There is no credible record of Washington ever writing or saying that sentence. It does not appear in his letters, speeches, diaries, or official papers. The editors of The Papers of George Washington do not include it. Mount Vernon’s research staff classify it as misattributed. The line surfaces in print in the 20th century, long after Washington’s death, attached to him without documentary support. It reads less like an 18th-century Virginia statesman and more like a modern culture-war slogan retrofitted onto a powdered wig.

The real Washington did invoke religion—but in the language of “Providence,” “the Author of the Universe,” and “the Great Ruler of Events.” His public religiosity was deliberately broad and non-sectarian. He attended church. He supported chaplains. But he rarely mentioned Jesus explicitly in his public writings, avoided doctrinal specificity, and resisted clergy who tried to extract overtly Christian confessions from him. That wasn’t cowardice; it was governance. He was presiding over a fragile republic of Anglicans, Presbyterians, Quakers, Catholics, Deists, skeptics, and enslaved Africans whose religious worlds were far more complex than any meme can capture.

He understood that the new nation could not survive if tethered to a single sect.

This is where the myth becomes dangerous. If you accept that the United States can only be “rightly governed” when it submits to “God and the Bible,” then constitutional neutrality starts to look like betrayal. Religious pluralism looks like rebellion. Secular law becomes treason against an imagined founding covenant. A fabricated sentence smuggles an entire theocratic political theology into one tidy sound bite.

But there is an even harder truth that meme culture never wants to touch: Washington was a slaveholder.

He owned, bought, and sold human beings. At Mount Vernon, hundreds of enslaved men, women, and children labored under his control. He signed advertisements for runaways. He pursued Ona Judge for years after she escaped rather than be transferred as property. His eventual decision to free the enslaved people he personally owned—upon his wife’s death, not during his lifetime—did not dismantle the system that enriched him.

You cannot harmonize the plantation ledger with the image of a revival-tent statesman whose politics flowed cleanly from the Sermon on the Mount. The founding generation was capable of articulating breathtaking principles about liberty while simultaneously denying liberty to entire populations. That contradiction is not a footnote. It is the central tension of the American story.

To say this is not to cancel Washington. It is to refuse to canonize him.

He helped establish a republic that rejected divine right monarchy and enshrined government by consent. He voluntarily relinquished power—an act almost unthinkable in the 18th century. He supported religious liberty in practice, including protections for minority faiths. Those are achievements worth honoring.

But honoring is not idolizing.

Critical patriotism distinguishes between the American Promise and the flawed men who first articulated it. The promise is that rights are inherent and government exists to secure them—not to enforce one faction’s theology. The founders only partially realized that promise. Later generations—abolitionists, suffragists, civil-rights organizers—forced the nation closer to its own stated ideals.

The meme version of Washington collapses that tension. It offers a cardboard saint whose authority is meant to end debate. If Washington said it, the argument is over.

But once you recognize the quote is fabricated and the man was morally complex—visionary in some respects, compromised in others—the spell breaks. And better questions emerge:

What moral framework actually protects freedom in a pluralistic republic?

How do we restrain power—including religious majorities?

How do we extend the language of liberty to those it once excluded?

The United States does not need a pseudo-biblical origin myth to justify its existence. It needs honesty. The founding was visionary and violently incomplete. The founders were architects and obstacles. Patriotism is not preserving their mythology in amber; it is extending the principles they only partially grasped.

A mature republic does not require invented quotations to survive. It requires citizens strong enough to face the truth—and courageous enough to build something more just than what they inherited.

On the very day set aside to remember the man who forced America to look at itself without flinching, a movement now ascendant in power is asking us to forget him entirely. Or worse: to replace him. Not with another prophet of justice, but with a man who spent his career attacking the laws King died to secure—and whose followers now whisper, sometimes joke, sometimes shout, that it is his name that should be remembered instead.

This is not metaphor. It is strategy.

The assault on King’s legacy is not a stray provocation or an online stunt. It is a carefully constructed counter-tradition—one that treats white grievance as sacred truth and historical reckoning as heresy. And Charlie Kirk understood this perfectly.

Kirk’s war on MLK and civil rights

At AmericaFest in 2023, Kirk told a room packed with young conservatives that “MLK was awful,” that he was “not a good person,” and that the Civil Rights Act itself was “a huge mistake.” He framed this not as shock talk, but as sober historical correction. America, he insisted, had gone wrong the moment it tried to make racial equality enforceable.

This was not about King’s personal flaws. It was about King’s political clarity.

King named racism as a structure, not a feeling. He named poverty as violence, not personal failure. He named whiteness—not white people, but whiteness—as a lie that requires domination in order to survive. And for that, he had to be destroyed again.

Kirk even promised a coordinated MLK Day “hit job,” boasting that his staff was preparing content to “tell the truth” about King during the holiday that exists because King lived—and was killed—telling the truth about America.

From appropriation to erasure

For years, Turning Point USA tried to profit from King’s moral authority. They sold MLK merchandise. They quoted “Let freedom ring.” They wrapped themselves in a bowdlerized King who spoke only of character and never of power.

When that appropriation collapsed under scrutiny, the pivot was swift. Americans, Kirk claimed, had been fed a “fake history.” King’s “sanctified” image had to be dismantled. What followed was not nuance, but demolition.

Kirk called the Civil Rights Act an “anti-white weapon.” He blamed Black communities for gun violence. He described systemic racism as fiction. And yet, after his assassination in 2025, a familiar ritual began. His record was softened. His rhetoric laundered. He was recast as a fearless debater, a martyr to free speech, a “force of nature” taken too soon.

Movements that lack moral authority often counterfeit martyrdom.

The anti-MLK martyr

In the wake of Kirk’s death, some Christian nationalist circles attempted something obscene: to cast him as a rival saint. Rallies formed where supporters chanted “White men, fight back.” His name was invoked as a symbol of besieged white Christian manhood. Online spaces began floating the idea—sometimes as joke, sometimes as provocation—that MLK Day should be replaced with Charlie Kirk Day.

Black clergy and civil rights leaders rejected the comparison outright, calling Kirk what he was: an unapologetic racist whose words were dangerous. They insisted, correctly, that no one deserves to die for their beliefs. But they also refused the lie that his life stood in the same moral universe as King’s.

That distinction matters. It matters because the modern right demands endless grace for itself and absolute amnesia for its victims.

