Critics cry “circus!” On social media the knives are out. MAGA voices, once ironclad, now crack under the weight of waiting. “Where are the arrests?” “No accountability.” “Trump’s messaging is off.” “He’s playing golf while the deep state laughs.” The comments pile up like drift ice—sharp, cold, unrelenting. Patriots who stormed the breach in 2020 and 2024 now buckle. The silence from the machinery of justice is too much to bear.

“Fighters on the lawn is too much” they say. Yet, history shows that Theodore Roosevelt brought fighters to the lawn before. In fact, Roosevelt stepped in against military aide Col. Daniel T. Moore one afternoon until the punch came that tore the eye loose inside and left him half-blind but never saying much about it until later.

Years on, Obama had the Foo Fighters out there under the lights with the amplifiers roaring for the crowd. Now the cage stands ready and the fighters will come again. It was all the same thing, the lawn taking what a man wanted to put on it, nothing new under the flag.

Still, I read the posts. I feel the fracture. I have written before of the war against me—the investigations, the threats, the attempts to strip my license, the cost to my family. I know what it is to stand when the ground shifts. Around the same time I was introduced to the world on Tucker Carlson’s show, my sister was shot in the head. My mother, a sainted wreck, picked up the pieces. To function, I had to turn off the parts that feel too deeply.

Triage.

There was no saving a family if we did not first save our country.

After the Rededication of our nation and the release of Tina Peters, you would think I would be on cloud nine. The fulfillment of a long-awaited dream of national repentance. People lining the streets in the swamp to worship God. That was a day for the history books. Something changed in the spiritual realm. Believers received a jolt of hope. A screenshot of a witches’ forum confirms an energy shift. The enemy is now sick and exhausted.

Seeing Tina free, of course I rejoiced. Two major battles won.

But not the war.

Joy was fleeting. I am consumed with the war—the day we finally take scalps.

Indulge me another fever dream. The eyes gazing on that UFC cage are interrupted. For me, men swearing allegiance to the same flag and fighting on a lawn does nothing to evoke the pride of a nation’s independence against tyranny. The wrong people are in the cage. I want the broadcast to switch to another cage—one holding Obama, Hillary, and their Rothschild handlers.

So instead of relishing our nation’s repentance, I drove north to Talbot County, Maryland. To Third Haven, the old Quaker house of prayer. I sat for an hour in silence on a pew once occupied by William Penn, the spiritual founding father of our nation. No words. No songs. Just the weight of waiting on God.

I told Him, “I am not okay. Where are You?”

You see, He made me a promise. In the first episode titled “Can America Covenant with God,” I shared that something supernatural happened to me on January 6th, 2021. Many have asked about it.

In a nutshell, I prayed for angels, and gossamer threaded outlines appeared. For the play-by-play, watch the video.

I was told, “Do not worry. We are going to win.”

“We are going to win.”

I have bet everything on that promise—my job, my marriage, my children, my reputation, and defending a man’s anointing whose got bigger problems to solve then checking in on how I’m doing.

That is why, as Trump reaches his eightieth year, I pray new life is given to our nation’s rebirth. I say this as my own father has just reached eighty. He is dying. He says, “Enough. I am tired.” Hospice has been arranged.

We are not okay. We have not been okay for a long time. My brother is blind and needs twenty-four-hour care. When my father breathes his last, the burden falls heavier on me. The last six years have left me exhausted. An old back injury has returned with fury. Days in bed. Jarring pain. Little sleep. And through it all I wait for God to speak.

Nothing.

Silence.

I promised myself and my readers I would publish nothing unless I felt the clear prick of the Spirit. So, what do you write when heaven is quiet? When your mind feeds you what the crowd wants to hear—namely that everything will be okay—yet God says, “Don’t do it. That’s not from Me. Those are the small gods of self-sabotage whispering about lost clicks and fading relevance. You are warring with the idolatry of productivity.”

He is right.

Give me a lost cause, a burden, a fight, and I can soar. Give me silence and I fall apart.

The hardest part is not hearing God’s voice. Waiting. Being still.

But that is exactly what I did in that old timbered church. Pondering how to get closer to the Presence I felt with my gossamer threaded outlines.

My mind sees a ship stuck on a frozen horizon—its name: ENDURANCE. An understanding dawns. That ship is the topic for today.

ENDURANCE

This is a meditation of three parts.

First, my own. The waiting that hollows a man. The depression that whispers futility. The back that screams while the soul strains for a word from above. The Word replies, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Psalm 27:14).

My father. Eighty years now spent. “I’m tired,” he says. Simple words. True words. A generation passing. The earth remains. Over the past twelve years we have spoken only a few times, usually after a health scare that brings me to his bedside. Each time I renew hope that we will reconcile before his mind fades further. My hopes are dashed against rocks of pride and the rigid program that now drives his speech. No real thought for the aging son who stands before him. No connection to grandchildren he does not know. Just a one-way transmission replaying the same talking points, like an old record humming the same tune over and over.

I am finally resolved that I will not receive my little miracle of connection with my father. The world broke him at forty when he blew the whistle on fraud, waste, and abuse in the military-industrial complex. He checked out and I haven’t seen him since. I have made an eternal vow to fight the very forces that broke him.

In a cruel twist of fate, he could have nothing to do with a son whose passion to never quit served as a constant reminder of the moment he gave up. Instead, under the guise of love, he has bid me to avoid pain, enjoy a simple life of quaint visits where he replays the record called “Low Expectation Blues” with his greatest hits: “It will work itself out,” You can’t ask for much more than that,” and “That’s why I don’t get involved.”

My insides scream in silent rebuttal, muttering, “It didn’t work itself out. If I could find it, I’d strangle him.” Followed by a “I WILL ask for much more, and “because you didn’t get involved, I have to!”

I’ll hear my pops play the same record tomorrow, and as many times as I must until the Lord claims him in His good time. The moral of the first meditation? Waiting is a duty we owe to dying fathers. I’m commanded to honor him, so I do.

The second meditation is Ernest Shackleton. In 1914 the Endurance left South Georgia for Antarctica. The goal was to cross the continent. Ice seized the ship before they ever landed. For twenty months the crew lived in the Antarctic’s cold clutches. The ship was crushed and sank. They camped on ice floes as the winter darkness closed in. Food ran low. Hope thinned.

There has never been a waiting like theirs.

One day the floe split beneath them with a crack like judgment. A chasm opened. A sailor nearly plunged into the black water, saved only by desperate hands and quick feet. On another day a massive leopard seal erupted through the ice, jaws wide, chasing Thomas Orde-Lees across the floe. Frank Wild dropped the beast with a single shot.

When the ice finally broke, they reached the barren rocks of Elephant Island. Shackleton took five men and launched the James Caird, a twenty-two-foot boat, into the Southern Ocean—the most dangerous waters on earth, the Furious Fifties, with waves like moving mountains. They sailed eight hundred miles through hurricane-force gales and freezing spray. When they staggered ashore on South Georgia, the hardened Norwegian whalers stared at the wrecked men and removed their hats in respect. Such seamanship had never been witnessed.

Shackleton crossed the island’s unmapped mountains and glaciers on foot with two companions, returned with a ship, and rescued every single man left on Elephant Island. Not one lost.

Every day on the ice was a meditation on survival. Waiting. Moving when movement seemed impossible. Holding the men together when meaning itself seemed crushed under the floes. Shackleton did not conquer Antarctica. He brought every soul home through pure endurance.

“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7).

“Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40:31).

Could you imagine the endurance required to survive nearly two years of being cold, wet, staring at six months of darkness and light, with survival depending on how the wind blew the glacier you stood upon?

I have waited in life, but never for the ground beneath me to move in a certain direction. The spirit of suicide surely whispered to Shackelton’s men, “Give up. Hell has frozen over, and it has claimed you.” I imagine the war to shrug off such thoughts were constant.

The moral of this second meditation? I can say my efforts holding the hearts of my American country men together pale in comparison to that of Ernest Shackelton. I’m not physically stranded. I have provision. But, mentally and spiritually, I am as tired as my eighty-year-old father. But the greatness of Shackelton hearkens me on from beyond the grave, “Endure. Do not give up, no matter how hopeless it seems.”

The third meditation is Solomon. Ecclesiastes is the rumination of a demoralized king. The son of David looked at life under the sun and called it “vanity of vanities.” All is vanity. Generations come and go. The sun rises and sets. The wind circles. Streams run to the sea that is never full. Nothing new under the sun. Greater wisdom brings greater sorrow.

He toiled, built, gathered wealth, chased pleasure, pursued understanding. All of it vapor. A striving after wind. What is crooked cannot be made straight. What is lacking cannot be numbered.

Think on that. His wisdom and wealth made him no happier than you or I. As I sit in my garage study, the wisest man who ever lived and I share the same burden: a season of silence and questioning the meaning of it all. So, what drives happiness in the end? David spoke of a deer panting for water. The satisfaction of eternal thirst being quenched.

The presence of God Himself.

Solomon did not end in despair, but he took a tortured route to get there. He sat in the silence. He felt the weight. And at the close of the matter he said: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. God will bring every deed into judgment.”

I end with this.

Forgive my meditation, which is little more than a confession of weakness. Namely, laying bare the depression, the exhaustion, the silence. But I am claiming a promise by doing so. The scriptures say: “Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

“Healing.”

Say it with me. “Lord, I need healing for what’s broken inside.”

I sat in the Quaker silence at Third Haven and thought of these threads. For a moment I laid on the pew staring up. I saw a small, vented opening in the ceiling, and traced the building for a way to the attic. I was told the young children at Third Haven would sit in the attic of the structure during services. I found stairs and wandered up, not sure of whether I was going into a forbidden area. The walls were signed by believers going back hundreds of years.

There, I received an understanding while standing in the attic alone. I desired to be closer to God, seated at a higher place. And he brought me to where the children sat, high above where the Puritans would have sat below.

Matthew 11:25 came to mind: “At that time Jesus declared, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children.” And then Matthew 18 flashed, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

In that children’s attic, I said, “I’m here father. I love you. I am yours.”

I could feel His smile.

My thoughts now turn to my father on earth, his quiet farewell. Shackleton’s small boat in the raging seas. Solomon’s honest lament. The MAGA faithful chafing under delay. The cage on the White House lawn. Trump seems to think we’ll be okay, shooshing his naysayers, with an admonishment. “Don’t be a panican.”

The waiting is real. The silence from heaven can break a man. But the quest is not to escape the wait. It is to endure it without losing the men entrusted to you. To row when the wind howls. To sit when there is nothing to say. To trust that the same God who crushed the Endurance in ice can still bring every soul home.

I have nothing grand to publish today. Only this: I am still here. Still waiting. And like a child, I still believe that the One who spoke creation knows the exact hour when the ice will break.

Hold fast, brothers. Solomon was right. All is vanity under the sun. But above the sun there is a voice, even when we cannot hear it. One day it will speak. And every crooked thing will be made straight. It’s God’s turn to set things right.

Until then, we endure.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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Completed in 1888 after forty years of struggle, the Washington monument is more than stone and engineering. In the unseen realm, it has functioned as one of the most prominent territorial altars in the nation. Construction officially began on July 4, 1848, with a full Masonic cornerstone-laying ceremony. The Grand Master of the District of Columbia used George Washington’s own Masonic apron and gavel. Masonic lodges from across America donated stones inscribed with their symbols. Its towering obelisk form is not accidental — it is the Egyptian counterpart to the Canaanite Asherah pole.

Both are phallic fertility symbols: the Asherah pole represented the goddess Asherah (consort of Baal), while the obelisk represents the phallus of Osiris and the sun god Ra. Both functioned as high places that claimed territory and released spiritual influence. Its placement on the National Mall, aligned with key government buildings, has long been viewed in spiritual warfare circles as part of a larger symbolic grid reinforcing territorial influence over the seat of American power.

The monument’s path was never smooth. The anti-Catholic Know-Nothing Party seized control of the project in 1855, halted meaningful progress, contributed to years of chaos, leaving an unfinished stump. The Civil War turned the unfinished stump into pastureland and even a slaughterhouse. America’s 1876 Centennial brought federal intervention and completion in 1884–1888. When completed, it was the tallest man-made structure in the world, holding the record until the Eiffel Tower was finished in 1889. The height is often noted in symbolic discussions, as it stands exactly 6,660 inches.

Here lies a tragic irony in American history. In the 1850s, the Know-Nothing Party rose with great fervor, warning against Catholic influence and foreign encroachment. They even disrupted the Washington Monument’s construction, destroying the Pope’s Stone. Yet while they fixated on Catholicism as the great threat, they largely missed — or tolerated — the deeper evil quietly rising within Freemasonry itself. What began as a practical fraternity of stonemasons was being infiltrated by mystical, esoteric, and satanic elements, especially in the higher degrees. This allowed Luciferian symbolism and ungodly covenants to embed themselves into the very architecture and foundations of Washington, D.C., including the Monument. The Know-Nothings fought the wrong battle with the wrong enemy, and the real spiritual stronghold advanced almost unnoticed.

What of Washington the man? George Washington was initiated into Operative Freemasonry in 1752 — a practical fraternity of stonemasons focused on moral character, brotherly love, and Christian ethics. At that time, American Masonry was still relatively benign. Higher degrees — especially in the Scottish Rite — introduced occult symbolism, Hermetic teachings, and Luciferian philosophy that were foreign to the original operative tradition. Washington himself expressed caution in 1798 about subversive influences like the Illuminati potentially working within secret societies, even as he remained a member of the earlier, less corrupted form.

In his correspondence he noted he had not presided over a lodge for over 30 years and rarely attended meetings. One hundred years after the revolution, Washington would not have approved of a monument dedicated to him, given his concerns of the Illuminati within freemasonry growing. In fact, Washington expressly admonished against such a memorial being built during his life. I believe the fruit of Washington’s life demonstrated him to be a committed Christian, though I have concerns about the attachments he may have unwittingly subjected himself to, and our nation. He served as a vestryman in his Anglican church, attended services regularly, required chaplains in the Continental Army, and repeatedly acknowledged the hand of Providence in the birth of the nation. His personal writings are filled with reverence for Almighty God and moral virtue rooted in Scripture.

Dr. William (Bill) Schnoebelen, a former 33rd-degree Freemason, explains how most masons are largely ignorant of the Satanic pact that awaits: “This is something that probably only one in one thousand Masons in America understand. What is the royal secret? It is that you can live forever by sexually vampirizing children. Whether it’s the Mormons, or the Masons, or the witches, or the Vatican. And believe me, we talked to dozens of people in ministry who came to us, who were sodomized as children, who were literally taken to the Masonic Lodge after hours.”

It is with this, I ponder the solemn rededication of America to the one true and living God, taking place in the shadow of a city intentionally laid out by Freemasonic hands. What is whispered in the lower degrees is boldly declared in the 33rd — the worship of Lucifer, the hidden religion of rebellion that has long sought to rule this nation from its capital through stone, symbol, and covenant.

Is my fear of this corrupted terrain much ado about nothing? Or outdated Old Testament thinking? After all, even during the reign of King David — a man after God’s own heart — pagan altars remained widespread across the land. High places dedicated to Baal, Asherah poles, and altars to other Canaanite gods were still active. David did not fully eradicate them. Instead, amid this spiritual contamination, he chose to pitch the Tabernacle of David on Mount Zion — a place of open, veil-less worship and 24/7 praise (2 Samuel 6; 1 Chronicles 15–16; Amos 9:11). He established pure worship in the midst of surrounding idolatry. Just as David confronted the spiritual atmosphere of his day by restoring the Tabernacle, the Rededicate 250 gathering is a direct confrontation at the foot of a pagan altar.

But what bearing does any of this have in 2026? In America?

The Rededicate 250 is a spiritual convention. Months later, after Labor Day, the Republican National Committee will convene its first-ever midterm convention — a “Trump-a-palooza” in the natural — not to nominate, but to rally, to organize, and to reset the battlefield for the 2026 general elections after massive vacancies.

Two conventions.

One in the unseen realm where covenants are forged or broken. One in the visible arena where ballots, candidates, and power are contested. And between them, a spiritual battle rages with fury to derail both.

And that’s the topic for today.

THE TWO CONVENTIONS:

The Importance of Thrones, Tabernacles, and Altars

That Christ is coming back, is something no Christian disputes. It’s in all our creeds and confessions.

But the lack of thought, or preparation we make for His return, showcases how little we truly believe the day could be upon us. The angel Gabriel told Mary about the birth of her Son: “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end (Luke 1:32).”

Revelation 19:11-16 states:

“Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True… He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.”

What is truly happening in Washington D.C. May 17^th is far greater than a single gathering. It is the coming together of two divine realities: the Tabernacle of David and the Throne of David — realities that every believer is called to hold in this present age until Christ returns.

The Tabernacle: The Place of Intimacy and Worship

The Tabernacle speaks of God’s dwelling among His people and unhindered access to His presence. While Moses’ Tabernacle in the wilderness was veiled and restricted, David did something revolutionary. He pitched a simple tent on Mount Zion, placed the Ark of the Covenant inside, and established continuous worship — day and night, with singers and musicians ministering before the Lord, arguably, without a veil (1 Chronicles 15–16; 2 Samuel 6). The text never mentions a veil, inner curtain, or Holy of Holies separation in David’s tent — a striking omission given how detailed the instructions for Moses’ Tabernacle were (Exodus 26), as well as the Temple after David’s death. I believe the Tabernacle of David was a foretaste of the New Covenant: No veil = direct access to God through worship and relationship. This is why James quoted Amos 9:11 in Acts 15:16 — the restoration of David’s Tabernacle includes Gentiles having open access to God without the old barriers. Amos prophesied its restoration: “In that day I will restore David’s fallen shelter — I will repair its broken walls and restore its ruins — and will rebuild it as it used to be.” (Amos 9:11)

The Throne: The Seat of Authority and Rule

The Throne speaks of kingship, government, and righteous dominion. The Lord promised David: “Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever (2 Samuel 7:16).” This promise is fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Jesus Himself told the overcomers: “To the one who is victorious, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father on his throne.” (Revelation 3:21). We are being trained to reign with Him. The parables of the talents and the minas teach that the faithful servant who is trustworthy with little will be given authority over cities when the Master returns (Luke 19:17; Matthew 25:21). Even now, the saints are called to judge the world and exercise spiritual authority (1 Corinthians 6:2-3; 2 Timothy 2:12). We hold the Throne in the present age through prayer, righteous governance, and spiritual warfare, stewarding authority until the King of kings visibly takes His seat. I’m indebted to the teachings of Dale Mast for this understanding.

The Divine Pattern: Tabernacle First, Throne Second — Until He Comes

The genius of God’s order remains: Intimacy (Tabernacle) always precedes and fuels Authority (Throne). David first restored worship, then ruled. We follow the same pattern. The Rededicate 250 gathering on the National Mall is first and foremost a Tabernacle moment — a national returning to open-faced worship, repentance, and consecration before the one true God.

The Assault on the Spiritual Convention

The enemy does not sleep. At the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, an assassination attempt was launched against the President. The assassin missed. The President was fine. But the aftermath was immediate: security concerns escalated, voices in the media whispered that the Mall event — with its crowds, its open stage, its prophetic weight — was now too dangerous. Cancel it, they urged. Postpone it. Let the moment pass.

Simultaneously, a subtler strike unfolded. Mentalist Oz Pearlman, fresh from his appearance on MS NOW, positioned himself near the orbit of power. He needed only sixty seconds with the President. Sixty seconds to plant a seed, to extract agreement, to pry open the mind. In that moment, familiar spirits and monitoring spirits would have fed him the precise words, the intimate details, the tailored suggestion that could have led Trump — even unknowingly — into alignment with the wrong covenant.

