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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
