve built an economy of convenience. We can have groceries delivered, movies streamed, answers instantly. But friendships — real relationships — are slow, inefficient, unpredictable. They happen in the blank spaces of life that we’ve been trained to ignore.

And now we’re replacing that inefficiency with machines.

AI provides comfort without challenge. It eliminates the risk of real intimacy. It’s an elegant coping mechanism for loneliness, but a poor substitute for life. If we’re not careful, the lonely won’t just be alone — they’ll be alone with an anesthetic, a shadow that never asks for anything, never interrupts, never makes them grow.

Reclaiming our humanity

We need to reclaim our humanity. Presence matters. Not theory. Not outrage. Action.

It starts small. Pull up a chair for someone who eats alone. Call a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in months. Visit a nursing home once a month — then once a week. Ask their names, hear their stories. Teach your children how to be present, to sit with someone in grief, without rushing to fix it.

Turn phones off at dinner. Make Sunday afternoons human time. Listen. Ask questions. Don’t post about it afterward. Make the act itself sacred.

Humility is central. We prefer machines because we can control them. Real people are inconvenient. They interrupt our narratives. They demand patience, forgiveness, and endurance. They make us confront ourselves.

A friend will challenge your self-image. A chatbot won’t.

Our homes are quieter. Our streets are emptier. Loneliness is an epidemic. And AI will not fix it. It will only dull the edges and make a diminished life tolerable.

Before we worry about how AI will reshape humanity, we must first practice humanity. It can start with 15 minutes a day of undivided attention, presence, and listening.

Change usually comes when pain finally wins. Let’s not wait for that. Let’s start now. Because real connection restores faster than any machine ever will.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.