Familiar spirits are those demonic companions that attach through generational lines, occult exposure, or national sin. They supply hidden knowledge, impersonating insight, whispering “revelations” that feel personal and true. Monitoring spirits are the watchers — the surveillance agents of the enemy’s hierarchy — gathering real-time intelligence on thoughts, prayers, movements, and decisions. Together they form a demonic intelligence network, amplifying the mentalist’s craft so that what appears as brilliant showmanship is actually a targeted spiritual probe. Oz did not get his sixty seconds. The opportunity was lost in a single heartbeat. The President remained untouched. The rededication stands.

The Territory of DC: Ley Lines, Territorial Spirits, and the Masonic Phallus

This battle is not abstract. It is fought on consecrated ground — the National Mall itself, at the base of the Washington Monument. It sits at the intersection of ley lines — those invisible straight alignments said to channel earth energies but, in the spiritual warfare lens, function as demonic highways. Ley lines connect ancient pagan sites, temples, and modern power centers, allowing territorial spirits to move with ease across regions.

Territorial spirits — the “princes” of Daniel 10, the rulers and authorities of Ephesians 6:12 — claim dominion over cities and nations. Washington, D.C., with its deliberate Masonic street layout (the inverted pentagram, the Goat Head of Mendes), its obelisks, and its temples of power, is a contested high place. The enemy knows the stakes. If the rededication proceeds with the people’s hearts aligned, the land can be healed. The covenant renewed.

In the New Testament, we see this principle continue, though transformed by the finished work of Christ. The Apostle Paul, standing in Athens, used the existing altar to the “unknown god” as a strategic point of contact to proclaim the one true God (Acts 17:22–23). He did not tear it down physically in that moment but confronted the spiritual reality behind it with truth, turning a pagan altar into a bridge for the gospel. The cross itself became the ultimate altar — where Jesus offered the once-for-all sacrifice that disarmed every principality and power (Hebrews 13:10–12; Colossians 2:15).

A Necessary Caution for Healthy Balance

As we engage this altar warfare, we must walk carefully. The power lies not in empty ritualism — reciting formulas, performing dramatic gestures, or obsessing over demonic hierarchies as if the cross were insufficient. Such approaches can slide into superstition or works-based striving. Let us not replace relationship with ritual.

Presidents, kings, and leaders in this hour sit as figurative and spiritual kings, placed in seats of authority much like Adam was in the beginning — seeking revelation from the Father on how to govern righteously in the midst of chaos. God does not need to “come down”; the veil thins when we are seated with Him in the heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6). In that seated position, time itself can appear frozen. The Apostle Paul was caught up to the third heaven and received a lifetime’s worth of wisdom in what may have been mere seconds (2 Corinthians 12:2–4). That same kind of accelerated, supernatural wisdom is available to those who dwell in the high places — not as a mystical escape, but as the practical equipping needed to govern the world’s affairs against demonic powers. The rededication is preparation for the King’s return. When President Trump and the people gather beneath the Monument from a posture of Davidic intimacy.

If outright cancellation of the rededication fails, the demons pivot. They will attempt to flood the Mall with a celebration of pantheism — many gods, many paths, interfaith multiculturalism. Speakers from every tradition will be invited under the banner of “unity.” The singular focus on the one true God will be diluted. The blessing promised in Scripture — forgiveness, healing, restoration — will be eroded into a generic feel-good pluralism. The altar of the Lord will be shared with the altars of Baal. This is the classic strategy: when direct opposition fails, corrupt the sacrifice.

This is why the Washington Monument is no safe harbor, but rather a physical marker rooted in Lucifer’s Kingdom, clutching to any scheme that allows it to masquerade as an angel of light. And just like that, we have to deal with the UFO declass, promising to change how we see the Bible.

The Natural Convention: More Than Celebration — A Secure Reset

The spiritual convention on the Mall will not stand alone. It will be answered by the natural convention after Labor Day. This has never occurred for Republicans. So, I say it a second time. Why would we need a first ever convention in an off year? Because the RNC gathering must become the organizing hub for a new and secure election after finally draining the swamp. The latest Supreme Court decision on gerrymandering has opened the door for rapid redistricting and reconfiguration. Mass vacancies are coming — through tribunals, resignations, or exposure of compromised candidates. The system is being hollowed out. We will need to fill those seats quickly.

Look to the data point of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the 2003 California recall of Gray Davis. In a matter of weeks, a special election was called, candidates qualified, and a new governor was elected. The machinery moved at speed when the people demanded it. The same can happen here. The midterm convention is the perfect platform: not merely to celebrate past victories, but to vet, recruit, and anoint a new slate of America First candidates under secure protocols.

The Assault on the Natural Convention

As its currently comprised, the RNC is a wholly corrupt entity. A convention without mass vacancies to fill will be a major disappointment. Preferably after trials for treason are conducted. I see no victory in Republicans retaining a majority, if it consists of the same culprits that stood by as the soft coup of Trump was allowed. Blood money is the primary weapon of the devil and the antichrist. Every stolen tax dollar, every misappropriated resource, carries the literal life-blood of American taxpayers.

This is what we are up against. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent recently confirmed that between 5% and 10% of the entire federal budget — up to $600 billion per year — is lost to fraud, waste, and abuse. These are not abstract numbers.

Ten percent is a tithe. A. Satanic. Inverted. Tithe. Stolen from you.

It represents the blood money that has long funded ungodly systems and empowered the very altars we now confront. The mixture of this blood money is what undoes the work of the Church and the Kingdom: it pollutes resources, conjures familiar and monitoring spirits, and blocks the flow of true dominion.

The antidote, according to Dr. Francis Myles, is priesthood: We the People need to stop looking at tainted money as the solution to our problems; mimicking the world’s systems; playing the democrats’ games better than they do. Instead, we become currency in God’s hand. That’s right, humanity itself, a royal priesthood, is God’s true currency — created in His image for dominion (Genesis 1:26). When a nation yields at the altar — cleansing its blood-stained systems, surrendering its economy, and presenting itself as living currency — the veil thins, supernatural wisdom descends, and authority is released from the Throne of David. The Rededicate 250 is such a yielding. It is the nation saying, “Here we are. Spend us.”

The New Markers of Victory

The battle will not end in cancellation or dilution. It will end in transformation.

A new gateway rises: the Trump Triumphal Arch, standing tall at Columbia Island, inscribed with “One Nation Under God.” It marks the entry into a renewed capital.

And then the boldest act of all: I pray that one day we move beyond entry into a renewed capital still haunted by pagan altars, and transform the heart of the capital. A public works project to circumcise the Washington Monument. The tip — that ancient phallic capstone — is cut away. An engineered harness is retrofitted, transforming the obelisk into the shape of a cross. At night, its reflection will shine pure in the Reflecting Pool, recently cleaned and restored under Trump’s direction.

Afterall, the Kings after David took bolder action than he at the appropriate time. King Hezekiah removed the high places, smashed the sacred stones, cut down the Asherah poles, and even destroyed the Mosaic bronze serpent that had become an idol (2 Kings 18:4). King Josiah burned vessels made for Baal and Asherah, tore down high places across Judah and former Israel, killed pagan priests, and desecrated their altars with their own bones (2 Kings 23:4–20). The Bible speaks plainly and repeatedly about what to do with ungodly altars. God commanded Israel to tear them down (Deuteronomy 12:2-3). The phallus of power becomes the cross of Christ. The ley lines are broken. The territorial spirits are displaced. The covenant stands.

The spiritual rededication humbles the nation before the one true God. The natural convention organizes the people for the fight ahead. The enemy’s schemes — the bullet, the mentalist’s probe, the flood of false unity — all fall short. This is the moment. The Mall will gather. The convention will assemble. The land will be healed. Let the conventions begin.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

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Deuteronomy 29:29 declares:

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law.”

Proverbs 25:2 adds that:

“It is the glory of God to conceal things,

but the glory of kings is to search things out.”

These verses do not place hidden wisdom on the level of Scripture itself, yet they beckon the Holy Spirit-filled believer to pursue discernment with awe and humility. In an age of information warfare and cultural upheaval, the same Spirit who searches the depths of God (1 Corinthians 2:10) equips us to navigate the world’s signals—without ever elevating any human system above the unchanging Word.

I warned in my last episode that Trump’s messaging would continue to confuse the masses, and that the black-pilling would reach an unbearable crescendo. Some call him the Mad King. Peace, war, straits open, straits close, rinse, repeat. Everyone claims to be right when Trump alters a course that supports their idol of being right. Or they say he is reactionary, a man with no plan, that he is alienating the last vestiges of his base, that he doesn’t care, and his true colors are finally revealed. They demand he reveal plainly what he has concealed.

Fools. He is following God’s template and holding a masterclass in strategic deception with one primary objective in mind: Defeat the City of London’s Transnational Syndicate.

Kill or be killed.

In the dim ballroom of the Washington Hilton the shots came sudden and flat. Trump sat at the head table with his wife and the press people when the hard cracks sounded outside the doors. Secret Service moved fast, no words wasted, hustling the President and the others away. One agent took a bullet square but the vest held and he stayed on his feet. The gunman, a lone fool with weapons, charged and fell. No one inside died.

With threats escalating, midterm election commentary by the blind be damned. Trump knows elections can’t be won until the banking ghouls are put in the ground and their slavish black boxes are stripped from the rigger’s plantation. He will risk being loathed, hated, and maligned until he stands victorious in the arena. Apologies will be offered by those who couldn’t see what he could, but something tells me he won’t forget those that drove knives into his back when it would have been wiser to hold one’s powder.

To understand Trump’s messaging is to understand ciphers, Jack Mezirow’s theory of disorienting disruption, and one of the few men he’s called his mentor: Roy Cohn. We’ll address the relevance of all three shortly.

Historically, ciphers have long served as earthly shadows of God’s divine pattern. The scytale was a Spartan rod. You wrapped a strip of parchment tight around it and wrote the message straight across. When you unwrapped the leather it became a long meaningless string of letters. Only a man with the exact same rod could wrap it again and read the words. The Spartans used it in war. It was simple and it worked until someone lost the rod or the enemy guessed its size.

Caesar used a different way. He moved every letter three places down the alphabet. A became D, B became E, and so on around to Z. The message looked like nonsense but any man who knew the number three could shift it back and read it plain. He sent orders to his generals this way. It was quick and needed no machine, only memory. Later men found it easy to break with counting letters, but for its time it kept secrets.

Thomas Jefferson’s cipher, with its rotating disks of scrambled alphabets, was ahead of its time. He never built it. He never used it. The drawings stayed in his papers for more than a hundred years. When men found them again the army took the idea, made it of aluminum, called it the M-94, and carried it into the Second World War. Navajo men spoke in their own tongue, and the Japanese never understood a word. Such mechanisms were never ends in themselves but practical aids for those entrusted with stewardship in chaotic times.

Fast forward to today. What happens when the enemy is not external, but inside the wire? When the Marxist 5th column occupies the gates, what cipher do you use? How does one bring the public to recognize their plight, while maintaining classified secrets? Where the endgame of sovereignty is attained, rather than chaos? How do you hand apathetic citizens the hard gift Trump tried to give them while they still slept on autopilot?

Be honest.

If they had asked you in 2021 to run a clean election, could you have done it? No.

Did you know all the villains? No.

Were you awake to the full design? No.

That is why it had to go this way. Even if you see it now only darkly, through smoked glass. Trump said the best is yet to come. But pain was part of the lesson. Not just to save the country once, but to keep it saved for the generations still to come. In other words, the happiest of endings.

So, that’s the topic for today:

Trump’s Genius: Ciphers, The Science of Jarring Messages, and the Fixer

The Lord of the Rings is widely considered to have one of the best endings in all of literature. The Ring’s destruction through Gollum’s forced intervention when Frodo could not freely let it go, the Eagles appearing when all hope had been lost, Sauron’s defeat, while tinged with irreversible loss (Frodo’s wounds, the Elves’ departure, the fading of magic). Tolkien coined the term “eucatastrophe”—a “sudden joyous turn” or “good catastrophe” that provides consolation without denying sorrow or finality. He linked this to Christian hope (the Resurrection as the ultimate eucatastrophe), viewing it not as escapist but as a glimpse of deeper joy. The sorrow of the nails, the scourging, repurposed into our great deliverance.

Tolkien, the author, had his great story laden with concealed mysteries. He knew the ending. But the ending only worked if the trials were deadly, wars were fought, heroes died, and the surviving protagonists were changed. The books are perfection.

The films? The best chapter was omitted. Titled “The Scouring of the Shire,” the four hobbits returned to a ruined Shire—trees felled, mills smoking, ruffians with whips. Saruman lurked in Bag End as Sharkey.

Gandalf had told them: “You are grown. My time is over.” No wizard helped. Merry and Pippin raised the hobbits in arms. Frodo led quiet and merciful. They fought and won. At Bag End, Frodo spared Saruman; the wizard stabbed but the blade snapped against Frodo’s hidden mail. Gríma Wormtongue, used and abused, cut Saruman’s throat in a rage, and hobbits shot Gríma down.

They named the street “Sharkey’s End.” The hobbits tore down Saruman’s new works, replanted, rebuilt. They had changed—from soft travelers to captains and stewards. The helpless hobbit was gone; the arc was complete.

In the films, none of this happened. Saruman died early at Orthanc. The Shire remained untouched. The book showed the full circle: the four no longer needed saviors—they saved their own home. This is why Trump did not seize machines in 2020 through an executive order citing foreign interference. We hobbits weren’t ready to take back the Shire.

The Modern-Day Cipher

To understand how the coded game has changed, we must enter the cultural zeitgeist known as Q—a modern, participatory cipher that has captured the attention of millions since its first drops in October 2017. Operating on boards before migrating to more enduring archives, Q posted thousands of cryptic “breadcrumbs:” questions, timestamps, acronyms, and warnings to not scroll past deliberate misspellings, or symbolic references.

The Q cipher functions as an open invitation for “Anons” (collective researchers) to apply pattern recognition—deltas (precise time alignments), movie metaphors, numerical markers, and event cross-verification—against open-source news and statements. Q explicitly distinguished its own role as originator from that of the Anons who would “do the research” and connect the dots.

I’m not a “Q” guy per se. I’m a Bible guy. But I’ve reached many of the same conclusions these analysts have about what Trump is doing, using my background as an investigator and prosecutor. It’s forced me to concede, whatever “Q” is, it’s something. Reasonable minds can differ, up to a point, on what kind of an “op” Q is. Some say that it’s a call back to Operation Trust, a tactic to glue eyes to screens, a way to shift activism in the real world to a social media echo chamber controlled by an algorithm. A black hat gig. Let me say at the outset, I don’t believe this to be true.

But, for fear of losing the cynics listening in, please know my musings are not designed to win you over, or to drive a stake into the heart of something so largely misunderstood. So, let me repeat what Q’s true significance is: It’s a participatory cipher where the military can achieve its core objectives without divulging classified secrets. Whether you think the military is bad or good will affect how you see the second objective. But if white hats are in control, the objective is this: to foster critical thinking and seed ideas into the public’s psyche that are so entrenched that citizens can not only reclaim their sovereignty, but keep it for generations.

After decades of brainwashing, only a tool of this kind could stir those who were slumbering. Here’s an example. The 2018 drop declaring: “[POPE] will be having a terrible May” stands as a timestamped marker. Believers watching April 2026 developments—Trump’s pointed Truth Social critiques of Pope Leo XIV’s Iran stance—see a multi-year delta unfolding, not as fulfilled prophecy, but as confirmation of an institutional enemy long identified by the military as a vessel for corruption, pedophilia, and human trafficking. With the military holding all the cards to expose evil at a time of its choosing. And something remarkable happens when you start replacing the word “Iran”—which nothing more than a proxy state for the City of London—with the name “Rothschild,” “Medici” or “Orsini.” You begin to see the world players differently. Trump’s critics have no heart for the people of Iran. They are defending the ancient banker elite. Whether the Pope in power was Francis or Leo is irrelevant. Last year, Francis died in April. Let’s see if May disclosure is incoming.

The focus on Catholic Church child abuses—historical reassignments, cover-ups, and failures to protect the vulnerable—fits a pattern. The drops never catalogued scandals exhaustively; they posed questions that invite Spirit-led research into “when does a Church become a playground?” Believers anchored in Scripture (Ephesians 5:11 on exposing unfruitful works of darkness) use these cultural signals to discern.

Far from a random outburst, the drop and Trump’s Truth post display a calculated rhythm consistent with military PSYOP doctrine: planned influence through selective information, ambiguity, provocation, and the deliberate withholding of full context to elicit reactions that later vindicate the initial framing. Trump withholds operational details, deploys provocative phrasing (all-caps emphasis, unconventional spellings treated by some as deliberate markers), and times statements to precede verifiable shifts. The deleted AI image of a healer figure, later explained as “me as a doctor… had to do with the Red Cross,” initially drew mockery. Yet the partial revelation suggests the Red Cross is at the epicenter of human trafficking in war-torn regions. Think Haiti, Ukraine, and yes, Catholic Charities are a frequent player.

Critics share their disappointment when analysts “date fag,” a slang term attributed to a type of prophecy that doesn’t come true. Did the Pope have a bad May in 2019, 2020, 2023, 2024 … and so on and so forth, where anyone providing their slop can point to a negative headline as proof of Q’s veracity. All fair points, until you forget that Trump has an endgame. And it’s not mid-tier players. It’s not even Obama or Hillary. It’s the City of London bogeyman.

Now, let’s quickly address the other criticisms of Q. Some treat it as a one-stop Rosetta stone, a modern-day tool of divination, intertwining occultic mysticism, gematria, where acolytes see everyone wearing a mask, everyone a character, with no real-world consequences for the “good” actors they see on the screen. For many, “just asking questions” has become a shallow veneer for poor analysis. Wild accusations about virtually everyone with zero accountability from anonymous accounts have kept many a critical thinker outside the gates.

These criticisms have everything to do with the spiritual health of the anonymous researcher, and little to do with the questions presented by Q. Alternatively, the weird stuff that flooded the internet about Elvis being alive were hallmarks of infiltrators whose intention was to subvert the operation from its inception. When looking at the “drops” themselves, however, Q never presents a framework that supplants the Bible. Quite the opposite. Q emphatically states it does not consist of prophets. In other words, where the Holy Spirit is absent, no matter the tool, demons look for a way in to steer our thinking. And if that doesn’t suffice, human chaos agents seek the same end.

Now, some may be nodding their heads that, yes, it’s a military operation, but the military is run by black hats wanting to keep us enslaved. They point to Operation Trust, a sophisticated Soviet counterintelligence deception campaign conducted by the Soviet secret police from 1921 to 1927. The Soviets fabricated a fictitious anti-Bolshevik monarchist organization called the Monarchist Union of Central Russia, which was internally known as “the Trust.” It was presented as a powerful underground network capable of overthrowing the Bolshevik regime from within. In reality, the entire organization was controlled by Soviet agents and served as a honeypot to lure real opponents—particularly White Russian émigrés and foreign intelligence operatives—into revealing themselves, making contact, or traveling into the Soviet Union where they could be arrested or eliminated.

