CALLER: Hey, guys, how are you? That was such a great interview with Bill. I have to tell you, I've missed his voice. I've missed his take on things, and I would love for you guys to get him on The Blaze.
GLENN: So would I. I would pay him in sandwiches.
CALLER: That's just my two cents on that. But, Glenn, I wanted to ask you something you were talking about a week or maybe two ago about how there's this little blogger guy that was trying to get everybody to boycott fox, the advertisers.
GLENN: Yeah.
CALLER: Couldn't get any traction in the United States, so he went to the British advertisers.
GLENN: Yes. He's now running media matters, isn't he? That's the stop Beck guy. I could be wrong, but he's running one of the big ones. I think it's media matters. But go ahead.
CALLER: Right. And, well, I can tell you this: I am -- I'm not going to boycott anybody and neither are many of our family members and friends, but we have decided since we are the older generation and the money really resides in our pockets and our bank accounts, not in our childrens, that we're going to be paying a lot of attention to who we support, who we spend our money with. Like I said, I'm not going to be boycotting anybody, but I am going to be paying attention to whether or not they appreciate my money.
GLENN: Yeah, I will tell you this. Thank you, Sharon, for your phone call. I will tell you this. ABC is really -- this is an interesting thing. Ben Sherwood is the head of ABC television. He doesn't make all of these decisions, but Ben is a friend of mine. I know him. I really respect him. He's a decent, decent guy. Doesn't hate, you know, Christians are the center of the country. I really think ends all of that and appreciates it. And, you know, one thing that I found amazing at the height of Glenn Beck is the most hated man in the world, I was at a big television conference and all the everybodies were there. Here he is head of ABC Disney, and he sees me across the room, I see him, and one of my guy says you want to go say hi to Ben? And I'm, like, no, he's in a pack of all the big executives from all the big networks. I don't want to do that.
STU: Last thing you want to do to Ben.
GLENN: Ben is a friend. I'm not going to impose myself on him in that circle. Ben looks over and sees me, and I'm across the room. He sees me, I see him say excuse me. He walks over across the room, and I start walking toward him. Halfway there, very crowded with all the it people in L.A. gives me a hug and says -- and as I'm hugging him, I said are you out of your mind? And he said, no, you're my friend.
He's a really good guy. So I don't believe this stuff about ABC firing, you know -- getting rid of Tim Allen because of some, you know, we don't want Christians. We don't want the center of the country. That doesn't make sense in the first place. But, you know, we looked at -- what is that TV gallows? TV Grim Reaper. This guy's usually right about stuff. And he said the Tim Allen show was going to be brought back and was quote on the bubble. But it's a really good performing show.
STU: Look at this. Let me give you basis to this. So this is a guy who does -- it's a site that predicts whether shows will be canceled or not.
GLENN: Uh-huh.
STU: And they do this all the time.
GLENN: Don't you wish you could just make money doing that.
STU: It's based on, like, ratings and ratings relative to the rest of the network. Also really intricate things like once you get to season 5, you are more likely for syndication, so almost everyone renews everything when it gets past season 4. They always get a fifth season.
GLENN: If you get to ten seasons, you've got -- you're in syndication for years and years and years.
STU: Yeah, so they -- they put all of that into a formula and come out with a percentage chance it's going to be renewed. So then they make a prediction. Will it be renewed or not? This is from 2009. They were 63-11. 85 percent correct. 2010, 94 percent correct. 2011, 93 percent. 2012, 92 percent. 2013, 93 percent, 47, 92 percent, 2015, 90 percent. So very accurate over a long period of time with this formula and the way they figure these things out. They run every year, and it's up on the site now, a final renewal cancelation prediction for every show.
GLENN: Do they do it by percentage of --
STU: Yes, how likely is it? For example, just looking at agents of shield is one that they missed with here. But they -- and they do miss, as I just said. About 90 percent right. They had as a 35 percent renewal chance, and it was renewed. The catch on ABC was a 45 percent chance to be renewed. It got canceled. American crime. 25 percent to get renewed. It got canceled. The real O'Neals. 15 percent to get renewed, it got canceled.
GLENN: That's pretty accurate, still.
STU: There's one miss in there. But they thought it was a good chance.
GLENN: But not a huge chance.
STU: Blackish, 100 percent chance renewed, renewed. Goldbergs, 99 percent chance got renewed. Modern family. Got renewed. Goes through all of these, designated survey. 99 percent chance to get renewed. Got renewed. Last Man Standing. 90 percent it would be renewed. Got canceled.
GLENN: That's interesting.
STU: The tweet from the site. This is, again, from TV grim reaper, which I love, was I would say that last man standing was among the most surprising renewal pricking misses in the reaper's history.
JEFFY: Wow.
