GLENN: Yesterday, the media found a new word.
VOICE: Mr. Woolsey told several people contemporaneous, and I've spoken with them --
VOICE: There are contemporaneous notes that were backed up.
VOICE: There was other contemporaneous notes.
VOICE: Talking about contemporaneous issues.
VOICE: If the FBI is still doing, one, contemporaneous with anything they're doing. But I don't think we can --
VOICE: Have a discussion, contemporaneous.
VOICE: They're going to have a hard time proving it, because they didn't catch him contemporaneous.
VOICE: Having these type of contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: And we have Director Comey's contemporaneous notes. They're called 302s. They're contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: Bob Muller kept his contemporaneous notes.
VOICE: Contemporaneous notes of those conversations.
VOICE: What do Comey's contemporaneous memos say?
VOICE: Which is a nod, again, to how powerful contemporaneous.
VOICE: Those notes, the contemporaneous notes --
VOICE: They were contemporaneous at the time.
VOICE: One reason why lawyers take contemporary notes is --
GLENN: Contemporary.
VOICE: Rely on a contemporaneous.
VOICE: As close to a contemporaneous way.
VOICE: Where he has made contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: How contemporaneous is --
VOICE: Kind of contemporaneous at the time.
VOICE: The FBI director kept contained -- contemporaneous, sorry. It's hard to say that word.
PAT: Especially when I've never seen it before.
GLENN: Yeah. But that one made me feel better. That one made me feel better.
So they found this new word yesterday, and they found it for a very important reason. And we need to start with the definition of contemporaneous and why they're using that word, helping you understand your world a little bit more, when we come back.
[break]
VOICE: Mr. Woolsey told several people contemporaneous, and I've spoken with them.
VOICE: There are contemporaneous notes that would back up?
VOICE: There was other contemporaneous notes?
VOICE: We're just talking about contemporaneous issues.
VOICE: If the FBI is still doing, one, contemporaneous with anything they're doing. But I don't think we can afford --
VOICE: Not have a discussion, contemporaneous.
VOICE: They're going to have a hard time proving it, because they didn't catch him contemporaneous.
VOICE: Having these type of contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: And we have Director Comey's contemporaneous notes. They're called 302s. They're contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: Bob Muller kept his contemporaneous notes.
VOICE: Contemporaneous notes of those conversations.
VOICE: What do Comey's contemporaneous memos say?
VOICE: Which is a nod, again, to how powerful contemporaneous --
VOICE: Those notes, the contemporaneous notes --
VOICE: They were contemporaneous at the time.
VOICE: One reason why lawyers take contemporary notes.
(laughter)
VOICE: Rely on a contemporaneous.
VOICE: As close to a contemporaneous way.
VOICE: Where he has made contemporaneous memos.
VOICE: How contemporaneous is --
VOICE: Were kind of contemporaneous at the time.
VOICE: The FBI director kept contained -- contain -- contain -- contemporaneous. Sorry. God, it's hard to say that word. Contemporaneous.
STU: It is.
PAT: When you've never seen it, you don't know what it means.
GLENN: All right. So Merriam-Webster defines contemporaneous, existing, occurring, or beginning during the same time.
So a political event and cultural event that are happening at the same time. In this particular case, the -- the notes that are contrary, because the notes were taken at the same time as the meeting.
So there's a difference between notes that you go and you write, you know, a week or two later, as opposed to the notes that you take at the time.
Now, when I met with President Bush, I know that I could not take a pencil or paper, a telephone, anything in. No recording device.
However, I could record my reflections of feelings. That's what it was explained to me. And so I know that when you're with the president, if he's having an off the record talk with you, the rules are, you don't write anything down.
And so the minute -- you try to remember -- it's the most important meeting of your life. You try to remember everything that is being said to you. And the minute you get out of that meeting -- I mean, I remember -- I don't remember who was with me. Stu, I don't know if you were with me.
STU: No.
GLENN: But I had somebody standing outside of the gates of the White House with a pad and a pencil and a phone. And I, you know, vomited into the phone as much as I could. As much as I could remember. And then I started writing it all down so I could remember. That's what James Comey did. He left the meeting and he immediately wrote down what happened in the meeting.
Now, this is not something that James Comey just did for this meeting. He is known in the FBI as being very, very buttoned.
PAT: Also, very contemporaneous.
STU: Very, very contemporaneous.
PAT: Yeah.
GLENN: See, that comment is happening contemporaneous with this subject.
PAT: It is. It is.
GLENN: Thank you.
PAT: I was speaking contemporaneously.
GLENN: Yes, you were.
PAT: Yeah.
GLENN: And you were exhibiting contemporaneousness, if you will.
STU: Oh, yeah.
PAT: And I will. And I will.
GLENN: Anyway, so what he did was, whenever he was involved in a serious exchange for case or anything like that, he is known as taking copious, contemporaneous notes. I'm going to let you figure out copious yourself if you don't know. But he would take copious notes, as soon as he would leave meetings. And then he would file them away.
So we don't know if these notes are real. But it is definitely a shot back to the White House, saying, oh, really? You got tapes? Good. Because I've got contemporaneous notes.