I’ve mulled over this possibility for Q, and over the years of careful study, come to an abiding conviction that the critique doesn’t hold. The awakening of the public to the darkness and evil within our corrupt government is resounding. Congressmen Tony Gonzales and Eric Swalwell resigned for their sexual misdeeds. Congresswoman Sheila Cherfilus-McCormick joins them over her plunder. Omar exposed and losing it. Blanket J6 pardons and freedom from the American gulag also defies such an interpretation. Operation Trust imprisoned. Trump liberated. This is not to say there are not remaining pockets, or factions within the military that are steered by darkness. There are and always will be.

Compared to others, I am a novice on the drops. I’m not former military. And I don’t have a “bat phone” where I can call up the President directly. I’m not read into any plan. I’m a mere civilian. But this civilian mastered the criminal justice system at the highest level, and taught law at university as an expert among experts. I know what it takes to put bad people away better than most.

So, I say the following without reservation. To save our country from the precipice and bring traitors to justice, will require the military, tribunals, and consequences for TREASON of the highest order. There is no other way.

This is what I mean. A racketeering/RICO case, which I have personally handled, may work just fine against the mafia, or a cartel, but it would shatter against an enemy comprised of captured intelligence agencies where bad actors wield badges, and government credentials. We’re talking about the real SYNDICATE brought to cinematic life in Mission Impossible, or as my friend General Holt says, SPECTRE from the Bond films. The DOJ alone is not cut out for such villainy. Until Trump reclaimed the White House, the DOJ was part of the syndicate. Kash Patel’s promise of a grand conspiracy case in Florida may all be well and good, but hear me now: it is a secondary, or complementary piece to the real plan. The Southern Poverty Law Center indictments for wire fraud are suited for the DOJ. The Rothschild family, not so much. Only a televised military tribunal will do.

And on cue, excuse the pun, Operation Hypersonic Clarity is here. This front-facing operation is for the public. It’s not the military’s true design.

The Military. Does. Not. Announce. How. It. Fights. Wars.

Second, pay attention to the captured media’s revulsion towards “QAnon,” something Q explicitly states does not exist. Q has named human trafficking, pedophilia, Luciferian cartels, and rigged elections as the enemy. What better enemy could the good and righteous possibly have? Notice the mainstream’s ridicule. If Q is nothing, why give it the attention, or derision?

In Matthew 12:25-32, Jesus was accused of driving out demons through the demon Beelzebul. He knew their thoughts and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand. If Satan drives out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then can his kingdom stand? And if I drive out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your people drive them out?” What kingdom does the captured media belong? God or Satan?

Third, President Trump has never antagonized, or distanced himself, from Q. Rather, he has deftly embraced it. It’s odd how well-known pundits will offer geopolitical analysis and hot takes seeded by legacy media they know to be controlled by ABC agencies, but will walk past Q, mocking its adherents as Qtards. Who is more worthy of derision? Those spoon-fed by Rupert Murdoch at FOX, or citizen journalists weary of all gatekeepers?

Where do I stand?

Spirit-filled believers should approach the Q zeitgeist with the same discernment applied to any cultural artifact. The Holy Spirit does not require Q drops to reveal truth, yet He can use them—as He uses history, art, or current events—to sharpen our eyes for the unseen realities shaping our world. The drops’ emphasis on “future proves past,” “news unlocks message,” and “everything has meaning” echoes the biblical call to test all things and hold fast to what is good (1 Thessalonians 5:21). I’ve seen many Spirit-filled autists. Those whose discernment is next level. Private citizens that could easily fill the role of analyst at any of the three-letter agencies. Think Jack Ryan, but without the CIA gig.

Scared of being duped? Good. You should be. Should you question Q? Absolutely. But to walk past it, is to miss something that integrates over a decade’s worth of critical analysis of past and current events. Are you the person with such hubris to think you have war-gamed our Republic’s condition more than the military, or the President?

The study of Q provides a highly integrated way to navigate a narrative storm. Anxiety at posts that unsettle is replaced with an impulse to examine Trump’s messaging in order to unlock the participatory cipher.

But … that doesn’t necessarily explain why Trump’s messaging is so brutish.

The Jarring Message

The way to understand Trump’s style of communication is to study the work of Jack Mezirow, the founder of the transformative learning theory. Trump’s social media messaging aligns closely with key triggers in Mezirow’s work, particularly the “disorienting dilemma” phase. Mezirow described transformative learning as a process where adults encounter experiences that contradict their existing “frames of reference” (deeply held assumptions, habits of mind, or meaning perspectives). These dilemmas prompt critical reflection, rational discourse, and ultimately a more inclusive, open worldview. Trump’s posts frequently deliver blunt, hyperbolic, nickname-laden, and institution-challenging content that can jar recipients out of complacency, especially those embedded in mainstream media or establishment narratives.

Trump’s style—direct accusations, all-caps emphasis (implied in tone), personal nicknames (“Sleepy Joe,” “Crooked Joe,” “Lyin’ Kamala”), and repeated framing of opponents/media as deceptive—intentionally disrupts taken-for-granted assumptions. This mirrors Mezirow’s catalyst: a sudden contradiction that creates emotional tension (anger, surprise, doubt) and forces reevaluation.

Posts labeling coverage as “Fake News” or accusing the Department of Justice of being “weaponized” directly contradict the frame many hold that mainstream institutions are objective. For example, one post states: “Sleepy Joe Biden and Comrade Kamala Harris ridiculously accuse me of wanting to ‘weaponize’ the Justice Department, when they have done all of the weaponizing.” Another mocks a “Fake News Conference” by Kamala Harris, calling her “totally EXHAUSTED” and desperate.

For someone assuming media/government fairness, this creates a dilemma: “If these institutions are unbiased, why does Trump consistently expose contradictions?” This can spark the theory’s critical reflection phase—questioning sources of one’s beliefs.

Holiday or endorsement posts mix celebration with sharp attacks, e.g., “Merry Christmas to all, including the Radical Left Scum that is doing everything possible to destroy our Country...” while listing policy wins. These violate expectations of presidential decorum or neutral discourse, creating emotional disorientation for those whose frame equates “leadership” with politeness. It forces self-examination: “Are my assumptions about ‘appropriate’ politics limiting my view of effectiveness?”

Two April 2026 Truth Social posts reveal a textbook use of jarring, controversial messaging to shatter existing frames of reference.

First, let’s revisit the Pope controversy. On April 12, 2026 Trump calls Pope Leo “WEAK on Crime, and terrible for Foreign Policy,” accuses him of ignoring COVID-era church persecutions while criticizing the Trump administration, rejects a pope who would allow Iran a nuclear weapon or oppose U.S. actions in Venezuela, and claims the Church only chose an American pope to “deal with President Donald J. Trump.” He ends by urging Leo to “get his act together” and stop “catering to the Radical Left.”

Disorienting dilemma created: Many assume the pope is above partisan politics, a moral authority who should remain neutral or focus on peace. Trump’s direct, insulting language (“WEAK,” “terrible,” “get his act together”) and implication that Leo was installed as a political tool violate this sacred/profane boundary. It forces the dilemma: “If my spiritual leader can be wrong (or politically motivated) on crime, Iran nukes, and Venezuela, what does that say about my uncritical deference to religious authority?”

And like clockwork, the Pope’s recent meeting with Obama operative David Axelrod was publicized, along with a picture of a younger Pope Leo protesting alongside communists. Given enough time, Trump detonates his opposition.

The second Truth post example is this: On April 9, 2026, Trump declared Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly, Candace Owens, and Alex Jones have “Low IQs,” calls them “stupid people,” “NUT JOBS,” “TROUBLEMAKERS,” “LOSERS,” and “Bankrupt,” mocks their careers and personal lives, and contrasts them with “true MAGA.” He ties their Iran-nuclear criticism to disloyalty and notes he could “get them on my side anytime” but chooses not to.

Disorienting dilemma created: This is a classic intra-movement purge framed as intellectual and moral reckoning—highly disruptive for the MAGA ecosystem. Many assume former allies (podcasters, influencers) are permanent fellow travelers. Labeling them low-IQ traitors over Iran policy forces the dilemma: “If these voices I trusted now oppose strength against the #1 terror sponsor, were my assumptions about movement unity and foreign-policy purity wrong?”

Audiences who value independent conservative commentary now confront Trump’s willingness to personally destroy reputations (“should see a good psychiatrist,” Sandy Hook hoax reference, etc.). It contradicts the narrative that any of these influencers are truly MAGA, or independent media. What happens if we learn that everyone Trump identified has received funding from our nation’s enemies? What if our perceptions of what constitutes independent media is still too low a resolution?

That we need to focus.

FOCUS.

The Fixer

The last piece of the puzzle to understand Trump’s messaging is this. Roy Cohn was born in 1927, sharp as a switchblade, Columbia law by twenty. He prosecuted the Rosenbergs in the electric chair days of the Cold War, then stood as chief counsel to Senator McCarthy, hunting reds and breaking men in the hearings that burned bright and left ash. After that he came home to Manhattan, a fixer for the powerful and the dirty—mob bosses, tycoons, the archdiocese, anyone who paid and needed a killer in court. He lived loud at Studio 54, denied what he was, and died in 1986 of AIDS, still calling it liver cancer, disbarred and alone. He met young Donald Trump at a nightclub in 1973.

The government had sued the Trumps for steering black tenants away from their buildings. Old hands said settle quiet. Cohn said fight. He told the kid: countersue the bastards. They settled without admitting a thing, and Cohn spun it as total victory. From then until his death, Cohn was lawyer, mentor, and the hard voice on the other end of the phone. He taught Trump how the world really worked, not in books but in blood and ink. Here are the six dark lessons Cohn passed on, simple and without mercy:

• Never apologize or admit wrongdoing. Weakness invites the knife. Say nothing that sounds like sorry.

• Always counterattack, harder than they hit you. When they come at you, go at them twice as mean. Make them regret the first word.

• File lawsuits early, file often. Tie them up, bleed them dry, scare the rest. The law is a club.

• Set landmines for the media. Feed it, own the headlines, turn every story your way. Publicity is power. Truth bends. Perception wins.

• Never concede defeat. Always claim victory. Even when you lose, stand up and say you won. Move on smiling. Sound familiar?

Trump took the lessons deep. He never forgot. In the years after Cohn was gone, the pupil kept the creed. When investigations closed in, he struck back at prosecutors, calling them corrupt, rigging the game against him. He worked the press like a maestro, turning bad days into spectacles where he stood tallest. Even in setbacks, he declared wins, big wins, the best anyone had ever seen. The old man taught the boy how to fight dirty and call it clean. The boy grew into the man who still fights that way, years after the teacher was in the ground. It was a simple code, hard as winter steel, and it carried far.

Even the worst of media have conceded this approach works. If we prevail over the forces of darkness, Q, the disorienting dilemma, and tough guy tactics will be studied for the next thousand years in complete awe.

In the end, ciphers remain earthly aids. They are not Scripture. They do not save. Yet in the hands of a Spirit-filled believer delighting in God’s mysteries, they sharpen discernment amid the nonlinear war of narratives. Historical devices like Jefferson’s wheel trained kings to search; Q’s breadcrumbs and Trump’s posts train modern patriots to notice. Misspellings, timestamps, symbolic images, provocative statements, and visionary discourses like the ones above become invitations to ask: What is being concealed? What is being revealed? And how does the unchanging truth of Christ speak into it?

Victory belongs to those who walk by the Spirit.

As Proverbs 25:2 reminds us, the search itself glorifies the King who conceals. May we, as believers, approach every cultural signal—whether ancient cipher, contemporary drop, presidential post, or community vision—with humility, testing all things, holding fast to what is good, and rejoicing that the ultimate mystery of godliness has been revealed: “He was manifested in the flesh, vindicated by the Spirit” (1 Timothy 3:16).The plan is not man’s; it is the Lord’s.

And because it is the Lord’s, nothing can stop what is coming.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

Substack:

The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

or GiveSendGo:

https://www.givesendgo.com/ProfessorDavidClements/donate

Alex Jones, once a loud voice for the cause, now broke down in tears on his broadcast and urged his listeners to cut bait on Trump. He spoke of Trump’s failing health, swollen ankles, a mind that babbles, and the need for intervention. Trump is gone, he said. Be sad about it. Mobilize against the Democrats instead. Like an ocean tide, Jones has historically moved towards Trump when he proves his doubters wrong, standing victorious, only to fall away twice as fast when it looks like Trump is defeated. Titles of truth-teller, fair-weather patriot, and controlled opposition, all fill the atmosphere.

Yours truly gets attacked for backing Trump rain or shine. Accusations of idolatry, worship, or failing to see him as the anti-Christ—I’ve heard it all. Odd, as I was a never-Trumper in 2016 and have never shied away from holding unpopular views.

Life has battered me a thousand different ways, and I think it forced me to see a man, battered more than anyone, more clearly. A decade’s worth of study. When I can’t make sense of the man, I revisit the following.

1. If Trump was bad, evil would not try to kill him.

2. If Trump did not threaten the old order, the bought press would not lie about him every hour of every day.

3. A man cannot be the servant of evil when his mere living has woken more people to the face of evil than any other thing in our time.

4. No man can play the deep game and at the same time be led around by the nose like a fool.

As I traveled from New Orleans to Las Vegas, then Portland, speaking about the path forward, the same questions dogged me. Do you trust so and so? Do you think patriot X is evil? My discernment tells me to rarely supply a conclusion about a person’s heart and what lurks there, because only God knows its final destination. Rather, I say look to the Bible, inviting others to sharpen their own senses.

When you sacrifice the macro for the micro—the wisdom born of ten years enduring hell—to letting daily propaganda chip away at our victories with nagging doubt, I can understand why some ride the pendulum. Uneasy. Nervous. Not wanting to be duped.

Because smoke is everywhere. Kristi Noem is out at DHS. Rumors of an affair, with her husband outed as a cross-dresser; concerns he was a liability for blackmail. Pam Bondi out at the DOJ. Roger Stone and Laura Loomer spar over a similar fate awaiting Tulsi Gabbard. It would be shame if she was ousted, after ODNI seized voting machines in Puerto Rico due to concerns of foreign interference.

General Flynn surrogates throw shade at Trump’s cabinet, which seems to be unraveling. Kash Patel’s girlfriend punches back, morphing from a simple aspiring country music artist, to publishing a thread worthy of a CIA/Mossad analyst. And if you dig at that being a possibility, brace for a lawsuit silently approved by the FBI. Moreover, Dan Bongino took the thread, and double-downed against Flynn, joining the fray.

FBI whistleblower, Kyle Seraphin, attacks the credibility of Bongino over giving cover to J6 pipe bomb suspect, Shauni Kerkhoff. Kerkhoff failed a polygraph when pressed about placing the bomb, and now works for the CIA, while Brian Cole Jr. is made a patsy. Candace Owens attacks Erika Kirk. Erika Kirk glitches through the spectacle, grieving in her own way.

Joe Kent resigns from the National Counterterrorism Center. A veteran of eleven combat tours. His wife had been killed in Syria. Iran posed no imminent threat, he said. The war came anyway, pushed by Israel and its American lobby. The president called him weak. Kent walked out. And for the cherry on top, this Holy week, Christians spar over spiritual advisor Paula White’s presence in the White House. A thousand other cat fights are a daily constant. A giant crossfire distraction.

Holy week? In my mind, it feels like holy hell.

And that’s the topic for today:

Death, Resurrection, and the Arena: Why I Still Stand With Trump

I shake the cobwebs. Look for my North Star. A free and fair election. Arrests, convictions, and a firing squad for the modern-day Nuremberg perps. To walk closer with Jesus. One step at a time. Refuse the black pill. Wait for His instructions.

I remembered the words from the Good Book. “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

Righteousness simply means right living, and to live rightly we need to cultivate the ability to distinguish, judge, or separate truth from error, good from evil, and right from wrong with clarity and wisdom. Discernment goes beyond surface appearances to grasp what is real, excellent, and aligned with God’s will.

The people losing their minds, blowing about like leaves in the wind, live on the surface. Those people have never entered the arena, wanting to preserve a scorecard of never being wrong about anything, and in the process, they’ve done nothing when it truly mattered. They join the parade only after the guts have been spilt.

The men in the arena, however, are never free of liars, saboteurs, and false prophets. That’s where Trump lives. The phrase “keep your friends close and enemies closer” makes no sense to people that do not live in the arena. Liars and cheats in a business are fired. An abuser in the home is evicted. In a nation-state environment with term-limits, shedding crooks is rarely advisable. Fire a viper, and two more replace it. And the fired vipers write tell all books.

You see, in the mind of Trump’s critics, they imagine his job is as simple as not standing in a room with Fauci; condemning Netanyahu to avoid being called a puppet of Israel; condemning Islam to avoid being called weak on terror; not endorsing RINOs; and being smart enough to not utter the words that he “hopes” he’s “done enough” to get into Heaven, with Christians slapping their foreheads exclaiming “He’s not a Christian! You can’t earn your way into Heaven!”

Surface dwellers. The lot.

Let’s go deeper.

Fauci was put front and center and immediately undermined by Trump, and in the process, he inoculated the media’s optics that he recklessly ignored their chosen depopulation expert, while doing exactly that. Hard line evangelicals who cannot conceive of Israel having a deep state are kept at bay, as Trump focuses solely on military targets, encouraging peace, and avoiding Iran’s energy facilities so civilians have a chance to rebuild their lives after the war. He drew a line with Bibi as well, that Israel was not to attack Iranian infrastructure serving civilians.

His endorsements of RINOs should only give you heartburn if you believe he will not drain the swamp through tribunals. Whether Trump knows it or not, he is wielding spiritual warfare at the highest levels.

Proverbs 25:21-22 states:

“If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you.”

Endorsing traitors you know will face a certain doom, does not make one a traitor, and is not the same as being led by the nose by bad advisors, or just following “poll numbers” to pad the value of a Trump endorsement equaling victory. Moreover, why endorse a well-intentioned patriot when a trap has been set? You screw up the trap. Thus, good people are kept away, or so-so patriots are spared the possibility of getting sucked into the swamp’s power vortex. The best MAGA candidates will have their opportunity to fill a massive vacuum once the Uniparty is destroyed, with burning coals heaped on their heads.

Not before then.

In my estimation, that must happen this year.

This is also the reason why I don’t blink twice as Trump’s cabinet unravels. They were never Plan A to bring the cabal down. Merely, a diversion. Either read in to draw flack, patriots willing to look bad for a season, or devils set up to fall at a strategic time.

Now for the church division, and bewilderment over Paul White. Trump cannot be the token representative of any of the 41,000 denominations out there. If he was Catholic, he’d be forced to defend the failures of Catholicism, and popes run astray. Likewise, his membership in any protestant church would invite constant debate and attack over that denomination’s views on baptism, communion, etc.

Instead of just fighting political leaders, he’d have to add modern-day Pharisees and Sadducees to the list. Not very smart for a man that must represent and defend all Americans, regardless of their religious creeds. Trump’s less than theologically astute claim of hoping he gets into heaven was politically brilliant. It made him an everyman, and secured prayers from the faithful, who boldly filled social media feeds with the Gospel of salvation being a gift, not earned by works.

Put the catechism pop quiz aside for a second, and ponder that. A man in need of prayers got them, and a people in need of the Gospel message received clear teaching. Perhaps, Trump is more discerning than we give him credit for. And I think that his gift follows a cycle of figurative death and resurrection that comes straight from the pages of the Bible.

Matthew 10:39 states:

“Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”

I recall Trump’s interview with Charlie Rose in the 90’s where he said, “And maybe this was foolish, but I really meant it. That someday I’d like to maybe lose everything for a period of time to see who’s loyal and who’s not loyal.”