JD Vance and the doctrine of grievance

Into this carefully prepared ground stepped Vice President JD Vance.

At AmericaFest 2025—the first major Turning Point gathering after Kirk’s death—Vance announced that DEI had been relegated to the “dustbin of history” and assured the crowd, “In the United States, you no longer need to feel sorry for being white.” America, he claimed, now judges solely by character.

This is not reconciliation. It is absolution without confession.

There has never been an era in which white Americans were required to apologize for being white. What Vance offers instead is permission: permission to treat accountability as injury, memory as persecution, and equality as theft. It is the transformation of grievance into doctrine—the formal baptism of resentment as civic virtue.

Bernice King was right to name this lie. The language of “no more guilt” exists only to silence truth-telling. It is the vocabulary of people who believe justice is something done to them.

The moment of replacement

A nation reveals its conscience not by whom it praises, but by whom it needs to erase.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day has become intolerable to the modern American right not because King was imperfect, but because he was precise. He named racism as structure, poverty as violence, and peace as incompatible with domination. That clarity is dangerous. And so it must be buried—replaced by grievance dressed as courage, resentment crowned as faith, and a man like Charlie Kirk offered as substitute.

For years, Republicans tried to neutralize King by quoting a single line while gutting voting rights, dismantling affirmative action, and criminalizing poverty. MLK Day became a safe ritual, emptied of threat.

That pretense is over.

Kirk called King “awful.” He called the Civil Rights Act a mistake. His successors no longer bother pretending this is about honoring King’s words. It is about erasing the tradition he belonged to—and installing a new civic religion in its place.

King spent his final years condemning racism, militarism, and poverty as interlocking evils. Charlie Kirk spent his career trying to roll back the legal victories King died for. And now his heirs—from Turning Point USA to JD Vance—are attempting to turn that backlash into the governing faith of American life.

This is the choice before us in 2026.

We can remember Dr. King as he was: a threat to unjust power, an indictment of American innocence, a man who refused to confuse comfort with peace.

Or we can remember Charlie.

The country will decide which memory it can live with—and which one it must destroy in order to survive.

What they are doing to the story

Within hours, federal agencies framed Renee as the aggressor, claiming she tried to run over an officer and left them “no choice.” Local officials, witnesses, and multi‑angle videos sharply contradict that narrative, but their accounts are already being sidelined and fragmented. The federal government controls the formal investigation, key evidence, and the language of “justified force,” and it has every incentive to seal off anything that shows agents boxing her in, issuing conflicting commands, and then opening fire.

This has happened before. State and federal actors sanitize reports, slow‑walk or block access, and then rely on public exhaustion to close the book. What changes the outcome is not trusting “integrity” from above, but determined preservation and circulation of truth from below.

Why a people’s archive matters

Every act of state violence is also a struggle over memory. What future courts, journalists, students, and neighbors “know” will depend far less on what the Trump administration says now than on what ordinary people manage to save, organize, and pass forward. When official files are locked, destroyed, or selectively quoted, it is the scattered pieces—videos, transcripts, handwritten notes, church statements, neighborhood recollections—that keep enough of the event alive for someone to challenge the lie later.

A people’s archive does not wait for permission. It assumes that those closest to the harm—the residents, bystanders, organizers, and grieving communities—have the first and best claim to tell the story. The work is not glamorous. It is downloading, naming files, transcribing, backing things up, and talking to one another. But decades from now, that is the record that will still matter.

Five things you can do right now

If you are close to this, geographically or emotionally, here are concrete actions you can take today. You do not need specialized training. You need a phone, a computer, some time, and a willingness to care.

1. Save every video, from every angle

- Download all clips you see—news segments, livestreams, phone videos—to local storage. Do not assume platforms will keep them up or unedited.

- When you repost or mirror, use descriptive titles and dates: “2026‑01‑08_Minneapolis_ICE_shooting_angle‑3_from‑south‑side.mp4.” Include any known context in the description: location, approximate time, who filmed it if they are public and consent.

2. Capture words, not just images

- Transcribe key eyewitness interviews from local radio, TV, podcasts, and livestreams. Include the speaker’s name (if they share it), the outlet, the date, and a link if possible.

- Save full texts of early news stories, liveblogs, and press conferences before they are “updated.” Take screenshots and export to PDF. Label them with date and time so later readers can see how the story changed.

3. Name and protect witnesses

- When neighbors or bystanders speak publicly, repeat their words with care. Attribute their names correctly, keep their quotes in context, and avoid sensationalizing.

- Encourage people who witnessed anything—before, during, or after the shooting—to write down what they saw, heard, and felt, with a date and time. Even short, imperfect accounts are valuable.

- If you share someone’s testimony, blur identifying details (faces, addresses, license plates) when necessary and follow their wishes about how widely it circulates. The goal is preservation, not exposure for its own sake.

4. Build redundant, community‑controlled archives

- Back everything up in at least two places: (1) your own device or external drive, and (2) a space you trust that is not under federal or corporate control—community organizations, trusted friends in other cities, grassroots archives, or international allies.

- Keep a simple, consistent file‑naming system: date, location, type (video, audio, transcript, photo), and a brief note (“bystander‑east‑corner,” “press‑conference‑mayor”). Consistency now will matter later when people are trying to piece together timelines.

- Where possible, use open formats (like .mp4, .pdf, .txt) that are more likely to remain readable as technology changes.

5. Document context and feeling, not only “facts”

- If you attend vigils, marches, services, or neighborhood meetings, write short accounts: What was said? Who spoke? How did people respond? What chants, prayers, or demands emerged? These details are part of the historical record.

- Invite others to contribute a paragraph or two about what this killing means to them, how they understand the pattern of raids and shootings, and what they want the future to know. Emotional truth—grief, rage, fear, solidarity—is evidence of what state violence does to a community.

- Collect and save flyers, statements from grassroots groups, faith communities, and local organizations. Scan or photograph them so they do not vanish when the physical copies are gone.

Where this work can live

This kind of documentation should not stay on one person’s hard drive. Think in terms of networks:

- Share archives with local organizers, mutual aid groups, immigrant justice coalitions, and legal aid organizations that are already responding to Renee’s killing. They will know which pieces are most urgent for legal defense, public education, and organizing.

