Glenn regularly takes his daughters on daddy daughter dates, and this week he had the opportunity to see Madame Butterfly at the Winspear Opera House in Dallas.
Friday, Glenn treated his audience to a not-to-be missed retelling of the classic story.
Listen to this segment, beginning near mark 8:00, from 'The Glenn Beck Program':
PAT: Are you going to another opera in the meantime over the weekend? You going to hit the opera scene?
GLENN: Just because I do a father-daughter date and I do the things that my daughter wants to do, I don't know why you have to mock me for that.
PAT: It's pathetic.
STU: We seen you -- you're woke Glenn Beck, right? So this is you opening up to new cultures.
GLENN: No, I've gone to operas since my daughter started getting into this.
STU: Oh yeah, the whole thing is bullcrap.
GLENN: Okay, so let me tell you, this is the third installment, the third time I've gone to the opera with my daughter.
PAT: The last time I heard about this, I think it's The Nose in New York.
GLENN: Lincoln -- Kennedy Center?
PAT: And all they did was sing about a nose the whole time.
GLENN: No, a nose with feet that came out of the nostrils. It was really great. I am convinced that that is somebody who was high with his friend and went, you want to screw with the people that all think, oh, oh, I understand what this is all about? We're going to write the dumbest, craziest, and we're just going to say this is what it's about, and you watch. They'll all jump on.
Because I watched that thing and we want, come on, people! And the people were like, oh, isn't this brilliant? It's a nose with nostrils coming out so it can stand up and walk around and singing about communism. No, it's not wonderful.
STU: And it was feet coming out of the nostrils.
GLENN: Yeah. That's how it walked. So anyway. That was the last one. Before that I saw the Wagner Ring Cycle. I don't know which one. But it's the famous one, I guess, with the tree and the sword. That's all I remember from it. It's like, where is my sword! Five hours of where is my sword. It's right there! See the tree? (Laughter.) It's the only other thing on stage that isn't the tree! Laugh. Oh, my gosh.
JEFFY: That was at the met.
PAT: He was apparently very, very near sighted.
GLENN: Oh, my gosh. Where is my sword? Shut up. I almost ran up onstage. Here. Here it is! (Laughter.) So Madame Butterfly comes to town here in Dallas. And my daughter --
PAT: Is this a traveling Broadway thing? Don't know?
GLENN: I don't know. Let me preface it with you're not going to want to go after I describe what I've seen. But if opera was like this, I would go more often. It was really amazing. It was really amazing. The people that were singing were just -- this woman, I guess, is the person that you want to see as Madame Butterfly. I didn't even know what the story was about. I read it in Wikipedia on the way.
(Laughter.)
And it was really amazing. But may I just say this: If your story is about a 15-year-old beautiful, delicate, flower, a girl who is virginal, young, soft, beautiful, delicate, little, frail, youth, glowing, and so she comes out in the first act. The first guy comes out, he's supposed to be an American, and he's a big, hairy, Italian opera singer, singing in Italian, and he's the American, and he comes out and he talks about, (singing) oh, my beautiful flower, she's coming, she's coming, I can't wait to see her I'm going to marry her, she's not going to, it's a fake, no, don't marry her, like, that she's a beautiful flower, so delicate, don't crush her petals, no, no, no I'm going to marry her because I love here even though I'm going back to America-- (singing deep tones).
So I'm waiting for this beautiful, delicate flower, and it's a 40-year-old opera singer.
(Laughter.)
And she comes onstage and she's like, (singing) I'm a little flower. And I'm like, no, honey, you're not! No!
PAT: Isn't she somewhat rotund as well? Corpulent?
GLENN: I would describe her as an opera singer. Stick some horns on her and you've got the standard opera singer. So she's bigger than the American guy. Okay. And she's like, (singing) oh, I'm so young and small and fragile. No, honey, no you're not. So then she's -- she's singing to the guy who's going to marry her, and then her uncle comes, and she's got these Japanese family, these relatives, who are strangely all white people, and they all come on, and they're all singing, (singing) we're the family at the wedding. We just love the wedding. And then the uncle comes, and the music changes, and it's dark.
