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Glenn's Chief Researcher Shares Firsthand Stories From Harvey Devastation

August 30, 2017
Staff

WRITER

Tropical Storm Harvey peaked as a Category 4 hurricane and was the biggest hurricane to hit Texas in half a century. Days after the hurricane hit Houston, flood waters are still rising thanks to record rain that has flooded neighborhoods and pushed tens of thousands of people out of their homes. According to state officials, nearly 49,000 homes have been damaged by the flood, CNBC reported.

TheBlaze researcher Jason Buttrill returned Wednesday to talk about his experience volunteering in Houston on radio.

Teams of volunteers were organized into boat crews complete with gear for search-and-rescue operations. Jason’s group was working in Katy, Texas, one of the hardest hit areas. He talked about the tense environment and what it was like to be surrounded by emergency responders.

“What kept going through my head was like watching Independence Day or you know, an alien invasion movie because there were tons of people coming out, there [were] only rescue vehicles and like police and stuff like that going in,” he said of the surreal experience.

Glenn theorized that officials’ disagreement over an evacuation plan worked out for the best since people driving out of the area likely would have been stranded if they’d tried to evacuate.

“That may have turned out to be a great blessing because you would have had probably a million people trapped in their cars on these highways and nowhere to go,” he said.

GLENN: We just had some really critical information that we should pass on to you.

STU: We hate to disappoint the audience, but sometimes people are disappointed. This one comes in from Twitter @worldofStu.

I was disappointed Jeffy didn't go cover the storm. He went blow away in high winds, and he's very buoyant in case of flooding.

I could have used him. Where were you at, man? Come on.

PAT: Isn't that good? That's good.

GLENN: Jason went out, who is a head writer or researcher for the Glenn Beck Program. And we're glad to have you back safe and sound. You and Sean went out yesterday.

You -- you couldn't actually get close to anything because you were dumb enough to drive a car -- who even has a car in Texas that is headed towards Houston?

JASON: Yeah. So we rented a very high-mobility Hyundai that --

GLENN: Yeah. Right. Yeah. Yeah.

JASON: So we didn't expect to actually have to actually maneuver when we got down there in this Hyundai. We were going to jump into the vehicles with the rescue group that we were with.

GLENN: Yes.

JASON: But they had full-on boat crews. They had tons of gear. All this stuff. So like at the last minute, they were like, "Guys, follow this convoy down to the actual boat put-in area, and you can just follow us down there." So were like, okay. You know, we'll try. We got -- so we started going down towards Katy, Texas, which was the hardest hit area at that time yesterday.

PAT: Wait. Katy was the hardest hit area?

GLENN: Yeah. You didn't hear this?

JASON: At that point, yeah. So they pulled up a map that morning. And they were like, these are all the areas. Some program they were using of all the people throwing --

PAT: Wow. That's where I lived.

JASON: Was it really? Oh, my gosh.

PAT: Uh-huh.

GLENN: It's a huge suburb -- it is the main suburb -- if you work in Houston, it's the main suburb. And it's fairly -- it's not like hoity-toity. But it's affluent.

PAT: Parts of it are very nice.

GLENN: Yeah, parts of it are very nice.

PAT: Uh-huh.

JASON: The feeling driving down there was kind of hard to describe. What kept going through my head was watching Independence Day or, you know, like an alien invasion movie.

GLENN: Yeah. Yeah.

JASON: Because there were tons of people coming pout. There were only rescue vehicles and like police and stuff like that going in. All the radio stations, most of the radio stations were tuned to the emergency broadcast thing.

GLENN: System, yeah.

JASON: So you're seeing that.

PAT: Wow.

JASON: So as you're driving down, you can actually see -- we would get to a certain area, after we broke apart from the main group. And we were trying to work our way through the back roads. We would get to a certain area. And then all of a sudden, you would see, you know, all the way up to the houses, all the way to the front doors, you know, the water's creeping in. The waters were sweeping over it -- like, you could just see the tops of trucks that had just gotten stranded in some of these intersections. You could not move.

GLENN: So, Jason, as you were going down there, you know, the big controversy over the weekend was, the city and the state had an argument, evacuate, evacuate, evacuate.

The argument from the city was not, no, we shouldn't evacuate because it might cause more problems. It was, no, I don't know if we need to do it yet, if I'm not mistaken. Kind of the same thing that happened in New Orleans.