- Offer material to faith communities, neighborhood associations, and cultural institutions that are willing to host public or semi‑public collections—physical displays, websites, zines, or reading rooms.

- Connect with people in other cities facing similar violence. Let them mirror your material, and be willing to mirror theirs. A people’s archive is strongest when it is dispersed and interconnected, not centralized and fragile.

> You are free to copy, adapt, translate, and repost these directives. You do not need to ask. Keep the names and words of witnesses intact where they have chosen to speak publicly, and share this wherever people are fighting to keep the truth about state violence from being buried.

If there is anything genuinely exceptional about this country, it is not that our leaders are wiser than others, but that generation after generation of Americans—from every party and none—have resisted abuses of power in the name of a promise they refused to surrender.

The real test now is whether those who still care about that promise—on the right, the left, and in between—are willing to do more than wave a flag while other people’s freedoms shrink.

America is at a breaking point. The idea that this nation belongs to all people, not just a protected ruling class, is under open assault. The institutions that claim to defend “law and order” are increasingly staging a different kind of performance: a theater of fear designed to remind the marginalized, the dissenters, and even ordinary working people that their place is conditional, revocable, and policed.

The question is not whether this country has ever lived up fully to its ideals; it has not. The question is whether those ideals still bind our political imagination, or whether we will surrender them to a regime that uses the language of patriotism to justify domination.

The machinery of a constitutional republic matters, but it has never been enough by itself; what decides whether freedom grows or contracts is the moral will of those who have access to the democratic process, and whether they use that access to comfort power or to confront it.

Every major expansion of freedom in this country has come not from the system quietly fixing itself, but from people who refused to comply with injustice and forced power to recalculate its costs. From abolition to labor rights, from women’s suffrage to the civil rights and disability rights movements, the arc did not bend on its own; it bent because ordinary people organized, disrupted, and refused to go away.

The Constitution gives us tools for change—amendments, elections, courts—but those tools have only moved when confronted by organized resistance and moral pressure strong enough to make inaction more dangerous than reform. There is nothing inevitable or automatic about American progress; every ‘correction’ in our history was paid for by movements that forced those with power to choose between change and crisis.

It has always been this way, and the sooner we recognize it, the better chance we have at saving the American Dream of a more perfect union. Yes, it is still a dream until the American Revolution is complete in who counts as fully human and fully included. This position shatters our master narrative myths and reorients us toward a citizenship of liberation through what I call “critical patriotism.”

Critical patriotism does not seek to erase conservative convictions or any other set of cultural values; it insists that every person, including those who hold them, be fully included in the democratic process. Its demand is not ideological uniformity but a common commitment: that the basic rights and dignity of all people cannot be sacrificed to preserve the comfort of any one group.

In a truly democratic society, the rights of all will sometimes override the preferred cultural norms of particular communities; the price of non‑marginalization is accepting a place at a genuinely diverse table, not getting to own the table. Handled with care and purpose, this need not mean erasing distinct traditions or beliefs, but it does mean no group can claim a veto on the full humanity or participation of others.

Even under the best conditions, some will stubbornly refuse coexistence; they will demand a nation remade in their image or none at all. The American promise cannot bend to that ultimatum: a republic committed to liberty and equality cannot license extremism that requires other people to disappear in order to feel at home.

Living into that promise requires at least a minimum of civic maturity: a willingness to share public space with people whose beliefs unsettle us, and an openness to the possibility that the culture of power we grew up with is not the measure of justice.

Those who experience the decentering of their group as an attack on their existence will always be tempted to answer inclusion with backlash; the only antidote is the hard work of learning to see equality not as loss, but as the fulfillment of the very ideals they claim to defend.

Much of the cruelty in our politics flows from people who feel endangered not by tyranny, but by no longer being centered in every story; they mistake a more honest democracy for persecution. Critical patriotism does not indulge that confusion. It asks all of us—whatever our ideology—to look into the mirror of our real history, to see how often ‘being under attack’ has meant nothing more than being asked to share power.

Critical patriotism does not indulge that confusion. It asks all of us—whatever our ideology—to look into the mirror of our real history, to see how often ‘being under attack’ has meant nothing more than being asked to share power.

A patriotism that refuses this maturity, that will not accept a diverse table or the full inclusion of every neighbor, may be many things, but it is not worthy of the American Promise.

This is Part One of Regime Americana: Rescuing the American Promise from a Regime of Fear, a series tracing how the American Promise can survive an age of manufactured fear.

Avi Penhollow, welcomes thoughtful comments and questions from readers who are wrestling with these themes.

There’s a phrase you hear tossed around in American policy circles like it’s a statement of fact: healthcare is a service industry. In the same breath, someone might tell you it’s a “business like any other.” But shampooing carpets is a service. Healthcare is not.

To treat the care of human bodies and minds as a line item in a market economy is to misunderstand what it means to be a society at all.

The Moral Bankruptcy of Medical Commodification

Avi Penhollow

The prevailing U.S. model — one that treats medical and dental care as “goods and services” subject to market forces — is morally bankrupt, uncreative, and incompatible with the principles of a just society. We’ve allowed an entire moral vocabulary to be replaced by accounting language. Patients become “consumers.” Doctors become “providers.” Human need becomes “demand.”

It’s not just a semantic shift. It’s a civilizational one.

When a society prioritizes shareholder returns over human well-being, it signals a deeper decay — not of policy, but of imagination. We’ve accepted a system that calculates the worth of human life through the same mechanisms that price a gallon of milk. That is not efficiency. That is moral failure dressed up as pragmatism.

Necessity vs. Commodity

Health is not a consumer choice. It is the foundation upon which every other right and freedom depends. Without health, liberty is an illusion. Without access to care, the social contract is a lie.

And yet, the American system treats healthcare as a tradable commodity — something to be bought, sold, and withheld for profit. The result is predictable: scarcity and exclusion. If you can’t afford the product, you don’t get the service — even if your life depends on it.

There’s a reason other developed nations classify healthcare as a public good. Because they understand that the right to live without preventable suffering is not something you earn by working hard enough. It’s something a humane society guarantees by existing.

The Failure of Market Justifications

Defenders of the for-profit model like to invoke economic dogma — efficiency, innovation, and consumer choice — as though these were sacred virtues. But each of these justifications collapses under the weight of its own contradictions.