STU: Are they really explaining this, by the way?
GLENN: No, it's almost -- it's almost that. Yes.
STU: Okay. Sorry.
GLENN: So you don't have a problem -- it's not deep. What I've found is the lyrics are not deep.
STU: They're just saying the thing that's happening.
GLENN: Sometimes. A lot of times. Most of the time. It's not real subtle, you know. And now it may be the translation, because you're watching the translation up above the stage.
STU: You're not even watching the show.
GLENN: Yeah, you're watching, and okay, that's what she's saying. Well, you didn't translate that. What the hell is that? What did she just said?
PAT: Do they normally have the English translation?
GLENN: Some do and some don't. Opera is really weird. There's no microphones.
PAT: I thought you just had to know it or not.
GLENN: No. Some don't.
PAT: Huh.
GLENN: And they get really snotty, and they're like, if you don't know it --
PAT: But we in Dallas. We want to know.
GLENN: New York was like that.
PAT: They would to know the words.
GLENN: New York was like that too. I went to the symphony in -- with my other daughter on our father-daughter date Saturday. I almost broke my neck getting up so fast. I couldn't believe it. I come from radio, it's the pops and the orchestra and the guy comes out and shaking the hands of everybody, and standing up and he just walks up, and all of a sudden as he walks up to the platform, everybody jumps to their feet, and he points, and there's a snare drum roll. And I'm like, what the hell, and they start playing the national anthem. I couldn't get up fast enough. Everybody was standing up. I thought, wow, welcome to Texas.
JEFFY: No kidding.
GLENN: They do not do that in New York. National anthem? What? Anyway, so then --
PAT: Xenophobic.
GLENN: Then the uncle comes on, and the uncle is mad because she gave up her religion to marry him and become a Christian, and so he's mad. And all I can think of is, he's also in an enormous black man.
(Laughter.)
JEFFY: The uncle.
GLENN: The uncle. You have the beautiful flower who is not Japanese, she's Chinese; not 15, she's 40. She's thought delicate. She's sturdy.
STU: Casting maybe.
GLENN: I'm thinking, casting is not a problem in -- in opera. I think you're supposed to --
STU: It's just voice quality?
GLENN: I guess. I don't know. It's the only place when you -- I mean, what, it's all -- that's all it is. It's about the music. I really want to know the history of opera. Did it just start out -- because the acting is horrendous in almost every opera I've ever seen.
STU: Because it's not about that. Right? It's about --
JEFFY: A musical, right? On Broadway. A Broadway play.
GLENN: Could it be, and I apologize to everyone who's a musicologist and knows anything about opera.
STU: The three people that are out there.
GLENN: I thought it may have started -- the guy wrote the music, and it's like, this is great, let's get together Saturday and invite friends and blah-blah-blah, and they did that for a couple of weeks and somebody said, you know, it would be cool if we dressed up like the people. And they're like, you got to make costumes. Okay. We'll dress up. Kind of like, you know, a Star Trek convention where people are dressing up. They're like, I'll dress up as the character, and eventually they're like, you know what? I should pick up a knife or a fake knife and pretend it's that. Okay. And then it just started -- somebody said, I could build a set, and we could -- you're pretending. Why don't I pretend? But nobody ever thought, let's actually do a real performance. It's really about the singing. The rest of it is just -- because we had extra time on our hands. I'm not sure.
STU: Surely that's in a history book somewhere about opera.
GLENN: Either that, or they just have the worst directors, actors, and everything else.
PAT: Not good casting people.
GLENN: No. But really good.
PAT: Yeah, because your initial thing was --
JEFFY: It was incredible.
GLENN: It really was.
PAT: Doesn't sound it. Does not sound it.
GLENN: Pat, I bet you would like it.
PAT: No way.
STU: You liked La-La Land.
GLENN: You did.
PAT: Only because I'm so varied in my tastes. I'm so deep. This is complex.
GLENN: This is the Dallas Opera Company, I guess. I don't know anything about it. But this is the Dallas people. I don't think this traveling -- maybe she is traveling. I don't know. But this is absolutely tremendous. It's really, really good.