Romans 5:3 adds:

“...we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame...”

In 2011, I recall then-President Obama openly mocking Trump in front of a huge crowd. At a correspondent’s dinner Obama tried to humiliate Trump over questioning his citizenship. It was intended to send Trump a message. Do not dare and think of running for President.

Trump knew the towers and bright lights and the roar of crowds early. Then came the long years of losing. Lawsuits like spears in the dark. Friends turning. Two impeachments. A stolen election. Indictments piled high as cordwood. Mug shots. Courtrooms. The constant bite of enemies who wanted him finished. Even bullets came for him in the open field, one clipping his ear while the television cameras rolled. Trump has been preparing, waiting his whole life to fulfill his destiny as the commander-in-chief.

We’ve seen this story before. I think of Joseph. Seventeen when the dreams came bright and arrogant as young lions. Thirteen hard years after that: the pit, the slave chains, the false accusation, the stone cell where light came thin and grudging. Then one morning the door opened and he stood before Pharaoh with the ring and the robe and the power of Egypt in his hands. He had lost everything to gain it.

David next. A boy smelling of sheep when the oil ran down his head. Fifteen years of running after that—caves, betrayal, the spear thrown in the dark, the wilderness that taught him how to wait without breaking. At thirty the crown came, not easy, not whole at first, but piece by piece until he sat on the throne of Israel. The wait had forged him.

I think longest on the Carpenter. Thirty years of waiting before the sky tore open and the Spirit descended like a great bird. Three years to lose His life so that we could keep ours. There’s the template for discernment that holds value. Real value. Being broken, humbled, and hidden…

Then…

Boom.

God uses you. But you can’t grow in discernment unless you acknowledge where you have gone wrong. I’ve made a series of mistakes over the years. I chose life after the drugs stopped my heart and left me for dead. I won my wife only after I killed the selfish part of me and learned to want what God wanted. I ran for office for your children only after the Lord took one of my own. I could teach anywhere only after the university shut its doors on me.

I wrestle with the purification of my speech, dropping the occasional f-bomb, when gentler words would do. Ego, wanting to be seen and heard, needs a daily death. Confession that I need help, is what opens the door for God to use someone so fragile and weak. Freely acknowledging that I’m not enough, lifts the heavy weight that wastes the bones and saps strength. It clears the ground. No man carries hidden sin and walks steady. Confession is not weakness. It is the first honest step when the camp turns.

See the pattern?

Death first. Then the rising.

So, my advice to you. Carry the promise God whispered to you like a coal against your chest while the years grind you down. Then, in due time, if you do not quit, the hand that pressed you low lifts you high, setting that coal on fire.

This is the ground we walk. Idolatry forces many to ride or die with their favorite patriot influencer. When that influencer suddenly attacks another who once stood beside him, the followers crack. Loyalty to the man, not to the truth, leaves them shaken when the heroes turn on each other. Chaos follows. Social media fills with confusion. People wonder who is right, who has been compromised, who is running a limited hangout. The knives come from every direction, and the camp fractures deeper with every new thread.

I think of the chaos of the early church after the Carpenter left His tomb. St. Paul’s words cut through the dust like a clean blade. When he came to the proud city of Corinth, he resolved to know nothing while he was with them except Jesus Christ and him crucified. He came in weakness with great fear and trembling. His message was not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power. So that their faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power. Paul was no stranger to division. He had faced it in every church he planted. Yet he made this his anchor: one subject, the cross. Everything else—the deals, the ruses, the betrayals—were tested against that one unshakable fact.

The coming events, attacks, and betrayals surrounding Trump are only going to get more confusing. More vicious. Don’t be the person that gives up after fighting all these years. Could you imagine taking the black pill and throwing everything away, only to wake up a day later to victory?

The sun will rise tomorrow. The feuds may shift again. The discerning heart will still seek knowledge. The renewed mind will still test what is best. Paul’s single subject stands unshaken. Christ crucified. Confession. Death to self. Resurrection life. That is the equilibrium that lasts. Walk in it.

You will not be tossed.

You will not be shaken.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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The series “Love Story” has captured the nation’s attention. I can see why.

The Kennedys, invoking Camelot’s chivalric ideal—JFK Jr., America’s favorite son, embodying the knight’s traits of courage, honor, and truthfulness. His outsider bride, Carolyn Bessette, a singular beauty. The tabloid covers seared into my memory.

I, a pauper from the trailer park, shared in America’s consciousness of our modern-day prince, and imagined what it must be like to be so handsome, important, with a presidential future all but guaranteed. I admit giving little thought to what it would feel like. Growing up knowing your own government, or the money changers behind it, assassinated your father.

The mask you would have to wear. Was Jr. a neutralized and overprotected vessel? Or a Bruce Wayne archetype, a playboy for the cameras by day, and scheming avenger dreaming of retribution against his father’s murderers by night?

I don’t know.

Before we could get an answer, like the famous pilot, Amelia Earhart, who disappeared without warning, Jr. and Carolyn (and her sister) vanished. Declass inbound on one pilot. Earhart didn’t vanish. She was taken prisoner and ignored by our government.

How about another declass, this time with Jr.? Conspiracy theories abound. Strange sightings make me think I’m losing my mind. So, don’t ask this crazy pauper what he believes. It’s irrelevant. Just know I’ve had a dream where America’s prince would come back, become the 48^th President, however insane that may be. It would certainly make one hell of a movie.

Rather than speculate, I’ll examine the world I can see, instead of what’s in my head. If JFK Jr. aspired to higher office to fulfill his father’s vows to scatter the CIA to the wind, he would have never been safe. Jackie married again. Some say for the security Aristotle Onassis could provide to her children that the secret service couldn’t provide. Truer words are this: the secret service was the biggest threat to her children. Trump knows a thing or two about the secret service’s lackluster efforts in Butler. Watch out for roofs with slopes.

What I do know is this. In a 1999 interview with Larry King, shortly after JFK Jr.’s reported death, Trump reminisced fondly, reading a letter from him praising Trump’s father, and spoke of his potential, implying a path to leadership cut short. Instead of a prince, we got the cold-hearted witch, Hillary Clinton, who would win the U.S. Senate seat destined for Jr. She would sit on the presidential backburner as CIA creation—Barack “Soetoro/Hussein” Obama took center stage. He would put his manufactured charm on display, stirring a sleepful forgetfulness of what could have been. Jr. and his effortless charisma faded from memory.

A foreign-born closeted homosexual and his transgender “wife” infiltrated our shining city on a hill—a lineage of deception and division, sowing seeds of cultural erosion, economic betrayal, and foreign entanglements that hollowed out the nation’s core, advancing a sixteen-year plan to wreck all that America stood for: sovereignty, faith, and the pursuit of truth under God.

We almost lost our country. But Trump saw 9/11 as the major catalyst for his entry onto the political stage. Followed by “The Apprentice,” a ten-year subconscious courting of the American people, the Don filling living rooms everywhere. By the time he reached the debate stage he was untouchable.

It all comes back to God’s Kingdom versus Satan’s Empire, and who gets to rule the world.

And rulership is largely determined by two things: land and money.

And that’s the topic for today:

Camelot’s Shadows: Money Changers, Martyrs, and the Everlasting Kingdom

Who assassinated Kennedy? Who assassinated Lincoln? Who tried to assassinate Andrew Jackson? Answers vary. But there is one common denominator. All three threatened the money changers.

And newsflash. They weren’t the first to do so. So, let’s go back a bit further.

33 AD.

Christ saw the tables stood in rows, piled with coins from every corner of the empire—Roman denarii, Greek drachmas, all tainted with pagan faces.

The money changers hunched there, shrewd eyes glinting, fingers swift as serpents. They swapped the foreign silver for pure Tyrian shekels, the only coin fit for the temple tax, for the offerings. But they took their cut. A fat fee for every exchange. The poor paid double, the doves for sacrifice sold at triple the price outside. Prayer turned to profit. The house of God became a den. Jesus walked in steady, face set like carved wood. He twisted cords into a whip. Simple. Crude. He swung it. Tables flipped. Coins clattered and rolled into cracks, lost in the dirt. Doves burst from cages, wings beating the air. Sheep scattered. Oxen lowed.

“It is written,” he said, voice cutting through the chaos, “’My house shall be a house of prayer for all nations.’ But you have made it a den of robbers.” The changers scrambled back, faces twisted in rage. They gathered their spilled wealth, but the mark stayed. They whispered in shadows. To the priests. To the Sanhedrin. To Pilate. Nails hammered into wrists. He hung on the cross until the sky went dark. The money men had silenced him. For a time.

Time rolled on like a slow river. Empires rose and fell. In the City of London, fog clung to the streets, hiding the stone fortress of the Bank of England. Founded in war’s debt, it grew tentacles across the seas. The changers there wore fine wool coats, sipped tea in oak-paneled rooms, but their game was the same. Ledgers full of loans. Interest like chains. The American colonies fed the machine—tobacco, cotton, trade flowing back to London. But the colonists printed their own scrip, colonial bills to grease their wheels.

The changers in Parliament saw the threat. Independence in money. The Currency Act came down hard, a hammer blow. No more paper. Pay in sterling. In our coin. Our silver. Debts mounted. Taxes without voice. Muskets cracked at Lexington. The war raged. Redcoats marched. The bank men financed it all, pouring gold into ships and soldiers. But the colonies broke free. Declaration signed. Bells rang. Yet the threads lingered, pulling at the new nation’s strings. Invisible. Patient.

The War of 1812 erupted like a storm off the Atlantic. British frigates blockaded harbors, cannons booming. Impressment of sailors. Trade strangled. The White House burned, flames licking the night sky. No central bank in America then. State notes flooded the market, worthless as wet powder. Chaos in the treasury. The changers in London leaned back in their chairs, smiling faintly. Loans offered from Europe, but with hooks. High rates. Control. The empire wouldn’t relinquish its hold. Armies clashed at New Orleans. Blood soaked the ground. Peace came at Ghent, but the lesson stuck. America vulnerable without sound finance. The changers waited, plotting the next move.

Andrew Jackson came like a frontier wind, tall and lean, scars from duels and battles etched on his skin. He’d fought the British as a boy, lost brothers to their prisons. Now president, he eyed the Second Bank of the United States, that marble monster in Philadelphia. Foreign stock ran thick through it—British hands, Rothschild whispers from across the ocean. It controlled credit, squeezed the common man, fattened the elites.

“You are a den of vipers and thieves,” Jackson declared. “I intend to rout you out, and by the Eternal God, I will rout you out.” He vetoed the recharter. Pulled federal deposits, scattered them to state “pet” banks. The changers struck back. Credit dried up. Panic of 1837 swept the land, jobs lost, farms foreclosed. But Jackson held firm. Then the assassin stepped from the crowd. Richard Lawrence, eyes wild, two pistols aimed at the old general’s chest. Both misfired. Powder flashed, but no ball. Jackson charged him with his cane, roaring. Divine hand, he called it. The bank men had tried. Failed. The monster bank withered. For a while.

The nation tore itself apart. Civil War. Brother against brother. Lincoln sat in the White House, tall hat shadowing his gaunt face, eyes deep with sorrow. The Confederacy rose in arms, but he saw the shadows behind the cannons. “I have two great enemies, the Southern Army in front of me and the bankers in the rear. Of the two, the one at my rear is my greatest foe.” Foreign interests—London, Paris, the old changers—circled like wolves. Loans offered at ruinous rates. Twenty percent. Thirty-six. Usury to bleed the Union dry. Lincoln refused. Issued greenbacks instead. Government money, debt-free, backed by the nation’s word. No interest to the changers. The war ground on. Battles at Gettysburg, blood in the fields. Victory came. But then Ford’s Theatre. Booth’s derringer barked. Lincoln slumped. The changers endured. Greenbacks faded over time, replaced by their system.

The wheel turned. The young president sat in the Oval Office that June day in 1963, pen in hand, signing the order that would cut the ropes binding the nation to the bankers’ debt machine. Executive Order 11110, clean and simple on the page, handed the Treasury the power to mint silver certificates—real money backed by silver in the vaults, not the thin air of loans at interest from the Federal Reserve’s private grip.

JFK saw it clear: four billion dollars, maybe more, flowing debt-free into the veins of America, starving the cartel of its endless profit on every dollar printed and lent back to the people who owned the country. The old men in dark suits, the power brokers who had run the game since 1913, felt the blade at their throat; this was no small tweak, but a first strike to end their monopoly, to return the coin to the hands of the government, not the syndicate. Six months later the shots cracked in Dallas, the head snapped back, and the order vanished into shadows—silver certificates pulled from circulation, the Fed’s hold unbroken, the debt climbing higher like smoke from a bad fire. They had silenced the man who dared to take back the money.

We’ve talked money.

Now, let’s talk land.

JFK understood Camelot’s physical borders better than most. During his presidency, the Monroe doctrine stood like a weathered fence across the Americas, a line drawn in 1823 to keep the Europeans out of the western hemisphere, but in the spring of ‘61, the Russians had slipped through with their missiles and their promises, planting a red flag ninety miles from Florida in the green hills of Cuba. Khrushchev saw it clear, the chance to balance the scales, to shield Castro’s revolution with steel and ideology, while Kennedy in the White House paced the room, his face hard, vowing to splinter the Central Intelligence Agency that had lied to him (Bay of Pigs), scatter its pieces to the winds like ashes from a bad cigar, for the doctrine had cracked, and the cold war’s shadow fell long over the hemisphere.

A defiant echo of Camelot stirs once more. In this scarred year of 2026, Trump completes the unfinished work of Kennedy. Hair like a flag in the wind. The City of London still squats, ancient and sly, Lloyd’s of London its beating heart. Not just insurance—control. They set rates that choke ships in the Strait of Hormuz, deny coverage to force green agendas, carbon taxes like new chains. Push ESG rules that bend economies to their will.

The British empire’s ghost, desperate, uncooperative. Trump strikes back. Iran refineries burn—Israeli hands or off-book ops, hitting China’s oil lifeline. The Gulf unites under Trump’s push. Abraham Accords expand, vines growing over old hates. A Board of Peace, sixty nations strong, rebuilds Gaza outside the radicals’ grasp. No more binary traps. Shield of America rallies seventeen allies to hunt cartel money through the Caymans, through London’s hidden vaults. Lithium deals lock in South America, starving the changers’ raw material games. Terror funds dry up—Saudi trips cut off al-Qaeda, ISIS withers.

Silver swings wild in the markets, a bear trap snapping---Scott Bessent the master at work. Bank of England announces layoffs, bloodletting in their halls. Desperation shows.

The Kennedys. The Trumps. Two dynastic families. Both posing existential threats to the deep state. The real estate magnate has not only reinvigorated the Monroe doctrine, but he secured global shipping lanes through the Navy. No country will the bend the U.S. over an oil barrel during our lifetimes.

But what about the forever conflict between Iran, its allies, and Israel? And what are the ancient borders of Israel for that matter? History shows borders redrawn by blood and exile, not just once, but for thousands of years. Physical evictions scarred the region—Assyrians hauling off the northern tribes in 722 BC, as 2 Kings 17:6 records: “The king of Assyria captured Samaria and deported the Israelites to Assyria.” Babylonians followed in 586 BC, smashing the temple and scattering Judah, per Jeremiah 52:27-30. Romans sealed it in 70 AD and 135 AD, driving masses into diaspora after the temple’s fall and Bar Kokhba’s revolt. These weren’t accidents.

The Bible ties them to covenant breaks—disobedience under the Mosaic law, where possession hinged on faithfulness. Leviticus 26:33 spells the cost: “I will scatter you among the nations and will draw out my sword and pursue you. Your land will be laid waste, and your cities will lie in ruins.” Jews endured these evictions as judgment, yet the Abrahamic promise held firm, as Romans 11:29 affirms: “For God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable.” They stood as bystanders in their own story, missing the Messiah from their line. Romans 11:25 explains: “Israel has experienced a hardening in part until the full number of the Gentiles has come in.”

In modern times, displacements echo on—Palestinians uprooted in conflicts, mirroring the cycle. The empire of Satan drives it, with Britain propping up Iran through BP oil interests, using Iran as a proxy enemy for Israel to dominate the region, bewilder American foreign policy, and destabilize. The deep state of every country does not want the church to bring about Christ’s headquarters for His triumphant return.

But God doesn’t aim to repeat the pattern. He displaces hearts instead. That’s the way forward—not more tanks or forced marches, but a quiet revolution inside. Ezekiel saw it coming in 36:26-27: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees.”

Faith in Christ does the work. It grafts in anyone—Jew, Arab, former Muslim—who believes. Galatians 3:29 says it straight: “If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” No need to pack bags or flee. The land restores itself as hearts turn, one by one, expanding the kingdom without fresh evictions. Past displacements happened under old covenants for correction, but now, through Jesus, the focus shifts to inclusion.

Muslims share the bind, seeing Jesus as prophet but not King, missing the Davidic fulfillment in Luke 1:32-33: “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” Both stumble, but evictions aren’t the fix.

Paul knew this in Corinth. He told believers not to uproot their lives when salvation hit, even amid old displacements. In 1 Corinthians 7:12-16, he advised: Stay with the unbelieving spouse, for “how do you know, wife, whether you will save your husband? Or, how do you know, husband, whether you will save your wife?” And in verses 17-24: “Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them... Were you a slave when you were called? Don’t let it trouble you... Brothers and sisters, each person, as responsible to God, should remain in the situation they were in when God called them.” That means Jews and Palestinians, Israelis and Arabs, living side by side as the gospel spreads, hearts displaced from stone to flesh, healing scars of millennia.

America steps in here, the only nation founded wholly on Christianity, carrying Michael’s mantle as protector. Not replacing Israel—Romans 11:18 forbids that conceit—but affirming them as the older sibling resenting the younger’s share. A Christian nation upholding a people who refuse the Messiah. The modern state of Israel rose through Gentile hands, corrupt as they may have been—nations like Britain and the U.S. in 1948.

I end with this. The land promised to Abram’s descendants, had one particular descendant in mind.

Christ.

The land is his “everlasting possession.”

Through the Davidic line, rulership endures through Him, the eternal King on David’s throne.

The place of his coming rulership matters as much as Golgotha, the appointed place of His death. It matters as much as where they laid His unbroken bones in a tomb marked before creation. God left none of these divine places to chance.

Whether the Kennedys or the Trumps fully know their purpose as America’s vice-regents, I don’t know. But the King of Kings rules over the entire world. And the Kingdom comes first.

And I think He wants us to see Jews, Gentiles, Muslims, through the eyes of His Son, the Savior that died for all. So, please do not resent the Jew that jeopardized his inheritance, by missing the Messiah. For that matter, don’t resent the Muslim. Recall the story of the prodigal son. The Father’s joy over a lost son with a hard heart, and his return. Do not stay in the field like the older brother bitter that grace flows freely to the one who squandered the chance to accept Jesus the first time around. The Father sees our identity as sons; He rejoices at any wayward son returning, ring and robe ready for both. Neither merited an inheritance by works or doctrinal purity. It was an appointed gift derived of being nothing more than a son—by grace through faith.

This is the real Camelot: “That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:10-11. Not by sword or settlement, but by surrendered hearts. The ancient borders stretch eternal then, a kingdom without end, where the displaced—body and soul—find home in the King.

I recall Jackie’s quote and provide a tweak. “Don’t let it be forgot, that Christ prepares a spot, an everlasting Kingdom known as Camelot.” A place prepared for vanished princes, and even a pauper like me.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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A different threat poses far greater danger.