Market Justification :Ethical and Societal Failure

“Market Efficiency”

Administrative bloat, endless billing codes, and armies of staff devoted to denial rather than delivery. The U.S. spends more on paperwork than most nations spend on medicine.

“Innovation”

Innovation driven by profit, not need: endless cosmetic enhancements, boutique drugs with microscopic variations, and zero incentive for prevention or public health.

“Choice”

A cruel joke when the only options you can afford are neglect or debt. “Choice” means nothing when the system itself decides who lives comfortably and who dies quietly.

The market is very good at one thing: producing inequality. It is not built to deliver justice.

The Real-World Consequence: Inequality and Exclusion

Consider something as ordinary as a dental visit. My own dentist recently left the insurance network because reimbursement rates were “unsustainable.” Her language wasn’t cruel; it was the language of survival in a system that punishes compassion. But the effect was immediate: patients were divided into two groups — those who could afford to pay out-of-pocket and those who suddenly couldn’t afford care at all.

When a provider exits a network, the cost doesn’t disappear. It shifts. And it always shifts downward — onto patients, onto families, onto people who already carry the burden of illness or disability.

Dental care is the canary in the coal mine of American healthcare. It has long existed outside the core insurance model, revealing the raw logic of the market: those who can pay, get care. Those who can’t, lose teeth — or worse, lose health that ripples through the rest of their body.

This is not an unfortunate side effect of capitalism. It is capitalism, functioning exactly as designed.

Towards a More Ethical System

The United States prides itself on innovation, yet it clings to an unimaginative healthcare model. There is nothing creative about building a system that profits from sickness. There is nothing efficient about turning suffering into revenue.

True creativity — moral creativity — would mean designing a healthcare system grounded in solidarity, not scarcity. It would mean understanding that the health of one is bound to the health of all. That the moral question is not “How can we pay for it?” but “How can we afford not to?”

To reframe healthcare as a covenant, not a commodity, is to reclaim our humanity. It’s to say: we belong to one another. And no one should have to prove their worthiness to receive care.

Because shampooing carpets is a service.

But healing the sick — that’s civilization itself.

The U.S. doesn’t have a healthcare crisis — it has a moral imagination crisis. We’ve mistaken care for commerce, and the result is a system that rewards suffering and punishes compassion.

The insistence on “unhyphenated” Americanness has always been a linguistic trick, a way to disguise whiteness as neutrality. The “unhyphenated American” is not a person; it’s a cultural fiction — an Anglo-Protestant template pretending to be universal. Every immigrant, every Indigenous lineage, every forced diaspora tells us otherwise.

To call oneself American has never meant belonging to a single culture, language, or faith. It has meant joining a shared civic project: a plural experiment in self-government. That experiment began with contradiction and still depends on it.

When people speak of “American culture,” what they usually mean is a particular blend of English language, European ancestry, and Protestant moral codes — the same ingredients once promoted as the only acceptable face of the republic.

But culture implies continuity, and the United States has none that is singular. From the start it was a negotiation — Indigenous, African, European, Asian, and Latin American traditions colliding and re-forming under a civic flag.

The Constitution defined no culture. It built a political architecture that could contain many. To confuse that architecture for an ethnicity is to hollow out the entire experiment.

In 1916, while Theodore Roosevelt warned against “hyphenated Americans,” John Dewey was arguing the opposite. In Nationalizing Education, he wrote:

“The way to deal with hyphenism is to welcome it… to extract from each people its special good, so that it shall surrender into a common fund of wisdom and experience what it especially has to contribute.”

Dewey understood what Roosevelt feared: that a democracy defined by difference might outgrow the old European model of nationhood. Where Roosevelt demanded purity, Dewey demanded participation.

He saw that every hyphen was an artery — carrying fresh language, story, and meaning into the democratic body. Erase the hyphen, and you starve the system that keeps democracy alive.

The fantasy of an unhyphenated American inevitably reappears whenever the dominant group feels fragile. It is the myth that justifies exclusion — from 19th-century nativism to the English-only laws of the early 20th century to today’s culture-war nostalgia for a “real America.”

But that nostalgia is amnesia. It forgets that jazz came from the collision of Africa and America, that democracy itself was reshaped by waves of migration and dissent. It forgets that pluralism, not purity, has always been the nation’s creative engine.

As Dewey warned:

“The dangerous thing is for each factor to isolate itself, to try to live off its past.”

Isolation — whether racial or ideological — is how a republic becomes a tribe.

If we use the phrase American culture at all, it can only mean this:

A culture of encounter — a living, unfinalized negotiation among peoples, ideas, and hopes.

The only true “unhyphenated American” is a myth.

But the hyphen itself — that mark of relation and renewal — is the most American symbol of all.

Trump’s latest act of commemoration reveals not just who America remembers, but who it chooses to erase.

Today, President Trump is awarding Charlie Kirk the Presidential Medal of Freedom, on what would have been Kirk’s 32nd birthday, marking the highest honor the White House can confer on a civilian. The choice is deeply jarring because Kirk’s legacy is steeped in divisiveness—he was known for mocking George Floyd’s death and referring to Floyd as a “scumbag,” amplifying racial tension while ridiculing calls for justice. Trump’s solemn praise, framing Kirk as an American patriot and “martyr for liberty,” underscores not just political favoritism but a deliberate erasure of Floyd’s legacy, which remains tied to urgent conversations about racial injustice and the value of Black lives in America.

On this date, which both Kirk and Floyd share as their birthday, the act of public commemoration for Kirk feels hauntingly deliberate—a gesture that honors a man who belittled Floyd even as Floyd’s own birthday passes with little official recognition. There is no presidential moment of silence, no federal day of mourning for Floyd; instead, the White House is filled with tributes to a figure whose words and actions have contributed to the very atmosphere of contempt that led to Floyd’s death being mocked in the first place. Kirk’s defenders wear red today, mobilizing a media spectacle, while Floyd’s life is rendered invisible—his value as a person suffocated beneath layers of selective memory and political theater.

This juxtaposition, of honoring Kirk in grandeur as Floyd’s memory is sidelined, is not just personally repulsive—it is a national tragedy, exposing the moral vacuum at the heart of current leadership and reminding the country who is granted dignity, and who is dismissed. The power of deliberate remembrance, wielded by the President, has become a weapon of erasure for those whose lives aren’t deemed worthy of celebration by those who hold the stage.

