There is no doubt in my mind that if General George Washington were alive to see how the permanent political class had defiled his good name, he would raze D.C. to the ground. “But George,” I imagine Martha pleading, “there surely are some good people in the nation’s capital who still serve the Republic.”
“I don’t think so. They celebrate baby murder, educate children inside brothels, tax the people to death, corruptly enrich themselves, and send the poorest to fight foreign wars for vague reasons.”
“In that case, wait here; I’ll go grab the torches.” Martha was a patriotic and courageous first lady, who was never so insecure that she required strangers to address her as “Doctor.”
If the denizens of D.C. had even the slightest inclination toward honesty, they would rename their little swampland after Benedict Arnold, a man whose capacity for betrayal they all secretly emulate. The filthy cesspool of narcissists and thieves rules over most of North America and a good chunk of the globe, but it is despised by pretty much anyone on the planet not making a buck from the crony Capitol-ism that fuels the whole rotten system.
Whatever courses through the Leviathan’s veins, it stinks to high heaven. Of course, now that cocaine has been legalized in the West Wing, who knows what kinds of other intoxicants the Leviathan is hopped up on these days? The whole of D.C. has the twitchy personality of a boozing streetwalker bouncing back and forth from coke to ketamine. It is little surprise that the “ruling class” refuses to close the border to fentanyl. A whole city addicted to power and pharmaceuticals can’t welch on the same drug-dealers who fill both the campaign coffers and party stashes of the city’s most decadent deadbeats.
Speaking of fentanyl, the Drug Enforcement Administration has a public safety campaign under the catchy slogan “One Pill Can Kill,” as part of D.C.’s continuing efforts to solve real-life problems with Twitter hashtags. One open border can kill, too, but saying that out loud is neither “politically correct” nor financially viable to an upper-crust corporate oligarchy that survives on cheap, illicit labor. The residents of Benedict Arnold are nothing if not patent hypocrites, but it still seems incongruous for the same bureaucrats who glorify abortifacients to demonize opioids. The Planned Parenthood priesthood spends most of its time cheering, “One pill can kill — yay!” On the other hand, Planned Parenthood’s child-sacrificing disciples — many of whom love opioids as much as Hunter Biden does — pretend to worry about the drug epidemic killing Americans in staggering numbers. Warnings from the same deviants whose open border policies and fixation with child dismemberment have taken more American lives than any foreign military sound sinisterly hollow.
All the average American asks of the federal government is this: provide for our common defense against foreign aggressors; negotiate with other nations on the collective states’ behalf; ensure the operation of a judicial system that treats everyone fairly and evenly; if you’re going to issue a form of money, make sure to maintain its stable value; refrain from starting reckless wars that squander American lives; abide by the restrictions of the Constitution; defend the Bill of Rights; respect the states’ individual sovereignty; and, otherwise, get out of the way.
The Benedict Arnolds have instead illegally opened America’s borders, constructed a criminal (in)justice system that targets political enemies, stolen Americans’ incomes through exorbitant taxes, devalued Americans’ monetary currency through profligate spending, engaged in an unending cycle of wars, abandoned the Constitution, infringed Americans’ inalienable rights, ignored the states’ inherent authority, and inserted themselves into every crevice of American life. To top it all off, their globalist agenda to push “green” energy has destroyed the economy.
Only a dum-dum like Biden would name our current economic doldrums after himself. Bidenomics? Seriously? Is that when you make less, own less, and give the government more? Or is it the name for a crony Capitol-ist system that allows a “public servant” to own three homes and be a millionaire? Or maybe Bidenomics describes a sounder of low-class swine who can afford cocaine but not child support. Whatever its technical definition, its effect is the same: the politically connected keep getting richer while sticking it to the middle class who work for a living. No wonder a lifelong grifter universally known as a bought-and-paid-for stooge of America’s foreign enemies couldn’t care less whether his name is synonymous with economic malaise — just so long as he gets his 10% cut from the communist Chinese!
I wish I could say that Republicans in D.C. are capable of righting the ship at some point. I wish the party of Lincoln still had real principles and served some greater purpose aside from providing the appearance of an electoral choice for voters. For decades, though, it has been the home of too many backstabbing neoconservatives all too willing to vote for Hillary Clinton and underhanded Uniparty co-conspirators working for Marxist globalism and against the American people. In reality, most Republican officeholders are shiny hood ornaments whose function is to distract the public while the Deep State barrels down the road, hitting innocent pedestrians.
Have you noticed how little Republicans actually get done when Donald Trump is not in town? They do a lot of loud huffing and puffing but follow up with little in the way of concrete action. While unethical prosecutors and judges lock up Trump confidants and supporters for their political beliefs, Republican leaders do nothing. While the Department of (in)Justice pursues a potential life sentence against President Trump, Republican leaders are silent. When thoughtcrimes, censorship, and political persecution run rampant, the time for half-measures has ended.
Commie-leaning rags habitually run headlines claiming that Republicans have “pounced” on some issue; conservative publications run headlines applauding Republicans for having “sounded the alarm.” I don’t know about you, but the Republican Party reminds me of a bunch of kitty-cat Karens who struggle to do anything more than report their problems to the manager. In a time when only lions will do, the house cats in D.C. just add stink to the litter box.
It is no surprise, then, that Americans keep looking for political “outsiders” willing to rid D.C. of its Benedict Arnold infestation once and for all. President Trump still holds a commanding lead in Republican primary polling, and Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. has a solid twenty-plus-percentage share among Democrats. Granted, China Joe puts the lame in “lame duck” as no other child-sniffing fraud could, but it is still amazing that so much of the electorate desperately seeks a leader untethered to B.A., D.C. The “ruling class” clings to permanent power, and the American people — across the political spectrum — are saying quite loudly: It sure would be nice if some cowboy with a little grit visited the entrenched kakistocracy.
Maybe that doesn’t bother a political cabal smitten with rigged elections and accustomed to sticking its collective head up its own derrière, but it should. Institutions that lack legitimacy don’t last long, and recent polls make it strikingly clear that Americans have almost no confidence in the financial, political, and cultural institutions that surround them. While the Feds hunt J6 election protesters, parents concerned about sexualized school curricula, and illusory “white supremacists” lurking in the hills, a majority of Americans know that the real Benedict Arnolds reside just above the sewers of D.C. A city that rules an empire cannot persevere when it betrays its erstwhile friends — and certainly not when it treats everyone opposed to its municipal dominion as an enemy.
Image: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center via Flickr, CC BY 2.0 (cropped).
Bypass Big Tech Censors
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.