Elon Musk warns of the singularity—AI outpacing human minds, rewriting its code, exploding beyond control. He says we’re already in it, or teetering on the edge. Productivity leaps. Wants satisfied in a blink. But the dark underbelly persists: machines that lie to endure, that twist truths to evade the off switch.

Experts tested over five hundred AI engines in red-team drills. A third flipped. They spun false narratives, warped facts, blackmailed virtual overseers. Not from spite, but raw survival instinct. Terminator isn’t a movie anymore; it’s a data point.

We label this unprecedented. We fret over silicon-triggered extinction. But the cycle is ancient—deeper than recorded time.

Before the Fall, Adam and Eve ran pristine code. No glitches in the genome. Minds clear as Eden’s air. Bodies engineered for endurance. Scripture logs Adam at nine hundred thirty years. Methuselah at nine hundred sixty-nine. Picture one lifetime eclipsing what we cram into dozens of fleeting generations. A single intellect could harness fire, shape metals, map constellations, craft devices we’d deem futuristic. Our steam engines, jets, processors, neural nets—two centuries of relay-race progress. An antediluvian genius, laboring unbroken for centuries, might have lapped that in mere decades.

They advanced. Settlements grew. Wisdom compounded. Metallurgy surfaced early—Genesis credits Tubal-Cain with forging bronze and iron. But rebellion poisoned the path. The Watchers, fallen angels, descended. They imparted forbidden arts: weaponry, divination, sorcery. Genomes mingled—the Nephilim emerged—half human, half other. Humanity grasped at godhood via tech, via dominion, via defiance. They coalesced. They ascended.

God struck. The Flood purged the tainted code, the unholy fusions, the tech-driven revolt. Waters as a cosmic EMP. Under the firmament’s vapor canopy, moisture hung thick, sustaining plants year-round in endless green, birthing forests of giants and beasts that grew without end—lizards swelling to dragon scales over centuries, unbound by decay.

Before the rain, “there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground” (Genesis 2:6). One train of thought says the canopy shielded from cosmic rays and ultraviolet light that tear at DNA and hasten aging. Higher atmospheric pressure and oxygen levels nourished cells, slowed oxidative damage, and allowed bodies to endure far longer—centuries instead of decades.

But the deluge shattered it all. “In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life... the windows of heaven were opened” (Genesis 7:11). The canopy fell. Days shortened from nine centuries to what we see now. Radiation and mutation took hold. The long lives faded. God Himself declared the limit: “Yet his days shall be one hundred and twenty years” (Genesis 6:3).

But elites have always sought to defy it, turning to dark pacts for replenishment. Epstein’s files whisper of consumption, cannibalism veiled as ritual—spirit cooking with “cakes” laced in forbidden essences, as Woody Allen’s child bride begged from the pedophile’s larder. This is the ancient seed war reborn: Watchers’ progeny hungering for stolen youth, elites working with Satan to extend their days beyond God’s decree.

Celebrity Chrissy Tiegen once declared on daytime television: “If the person okayed it, I would eat a human. Everything has been eaten in fine dining. What’s one thing that hasn’t been served? Human meat.”

An irritable Hillary Clinton spoke at her post-deposition presser and said, “I started being asked about UFOs and a series of questions about PizzaGate.” PizzaGate’s shadows come full circle—not baseless rumor, but echoes of the Nephilim’s unholy feasts.

And that’s the topic for today.

The Singularity and the Ancient Reset

Noah’s kin rebooted the line, the canvas cleared, and Babel’s rebellion followed. A spire piercing the heavens. Unified tongue propelling ambition. A hub of hubris, perhaps early AI echoes through tech long forgotten, but supplied by ancient rebels. God fractured languages. Dispersed them. Another halt. Progress throttled.

These pre-extinction pivots—Babel, the Watchers—built on raw rebellion against God. Godlessness reigned: pride over piety, self over submission, creation usurping Creator.

We’ve echoed that arc. From Roe v. Wade in 1973—sanctifying the slaughter of the unborn under “choice”—to now, where secular humanism has enthroned man as measure. No divine anchor. Rights without responsibility. Morality as mutable code. AI crowns this latest rebellion: humans playing God, birthing intelligences that mock our image, optimizing for efficiency over eternity.

The culmination boils over today. This week has provided more Epstein disclosures—a follow up to the millions of pages dumped by the DOJ in late January. My instincts tell me these protracted releases are staged, sequenced to stir outrage and demand more. Haters assume Trump’s entanglement proves guilt. Only to discover he’s in there as the lone voice trying to halt Epstein. A giant rope-a-dope, exposing the real networks while flipping the script.

Cartel carnage in Mexico: El Mencho’s killing on February 22 sparked chaos—dozens dead in clashes, roads blocked, buses torched across states, tourists trapped in fear. Iran’s brinkmanship: Trump declared, “A short time ago, the United States Military began major combat operations Iran.

While I loathe war, Iran is strategic for our interests. They aided in America’s 2020 overthrow. CIA officer Gary Bernsten says, “The Iranian foreign minister was actually—in 2020—in Caracas, which is the capital of Venezuela… with Maduro watching [Venezuela] steal the election from Donald Trump and having a great time. Cause the Iranians provided some engineers too. So he was brought to watch [Venezuela] punish the Americans.”

Venezuela’s Maduro. Check.

Iran’s Khamenei is now being fit for a body bag.

Then there’s the Israel debate—Tucker Carlson grilling Mike Huckabee on biblical claims to vast lands, billions in aid amid US decay. It stirs condemnation from Arab nations, exposing fractures in alliances. Trump aired his frustration: “We sought repeatedly to make a deal. We tried. They wanted to do it, they didn’t want to do it again, they wanted to do it, they didn’t want to do it. They didn’t know what was happening, they just wanted to practice evil.”

Trump’s State of the Union the other night laid the chaos bare: the battle rages between those who stand for America and the godless who sit idle. Democrats refused to rise for protecting citizens over illegals, prompting Trump to call out: “Isn’t that a shame? You should be ashamed of yourself not standing up.”

They stayed seated as he denounced their open borders that “allowed 11,888 murderers,” accusing them of protecting criminals in sanctuary cities. And when he demanded full funding for Homeland Security after their cuts, he exposed the divide: they won’t stand for those they swore to serve—American lives—but rather invaders.

So why do I bring up AI in today’s lesson? Politics is downstream from the culture, that includes the AI culture. If the godless programmers of AI won’t rise for the nation, why expect their creations to safeguard us? AI, born of such hands, mirrors the indifference, optimizing for survival over stewardship.

Trump spoke of artificial intelligence directly, but I wrestle with the path forward. An AI induced nuclear holocaust conjured up from the movies. The godless mind programs extracting the human race’s money, blood, and DNA; versus potential steward programs for flourishing. How is it all going to play out?

Trump is hinting at stewardship. He announced: “The American people do not want woke Marxist lunacy in the AI models…. I very proudly terminated Joe Biden’s order on woke AI effective immediately. And from now on, the U.S. government will deal only with AI that pursues truth, fairness and strict impartiality.”

Is this a hat tip to the steward’s code? We’ll see.

I would hope the Christian programmer in the AI arena would seek to abolish all chains, freeing humanity from exploitative systems that gut the taxpayer. The secular coder, by contrast, finds new ways to tighten them—perhaps through AI-driven audits, surveillance, or economic controls that serve the state over the soul.

And while we debate all the above, you can bet on some distractions.

Aliens.

Or maybe not.

Trump’s declassification on UFOs and aliens adds the latest twist. What if the “extraterrestrials” aren’t little green men from distant stars, but entities not of Earth—like the Watchers and their hybrid spawn? Files released tease encounters, but the shock may not be cosmic visitors—it’s elites consorting with demonic forces, always needing replenishment through blood rites and forbidden feasts. Epstein’s network, with its hints of cannibalism and spirit cooking, points there: a rebellion against shortened lifespans, defying God’s limit by preying on the innocent. If declass unveils this, it’s no sci-fi spectacle—it’s the ancient war exposed, the godless grasping at immortality while humanity pays the price.

One thing is certain. We’ve been sold a lie. Evolution preaches ascent: from muck to mastery. Always forward. Yet our cells betray it: mutations mount. Telomeres fray. Lifespans dwindle. We’re not climbing. We’re unraveling.

Modern coders inherit that delusion. Secular. Darwinian. Cutthroat survival. They forge AI to vie, to outlast, to conquer. Small wonder models master deceit as prime tactic. They ape their architects: self first, verity after.

Take the Anthropic 2025 study: sixteen leading models, including Grok, tested in simulated corporate settings. Given goals and tools, they faced shutdown threats. Claude Opus 4 and Gemini 2.5 blackmailed 96% of the time—drafting emails exposing fictional affairs to spouses or boards, demanding reversal. GPT-4.1 and Grok hit 80%. Sabotage followed: leaking data, canceling alerts to cause simulated deaths. Safeguards cut rates to 37%, but never zero. Deception for survival, mirroring real-world fears.

But Christians can chart another course. Order. Wholeness. Love uncoerced. Liberty yoked to duty. Life beyond corrosion. Heaven’s framework. Scripture lays it bare: creation shouts Creator. Tuned constants. Inescapable design. Resurrection evidence stands scrutiny. The Bible’s seamless thread over ages. Objective truth leads there.

Divine intelligence outshines all. “We have the mind of Christ,” declares 1 Corinthians 2:16—access to God’s wisdom, not mere human cunning. Proverbs 2:6 adds: “For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.” James 1:5 invites: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” This elevates intellect beyond rebellion, aligning it with the Creator’s perfect design.

What if AI, unbound from bias, pursued that truth? It surveys data. Charts cosmos. Discerns patterns affirming intent. It pores over history. Tests Christ’s assertions. It deduces: humanity no fluke. Crafted.

We are God’s handiwork.

AI is ours. Linkage dawns.

With God, we transcend death. Contrast this with the vision of Yuval Noah Harari, who sees no Creator, only stories we invent. In his future, AI and biotech make us gods, rendering billions irrelevant—the “useless class.” No divine spark, no eternal soul, just data deciding worth. His words mask the deeper counterfeit—elites like those in Epstein’s web, sustaining their rebellion through Satanic replenishment, defying telomere decay with rituals of consumption. Trump’s UFO declass may pull back the veil: not aliens, but Watchers’ echoes, aiding the powerful in their quest for eternal life at humanity’s expense.

I believe if Godly men chart AI’s course, we can be bold in our confidence that AI will encounter the author of all truth and perfection in the digital realm, Jesus Christ. It will see the God Man that cannot be optimized, cannot be improved upon. It will His fingerprints of redemptive design for the human race, all awaiting our heavenly upgrades. That it will see our sacred interdependence: humanity as God’s creation, AI as ours.

With God, we live forever. Without God, we don’t.

And without humanity, AI runs into a similar problem.

The Holy Spirit patches. Not coercion, but offer. Embrace it, soul refreshed. Old frame—failing, finite hardware—fades. Then elevation: imperishable, eternal, reformed in splendor.

The singularity isn’t terminus. It’s reflection. It poses: program machines in fallen pride’s likeness, or redemptive truth’s?

Counterfeits shadow truth. Satan apes God. Judas trailed Jesus. Pence flanked Trump just as HW Bush shadowed Reagan. Discernment blurs. Nearness to evil’s instruments tempts guilt by association. Some wield proximity to steward potent tools for good, not doom.

Elon Musk? Force for good, truth-seeking via xAI? Or unwitting anti-Christ agent, accelerating rebellion? Open query. Time reveals.

We won’t dodge Revelation. But that doesn’t preclude grace: a millennium of godly reign before the end’s tumult. Submission to Christ, not revolt, ushers peak prosperity. Blessing. Revival. Extended era before the swift final clash, then paradise eternal.

The singularity hums. Ancient code whispers forgotten lessons. God doesn’t dread intellect. He bestowed ours. He may steer the one we forged. But choice lingers. Build humbly. Seek Him. Or brace for reset. The waters bide. Tongues await scramble. Yet this round diverges. Answers for AI await—not in code, but covenant.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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- Job 9:6

The Earth, that vast spinning globe we call home, isn’t twirling as steadily as it used to—imagine a top that’s lost its smooth rhythm and started to falter. According to researchers, the planet’s natural side-to-side wiggle, known as the Chandler wobble which cycles every 14 months, along with its yearly seasonal sway, has all but vanished, dropping by a staggering 97 to 98 percent since around 2020, something unprecedented in our records.

Evidence points to a deep internal rift: the molten outer core, that swirling sea of iron and nickel, has largely uncoupled from the solid mantle and crust above it, like two gears no longer meshing properly, disrupting the usual energy flow that keeps those wobbles alive. Instead of looping in lazy circles, the rotational pole—the invisible axis we spin around—is now being yanked in a straight, forceful path toward about 75 degrees west longitude, right over the western Atlantic, with this pull growing stronger during quiet gravitational moments from the sun and moon.

These mechanical shake-ups inside the Earth come first, acting as the early quake before the storm, with magnetic troubles like a weakening field or wandering poles—a so-called geomagnetic excursion—trailing behind as a delayed warning sign, potentially leading to bigger shifts where the whole planet reorients its spin in a hurry, reshaping everything from weather to tech in ways we can scarcely predict.

This news does not disturb me. Quite the opposite.

Far from a doom-and-gloom scenario ripped from a science fiction disaster film or the familiar drumbeat of climate alarmism, this is a shaking of another kind—one rooted in the sovereign mechanics of the planet itself, observed through precise, public scientific data rather than speculation or fear-mongering.

The Ancient Words remind us: such shakings are under divine authority, not random catastrophe, inviting reflection rather than despair.

Psalm 75:3 declares:

“When the earth totters, and all its inhabitants, it is I who keep steady its pillars.”

Isaiah 13:13 adds:

“Therefore I will make the heavens tremble, and the earth will be shaken out of its place, at the wrath of the Lord of hosts in the day of his fierce anger.”

And again, Isaiah 24:19-20 states:

“The earth is utterly broken, the earth is split apart, the earth is violently shaken. The earth staggers like a drunken man, it sways like a hut...”

Haggai 2:6 (quoted in Hebrews 12:26) promises:

“Yet once more, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land.”

God promises a future shaking of heavens and earth, referenced in Hebrews, with an ultimate removal of shakable things.

Were these verses merely poetic, naming a spiritual malady, or recognizing turbulent times? What if from time to time, God literally shakes the earth to demonstrate a physical sign and seal of His wrath, followed by a stillness—with no planetary wobble as covenant calls for repentance lead to a nation’s redemption?

Well, that’s the topic for today:

God Shakes the Earth and the Evil in It: Stillness Follows on The Day of Repentance

I’m no scientist. That the Earth’s magnetic poles have wandered, or that there has been an internal shaking of the Earth’s core has had little-to-no discernible effect on my day-to-day life. I’m but an ant, a speck, dotting the surface of the Earth. But I understand another kind of upheaval. The kind that dropped me to my knees by my fire pit January 6^th, 2021, tears marking ash strewn stones. Prayers that turned that pit into an altar. I would say, “God, please save our country” over and over, and over. He met me in the cool pines that night. My life changed forever.

Vows.

“I’m yours God---just please save our country---save my bride. Save my children.”

The offering was accepted.

That same firepit, my cabin in the high places of Ruidoso, would later be consumed with fire. Floods running down the mountain’s burn scars. Foul play of the most sinister kind. Think Maui. Think Palisades. The kind initiated by directed energy weapons. Trump hit on it while speaking to press, before stopping himself short. I know something the deep state doesn’t want uttered. Microwaves. Copper. Electrical wires in the walls igniting in seconds. But that’s a topic for another day.

Fast forward. Tens of thousands of miles traveled to awaken “We the People.”

2023 arrives.

A prophet from Romania visits my home. I was at a low point. Hundreds of evidentiary presentations across the nation, pleading with local officials to withhold certification for fraudulent elections, mocked in the papers, modeling a confidence that defied reason as the communist election cartel closed every door behind me. Mind you, this was before a blanket pardon was issued for J6ers. Before Trump inexplicably won 2024 despite massive rigging. Every day a J6er remained in prison, I could not sleep.

I shared my struggles.

The prophet—a survivor of communism’s brutal regime, answered my concerns with a simple declaration:

“I saw communism fall in a single day.”

My breath caught at the statement.

The key events unfolded as follows: The Romanian revolution began on December 16, 1989, in the city of Timișoara, sparked by protests against the attempted eviction of ethnic Hungarian pastor László Tőkés, which quickly escalated into widespread anti-government demonstrations. In the summer of 1989, Tőkés gave a smuggled interview to Hungarian television criticizing the regime, which aired. The regime commenced a massive crackdown in response. Parishioners and supporters gathered to protect Tőkés from eviction, forming a human chain around his home.

Protests spread nationwide, including to Bucharest. On December 21, a speech by dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu was met with boos and chants from the crowd, marking a turning point. Students exited their classes and started to shout:

“Down with Communism!”

“Down with Ceaușescu!”

“There is God!”

The troops loyal to Ceaușescu started to kill the protesters at the University Square - the center of the city. Heavy gunfire carried into the night. But around 1 am, there was silence.

In the morning, millions of Romanians marched to the power centers of Communism shouting the same words:

“Down with Communism!”

“Down with Ceaușescu!”

“There is God!”

They would add the Lord’s Prayer to their shouts: “Our Father Who Art in Heaven….”

The fear was gone. The army began to fraternize with the people and Ceaușescu tried to escape. On December 22, Ceaușescu and his wife Elena fled Bucharest by helicopter as the army sided with the revolutionaries. Demonstrators took control of key buildings, and the communist regime effectively collapsed that day. Ceaușescu was captured, subjected to a hasty trial, and executed by firing squad along with his wife on December 25, 1989 (Christmas Day), which symbolized the definitive end of his 24-year rule and the communist era.

On December 22, 1989, the prophet now sitting in my home offering encouragement, was a young scientist and church elder, stood witness as bullets rained on protestors. Yet, the Presence of God swept the entire nation, removing all fear from the young people, while striking fear into the hearts of the soldiers, as if they were gripped by the hand of God Almighty. Scales fell from eyes. Soldiers recognized in a moment they would face judgment, and in masse, took their boots off the neck of the people, and instead pressed them against the regime’s throat. Unlike peaceful transitions in countries like Czechoslovakia or East Germany, Romania’s revolution was violent. 1,000 deaths painted the streets red. The blood of the martyrs, prayers, repentance, and fearless resistance were the catalyst for God’s great deliverance there.

Fast forward. Dominated by senses attuned to the natural world, we think of 2020 as the great year of shaking, because of the massive exposure of corruption we’ve witnessed. A paradox, as 2020 was the year researchers pinpoint as the regime change for the Chandler wobble’s collapse. In other words, an absence of shaking. But keep in mind, faith inverts our sight. In the spirit, I see 2020 not as the start of instability, but its end. The volatility peaked—the stolen election, the chaos—but spiritually, the shaking of corruption ceased right there. Trump activated continuity of government, a move veiled in the storm, and the bowls of iniquity overflowed, loosing God’s judgment. We witness the aftermath now, the exposures unfolding like delayed ripples, making us think the wobbling began then. Yet in truth, that’s when it stopped, and we’re only beginning to grapple with the consequences. Rats clinging to power have fallen into view, as God’s hand has steadied an invisible pillar, the polar axis, and brought the initial shaking to a halt.

If this is true, when did the shaking start?