Let me be clear that I do not celebrate Kirk’s tragic murder, but neither do I celebrate this deliberate attempt to gaslight cultural memory.

No word on this has come from the White House or TPUSA.

Hardy flew 21 combat missions over Europe in World War II, and also served in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, earning him a decorated career as one of the U.S. military’s pioneering Black aviators.

No word on this from the White House or TPUSA.

Lt. Hardy was celebrated for his courage, determination to overcome racial discrimination, and advocacy for the legacy of the Tuskegee Airmen in his later years through lectures and public education.

No word on this from the White House or TPUSA.

Major outlets such as NBC News, CBS News, Military.com, the National WWII Museum, and PBS have covered Hardy’s death, highlighting his extraordinary military career and lasting impact.

Still No word from the White House or TPUSA.

No stadiums with pyrotechnics. No auxiliary events across the country. No reiteration of Kirk’s refrain “I’m afraid when I see a Black pilot.” No proposed national holidays. No propsals to put Hardy’s image on U.S. currency. No mandates to public institutions to fly their flags at half mast.

Why is it taking so long? Don’t worry, once the “liberal media” picks it up and runs with it, МⱯGΛ will then respond with this critique as an attack by the Left. When that happens, none of the Trump folks will hear anything of value about Lt. Hardy.

PROVE ME WRONG.

#charliekirk #TPUSA

The other day I was texting with a friend about funding—no surprise there—and the conversation shifted.

“As a side note,” I wrote, “I think G-d has a special cloth we’re cut out of, one that’s woven with mitzvah—good deeds, kindness, compassion—to better the world.”

She responded, “Tikkun Olam… we’re healing the world, one little piece at a time…”

I paused, soaked in her words, and replied, “That’s the only way I can think about what we do. It doesn’t always make sense, but somehow it works.”

Her final text came back: “Great point. I really appreciate that! And am honored to be part of your ‘we.’”

I ended simply: “I’m just honored.”

I am blessed to have a circle of friends who walk different paths, but walk in the same direction. Sometimes we must step outside our familiar “Christian” circles to grasp a greater sense of restoration. A Buddhist friend of mine once wrote a song called Praises for the World—you can find it on YouTube. Recently, Pope Leo XIV, in a video message to the Network of Universities for the Care of Our Common Home, encouraged university leaders “to be builders of bridges of integration between the Americas and with the Iberian Peninsula, working for ecological, social, and environmental justice.”

You’ve heard the words restoration and proximity used by Mar Enoch and Mar Abrahim. You may still be pondering what they mean. In the Gospel of Thomas, Saying 77, Jesus declares:

“I am the light that is over all things. I am all: from me all came forth, and to me all attained. Split a piece of wood; I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there.”

The Apostle Paul echoes this in Acts 17:28 (NKJV):

“In Him we live and move and have our being, as also some of your own poets have said, ‘For we are also His offspring.’”

So what’s the point?

Too often, Christians focus solely on the restoration of humanity and our nearness to “the end of things,” while neglecting what John saw in Revelation 21:

“Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away.”

We see “a new heaven” with one eye open, but forget “a new earth” with the other. New here is not “fresh off the assembly line,” but restored—as in “go to settings, restore to manufacturer settings.”

If mitzvah, praises for the world, and being builders of bridges for ecological, social, and environmental justice have not yet been split open in you, then we have missed the meaning of restoration and proximity we as Christians so desperately seek.

🔍 What’s the Crisis?

• The Department has acknowledged a backlog of 1.5–1.6 million Income‑Driven Repayment (IDR) applications and tens of thousands of pending PSLF Buyback requests.
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• As of June 2025, over 65,000 PSLF Buyback applications had not been processed—despite an official 45-business-day review timeline that is widely ignored. Monthly processing rates remain stuck around 3–5%.
  InvestopediaForbesAInvest

• Even borrowers who have submitted Buyback requests as early as January 2025 report no response after six months, indicating that the Department is failing its core mission.
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⚠️ What Borrowers Are Facing

A borrower representing thousands of others summarized it succinctly:

“I was four payments from forgiveness. I acted in good faith… yet six months later, I’m still in limbo.”
This experience is not anecdotal—it’s systemic.
ed.gov+3Investopedia+3Wikipedia+3Forbes+1people.com+1

These are not just bureaucratic delays—they are denials of a congressionally mandated right.

📌 Why the Department Must Act

• Secretary McMahon has spent her tenure advancing efforts to dismantle the Department of Education, with executive orders aiming to scale back federal oversight—including student financial aid programs.
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• Meanwhile, controversies swirl around politically motivated priorities like school mascots and transgender bathroom enforcement, while statutorily required programs like PSLF are frozen in bureaucratic paralysis.

• A lawsuit filed by the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) charges the Department with denying borrowers access to PSLF and IDR, failing to comply with federal law.
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This represents not just neglect—but an active abandonment of statutory responsibility.

🛠 What the Department Must Do—Immediately

1. Commit to resolving all PSLF Buyback applications older than 45 business days within 30 days.

2. Publish weekly public data on numbers of pending IDR and Buyback applications—including processing rates and average wait time.

3. Continue uninterrupted PSLF credit for borrowers forced into SAVE litigation-related forbearance, allowing retroactive counting of months lost.

4. Provide whistleblower-style channels for borrowers whose status has been mishandled, with protections against retaliation.

5. Resume full staffing of Federal Student Aid, reversing layoffs that have crippled operational capacity.
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📢 Public Advocacy & Next Steps

• Borrower advocacy organizations, union leaders, and public service workers should demand a congressional oversight hearing on PSLF implementation and delays.

• Constituents should contact their members of Congress, noting that borrowers are being denied the benefits Congress explicitly created.

• Media outlets must investigate—and expose—how political priorities (e.g., culture wars) may be diverting attention from legally mandated loan forgiveness.

✔️ Bottom Line

Public servants have upheld their end—they have worked, paid, and served. Now it’s time for the Department of Education to do its job. Secretary McMahon must prioritize statutory compliance over political theatre, and deliver forgiveness without further delay.

Let me get right to it: we are watching a system collapse in real time—and most people have no idea it’s happening.