However, that may have turned out to be a great blessing. Because you would have had probably a million people trapped in their cars on these highways. And -- and nowhere to go. That's what happened, you know, in -- in all evacuations. And the last time it happened in Houston, people were stuck in traffic. They ran out of gas. And families were trapped in their cars.

Now, imagine, five, six, seven, eight, some places, 12 feet of water. Would that have been much worse, do you think?

JASON: Oh, my gosh, yes. I think -- to go off that point, I think they were doing it right. It seemed like it was efficient the way they were doing it. They had two stages, as we were listening to the emergency broadcast.

There was the -- there was the suggested evacuation, saying that, okay. In these areas, water level is rising. We suggest you evacuate. But it wasn't mandatory.

The places that were dire, those were under mandatory evacuation. So it was going in like stages. So you could -- there were certain areas that you had to get out in mandatory evacuation. They would leave. So those were the people we were seeing cruising down the freeway or getting out of there.

But it was managed. The other places that we suggest you evacuate, that was actually kind of surreal. And you can see how people actually -- you wonder -- you know, when you see these news broadcasts, how these people -- why did they stay in their homes? Like, how did it get to this point?

I could actually get that now. Because you go into some of these villages on the outskirts of Katy. And you've seen these neighborhoods, Pat. They're just like our neighborhoods, like the neighborhood I live in. There are people that are walking their dogs down the sidewalk. They're looking at the waters rise. You know, and there's kids, you know, building little toys and that's going into it. They didn't feel threatened at the time, while water is gradually, gradually rising.

But I can sympathize with them. Because I'm like, well, if it's not really -- if it's not coming up to my door, I'm probably not leaving either. Because I have all my stuff in here.

PAT: We went through many storms and several hurricanes and never flooded in Katy. So especially Katy residents would probably be like, well, that's not going to happen here.

GLENN: So I was just talking to a guy about -- because I can't take the tornadoes here anymore. I just can't. It freaks my children out. And so I want to build a storm shelter. And I want to build a storm shelter also for the library that I have. I don't want it sucked up into the sky.

And so I'm talking to this guy. And he said, "You know, don't build the -- where do you want to build it?" I said, "I don't know where we could go." And he said, "Well, I suggest you build it in your garage." And I said, "Well, wait. Why?"

And he said, "Because if you build it where you have to go outside -- think of this, usually it will be in the middle of the night. And you'll have to get everybody up. And you'll have to go outside, get dressed. It will be raining. Blah, blah, blah. And then nothing will happen, and then you'll get wet coming back in, and then you'll all go to bed. And what will happen, one or two storms down the road, you'll say to the kids, "You know what, let's just stay here in bed. And we'll all go if it gets bad." And then you're sucked up into the sky.

And the same thing happens here with these hurricanes is you've gone through them over and over again. Nothing happens. And you're not seeing -- it doesn't connect with you that that's going to happen to you or your neighborhood.

And then all of a sudden -- you were driving yesterday, and you would drive down the streets. And you were trying to get places. And by the time you went, "Okay. Well, that's blocked," you'd turn around, and you would realize, "I'm trapped. I can't get out now."

JASON: That was the most claustrophobic feeling, and that's what the rescuers are having to put up with this too. I had never heard of this, in some of these situations.

Because usually it's like, after the fact, the waters had risen. They pretty much leveled off, and then rescue workers go in. It's still rising, even up to this day. So as we were getting to certain points, water was rising behind us. So we were like, well, how the heck do we get out of here. At one point, we just stopped beside the road and scratched our heads and said, "We might be stuck out here for a night."

Like, this car is getting swept away. You know, one of the coolest on that -- that little conundrum of trying to get out, I saw one of the coolest things I saw out there.

So we got to a certain point, just before we had to evacuate and get out of there, to where we got to a point to where we were going to try to turn around. The water level was rising about halfway up under one of the homes.

And you saw a long line of cars. People were just pulling up into people driveways. It's like, why are all these cars pulled into people's driveways and yards?

Well, what it was, was that was kind of like the point of no return. All the neighborhood -- the people and the residents of these homes, they were driving up, basically metaphorically to the fire. Whatever they had, they had blow-up boats, they had floaties, they had canoes. And they were like, this way.

And they were going right up there, and they were throwing in their own, and they were going to help out their neighbors. I got chills seeing that. I wanted to stay there and watch. But, again, we would have gotten swept up with it too. But that's what they were willing to do for their neighbors. It was amazing.

GLENN: Right. And they were driving their car. And everybody was walking away, going, my car is lost. It's just like -- that's not going to -- I'm never going to see that again.