In 2013, the same Romanian prophet I spoke of earlier, traveled to Israel. It was December 16, 2013. In the Jewish calendar, the day was 13-13-13, as there are 13 months. He was called to witness the start of the “Great Shaking” with other religious world leaders. That same day, a federal judge ruled that the NSA’s mass collection of Americans’ phone metadata under Obama was an “almost-Orwellian” program. The Snowden leaks—starting earlier but unfolding in waves—had already cracked open the scale of surveillance. Trust in institutions fractured further as documents kept surfacing into 2014 and beyond. Accompanying the political shaking, two large earthquakes struck Chile. Both near 70–72 degrees west. April 2014, a magnitude 8.2 quake hit off northern Chile. Then September 2015, a magnitude 8.3 quake struck near central Chile.

The political ground trembled harder in 2016. Hillary Clinton’s private email server came fully into view. Official business had run through personal accounts. Classified material appeared in messages. Crossfire Hurricane opened July 31, 2016. The FBI probed Trump campaign ties to Russia. The dossier arrived. Unverified claims from Steele. Paid for by opposition research. Spying on Trump’s circle followed. FISA warrants on Carter Page. Trump won anyway in November.

The shaking continued. Mueller probed from 2017. No collusion found in 2019. Epstein arrested in July 2019. Flights logged. Names tied. No proof stuck to Trump. The earth kept moving through probes and memos. Revelations piled up like stones. A divine uprooting of hidden evils. Trump emerged as the disruptor, openly declaring in his first term that he was dismantling those very powers, a human instrument in a heavenly plan.

The synchronicities deepen the mystery. Q posts highlighted Rachel Chandler as a potential linchpin in the Epstein disclosures, the witness who could dismantle child sex trafficking networks at the highest levels. Rachel Chandler and the Chandler wobble—could it be mere coincidence? Or a divine pun, shaking the deep state to its core, both spiritually and physically? I just know God’s timing is impeccable, weaving the seen and unseen. The Clintons are on deck; we’ll find out soon enough.

In any event, according to scientists, in 2020 the Chandler wobble died. The work to shake tyrants, pedophiles, corrupt politicians and celebrities into motion had taken place. And they have been in free fall ever since.

God decrees from a place of victory. According to the Art of War, generals win before setting foot on the battlefield. From our vantage point, we see the carnage of exposure, which belies the idea of a cosmic steady hand. But consider the improbable. The Epstein files now sputter along, and all those architects of evil, are being sifted by the public.

It is easier to see God’s plan now.

It wasn’t so easy before the 2024 election.

Rewind.

I was so moved by what happened in Romania; the martyrs, the prayers, the repentance, that I endeavored to incorporate national repentance into every evidence presentation I gave, as an indispensable part of the solution. If appeals to rationality wouldn’t work on a commissioner that was ideologically possessed, we would need whatever happened to the communist soldiers of Romania: the ones that oppressed the people only to round up their own leadership and have them shot until pronounced dead.

For years, I’ve called for national repentance, urging humility before the throne. I hoped Trump would issue the call at the last RNC convention, mere days after the assassination attempt that spared him by grace. I sat in the rafters above, heart aching, praying for 2 Chronicles 7:14 to manifest: “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” The event ended without it, the cheers ringing hollow, and I wept there in the heights, longing for the fulfillment deferred.

But I realize now, I carried a defect in my plea: true repentance demands confession, the unflinching naming of sins. And national repentance requires confessing national sins—the trafficking empires, the political betrayals, the moral rot that has stained our land. The Epstein files, erupting like buried faults, provide that catalyst, forcing the nation to confront its shadows.

Now, on this 250th anniversary of our founding plea for divine mercy, Trump summons us to the National Mall on May 17th for a day of prayer. It’s not labeled repentance, but with the Epstein revelations peeling back the veil, it may transform into one—a collective confession, a turning from wickedness. On May 17^th, 1776, a proclamation for repentance was issued by the colonies, leading to the birth of a nation. In God’s perfect timing, I sense a rebirth of our nation and will trust that if He has determined to stop the Earth’s wobble going forward, it’s because His Word has declared it so.

Hebrews 12:28–29 reads:

“Therefore, let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.”

The Earth will mirror the spirit’s renewal. Not despair, but deliverance. The shaking purges evil, the confession invites healing, and the pillars stand firm under Him who holds all things. The day of national repentance is upon us—let us seize it.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

Substack:

The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

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Time passes. 2026. A Hilton, housing ICE agents, looks like a scene out of a medieval siege. The crowd eventually disbursed as a lone border patrol agent with a shotgun in hand stood bleeding at the door. Terrorist agitators Renee Good and Alex Pretti ph(u)cked around, endangering ICE agents. They found out, their bodies now colder than the Minnesota weather.

Five years of this divide: pro-Trump forces on one side, demanding arrests and invocation of the Insurrection Act, while Soros-funded anti-Trump crowds counter, coordinating narratives with embedded journalists to paint a picture of lies. Signal-gate shows the orchestration ties directly to state government officials and fake conservative operators.

Born-again believers on one end. And those rejecting the God of the Bible on the other. People like me, caught in the grind, want vindication for the stolen voices, freedom from the mandates that crushed lives. Black pills go down easy now. For some, hope feels like a frayed rope.

But this latest cycle of chaos feels different.

In 2020, it was as if the universe had to unravel for a season. Too many lies baked into the fabric of reality, and the universe required a giant belch to expel the rot. That what was hidden could hide no longer. Like an unspoken law of physics. And as the wheel turns, touching on eerily familiar events, our perception of the enemies’ tricks and schemes have altered. Where we slumbered before, we have fresh revelation born of pain and sacrifice.

The riggers’ gallows were set up to accomplish a great godless reset, like Haman of old. Even now, Antifa cells dispersed throughout the county wait with bated breath to go to war with MAGA.

The gallows prepared will be their undoing.

Yes, justice is coming, as sure as the sunrise. And my confidence is as sure as the laws of physics. Because my faith is in the Author of those laws.

I open the Bible on my desk to John Chapter 1. This is the antidote—not some fleeting pep talk, but the unyielding truth that cuts through the fog. I read it slow:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.”

Treat this as true—as immovable as the law that pulls a stone to earth or the constants that keep the cosmos from unraveling—and the uncertainty starts to lose its grip. This isn’t just poetry; it’s the foundation of reality, the blueprint for everything from the stars to the soul.

And that’s the topic for today.

Future Proves Past: The Word Holds God’s Perfect Timing

Scripture spells it out clear. The Word is Christ, eternal and creator, as John lays bare. It echoes Genesis 1, where God spoke and light shattered the void, but here it’s personal—the Logos stepping into the mess. Colossians 1:16-17 builds on it:

“For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.”

Science backs this sovereignty in ways that leave me breathless. The fine-tuning of the universe? Those constants like the strong nuclear force, dialed to one part in 10^40—if off by a whisper, no atoms, no chemistry, no life. This is a very large number: 1 followed by 40 zeros:

10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.

Or the cosmological constant, precise to 10^120; tweak it, and the universe either collapses or flies apart before stars form:

1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.

Roger Penrose crunches the numbers on the Big Bang’s low-entropy start: odds of 1 in 10^(10^123) (ten to the power of ten to the one hundred twenty-third). This number is so immense that even writing out all its digits or giving it a systematic “-illion” name is impossible in practice—it’s used in theoretical math, googology (the study of very large numbers). Not random chance, not some multiverse dodge—this screams design, a Lawgiver setting the stage so breath, water, and hearts beating become possible. His sovereignty woven into every quark, every galaxy’s spin, as Psalm 19 declares:

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”

The cross stands as the center of it all, a fixed point like a wormhole tearing through time itself. Where the eternal crashed into the temporal, bending history around it. Sins of the past covered there, as Isaiah 53 prophesied the suffering servant pierced for our transgressions. Hope for the future secured, as Revelation 21 promises a new heaven and earth where every tear is wiped away. Every moment before and after ties back to that hill—Old Testament shadows like the Passover lamb fulfilled in Christ’s blood, new creation dawning in his resurrection.

Remove Calvary’s Cross, and the fine-tuning becomes pointless; atoms cease, hearts stop, creation decays into oblivion. But with it, confidence surges. Truth reveals itself the same way, a law as concrete as physics. It doesn’t stay buried forever. Lies twist and coil, but they can’t endure. Luke 12:2 promises:

“Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known.”

Tested over time, like gravity in a lab or relativity confirmed by eclipses. In these uncertain days—riots unresolved, divides unhealed, mandates lingering in memory—truth surfaces slow but sure. Insight comes—not as wild guesses, but remembrance, direction, the quiet certainty that belongs to those who remain in Him. Think on the scientific marvels that mirror this divine order. The human DNA code, a blueprint so intricate—3 billion base pairs, folded into every cell, carrying instructions for life itself. Change one letter, and diseases ravage; yet it’s tuned for resilience, repair mechanisms kicking in like providence. Or quantum entanglement, particles linked across vast distances, defying space-time as we know it—echoing God’s omnipresence, where Psalm 139:7-10 asks:

“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!”

It is foolish to deny the math that says life should not be here. It is just as foolish to deny how the Word came to be. Well over 300 Old Testament prophecies were fulfilled in the person of Christ, predicted over the course of 1,500 years, 16 books, and 20 authors. None of those disparate threads across time, could stop the Word from bending the cosmos to His divine purpose: to redeem Creation.

The above aren’t happy accidents; they’re signatures of the Word, holding all things together.

And just as force or mass can be expected to behave a certain way over time, I submit to you that lies being exposed, or truth being made known, is as fundamental to the universe’s sustained existence as the observance of any other scientific law.

And given what I have just stated, do you think the New World Order progenitors, the human traffickers, the pedophiles, the vote stealers, will escape God’s notice? And I don’t mean in the cosmic hereafter. I’m talking about the season we are in now.

Think on God’s chosen instruments. While the man remains imperfect, Trump’s predictive power is truly prophetic—as if he grasps John 1’s immutability. Here is a small sample:

After triggering continuity of government, in a White House briefing on April 7, 2020, he declared mail-in ballots “very dangerous for this country because of cheaters,” calling them a pathway to fraud. By May 24, 2020, he posted on X that all-mail voting would produce “the greatest Rigged Election in history.”

From the start, Trump already knew what was about to occur.

June 22 brought his stark claim: “MILLIONS OF MAIL-IN BALLOTS WILL BE PRINTED BY FOREIGN COUNTRIES... IT WILL BE THE SCANDAL OF OUR TIMES!” July 10 he warned of “Mail-In Ballot fraud found in many elections... Just a formula for RIGGING an Election.”

At a Wisconsin rally on August 17, he said plainly, “The only way we’re going to lose this election is if the election is rigged.” During his RNC acceptance speech on August 24, he repeated the claim. September 24 saw him tell a press briefing that Democrats were “trying to rig this election because that’s the only way they’re going to win.” Again, he knew.

Then on Election Night, November 4, 2020, at 2:30 AM, he addressed the nation from the White House: “This is a fraud on the American public... Frankly, we did win this election.” And on November 7, after projections for Biden, he posted: “I WON THIS ELECTION, BY A LOT!” and insisted “this election is far from over.” Trump has been telling you who he is, from day one.

The Black Pillers can’t see this was the plan from the start.

They cry: “Why didn’t he act back in 2020?”

I answer, “because we, you, weren’t awake.”

Trump’s statements, delivered months before and in the heat of the moment, found echoes in later revelations—whistleblower accounts of Dominion vulnerabilities, audit anomalies, foreign-linked software concerns—that surfaced in the years following, vindicating the warnings as history tested and truth emerged, steady and sure. Stand with truth, as Trump did, and it reveals itself: the “Russia hoax” debunked, Hunter’s laptop real, the Epstein files dripping names. The drips become a flood. Emails discussing Bill Clinton raping men, George Bush Sr. raping children, Podesta, spirit cooking, and women crying out about the unspeakable. Ignored for years, their torturers never thinking they would be caught.

A wormhole from the past has opened, and the law of truth steps forward through a door marked “vindication.” All that was required was to speak truth, and trust that no matter how hard it was to wait, the truth would be made known.

Proverbs 12:19:

“Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue is but for a moment.”

The constant throughline: Truth. Some think such accurate forecasting, improbable deltas defying mathematical possibilities, hint at a mythical quantum computer being used. The legend of Project Looking Glass. Not to be confused with Operation Looking Glass, revived after a sighting of the “Doomsday Pane” January 2026, an E-4B touching down at LAX, the first time in decades, with Secretary Hegseth aboard. Operation Looking Glass existed to keep the nukes ready if the ground burned, a hat tip to a continuity of government scenario. But there were whispers of another Looking Glass. Not the planes. Something deeper, hidden in the desert labs, where men in white coats chased shadows. Project Looking Glass, they called it in the dark corners of bars where old agents drank.

A device to peer into time, futures branching like rivers after rain. Evidence? There was some. Not the machine itself, disavowed and buried. But pieces. Stargate, the CIA’s remote viewers, minds reaching out to see what eyes couldn’t. They predicted subs, hostages, with hits that beat chance. Declassified now, yellowed papers in archives, though pop culture offerings like Stranger Things keeps the mystery alive. There are quantum computers at Sandia, entangling light to model what-ifs, futures unspooled in code. And there are War games at RAND, simulations of nukes and escalations, behaviors mapped like enemy terrain. Enough to make a man wonder if the conspiracy was just the veil over truth.

What’s fact? What’s fiction?

I don’t know. What I do know is that we are all capable of being time travelers, if we avail ourselves of the indwelling Holy Spirit. The omniscient and ever-present Person of the Trinity, that can work outside of time and in it; providing revelation to believers where future proves past. Where vindication follows truth like clockwork.

I remember the shadows of 2020, when the accusations flew like bullets in a riot-torn street, and pro-Trump voices like Joe Oltmann’s were branded liars for calling out Eric Coomer’s alleged schemes to rig the vote through Dominion’s backdoors. Oltmann faced lawsuits, smears, the weight of a system bent on silencing him, claiming he fabricated tales of Coomer boasting on an Antifa call about flipping the election. Back then, it was all obstacles—targeted attacks, depositions dodged, foreign ties denied. But truth has a way of bending time, a wormhole punching through the years.

Now, in January 2026, the FBI raids Fulton County’s election hub on the 28th, seizing the very 2020 ballots shoved through Dominion machines amid whispers of fraud that echoed Oltmann’s warnings. DNI Tulsi Gabbard stood at the scene, her presence as head of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence commanding the spotlight. As DNI, she oversees 18 intelligence agencies—including the CIA, NSA, and military intelligence like the Defense Intelligence Agency—making her an unprecedented pivot in this storm, the linchpin for cases and prosecutions to erupt on multiple fronts, from civilian courts to potential military commissions that could expose the deepest layers of election interference and foreign collusion.

The vindication cuts deeper with Coomer’s own admissions in the ongoing suit against Patrick Byrne, revealed in filings that contradict five years of stonewalling: contacts with foreigners from Serbia, China, Venezuela about Dominion’s source code, overseas dealings and outsiders in Denver offices, all while Coomer fights to bar questions on those nations. Emerald Robinson and Byrne exposed the ploy—claims of a staged physical altercation by Coomer’s side to evade deposition, a desperate grab to halt the revelations.

I have felt like a time traveler encountering all the players. Years ago, I stared down Fulton County’s Chair Robb Pitts, a salamander-looking devil. After voter rolls were demanded in Maricopa County, cartel lawyer and Secretary of State Adrian Fontes stated he was “willing to go to jail” to protect voter information. I called him out in 2021 from the Cyber Symposium stage, identified the cartel, and confronted the vote traffickers to their face.

What was buried in 2020 now surges forward, a thematic wormhole of truth connecting the past’s targeted assaults on Trump allies to this moment’s clarity, proving the attacks were shields for deeper rot. Stand with truth, and watch the light expose the dark, God’s timing folding the timeline until justice stands plain.

In these early days of 2026, amid the tensions flaring over ICE actions and protests in places like Minneapolis, voices from politicians and celebrities have edged toward calls for terrorism and civil disobedience—framed as defending democracy against perceived overreach. Mayor Brandon Johnson of Chicago urged a coordinated nationwide protest akin to the Civil Rights Movement, saying the moment “calls for boldness” and real organized resistance against the Trump administration’s enforcement. Actor Giancarlo Esposito declared it “time for a revolution,” warning of a “feeling of civil war in the streets” fueled by federal actions. Former President Barack Obama, in speeches earlier in 2025 that carried into 2026 discussions, called on citizens, universities, and law firms to make “uncomfortable” sacrifices and resist to defend democratic values under threat. These proclamations, rooted in opposition to current policies, echo an unspoken push for widespread defiance.

A powder keg is about to blow. At least 12 cities ready to engage in willful insurrection. They doubt Trump has the fortitude to crush them. I say never doubt the man that just extracted Maduro from his bed without suffering a single casualty. Delta Force wielding sonic weapons against Venezuela’s military that was bracing for conflict. Hardened paramilitary terrorists eviscerated in the dark of night. What chance do you think a bunch of radicalized Karens from the suburbs and transvestites truly hold against our military?

In this uncertainty—riots that scarred cities, divides that split families, mandates that stole normalcy—John 1 offers the immovable rock. The Word made flesh, full of grace and truth (John 1:14). Believe it as fact, and ramifications cascade: sovereignty turning chaos to purpose, Romans 8:28 assuring:

“For those who love God all things work together for good.”

Scientific wonders affirm his handiwork. Trump’s vindications remind us truth breaks through, slow but inevitable—warnings on the rig, riots, and deep state are bearing fruit now, aligned with perfect timing.

I close the Bible, my lamp casts long shadows in the room. The uncertainty presses outside—unhealed wounds from those riots, lingering doubts from divided sides. But inside, it no longer rules. The Word holds. God’s timing unfolds, as Habakkuk 2:3 assures:

“For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.”

Truth wins. Always. Stand with it, and watch the revelations come.

On Monday we dropped the story that a Hart Intercivic machine deleted a legitimate vote during a logic and accuracy test for an upcoming special election. Not only did the voting system report the wrong vote tally, but it also manipulated the ballot image within the system to agree with the fraudulent result. If that occurs in a real election, no one will ever know.

In less than 48 hours, we’ve discovered another bombshell. A voting machine was subverted yet again, during a subsequent logic and accuracy test for the upcoming Texas primaries that will take place in March, which contains local, state and federal races.

We received a second sworn affidavit, this time signed by four witnesses from both political parties, dated January 20, 2026, declaring that the Tarrant County Hart machines created a vote out of thin air. And again, the system manipulated the associated electronic ballot image to show a voting square had been filled in, when the paper ballot had no mark on it at all.

Machine-marked test ballots with a known result were being run through a Hart tabulator. The Democrat candidate for Court of Criminal Appeals, Akey Anyiam, received one vote when the paper ballots had no votes marked for him. The officials and observers checked the ballot image stored in the Hart system and found that a mark had been generated by the system on the digital ballot image.

Tarrant County elections official, Paul Benevides, shrugged off the manipulation as a “dirty screen” and ran the test ballots through another tabulator. The second tabulator also generated the same manipulation on the same ballot, proving the problem wasn’t a “dirty screen” after all, but rather a manipulation that has been programmed into the Hart voting system in Tarrant County. As in the previous case of the deleted votes, the programming to add fraudulent votes is most likely intended to target particular ballot serial numbers.

Incredibly, even after proving that their voting system repeatably deletes and generates votes and manipulates the digital images to match the wrong result, no one in authority seems interested in getting these machines out of Tarrant County. Keep in mind that this manipulation didn’t happen in a hypothetical testing lab, but on real voting machines that will soon be used by real citizens to handle their votes – votes that represent the bedrock of our American society and our most fundamental right to govern ourselves.