Planned Parenthood Mar Monte (PPMM), the largest Planned Parenthood affiliate in the country, has just lost its Medicaid and Medi-Cal funding across much of its network. That means patients across 12 counties in California—Santa Cruz, San Benito, Santa Clara, San Mateo, Alameda, Kern, Tulare, Kings, Fresno, Madera, Merced, San Joaquin, Sacramento—and the entire state of Nevada—are now left without guaranteed access to the reproductive, perinatal, cancer screening, and general health services they rely on.

Let that sink in: tens of thousands of people, many of them low-income or rural, are being told that if they want care, they may need to travel 30 or more miles—just to be seen.

I recently joined the board of Planned Parenthood Mar Monte. And as it often happens when I step into a space, the house is already on fire. But this isn’t just a crisis—it’s a pattern. It’s a slow, coordinated dismantling of access. And it’s not limited to red states.

This is coming for all of us.

Even in places where we assume we’re safe—where progressive values and public funding supposedly protect people—those protections are eroding. Our elected officials, across party lines, have failed to defend the basic principle that everyone deserves healthcare, no matter their income, zip code, or insurance status.

And while some will try to reframe this in purely moral or political terms, I want to say this plainly: access to care is a human right. And in communities like ours, where faith, justice, and proximity matter—we don’t look away when people are abandoned.

• Don’t fall for the distractions. While headlines swirl with sensationalism, real lives are being quietly made more fragile by bureaucratic decisions and political cowardice.

• Stay close to the fire. This is how the work starts—by refusing to let this be someone else’s crisis.

For those who pray, pray for me. For those who organize, let’s organize together. And for those who’ve been waiting for a moment to act—this is it.

We are the ones who stand in the gap.

—Bishop Robert Mar Ephrem Lopez

The message is clear: If you don’t belong to this vision of America, you are not part of the homeland worth defending.

This video is Avi Penhollow’s introduction to his forthcoming article right here on the Proximity Portal.

DHS posted American Progress—a painting that celebrates genocide—with the caption “A Heritage to be proud of.” This isn’t nostalgia. It’s propaganda. In this livestream, I expose how Manifest Destiny is being resurrected by Christian nationalists to justify exclusion, domination, and state violence. This is not righteous. It’s blasphemy.

Avi Penhollow breaks this down on The Proximity Portal LIVE.

Just days after Donald Trump publicly disavowed the Epstein controversy and turned on his own followers for refusing to let it go, his administration handed the MAGA base a new accusation of an old villain. The Office of the Director of National Intelligence—now led by Trump loyalist Tulsi Gabbard—released a declassified intelligence summary accusing the Obama administration of orchestrating a “treasonous conspiracy” to undermine Trump’s 2016 campaign and sabotage his presidency.

If the Epstein narrative had become a liability, the ODNI report was its narrative replacement. And it arrived precisely when Trump needed to re-center outrage away from himself and back toward a familiar external enemy.

The Epstein Collapse Left a Vacuum

As documented in The MAGA Memory Hole, Trump’s sudden reversal on Epstein—from years of winking complicity to open hostility—shocked even his most loyal supporters. MAGA influencers revolted. Conspiracy channels raged. Rally attendees demanded the firing of Attorney General Pam Bondi. Trump’s credibility as the “truth-teller” president was fracturing.

But he didn’t beg them to stay.

Instead, he scorched the earth: “Let these weaklings do the Democrats’ work — I don’t want their support.” Then he moved on.

The Epstein narrative was dead. But the base’s emotional need for betrayal, secrecy, and righteous fury was not.

Enter: the ODNI drop.

From Epstein to Obama: Reframing the Enemy

The July 18th ODNI release accused Obama-era intelligence leaders of “manufacturing” Russian interference claims to justify surveillance and damaging leaks against Trump. It painted the intelligence community not as defenders of democracy, but as conspirators who engineered a coup before Trump even took office.

The script was instantly familiar:

• Shadowy bureaucrats

• Fake investigations

• Deep State manipulation

It echoed the same themes the Epstein story had sustained. But now, Trump wasn’t the one being questioned. He was back to being the victim.

On Truth Social, he wrote:

“This is bigger than Watergate. This is TREASON. There must be full accountability.”

Kayleigh McEnany resurfaced on cable news calling for “prosecutions.” Conservative pundits who had roasted Trump days earlier suddenly had new talking points.

The conspiracy was reborn—with a new cast.

The Pivot Wasn’t Reaction. It Was Strategy.

This wasn’t an improvisation. It was a pressure valve.

Trump’s inner circle had watched Epstein coverage turn from political asset to political threat. The ODNI release was a narrative reset—giving permission to the MAGA base to abandon a tainted storyline without losing their shared sense of grievance.

It checked every box:

• ✔ A new villain (Obama’s intel team)

• ✔ A new betrayal (they tried to stop Trump before he won)

• ✔ A new justification for Trump’s war on institutions

Just like that, the MAGA media machine pivoted. The grand jury smoke from Epstein was replaced with “treason” smoke from 2016. The old scandal was replaced by a recycled one with cleaner partisan lines.

The Narrative Swap Is the Strategy

Trump’s handling of the Epstein story revealed more than just hypocrisy—it revealed method. When a conspiracy becomes inconvenient, the goal is not to apologize. It’s to replace. Burn the old bridge and cross a new one.

The Epstein backlash showed that even the base has limits. But Trump’s true gift is not loyalty—it’s narrative control. The ODNI drop wasn’t just a news story. It was a lifeline.

In the politics of perpetual grievance, the enemy can always change. The tactic never does.

References

Read the companion piece: The MAGA Memory Hole: How Trump Betrayed the Conspiracy He Built

• The MAGA Memory Hole: How Trump Betrayed the Conspiracy He Built, Proximity Portal, July 19, 2025. https://www.proximityportal.com/p/the-maga-memory-hole-how-trump-betrayed

• Reuters. “Jeffrey Epstein conspiracy fallout puts Trump, White House in damage-control mode.” July 16, 2025. https://www.reuters.com/business/media-telecom/trump-white-house-race-stem-epstein-conspiracy-fallout-2025-07-16/

• ABC News. “What Trump has said about Jeffrey Epstein over the years, including on 2024 campaign trail.” July 16, 2025. https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-jeffrey-epstein-years-including-2024-campaign-trail/story?id=123778541

• NPR. “Trump calls for the release of Jeffrey Epstein grand jury testimony.” July 19, 2025. https://www.npr.org/2025/07/19/nx-s1-5473430/trump-calls-release-jeffrey-epstein-grand-jury-testimony

• AP News. “With Epstein conspiracy theories, Trump faces a crisis of his own making.” https://apnews.com/article/trump-epstein-conspiracy-theories-bondi-bongino-fbi-a143076353acbc1193cb9697e7fc4a90

"Their new SCAM is what we will forever call the Jeffrey Epstein Hoax."