PAT: I'm sure they'll thank you.
(Laughter.)
LENN: None of the guys are going to listen to these reviews.
STU: Safe to say.
PAT: Dallas opera, you're welcome.
GLENN: You're welcome. Actually -- [Laughs.] -- I know they're not listening so I'm not saying this because they care. It was really good. I went home, I woke up Tania, and she said, how was it, and I always explain about going to the opera and I said, this one, Honey, I want to go again. They may not let me in. I may have to wear a disguise, but I want to see it again. It was really, really good. Really good. And I'm clearly not the biggest of opera fans.
[break]
GLENN: We were just talking about the opera is a wild place to go. I mean, on a Wednesday night in Dallas, Texas.
JEFFY: If you want to party.
GLENN: A few people in tuxedos. Every guy was in a tie and jacket. It was really formal.
PAT: That's unusual. Because we do not do that for anything anymore. Even Broadway, nobody dresses up for.
GLENN: No. Especially in Dallas.
PAT: In Dallas it's more so.
GLENN: In Dallas, there's cowboy black tie, can which means you wear a shirt, a tuxedo.
PAT: And jeans.
GLENN: And jeans. We don't even do black tie here. And it was amazing. And the theater here, it's like the Winspear theater or something.
JEFFY: Yes.
GLENN: How many theaters have we been to?
PAT: Many.
GLENN: We've been to some of the most beautiful theaters in the country. This is by far the most beautiful theater I've ever seen, and paid for by private money.
PAT: Wow.
GLENN: It is beautiful. Beautiful. Unbelievable theater. Must have cost those rich people a fortune.
PAT: If only Foreigner would play there, I'd get to see it someday.
GLENN: They'll take anybody. I asked, do you rent this place out? And she's like, yeah -- only in Texas. Yeah, we've even done birthday parties here.
I'm like, who the hell has their birthday party here? I want to know that.
PAT: Wow.
GLENN: Wow!
JEFFY: Ross Perot.
GLENN: Yeah. Probably somebody like Ross Perot.
I’ve only felt this weight once before. It was 2001, just as my radio show was about to begin. The World Trade Center fell, and I was called to speak immediately. I spent the day and night by my bedside, praying for words that could meet the moment.
Yesterday, I found myself in the same position. September 11, 2025. The assassination of Charlie Kirk. A friend. A warrior for truth.
Moments like this make words feel inadequate. Yet sometimes, words from another time speak directly to our own. In 1947, Dylan Thomas, watching his father slip toward death, penned lines that now resonate far beyond his own grief:
Do not go gentle into that good night. / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Thomas was pleading for his father to resist the impending darkness of death. But those words have become a mandate for all of us: Do not surrender. Do not bow to shadows. Even when the battle feels unwinnable.
Charlie Kirk lived that mandate. He knew the cost of speaking unpopular truths. He knew the fury of those who sought to silence him. And yet he pressed on. In his life, he embodied a defiance rooted not in anger, but in principle.
Washington, Jefferson, Adams — our history was started by men who raged against an empire, knowing the gallows might await. Lincoln raged against slavery. Martin Luther King Jr. raged against segregation. Every generation faces a call to resist surrender.
It is our turn. Charlie’s violent death feels like a knockout punch. Yet if his life meant anything, it means this: Silence in the face of darkness is not an option.
He did not go gently. He spoke. He challenged. He stood. And now, the mantle falls to us. To me. To you. To every American.
We cannot drift into the shadows. We cannot sit quietly while freedom fades. This is our moment to rage — not with hatred, not with vengeance, but with courage. Rage against lies, against apathy, against the despair that tells us to do nothing. Because there is always something you can do.
Even small acts — defiance, faith, kindness — are light in the darkness. Reaching out to those who mourn. Speaking truth in a world drowning in deceit. These are the flames that hold back the night. Charlie carried that torch. He laid it down yesterday. It is ours to pick up.
The light may dim, but it always does before dawn. Commit today: I will not sleep as freedom fades. I will not retreat as darkness encroaches. I will not be silent as evil forces claim dominion. I have no king but Christ. And I know whom I serve, as did Charlie.