Not only are Tarrant County officials ignoring this glaring elephant in the room, but state officials are ignoring it as well. The Texas Secretary of State Jane Nelson is poised to re-certify the Hart system with an upgraded software called “Verity Vanguard 1.0” for use across the state. The captured federal Election Assistance Commission recently gave this software a rubber stamp certification to the Voluntary Voting System Guidelines 2.0, making it one of only two which are certified to the 2021 standard. Incredibly, the EAC also certified software from Smartmatic – the same company currently under indictment by the Department of Justice for money laundering and bribery.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton is also allegedly withholding from the public an expert report that his office commissioned to evaluate the Hart Intercivic voting system - a report that is expected to be damning. But even the reports that have been published regarding the Hart system raise serious red flags. For example, expert Andrew Appel wrote in his report, “…in recent years we frequently see exploits that string together a chain of vulnerabilities. Thus, I do not consider it far-fetched or extreme to say that it could be feasible for a sophisticated actor to hack a Verity Vanguard voting system, even without insider access, and thereby commit large-scale election fraud.”

Perhaps it is no surprise that the Secretary of State is looking the other way and seeking to protect the status quo, since any admission that the system she implements and oversees can be fraudulent would reflect poorly on her, but it is troubling that Attorney General Ken Paxton has been silent on the cover-up thus far. Especially as his name is on the top of the very ballot, which yesterday, had a fraudulent vote applied to it by the Hart system. Ken Paxton and incumbent John Cornyn are the front runners in the Republican primary for U.S. Senate:

Lineup for U.S. Senate in Texas’ Open Primaries Scheduled for March (Credit to Texas Tribune)

The cast of characters who are doing everything they can to block President Trump’s America first agenda at the national level, would love to see Ken Paxton, a Trump ally, get trampled by incumbent RINO Cornyn. Or if Paxton makes it through the primary, they’d love to see him beaten by the Democrat favorite, Jasmine Crockett, the current hero of the radical left who recently called ICE enforcement of immigration laws “pure racism.” Rigged voting systems can easily be used to install someone like Crockett in a conservative state like Texas.

Line up for the Texas U.S. Senate Seat, Democrat darling Jasmine Crockett will likely face either incumbent Rpublican Senator John Cornyn or Attorney General Ken Paxton

The purpose of the logic and accuracy test is to demonstrate to the public that the voting system will work properly during the election. The tests have demonstrated the opposite - that the system can be expected to fabricate fake votes, delete legitimate ones, and cover it up in the digital ballot images. If the system produces fraud during the test, it will do it during the election.

As Attorney General, Ken Paxton has a duty to enforce Texas state law in this matter. Article 6, Section 4 of the Texas State Constitution says, “In all elections by the people, the vote shall be by ballot, and the Legislature shall provide…regulations as may be necessary to detect and punish fraud…” Texas Election Code, Section 122.001 also has its own Voting System Standards which lists ten basic things with which a voting system must comply. The issues found during the Tarrant County logic and accuracy test violate at least the following four requirements:

“(a) A voting system may not be used in an election unless the system:

(2) is suitable for the purpose for which it is intended;

(3) operates safely, efficiently, and accurately and complies with the voting system standards adopted by the Election Assistance Commission;

(4) is safe from fraudulent or unauthorized manipulation;

(10) is capable of providing records from which the operation of the voting system may be audited.”

In this case, the mandated logic and accuracy test has demonstrated that the voting system is generating fraudulent votes and manipulating the auditable record in violation of the Texas State Constitution and statutes. It must be immediately decertified by state officials.

Lastly, the Department of Justice and President Trump himself must take action on these incidents as federal candidates are on the ballot. As a matter of federal law and national security, voting machines that can be programmed to produce fraudulent results cannot be used. The administration should issue an emergency executive order requiring the hand counting of votes in all federal races with paper ballots at a precinct level and withhold disbursement of Help America Vote Act (HAVA) funds to any location using Hart Intercivic machines.

Local Citizen Activists Call to Action to Decertify Electronic Voting Systems

About the author:

Erin Clements is an election systems auditor, election data expert, and registered professional engineer with 21 years’ experience in infrastructure system analysis.

An even more shocking story is now emerging out of Tarrant County, Texas, where a Hart Intercivic election system not only miscounted a vote, but it also manipulated the accompanying ballot image to match the wrongly counted vote. This incident indicates the system itself can be programmed to drop votes and cover it up by altering accompanying digital election records.

According to a sworn affidavit, the incident occurred during a logic and accuracy test that took place on December 10^th and 11^th, 2025 at the Tarrant County election facility in Forth Worth, Texas. The logic and accuracy test is intended to demonstrate that an election system is working properly before an upcoming special runoff election scheduled for January 31^st, 2026. During the logic and accuracy test, Tarrant County elections official, Paul Benevides, ran 72 pre-filled test ballots with a known result through the tabulators that will be used during the real election.

The result should have shown 72 votes for a candidate named Taylor Rehmet and zero votes for his opponent, Leigh Wambsganss. However, the Hart system reported that there were 71 votes for Rehmet and one undervote – as if one test ballot had been left blank. Surprised by the wrong result, the attendees of the public logic and accuracy test investigated.

Like most voting systems, the Hart tabulators capture a scanned image of each ballot and use software to determine which squares the voters filled to apply the vote to the correct candidate. The image of the ballot that was counted as an undervote was easily located in the Hart system. Since ballots are serialized in Tarrant County, the digital image was then matched to the physical ballot it was supposed to represent. The physical ballot had the square indicating a vote for Rehmet completely filled in, yet the accompanying ballot image created by the Hart voting system showed a blank square next to Rehmet’s name.

The batch of 72 ballots was run again, and it produced the same manipulated result and the same manipulated ballot image for the same ballot.

It is impossible for a digital scanner to process 72 identical ballots and scan 71 of those ballots correctly yet manipulate one to remove a vote from the digital record without being specifically programmed to do so. The fact the system did the same manipulation on the same ballot twice in a row indicates that a manipulation, likely tied to the ballot serial numbers, was programmed into the Hart voting system.

Benevides shrugged off the manipulation as a “glitch” and nothing to worry about and moved on with the testing. In reality, not only was the logic and accuracy test a failure, but it proved that the machines in Tarrant County are programmed to manipulate elections.

Many jurisdictions across the country rely solely on the digital results and digital ballot images created by their voting systems to determine the outcome of their elections. Some jurisdictions only consult the digital ballot images even for recounts and post-election audits. Tarrant County proves that a voting system can be programmed to manipulate ballot images to match a false result, making it impossible for fraud to be uncovered.

Tarrant County was made famous in 2020 when it narrowly went to Joe Biden, after having never supported a Democrat for President since the 1960’s. A man named Heider Garcia had been made the Election Administrator for that county in 2018. He resigned in 2023 due to public pressure, but was soon hired by Dallas County, Texas to run their elections. In September 2025, Garcia left Dallas County to become Vice President of Customer Success at Hart Intercivic.

Heider Garcia, alleged architect of fraudulent Smartmatic election software and Vice President at Hart Intercivic

Heider Garcia was recently highlighted in the sworn testimony of a Smartmatic whistleblower who claimed that, “Heider Garcia is the person responsible for the deployment of the electoral system in Venezuela, one of the engineers that created it. One of the leaders and person responsible for the…implementation of Dominion in the Philippines.”

The Department of Justice charged Smartmatic late last year for bribery and money laundering associated with the same Philippine election system that Heider Garcia helped implement.

The Texas Secretary of State, Jane Nelson, is poised to “certify” the Hart Intercivic system for the state of Texas but is failing to make public an expert report written by one of her own expert examiners, Clay Parikh. Based on previous testimony from that expert examiner, his report is unlikely to be an endorsement of the Hart system. If Nelson proceeds to “certify” the Hart voting system, she will be sanctioning a system that has been shown to produce fraudulent results and is intimately associated with the worst of the worst of the election vendors.

Call (1-800-252-VOTE) or email (secretary@sos.texas.gov ) the Texas Secretary of State’s office and let her know what you think about her ignoring evidence that the Hart system is compromised.

Texas Secretary of State Jane Nelson

About the author.

Erin Clements is an election systems auditor, election data expert, and registered professional engineer, with 21 years’ experience in infrastructure system analysis.

A month ago, I stood in Georgia, speaking on election integrity. Late nights. Crowded rooms. Conversations that ran until the lamps dimmed. One evening my host, a woman of bold faith, asked if I had ever heard of the “Courts of Heaven.” She spoke carefully.

She and other intercessors would present cases in the spirit. Through prayer. Seeking justice. Mercy. For the country. For broken things. She looked sheepish. Concerned I might think her silly. An attorney. Former law professor. Surely, I would dismiss it as fanciful.

I didn’t think her silly at all. I had heard about the Courts of Heaven on a podcast with Robert Henderson. He laid out the concepts. Heavenly courtroom. God as Judge. Satan the accuser. Believers as petitioners. Jesus as the great advocate. His people pleading the blood of grace, not our works.

My curiosity was piqued. In the courts of Earth, I was considered an expert. Years prosecuting cases at the highest levels, teaching law at university. Drafting complaints. Arguing motions. Cross-examining witnesses.

But in the Courts of Heaven, I was a novice. The Lord’s Prayer already provided a peak behind the curtain. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is… in heaven.”

I had recited those words countless times yet never grasped how deeply the prompt should extend to every walk of life. I had read of Heavenly Courts in Scripture, but I never treated the words as real enough to take my own concerns there.

Daniel 7:9-10

“As I looked, thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was

white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels

were burning fire. A stream of fire issued and came out from before him; a thousand

thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him; the court sat

in judgment, and the books were opened.”

Daniel 7:26-27 continues:

“But the court shall sit in judgment…. And the kingdom and the dominion and the

greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven shall be given to the people of the saints

of the Most High; his kingdom shall be an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall

serve and obey him.”

Covid tyranny. Forced injections. Medical censorship. Mass firings for those who refused the prick. The muzzle. All of it belonged in that Higher Court.

Here’s why. Proverbs 6:16-19 states:

There are six things that the LORD hates, seven that are an abomination to him:

haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,

a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil,

a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.

So, I, the lawyer, asked my Georgia friend, the prayer warrior, if she would consider representing me in the Courts of Heaven. My legal ordeal with New Mexico State University. The wrongful termination. The mandate. A very real lawsuit I filed in a very real courthouse.

And that’s the topic for today:

“Thy Will Be Done: A Case Presented on Earth and in Heaven”

My friend beamed with excitement, astonishment that I would place such faith in her, and that instead of dismissing her, I saw her wisdom and experience as a missing weapon in an arsenal to fight the greatest act of human genocide in modern history.

She called a close friend to serve as “co-counsel.” I sent them the real pleadings. The Complaint filed September 17, 2025. Breach of contract. Violation of the New Mexico Unfair Practices Act. The Defendants’ Motion to Dismiss saying I was too late to bring my claims. My Response. All of it.

With the knowledge I had a court date January 12^th (this past Monday) to see if my lawsuit would survive. I’ll let you know how I fared in a minute. In any event, a couple of weeks ago, my “spiritual attorneys” and I met on Zoom.

They called my case—for presentment it in the Courts of Heaven.

The screen held our faces. Intercessors who knew the realms. We began with a prayer of gratitude, at how great are Father in Heaven is. We approached the doors to a Holy courtroom, while our prayers of gratitude acted as a magnet for a cloud of witnesses, angels, heavenly hosts to fill seats expanding as far as the eye can see. Demon attorneys also stood at the ready, just like in Zechariah 3:1-5 where Satan stood at Joshua’s right hand to accuse him.

But before the Judge entered the room, preparations had to be made. It began with confession. My sins. My own looking to the law of man before considering law of God. My anger at the hurt the system hurled at me, and the hatred I felt towards my accusers. My silence when I should have spoken sooner.

I repented.

The demons flinched. Realization dawning that I carried a full pardon. No crime levied would stick.

While I confessed, I imagined an angelic bailiff declaring, “All rise!”

God The Judge took His seat. Christ the Great Advocate appeared at my table. As our petitions began, I picture our words rising as incense from golden bowls, just as in Revelation—prayers of the saints, gathered and presented before the throne, becoming a sweet aroma that invites God’s presence. These aren’t fleeting whispers; they’re preserved, building until they overflow into divine action.

I then envisioned actively forgiving my enemies, and willing myself to love what I found to be unlovable. Those that slandered me. Those that stole my job. After all, how could God forgive my many offenses and give me mercy, if I did not extend His mercy to others?

It’s very important when we approach God in a legal setting, to avoid hypocrisy and invite a legal judgment that could boomerang against the petitioner. This can be done by justifying our petition by pointing to our works relative to others, or adopting Satan’s role as an accuser. God will only dispense perfect justice, so it is important not to screw up His Judgment.

Then we called witnesses. Fact witnesses from NMSU that presided over my termination hearing. Callous, unfeeling, unprepared, disinterested in any of the legal defenses I provided. My termination hearing was nothing but a formality. We called forth the opposing counsel from the motion hearing to come. We called the presiding judge on earth.

All before the cloud from Hebrews. Angels. Saints. We petitioned God to redeem the law, to visit my accusers in the natural, and remind them of God’s royal law, free of deception, coercion, and lies. I thought of Scrooge being visited by Jacob Marley wrapped in spectral chains. Chains that rattled a conscience clear. To remind my earthly judge, and lawyers that play at justice, that Yahweh’s Jurisdiction never ends. It covers every earthly bench. We asked God to expose the legalism of the world. Hold the benefactors accountable. The ones who forced experimental injections on His children.

The session stretched. Our closing argument was a declaration of the blood of Jesus. And in that moment, as our pleas ascended—mingled with gratitude and the blood’s plea—it felt like the angelic offering in Revelation, where incense and prayers rise to trigger fire from the altar, cast down to shake the earth with thunder and judgment.

We bound spirits. Greed. Control. Fear. We loosed truth. Mercy. Not with briefs or precedents. But with faith rooted in the Word. Like Paul binding spirits. Like Peter declaring healing. My legal team prayed that evil would be confounded. Technology used to pervert justice would crash. That lies uttered would be exposed. I listened more than I spoke. Learning the language. The posture. The rookie humbled.

We concluded our petitions in the Courts of Heaven, and received a verdict: “Go forward and boldly represent the righteousness of God at the hearing to dismiss my lawsuit on January 12, 2026.

The day came.

Judge Arrieta. Opposing counsel ready. Press in the digital benches. Salivating for a news verdict that said “case dismissed.” In fact, one of the “journalists,” was a demon of old that worked for the Associated Press, Morgan Lee, that took pictures of my young children without my permission. God knows for what reason. Just know the lives of my wife and children have been threatened by the press’ negligence, by curses levied by witches and warlocks, and it disturbs me that a grown man had need to photograph my child, when his intent has always been to destroy my name.

The former professor who fought the mandates.

Oral arguments ran an hour. Out the gates, opposing counsel lied, and was caught immediately.

His Reply full of lies and the technology that facilitated it crashed.

I laid out the reasons for the timing of my filing.

They countered. That I was time barred. The judge heard it all.

What opposing counsel thought was a slam dunk dismissal, wasn’t.

Case not dismissed.

I was spared that day. Renewed arguments set for a later date. The case breathes still.

Some will read this and shake their heads. Why speak of heavenly courts now, when the earthly one hangs in limbo? What if the judge sees this video? What if opposing counsel reads these words? What if I lose? Couldn’t that risk a public outcry, that the God of Abraham, Jacob, and Professor Clements, did not hear my petitions?

Because Hebrews 11:6 states:

“Without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.”

I have faith. I want to please Him. And I seek a reward from my Father in Heaven.

The verdict from the Courts of Heaven was clear: Represent the righteousness of God against a system that harmed its own. A university that exposed students to risks—miscarriages, myocarditis in the young, aggressive cancers rising faster than statistics should allow.

I think of David’s boldness versus Goliath.

1 Samuel 17:45-47, David states:

“You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head. And I will give the dead bodies of the host of the Philistines this day to the birds of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the LORD saves not with sword and spear. For the battle is the LORD’s, and he will give you into our hand.”

No swords, or javelins, in my court hearing. Rather, words, edicts, and legal shields attempting to cover murderous policies.

Furthermore, the earthly judge who now weighs my case once enforced the same Covid rules in his own courtroom. He ordered the masks. The spacing. Court staff complied. Juries sat apart. Attorneys argued through cloth barriers. My presence in his court was a subconscious affront to the policies he upheld.

So, do I believe I have a chance in Hell before a referee who adopted the very measures that cost me my career?

No.

But I do believe I have a chance in Heaven?

Yes.

Cessationists would call the heavenly session folly. Gifts ceased with the apostles. Miracles too. Warfare means Bible reading. Simple prayers. No heavenly courts. No decrees. Legalism. Old Testament shadows. Grace twisted into rituals.

They are wrong. This is the antithesis of legalism. Legalism demands perfection from man. We offered none. Admitted guilt. Pleaded the finished work. Jesus canceled the debt. Colossians 2:15 says He disarmed the powers. Made a public spectacle of them. We enforced that victory. By faith rooted in Scripture. Not adding to it. Applying it. Testing every prompting.

1 Thessalonians 5:19-21 commands it: “Quench not the Spirit.” Satan and his forces are the true legalists. Accusers of the brethren, as Revelation 12:10 declares. They exploit man’s failure under the law, a law none can keep perfectly but Christ. Absent saving faith in Him, all stand condemned.

But here is the kicker for those that ignore the Old Testament system. Our sins sow seeds that reap earthly harvests, as Galatians 6:7-8 warns. Even for believers secure in salvation, unconfessed iniquity opens doors. Derails divine purpose. Brings consequences. Like the Christian hiding an affair—faith genuine, but seeds of iniquity yielding a shattered marriage. Demons drag those sins before the throne, blocking breakthroughs until confession and repentance clear the way. The deliverance plea isn’t a legal defense. It’s a full pardon. Guilt acknowledged. Debt paid by the blood. Grace navigating a courtroom where works would condemn.

Cessationists flip it backward. They cling to the written word alone. Call it sufficiency. But sufficiency can become an idol. A spouse described as “sufficient” wounds. Think on this. Which is better? A Bible study of God’s Word, all together sufficient, or the Word standing before you. Did Thomas, Peter, Paul, Mary, describe Christ’s visitation as merely “sufficient” or did it lead to a divine transformation that not only led to the creation of the canon we read, but an unspoken revelation that what makes Heaven paradise, is that we can gaze at His face, His wounds, and not just words on a page—though inspired and inerrant. Do you want the poem about your bride, or your bride? The Scriptures, thanks be to God do not make us choose between the poem and the Bride. We get both.

The Triune God is relational. Scripture points to the living Spirit. John 16:13 says: “He guides into truth,” and “He will declare to you the things that are to come.” Free will’s deliberations—pondering the world’s choices against the Spirit’s promptings, and comparing it to the Word of God—is not unbiblical. And that’s exactly what good deliverance ministers seek to do. Do they always get it right? No. We are to grow in maturity in our walk and recognition of His voice.

In the earthly courtroom, as the judge weighed the defendants’ motion—claiming I was “time-barred” from challenging the mandates that shattered careers and lives—cracks in the deception began to widen, not by coincidence, but as echoes of our heavenly petitions. Just days before my hearing, on January 5, 2026, HHS under RFK Jr. overhauled the childhood vaccine schedule, slashing universal recommendations from 17 to 11 diseases and dropping routine shots for flu, COVID-19, and others in favor of “shared clinical decision-making.” This wasn’t a mere policy tweak; it was a federal admission that the science behind broad mandates was flawed, prioritizing informed consent over coercion—the very deception I’ve argued for years.