With those words this week, Donald Trump didn't just abandon a conspiracy theory—he betrayed the very people who believed him when he promoted it. The same supporters who chanted "Epstein didn't kill himself" at his rallies are now being called "weaklings" whose support he "doesn't want anymore."

This isn't just another case of political flip-flopping. It's a masterclass in narrative laundering: exploit a conspiracy to gain power, then discard it—and the people who believed it—once it threatens your grip on that power.

The Rise: From Social Companion to Political Weapon

The transformation began in elite circles. In 1992, NBC footage captured Trump and Jeffrey Epstein laughing together at a Mar-a-Lago party. A decade later, Trump told New York Magazine: "I've known Jeff for 15 years. Terrific guy... He's a lot of fun to be with. It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side."

But by 2016, as Epstein's crimes became public knowledge, Trump's tone shifted. He claimed he "wasn't a fan," denied closeness, and began redirecting blame toward Bill Clinton. After Epstein's 2019 arrest, Trump insisted at the White House: "I had a falling out with him a long time ago."

Then came the conspiracy gold rush.

The Weaponization: Building the "Deep State" Narrative

When Epstein died in his Manhattan jail cell in August 2019, "Epstein didn't kill himself" exploded across conservative social media. Trump didn't just allow this—he amplified it. He retweeted suggestions of Clinton involvement, teased revelations on the campaign trail, and promised to "declassify the Epstein files."

QAnon influencers claimed "the storm" was coming. Conservative media elevated speculation about Epstein's mysterious "client list." The narrative was irresistible: Epstein wasn't just a sex trafficker—he was the tip of the Deep State iceberg, and Trump alone knew the truth.

For years, this served Trump perfectly. The Epstein conspiracy:

• Cast doubt on established institutions

• Implicated political enemies

• Positioned Trump as the outsider with secret knowledge

• Energized his base with promises of coming revelations

The conspiracy became a political weapon—until it turned inward.

The Betrayal: "I Don't Want Their Support Anymore"

Everything changed in July 2025. Trump's own Department of Justice and FBI released a two-page memo that shattered the conspiracy: no "client list" existed, and Epstein died by suicide. The very institutions Trump controlled were contradicting the narrative he'd spent years building.

The MAGA base erupted. Far-right influencers demanded Attorney General Pam Bondi's resignation. Dan Bongino, Kash Patel, and Michael Flynn called for full disclosure. The conspiracy that once united the movement was now tearing it apart.

Trump's response was swift and brutal. He called his former supporters "weaklings" whose support he didn't want. He labeled the entire Epstein saga a "Jeffrey Epstein Hoax" created by Democrats.

At a White House event, he snapped at reporters: "Are you still talking about Jeffrey Epstein? That is unbelievable."

The Memory Hole: Erasing Inconvenient Truths

This is how authoritarian populism handles internal threats: not by addressing them, but by erasing them. The movement builds itself on stories like Epstein's—until those stories become liabilities.

Trump didn't just abandon the conspiracy theory. He performed a complete narrative inversion:

• 2019-2024: "Epstein didn't kill himself" (implied Democratic cover-up)

• 2025: "Jeffrey Epstein Hoax" (Democratic conspiracy against Trump)

The same supporters who once rallied to his coded winks about hidden truths are now branded as traitors falling for Democratic "bullshit."

The Pattern: Pseudo-Transparency as Political Theater

Even Trump's promises of transparency follow a familiar script. When he claimed to support document releases "pending court approval," he knew federal grand jury materials are sealed by law and courts cannot release them. This created a perfect rhetorical trap:

• If courts deny release: Trump claims cover-up

• If materials are released but redacted: He calls them fake

The result? Trump appears cooperative while ensuring the secrecy he ultimately relies on remains intact.

His recent demand to unseal grand jury records follows the same playbook—legal analysts note the releases will be slow, heavily redacted, and unlikely to reveal anything significant. It's optics masquerading as transparency.

The Larger Truth: How Conspiracies Get Laundered

The Epstein case reveals something deeper about modern political manipulation. Conspiracy theories aren't just believed—they're manufactured, deployed, and discarded based on political utility.

Here's the cycle:

1. Create or amplify a conspiracy that serves your interests

2. Weaponize it against enemies while building supporter loyalty

3. Control the narrative through selective transparency promises

4. Abandon it when it becomes politically inconvenient

5. Attack former believers to distance yourself from the consequences

The MAGA base didn't just get gaslit about Epstein. They got a masterclass in how populist movements dispose of supporters once they're no longer useful.

The Real Hoax

Trump was right about one thing: there is a Jeffrey Epstein hoax. But it's not the one created by Democrats.

The real hoax was convincing millions of supporters that he cared about truth and transparency when he only cared about power. The real hoax was building a movement on promises of exposing corruption while engaging in the same manipulative tactics.

The real hoax was making people believe that when he said "I have all the answers," he meant something other than "I have all the power."

The conspiracy is dead. Long live the next one.

Avi Penhollow is a regular contributor to The Proximity Portal. Follow for more analysis of authoritarian political tactics and narrative manipulation.

Sources:

• ABC7 New York. "What Trump Has Said About Epstein Over the Years." 2025.

• Axios. "Trump disavows 'PAST supporters' who believed 'Jeffrey Epstein Hoax.'" July 16, 2025.

• Forbes. "Here's the Timeline of MAGA's Epstein Files Meltdown." July 16, 2025.

• NPR. "Trump tells supporters not to 'waste time' on Epstein files." July 14, 2025.

• Rolling Stone. "The DOJ's Epstein Memo Is Tearing the Trump Administration Apart." July 2025.

• CNN. "Trump lashes out at 'weaklings' who believe Epstein 'bullsh*t.'" July 16, 2025.

I’ve been a public school teacher for over 25 years. I’ve served low-income students, mentored new educators, and stayed in the classroom while others left — because PSLF gave me hope that my service mattered.