STU: Again, this is 90 percent accurate, and they miss occasionally. But when they think there's a 90 percent chance of it being renewed. It almost never is canceled. There's only one other show that I found this entire season. There's one 80 percent chance they thought renewed was canceled. It could be that one was also on Dr. Ken on ABC, so it's possible that maybe ABC is very cancel happy this season. I don't know. You could make excuses. But it is a stand out for people who look at this thing for a living.
GLENN: And it's -- it is also a stand out for people who are looking for shows that relate to the center of the country. And quite honestly, if you're programming, you don't -- you don't want to be just on the coasts. You don't want to be a network. You need to connect with the center of the country. This highly successful show on the worst night of the week. It's Friday night. Nobody staying at home watching TV shows on Friday night. It's the worst show of the week, and it is -- it's only -- it was only down 5 percent. Other shows that stayed were down 30 percent. And it just doesn't make any sense. But it doesn't make sense for ABC to cancel it. But I will tell you. If I'm sitting in a room, and I'm the network, there is something that I would sit at that table and say, guys. Guys. This show relates to the center of the country. This show relates like Rosanne did. This show relates to the people in our country like politics. We're having enough time getting people to think that we're not against them. Leave that show on. That's doing well. Even if it was doing worse, leave that show on. It helps us in the long run. It doesn't make any sense.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
Something drastic is happening in American life. Headlines that should leave us stunned barely register anymore. Stories that once would have united the country instead dissolve into silence or shrugs.
It is not apathy exactly. It is something deeper — a growing belief that the people in charge either cannot or will not fix what is broken.
I call this response the Bubba effect. It describes what happens when institutions lose so much public trust that “Bubba,” the average American minding his own business, finally throws his hands up and says, “Fine. I will handle it myself.” Not because he wants to, but because the system that was supposed to protect him now feels indifferent, corrupt, or openly hostile.
The Bubba effect is not a political movement. It is a survival instinct.
We are watching the triggers unfold in real time. When members of Congress publicly encourage active duty troops to disregard orders from the commander in chief, that is not a political squabble. When a federal judge quietly rewrites the rules so one branch of government can secretly surveil another, that is not normal. That is how republics fall. Yet these stories glided across the news cycle without urgency, without consequence, without explanation.
When the American people see the leadership class shrug, they conclude — correctly — that no one is steering the ship.
This is how the Bubba effect spreads. It is not just individuals resisting authority. It is sheriffs refusing to enforce new policies, school boards ignoring state mandates, entire communities saying, “We do not believe you anymore.” It becomes institutional, cultural, national.
This effect can be seen in Dearborn, Michigan. In the rise of fringe voices like Nick Fuentes. In the Epstein scandal, where powerful people could not seem to locate a single accountable adult. These stories are different in content but identical in message: The system protects itself, not you.
When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf. That does not mean they suddenly agree with everything that person says. It means they feel abandoned by the institutions that were supposed to be trustworthy.
The Bubba effect is what fills that vacuum.
A republic cannot survive without credibility. Congress cannot oversee intelligence agencies if it refuses to discipline its own members. The military cannot remain apolitical if its chain of command becomes optional. The judiciary cannot defend the Constitution while inventing loopholes that erase the separation of powers.
History shows that once a nation militarizes politics, normalizes constitutional shortcuts, or allows government agencies to operate without scrutiny, it does not return to equilibrium peacefully. Something will give.
The question is what — and when.
In a healthy country, this is where the media steps in. This is where universities, pastors, journalists, and cultural leaders pause the outrage machine and explain what is at stake. But today, too many see themselves not as guardians of the republic, but of ideology. Their first loyalty is to narrative, not truth.
The founders never trusted the press more than the public. They trusted citizens who understood their rights, lived their responsibilities, and demanded accountability. That is the antidote to the Bubba effect — not rage, but citizenship.
Do not riot. Do not withdraw. Do not cheer on destruction just because you dislike the target. That is how nations lose themselves. Instead, demand transparency. Call your representatives. Insist on consequences. Refuse to normalize constitutional violations simply because “everyone does it.” If you expect nothing, you will get nothing.
Do not hand your voice to the loudest warrior simply because he is swinging a bat at the establishment. You do not beat corruption by joining a different version of it. You beat it by modeling the country you want to preserve: principled, accountable, rooted in truth.
Adam Gray / Stringer | Getty Images
Every republic reaches a moment when historians will later say, “That was the warning.” We are living in ours. But warnings are gifts if they are recognized. Institutions bend. People fail. The Constitution can recover — if enough Americans still know and cherish it.
It does not take a majority. Twenty percent of the country — awake, educated, and courageous — can reset the system. It has happened before. It can happen again.
Wake up. Stand up. Demand integrity — from leaders, from institutions, and from yourself. Because the Bubba effect will not end until Americans reclaim the duty that has always belonged to them: preserving the republic for the next generation.
This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.