On Wednesday, the world changed again. Two tragedies, separated by decades, bound by the same question: Who are we? Is this worth saving? What kind of people will we choose to be?
Imagine a world where more of us choose to be peacemakers. Not passive, not silent, but builders of bridges where others erect walls. Respect and listening transform even the bitterest of foes. Charlie Kirk embodied this principle.
He did not strike the weak; he challenged the powerful. He reached across divides of politics, culture, and faith. He changed hearts. He sparked healing. And healing is what our nation needs.
At the center of all this is one truth: Every person is a child of God, deserving of dignity. Change will not happen in Washington or on social media. It begins at home, where loneliness and isolation threaten our souls. Family is the antidote. Imperfect, yes — but still the strongest source of stability and meaning.
Mark Wilson / Staff | Getty Images
Forgiveness, fidelity, faithfulness, and honor are not dusty words. They are the foundation of civilization. Strong families produce strong citizens. And today, Charlie’s family mourns. They must become our family too. We must stand as guardians of his legacy, shining examples of the courage he lived by.
I knew Charlie. I know how he would want us to respond: Multiply his courage. Out of this tragedy, the tyrant dies, but the martyr’s influence begins. Out of darkness, great and glorious things will sprout — but we must be worthy of them.
Charlie Kirk lived defiantly. He stood in truth. He changed the world. And now, his torch is in our hands. Rage, not in violence, but in unwavering pursuit of truth and goodness. Rage against the dying of the light.
This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.
Sen. Tim Kaine (D-Va.) recently delivered a lecture that should alarm every American. During a Senate Foreign Relations Committee hearing, he argued that believing rights come from a Creator rather than government is the same belief held by Iran’s theocratic regime.
Kaine claimed that the principles underpinning Iran’s dictatorship — the same regime that persecutes Sunnis, Jews, Christians, and other minorities — are also the principles enshrined in our Declaration of Independence.
That claim exposes either a profound misunderstanding or a reckless indifference to America’s founding. Rights do not come from government. They never did. They come from the Creator, as the Declaration of Independence proclaims without qualification. Jefferson didn’t hedge. Rights are unalienable — built into every human being.
This foundation stands worlds apart from Iran. Its leaders invoke God but grant rights only through clerical interpretation. Freedom of speech, property, religion, and even life itself depend on obedience to the ruling clerics. Step outside their dictates, and those so-called rights vanish.
This is not a trivial difference. It is the essence of liberty versus tyranny. In America, rights belong to the individual. The government’s role is to secure them, not define them. In Iran, rights serve the state. They empower rulers, not the people.
The same confusion applies to Marxist regimes. The Soviet Union’s constitutions promised citizens rights — work, health care, education, freedom of speech — but always with fine print. If you spoke out against the party, those rights evaporated. If you practiced religion openly, you were charged with treason. Property and voting were allowed as long as they were filtered and controlled by the state — and could be revoked at any moment. Rights were conditional, granted through obedience.
Kaine seems to be advocating a similar approach — whether consciously or not. By claiming that natural rights are somehow comparable to sharia law, he ignores the critical distinction between inherent rights and conditional privileges. He dismisses the very principle that made America a beacon of freedom.
Jefferson and the founders understood this clearly. “We are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights,” they wrote. No government, no cleric, no king can revoke them. They exist by virtue of humanity itself. The government exists to protect them, not ration them.
This is not a theological quibble. It is the entire basis of our government. Confuse the source of rights, and tyranny hides behind piety or ideology. The people are disempowered. Clerics, bureaucrats, or politicians become arbiters of what rights citizens may enjoy.
John Greim / Contributor | Getty Images
Kaine’s statement reflects either a profound ignorance of this principle or an ideological bias that favors state power over individual liberty. Either way, Americans must recognize the danger. Understanding the origin of rights is not academic — it is the difference between freedom and submission, between the American experiment and theocratic or totalitarian rule.
Rights are not gifts from the state. They are gifts from God, secured by reason, protected by law, and defended by the people. Every American must understand this. Because when rights come from government instead of the Creator, freedom disappears.
This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.