But when my forgiveness date came close in 2024, MOHELA placed my account in forbearance — after assuring me it wouldn’t affect my progress. They were wrong. Those months were stripped from my payment count. When I tried to correct it, I couldn’t even get through. Their phone lines were jammed, their portal was broken, and nobody responded for months.

So I did what public servants always do — I kept going. I made extra payments manually. I re-submitted my PSLF application. And I’ve now filed a reconsideration request to get back the credit I rightfully earned. But I’m scared. Not just for me — but for every teacher, nurse, and social worker who’s counting on this program while Donald Trump and Linda McMahon try to dismantle it in real time.

This Isn’t Just My Story. It’s a National Crisis.

The delays and roadblocks I’ve faced are now becoming the norm — not the exception. After the Supreme Court greenlit Trump’s mass firing of Education Department employees, the entire student loan system is buckling. Millions of borrowers are in limbo, trapped by bureaucratic dysfunction and political sabotage at the very moment they were promised relief.

Impact of Supreme Court Decision on Student Loan Forgiveness and DOE Services

The Supreme Court’s decision to allow the Trump administration to proceed with firing hundreds of Education Department workers has had a profound and immediate impact on the federal government’s ability to help student loan borrowers, especially those seeking forgiveness or needing urgent assistance

How Has This Decision Affected Student Loan Forgiveness?

• Delays and Disruptions: The mass layoffs—nearly half the Department’s workforce—have created significant delays in processing student loan forgiveness applications, including Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) and Income-Driven Repayment (IDR) forgiveness. Borrowers are experiencing longer wait times, reduced communication, and growing backlogs.

• Reduced Oversight and Support: Key offices like Federal Student Aid (FSA) and the FSA Ombudsman, which handle complaints and resolve disputes, have lost a substantial portion of their staff. This has led to fewer resources to help borrowers navigate complex forgiveness programs or address errors.

• Suspended or Paused Services: Some loan servicers have reported that the Department of Education temporarily halted the ability to track forgiveness progress, leaving borrowers in the dark about their eligibility and status. The specialized teams that managed PSLF and IDR issues have been reassigned or eliminated, causing further confusion and service gaps.

• Risk of Unaddressed Errors: With fewer staff to review and process applications or oversee loan servicers, mistakes and unresolved issues are more likely, making it harder for borrowers to get timely corrections or relief.

Evidence That DOE’s Ability to Help Borrowers Has Been Affected

• Direct Testimony and Reporting: Multiple sources, including borrower advocacy groups and federal employees, have confirmed that the layoffs have made it “effectively impossible” for the Department to fulfill its statutory duties, including certifying schools for federal aid and maintaining oversight of student loan servicers.

• Backlogs and Paused Forgiveness: There are currently backlogs of over a million IDR applications, and many borrowers report that their forgiveness progress is not being tracked or processed at all. Some eligible for forgiveness have not had their loans discharged, even when legally required.

• Court Findings: Federal judges and appeals courts have acknowledged the “disabling impact” of the mass firings, stating that the cuts have prevented the DOE from effectively implementing programs and services required by law.

• Borrower Experiences: Borrowers are being advised to meticulously document all interactions, monitor their accounts, and prepare for significant delays, as federal oversight and support are now severely limited.

How to Track and Document the Impact

• Monitor Official Communications: Check StudentAid.gov and your loan servicer’s website regularly for updates on forgiveness processing and service changes.

• File Complaints: Use state consumer protection offices and the FSA Ombudsman (if still operational) to report unresolved issues or delays.

• Advocacy and Media Reports: Follow reputable news outlets and borrower advocacy organizations for ongoing analysis and updates on DOE functionality and borrower experiences.

• Congressional and Court Proceedings: Watch for further legal developments, as ongoing litigation may force the reinstatement of some staff or functions.

What Borrowers Should Do Now

• Be Proactive: Document every payment, application, and communication with your servicer.

• Seek State-Level Help: If federal support is unavailable, contact your state attorney general or consumer protection office.

• Stay Informed: Legislative and legal challenges are ongoing, and the situation may change as courts and Congress respond to these unprecedented cuts.

Join the Conversation:
Have you been affected by PSLF delays or student loan mismanagement? Are you seeing the impact of the Department of Education’s staffing cuts in your own experience? I’d love to hear your story. Share your thoughts, questions, or frustrations in the comments — this space is for us. The more we speak up, the harder it becomes to ignore.

📖 Drawing from Scripture and centuries of theological tradition, Ashe explores:

• The three levels of faith: children, young men, and fathers (1 John 2)

• The three realms of the Tabernacle: Outer Court, Holy Place, and Holy of Holies

• The difference between initial salvation and spiritual maturity

• The role of the Holy Spirit as a down payment — and the call to go beyond

• How true transformation means losing borrowed faith to gain your own revelation

🔔 This sermon is a call to those who are no longer satisfied with surface-level faith. It challenges us to go from 30-fold to 100-fold, from religion to relationship, and from the earnest of the Spirit to the fullness of divine union.

🕊️ Whether you’re discovering Ashe for the first time or returning to a beloved voice of spiritual wisdom, this message will stir your soul and deepen your desire for God.

👉 Subscribe to The Proximity Portal for more teachings that blend ancient faith, personal growth, and prophetic truth.

🗣️ Let's Go Deeper — Join the Conversation

This word stirred something in your spirit? Let’s talk about it.
Drop a comment below — whether you’re wrestling with the message, feeling challenged to grow, or carrying a question about your next spiritual step.

We believe the hunger for “more” is holy. And we’re here for the journey.

✦
A ministry of The Proximity Portal — where sacred depth meets real talk.

The decision comes after a lawsuit from Texas churches and the National Religious Broadcasters, claiming the Johnson Amendment violated their rights. The IRS’ carve-out was justified as “family discussions” within congregations, but legal experts warn this could effectively create a “political intervention tax shelter” for churches, eroding the separation of church and state.

Faith leaders are divided. Some see new freedom; others fear partisanship overshadowing mission, with Black and AAPI church leaders asking, “Why now?” A Pew survey shows 8 in 10 Americans oppose churches endorsing candidates, underlining the risks of weaponizing pulpits for politics.

This is not just about faith. It’s about power, money, and the integrity of democracy.

💬 Should churches endorse candidates while staying tax-exempt? Is this religious freedom, or is it rigging the system? Drop your thoughts below. 👀

✊🏽 Subscribe for clear, grounded commentary on faith, politics, and power.

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