And so whichever one is playing chicken here is making the other one sweat.
STU: Yeah, and they keep pointing that out, specifically, because like think of the alternate situation here. James Comey comes to testify, after he's been fired. And says, "Well, you know what, Trump told me in that meeting that he wanted me to back off the Flynn thing." I felt comfortable.
Well, that means nothing after he's been fired, right? I mean, if he's saying that now, everyone is going to say, "Well, look, he's just saying that now."
PAT: But if he supposedly wrote that down at the time --
STU: And it's filed at the time. So it's not even supposedly. It was filed in a way -- it was marked and it was known that it was the time it was filed, it's going to be a lot more powerful and credible. While he was still working for them. Where they were having meetings before and after this. Supposedly, he did this with every personal meeting he had with Trump.
PAT: Would you also record it, if you're going to do that, to have proof?
GLENN: No, you can't. You're asked --
PAT: Probably can't record your conversations with the president, yeah --
JEFFY: Well, you better hope there's no tapes.
GLENN: You're told --
STU: And their response to that comment from Trump was, oh, I hope there are.
You know, his side is saying, "Yes, please, bring on the tapes. If they exist, please bring them on."
And the rumor is, at least the speculation is that this -- this was leaked to the media so that the -- Congress would subpoena these things.
GLENN: Well, Jason Chaffetz has already said turn them over, or I will subpoena them.
STU: Yep.
GLENN: And they should be subpoenaed. The White House record should be subpoenaed. We should know all of these things. And we should be as transparent. And the media should shut their pie hole and let the system work. There's a clear way to make this work. There was a clear way to make the IRS investigation work, but we didn't follow it. And what happened?
STU: Uh-huh. Nothing.
GLENN: Nothing.
STU: Yeah.
GLENN: So let's follow the rule of law. And, you know, what is it, 70 percent of the American people now say appoint a special prosecutor? Look, I want a neutral special prosecutor. I don't want a guy who is hell-bent on destroying the president or anything else. I want somebody who is just going to look at the facts of this. And they don't have a horse in this race.
Please, for the good of the nation, we need to know, is the president a liar? Did the president -- is the president reckless with classified information?
If those things are true, we need to know it. And I mean -- when I say a liar, we know that -- I mean, we've seen this record. But when it comes down to the United States of America, are you lying to us, dude?
I mean, this is not about, you know -- this is not about your personal life or anything else. This isn't even about you.
And that's what's so sad about this is I think the president keeps thinking all of this is about him. And I do believe with the press, it is about him.
STU: Yeah, they -- I mean, they don't care. Many of them, at least don't care about what the truth here --
GLENN: Right.
STU: Many of them -- but, again, Jonah Goldberg brought this up, and I think said it correctly is that, you -- yes, of course, they want to take him down. There's no disagreement. You talked about this with Bill O'Reilly last week too. He's like, but, Beck, I can't believe you don't get that when they want to take you out. Well, of course, you get that. You absolutely get the media wants to take Trump out at all costs and will do whatever they have to do to do that.
GLENN: Yeah.
STU: However, if there is something legitimately to be criticized, you have to have the principle and spine to do it.
PAT: Now, you're speaking uranusly, right?
STU: Uranusly, yes.
PAT: Or contemporarily.
STU: Contemporaneously.
PAT: Yeah.
GLENN: Uranusly means you're speaking out of your butt.
STU: Yes. That's a good point.
GLENN: You're speaking uranusly, you're speaking out of your butt. And that happens a lot on this program.
STU: Absolutely.
PAT: No, that's the Webster's dictionary definition.
GLENN: That's Merriam. That's Merriam. The wife of, I don't know, Bill Webster or whatever. Merriam, she's got her own dictionary.
STU: Sure, these are all facts.
PAT: The whole family had dictionaries. It's really kind of weird.
GLENN: There was Bill and the other Webster, famous one. And then Merriam, who was a sweetheart of a gal.
PAT: Right.
STU: And we should point out, and we have several times today -- again, think of the chain that this has come down here. This is a Comey ally who didn't give the memo to the New York Times, who read over the phone a memo to the New York Times.
The New York Times took notes over what he read. Did they read the entire thing? Did they read only the parts that they liked? Were there other parts of the memo that made Trump look really good?
We don't know any of that. That information went to the New York Times reporter. Do we blindly believe everything the New York Times says? Absolutely not.
Did the New York Times print the entire memo? No. We haven't seen it yet. The reporter hasn't even seen it yet. Nobody outside of the FBI has actually seen this thing yet. The other side of it is, this is not going to be the only memo. If it does exist, which you can't believe they just -- but it's possible, right? It's a Comey ally. It's not impossible they just made it. We saw that with the Rather situation, that someone who was going up against George W. Bush literally made something up. It's not impossible.
But if it does exist, it's not going to be the only one. Comey was well-known for this practice. He was well-known for creating paper trails when he believed something was going wrong, when he was made uncomfortable. He was a guy who documented what happened with his interactions with this president.
GLENN: Quite honestly, it's not the way we meant it, but it's turning out to be the same thing: Don't screw with the justice and intelligence agencies. Don't piss them off. They will find out what you're doing, and they will destroy you with it.
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.