JASON: Yeah. Yeah.

GLENN: It's really remarkable. Jason, thank you so much. Appreciate it.

JEFFY: I mean, the company that rented Jason's car, he didn't care.

(laughter)

STU: That's a fair point.

JEFFY: Thanks, Glenn.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

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.

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.

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.

How Sharia arrives

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.

The warning from those who have lived under it

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

America is vulnerable

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.

Wake up before it is too late

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.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

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.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

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.

The crisis beneath the headlines

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.

The quiet return of meaning

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

Where renewal begins

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.

The Bubba Effect erupts as America’s power brokers go rogue

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

When institutions betray the public’s trust, the country splits, and the spiral is hard to stop.

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.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf.

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.

What triggers the Bubba effect

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.

A country cracking from the inside

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.

The dangers of a faithless system

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.

The responsibility now belongs to us

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.

How to respond without breaking ourselves

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.

Warning: Stop letting TikTok activists think for you

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Bad-faith attacks on Israel and AIPAC warp every debate. Real answers emerge only when people set aside scripts and ask what serves America’s long-term interests.

The search for truth has always required something very much in short supply these days: honesty. Not performative questions, not scripted outrage, not whatever happens to be trending on TikTok, but real curiosity.

Some issues, often focused on foreign aid, AIPAC, or Israel, have become hotbeds of debate and disagreement. Before we jump into those debates, however, we must return to a simpler, more important issue: honest questioning. Without it, nothing in these debates matters.

Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

The phrase “just asking questions” has re-entered the zeitgeist, and that’s fine. We should always question power. But too many of those questions feel preloaded with someone else’s answer. If the goal is truth, then the questions should come from a sincere desire to understand, not from a hunt for a villain.

Honest desire for truth is the only foundation that can support a real conversation about these issues.

Truth-seeking is real work

Right now, plenty of people are not seeking the truth at all. They are repeating something they heard from a politician on cable news or from a stranger on TikTok who has never opened a history book. That is not a search for answers. That is simply outsourcing your own thought.

If you want the truth, you need to work for it. You cannot treat the world like a Marvel movie where the good guy appears in a cape and the villain hisses on command. Real life does not give you a neat script with the moral wrapped up in two hours.

But that is how people are approaching politics now. They want the oppressed and the oppressor, the heroic underdog and the cartoon villain. They embrace this fantastical framing because it is easier than wrestling with reality.

This framing took root in the 1960s when the left rebuilt its worldview around colonizers and the colonized. Overnight, Zionism was recast as imperialism. Suddenly, every conflict had to fit the same script. Today’s young activists are just recycling the same narrative with updated graphics. Everything becomes a morality play. No nuance, no context, just the comforting clarity of heroes and villains.

Bad-faith questions

This same mindset is fueling the sudden obsession with Israel, and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in particular. You hear it from members of Congress and activists alike: AIPAC pulls the strings, AIPAC controls the government, AIPAC should register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. The questions are dramatic, but are they being asked in good faith?

FARA is clear. The standard is whether an individual or group acts under the direction or control of a foreign government. AIPAC simply does not qualify.

Here is a detail conveniently left out of these arguments: Dozens of domestic organizations — Armenian, Cuban, Irish, Turkish — lobby Congress on behalf of other countries. None of them registers under FARA because — like AIPAC — they are independent, domestic organizations.

If someone has a sincere problem with the structure of foreign lobbying, fair enough. Let us have that conversation. But singling out AIPAC alone is not a search for truth. It is bias dressed up as bravery.

Anadolu / Contributor | Getty Images

If someone wants to question foreign aid to Israel, fine. Let’s have that debate. But let’s ask the right questions. The issue is not the size of the package but whether the aid advances our interests. What does the United States gain? Does the investment strengthen our position in the region? How does it compare to what we give other nations? And do we examine those countries with the same intensity?

The real target

These questions reflect good-faith scrutiny. But narrowing the entire argument to one country or one dollar amount misses the larger problem. If someone objects to the way America handles foreign aid, the target is not Israel. The target is the system itself — an entrenched bureaucracy, poor transparency, and decades-old commitments that have never been re-examined. Those problems run through programs around the world.

If you want answers, you need to broaden the lens. You have to be willing to put aside the movie script and confront reality. You have to hold yourself to a simple rule: Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

That is the only way this country ever gets clarity on foreign aid, influence, alliances, and our place in the world. Questioning is not just allowed. It is essential. But only if it is honest.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.