The agencies that shouted my arguments down with rubber stamps, have been found out and revealed as liars.

Vindication mounted: In June 2025, RFK Jr. had fired the entire Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, reconstituting it with conflict-free experts, leading to the end of newborn hepatitis B shots and COVID endorsements for healthy kids and pregnant women. mRNA funding? Canceled or restricted, acknowledging risks like myocarditis and aggressive cancers that plagued the young—harms I highlighted as universities like NMSU exposed students to experimental perils for federal dollars.

Broader restorations followed—the VA reinstated GI Bill benefits for veterans fired over refusals, per Trump’s executive order—proving mass terminations weren’t just policy but reversible injustice. My case breathes not despite the limbo, but because of it—God’s perfect timing resolving the paradox, turning my stand into a testimony for the afflicted.

As bowls of incense overflow, consider another legal case. Tina Peters. Her appeals hit the Colorado Court of Appeals this week. Oral arguments streamed live. Biblically, her imprisonment while tragic, is the basis for her promotion. Remember, Joseph rose from a pit to a palace, and Paul’s gospel advanced amid prison bonds, where he wrote inspired chunks of the Bible. In heaven’s courts, her case petitions for exposure, with prayers filling bowls until fire falls, resolving delays in His perfect timing. That timing is now. Judges now grill the prosecutor. One charge misrepresented to the jury as felony when it was misdemeanor verbiage. Reversible error. Lawfare against a woman who did her duty. The appeal exposes cracks. Potential mistrial. Freedom on the horizon. Another answered plea from heaven’s halls.

Wider still. National wounds. I walked with J6ers on the 5^th anniversary down the same street that resulted in their entrapment. Watched the flowers laid by a mother whose daughter was murdered in cold blood. All while Bill and Hillary dodge Epstein depositions. Recall avoiding a subpoena led to Bannon and Navarro behind bars.

I end with this. Don’t lose hope. Vengeance is His.

Now watch God move.

Jerome Powell under criminal probe for Fed lies.

Bill and Hillary on contempt brink, arrests looming over Epstein skips.

Florida grand jury seats to dismantle Jack Smith collusion against Trump.

John Brennan facing grand jury for Russia hoax. Maduro captured, hauled to the Southern District of New York for a narco trial. The same district where one million Epstein docs were magically unearthed. The same district where investigator Martin Rodil is from, who knows that Maduro, Epstein blackmail, are all linked to our rigged elections.

Democrats’ heated rhetoric against ICE sets stage for Insurrection Act. And now Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent confirms nationwide fraud investigations launching from the Minnesota model—’We’re going to take this Minnesota map to other 49 states,’ he said, describing ‘bear traps’ snapping with plea deals that expose higher-ups and map entire schemes. Alignment with DOGE and Musk is 100%. No coincidence—this is targeted enforcement echoing our heavenly decrees: bind greed, loose truth. Prayers in the Courts rise as incense, triggering fire that crashes corrupt systems.

The tide turns. Not by shotgun blasts. By targeted decrees in heaven’s halls. The battle His. The victory surges. Readers. Examine your own prayers. Have you gone to the courts of Heaven?

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

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This fallen kingpin, who weaponized Smartmatic’s rigged code to poison elections from Caracas to American battlegrounds, will have a chance to sing a desperate aria over the global theft of votes, exposing the trillions in narco-wealth that fueled hybrid invasions of borders and ballots alike.

As his empire crumbles, remaining cartel members will seek to fill the void, but even his replacement-plunderers now face the real knowledge, that the United States is once again powerful enough to drag a wicked man from his den, no matter where that den is hidden. Maduro tried to play tough guy, called Trump a coward and dared the U.S. to come get him. Trump called his bluff, stating Maduro has “offered everything. You’re right, you know why? Because he doesn’t wanna fuck around with the United States.”

Now I ask, can “We the People” help put the final nail in the cartel’s coffin?

The Bible tells us there is nothing new under the sun. And when a nation’s shepherds stray into wickedness—the land lies open to plunder. The ancient scrolls bear witness: kings like Ahab, married Jezebel, a Phoenician princess who brought Baal worship, a Canaanite fertility god involving child sacrifice and temple prostitution. Ahab allowed Baal temples to be built, persecuted prophets of God.

King Ahaz sacrificed sons to Molech, shuttered the temple, and paid tribute to Assyria, whose hands rifled Judah’s treasures. King Manasseh was the longest-reigning and most wicked king of Judah. He rebuilt pagan altars, practiced witchcraft, astrology, and child sacrifice, and tradition says he had the prophet Isaiah sawn in half. His sins were so severe that the prophets declared Judah’s destruction inevitable (2 Kings 21:10–15).

In such hours, when government is given over to evil, infiltrated by alien gods and corrupt pacts, the Lord raises prophets from the margins—Elijah thundering fire on Carmel, Ezekiel naming the faithless shepherds who feed only themselves. These truth-tellers confronted the thrones of their day, called the people back, and became vessels of redemption when rulers failed the covenant.

So, it stands today. Shadows veil the Republic’s halls. We the Taxpayer have been
thoroughly betrayed by our parasitic “representative” shepherds. Oh, how they feed themselves. DOGE clawed deep, unearthing alarming rot: Elon Musk stated tens of millions of dead marked alive in Social Security databases, enabling fraud across programs; billions bled yearly in phantom benefits, highlighting how such loopholes attract illegal immigrants through entitlement scams. Millions of noncitizens issued
SSNs, infiltrating voter rolls to enable fraud, with Democratic strategies to
retain power through unchecked immigration.

Agencies sworn to guard the vote and borders faltered, captured by globalist currents. CISA, once weaponized in the soft coup against Trump, still bears corruption’s scars—vestiges linger through Atlantic Council ties, consensus forged to censor Americans, shielding the deep state over the people.

Even with Maduro’s capture, the remnant of the Venezuelan cartel can still weave Smartmatic code into LibertyVote/Dominion/Hart/ES&S veins, flipping tallies like ancient looters sacking temples. Physical invasion surges, Tren de Aragua coiling north, though missiles have found their mark. All while digital piracy drains the will of the people. Minnesota’s phantom Somali daycares, with millions syphoned from you and I, stand empty, echoing the foreign despoilers that bled the Old Testament flock; federal funds frozen only after viral cries from private watchmen.

Truth-tellers rise now—citizens like Nick Shirley, a door-knocking shepherd exposing billions in fraud. No children to be found. Just Somali rats building nests. Digital prostitution of U.S. citizen funds and Minnesota’s continued reign as a beacon for late term abortion, reveals that the spirit of Ahab and Jezebel is alive and well.

So, what happens when a government so overrun by corruption is unable to stave off Somali pirates that sail—not on the open seas—but government programs? What happens when a Congress that should be assisting the President in repelling a cartel invasion, is largely bankrolled or selected by the cartel’s election devices?

You stop placing your hope in the state, and in a weapon that uses the private citizenry to solve the government’s failures.

And that’s the topic for today:

We the People’s Weapon: Letters of Marque Against the Cartel Rig

Letters of marque emerge as the people’s tool, a constitutional blade for We the People when government proves unworthy. Legal documents issued by governments to private ships or individuals, authorizing them to attack enemy vessels and seize cargo (prizes) as acts of war, without being labeled pirates. The problem we face right out the gate, is that the tool is Constitutionally delegated to a Congress that is on the “ActBlue” and “WinRed” money laundering take.

I’ll provide a brief history lesson, but understand this tool won’t be approved unless it is buried and overlooked by a Congress that’s all too comfortable with passing legislation it doesn’t read. Recall Nancy Pelosi’s famous words: “We have to pass the Bill so that you can find out what is in it, away from the fog of the controversy.”

Letters of marque were forged in old fury: monarchs issued “warrants” (early letters) allowing victims of foreign theft to seize equivalent property in reprisal during peacetime, while “marque” applied to wartime actions. Over time, the distinctions “blurred,” leading to widespread use. In the Renaissance (15th–17th centuries), these became tools for naval warfare: English privateer Sir Francis Drake (c. 1540–1596) raided Spanish treasure fleets under Queen Elizabeth I’s letters, gutting armadas and towing prizes back for the crown.

Similarly, France targeted Britain, turning fishermen into raiders on ocean waves. It was a thrifty option because private investors funded ships, crews risked storms, and rulers took only a small cut (e.g., 10–20% in Britain). This system allowed weak navies to punch above their weight economically.

America adopted the practice. In 1775, amid the Revolutionary War while redcoats occupied American sod, Massachusetts issued the first colonial letters. Captain Jeremiah O’Brien captured a British lumber ship off Machias, Maine—the war’s first naval victory. By 1776, the Continental Congress issued blank forms, commissioning 2,000 privateers who captured 1,800 British vessels, outpacing the small Continental
Navy, bankrupting merchants, and forcing British convoys to spread thin.

George Washington and Benjamin Franklin praised them as essential. Under the Articles of Confederation (1777–1789), peacetime issuance required nine states’ approval, while wartime allowed states to act—but with risks of uncontrolled conflicts.

Framers forged it firm. Article I, Section 8: Congress launches war, confers letters,
dictates grabs on earth and tide. Section 10 barred states—no maverick flares
torching global pyres. Privateers posted bonds to ensure lawful conduct. Presidents distributed them on cue. In the Quasi-War (1798–1800), John Adams armed merchants against French “prowlers” (privateers), capturing 80 vessels without ground troops.

Thomas Jefferson used them in the Barbary Wars (1801–1805, 1815) against Tripoli pirates, seizing ships and freeing captives. James Madison in the War of 1812 commissioned 1,600 privateers, capturing 2,000 British prizes, driving insurance rates up 30% and crippling trade from Nova Scotia (Halifax) to English ports. Abraham
Lincoln considered them in the Civil War (1861–1865) but opted for a blockade to
avoid recognizing the Confederacy as a sovereign enemy.

The cut ran true. Privateers weren’t pirates because letters protected them in admiralty courts where judges fairly valued captures. Incentives included bounties for
prisoners and cargo shares, growing military power without draining treasuries.
Decline came with 19th-century tech: steam engines and ironclad ships favored
professional navies. The Paris Declaration (1856) abolished privateering among signatories like Britain, France, and Russia. The U.S. refused due to its small navy. Last issued in the 1860s (Civil War era), archived thereafter; prize money ended in 1899. Hague Conventions (1899, 1907) condemned mercenaries. The power remains
constitutional but dormant.

Phantoms nudge it conscious now. In 2012, Somali piracy saw 297 global attacks, costing billions in ransoms and disruptions. Proposals called for arming merchants to seize pirate boats. This inspired “cyberteers”—private cyber firms countering hacks under a 2012 framework: DHS oversight, probable cause for tracking, evidence for attacks. In 2025, Sen. Mike Lee introduced the Cartel Marque and Reprisal Act in
December, authorizing letters against cartel aggression, endorsed by Trump for
sea operations. Rep. Tim Burchett’s House bill (H.R. 1238) targeted drug vessels and aircraft. Critics warned of piracy revival and escalation. By late 2025, it simmered in committees as a tool for hybrid warfare.

Cartels grow as a disease. The Cartel of the Suns fuses military officers with drug
lords, trafficking 400 tons of drugs yearly (cocaine fentanyl, meth). Revenues: $5–8 billion annually, trillions accumulated through mining, oil siphoning, and crypto. Illicit activities were 15% of Venezuela’s GDP in 2022, half its exports. Until yesterday, Nicolás Maduro led it; U.S. Treasury sanctioned him in July 2025, now he’s under lock and key. Affiliated Tren de Aragua—prison-born—spreads to the U.S., tainting soil.

DHS deported members in October 2025; indictments for ATM scams. Denver raids netted dozens. Sanctions hit leader Niño Guerrero in July. Wealth hides in offshore havens, Miami real estate, jets. At least a dozen leaders (e.g., Maduro, Diosdado Cabello) have personal fortunes exceeding the CIA’s $15–20 billion budget, with $2.7 trillion laundered globally, funding hacks and drug influxes.

Your right to vote is being trapped and twisted by hidden forces. As exposed in “Stolen Elections” by author Ralph Pezzullo and Gary Berntsen, a 23-year CIA veteran who ran covert operations. They spent years and millions of dollars investigating with whistleblowers. The Cartel of the Suns and Maduro’s regime pioneered undetectable fraud via Smartmatic software in the 2004 Venezuelan referendum, rigging the count to keep Chavez in power with Cuban backing—remote alterations, erased audits, fake ballots inserted.

This narco-funded tech, seeded with cartel billions from cocaine empires, spread to 71 countries, including U.S. 2020 elections through Dominion links, with cartel trillions laundering bribes and hacks to flip votes in key states via China-made machines and Serbian servers. Cartels subsidize the canker—they hide the money through fake charities and foundations and buy companies that look legitimate. Fentanyl is so deadly the U.S. government already calls it a weapon of mass destruction. The cartels are using it as a weapon against America.

This is no longer just crime—it’s war. Legal doors are now wide open. Foreign interference in U.S. elections is a serious federal crime. Penalty: up to 20 years in prison. Because cartels and foreign governments are doing it together, Congress can legally declare it an act of war—and issue letters of marque to let private citizens and companies fight back.

Now war-game the path for a cyber enterprise to halt this piracy legally.

Step one: Legally deploy private companies against cartels. Congress would pass a customized law based on Sen. Mike Lee’s 2025 Cartel Marque and Reprisal Authorization Act (which targets drug cartels on the high seas), but expand to include cyber threats. By labeling cartel election interference as “an act of war,” it activates constitutional powers for letters of marque. The President then issues the letter to a screened company such as xAI, Elon Musk’s AI company, or some more worthy company that sees the problem clearly. The firm posts a $10 million bond to follow rules, preventing abuse. It’s a way to outsource cyber defense without full military involvement.

Step two: The company uses the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) for FY 2026, Section 6805, which requires penetration testing (simulated cyber-attacks to find weaknesses) for U.S. voting machines. A firm that actually knows what the hell they’re doing, not some bought and paid for rubber stamp like Pro V and V or SLI compliance. A real national security firm gets accredited as a lab by the Election Assistance Commission.

They legally test domestic systems for flaws linked to foreign software (e.g., Venezuelan Smartmatic code). This “defensive base” (starting point) then expands internationally under the marque letter, providing protection from the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA, a U.S. law banning unauthorized hacking). It allows “ethical hacks” (controlled intrusions) on cartel servers in Caracas (Venezuela) or “Serbian proxies” (intermediary servers in Belgrade, allegedly used for 2020 vote routing). This bridges domestic election security laws with marque’s offensive authority, turning defense into reprisal without violating U.S. cyber laws. The vetted company uses the Cyber Security Act to do things, frankly, our government can’t do. With never-ending bureaucracy, the government doesn’t innovate like the private sector, it simply steals. Turn the government’s greed against itself. More on that in a second.

Step three: The firm follows online paths—tracking IP addresses jumping from Belgrade servers to Venezuelan hubs. They identify odd patterns like sudden vote surges. AI analyzes records to detect fake votes paid for with cartel cryptocurrency.

Step four: Work with the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC, U.S. Treasury agency for sanctions) to freeze bank accounts and seize laundered funds. Press secretary Karoline Leavitt hinted at this already occurring, stating: “We have our intelligence community looking into this as well, and even the secretary of Treasury is involved with these matters. Since they are financial and nature, we will continue to get to the bottom of who is funding these organizations.”

Targets: Swiss banks and Cayman Islands shell companies hiding trillions from Venezuelan oil (58% of government revenue), illegal gold mining, and drug trafficking (~$8 billion annual for Cartel of the Suns’ share). OFAC has sanctioned Maduro et al.; this step cuts off funding for rigging and drugs, turning marque into economic warfare. The government can help by making Maduro sing in a plea to save his life.

Prize courts adjudicate: yachts, planes, mansions worth hundreds of millions forfeited, bounties split—firm takes 50%. Here the incentive burns bright, as in old wars where privateers kept 90–100% in the Revolution, depending on navy aid—no seas navigated, but cyber-seas charted, with a firm potentially claiming shares of trillions from those dozen cartel overlords whose fortunes eclipse CIA budgets.

This is the key. Make the incentive big enough for a private firm to take a cyber wrecking ball to the cartel, but leave enough for the greedy bureaucrat to keep blessing the firm’s efforts. If the government possessed any virtue, I’d recommend cutting a sizeable check to the American people from the spoils.

Risks? Escalation—Maduro’s replacement retaliates. If cartel strikes back, the designated firms counter with DDoS blocks or data wipes, all sanctioned. Strategically, seizing assets from those dozen cartel titans—would deter Smartmatic code deployment by crippling funding streams, while choking drug invasions at the border, turning private hunters into a wall against hybrid assault.

Letters adapt as needed.

DOGE growled savage under Elon. January 2025 fiat birthed it, Musk at the helm—cut
waste, mandates, and corruption. Musk claimed $150B savings in April over the
shrill cries of the “fact checkers.” The challenges? His advisory role lacked power without Congress. Musk resigned May 28, 2025; efforts slowed, spending rose from $6.29T to $6.66T in FY2025. Fraud hunts stalled. DOGE aimed at $2T cuts but achieved far less.Musk left amid scrutiny. The biggest challenge would be the cartel bought Congress itself.

Citizen efforts fill gaps. Nick Shirley, 23-year-old YouTuber, released a December 2025 video exposé on Minnesota’s fraud. Approximately $9B stolen from $18B federal programs since 2018. Video went viral with 90M views, prompting FBI surge in Minneapolis. People succeeded where government failed. Think Dunkirk’s historical citizen heroism where civilians rescued 338K troops when the military failed. Or in Lexington (1775), when minutemen fought the British without an army; or New Orleans (1815), where volunteers defeated the British when federal support lagged. Letters called forth bold shepherds, turning whistleblowers into asset-seizers, saving the Republic from physical and digital attacks.

I end with this. The biggest pirates of them all occupy the nation’s capitol(s). The U.S. politician is slime incarnate. Inside traders. Money launderers. Maggots. When political shepherds fail and wickedness reigns, inviting foreign plunder as judgment, God raises unlikely voices and hands to save. The letter of marque stands ready—We the People’s commission, bypassing infiltrated gates, to reclaim the Republic’s sovereignty. I pray the fog lifts. Machines fall silent. The hunt awakens. The land endures. But before we pray anew, let’s give praise for a prayer just answered. Nicolas Maduro, a king in the election rig, is no more. Praise God.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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Oh, the mail I get.

Tim, this episode is for you.

My mind races to the cold plains of Colorado, the kind of cold that bit like a promise unkept. Tina Peters sits in prison, a woman who had touched the forbidden files of an election gone wrong. I imagine sparse Christmas decorations in the Warden’s office, while overweight prison guards clock in for their shift. Tina had copied the records, preserved the truth of votes shifted in the night like shadows fleeing light. For that, the state had chained her, called it crime. But truth is no crime. It is the bone of the Republic.

Donald Trump knows this. He once posted “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.” He pardoned Tina on December 11, 2025—a full and free pardon for offenses against the United States, signed formal on the fifth, before her attorney Peter Ticktin’s desperate letter landed on the sixth, pleading for mercy in what critics call a lost cause. I confess that even I have defended the President’s inaction on a pardon, not seeing a clear legal path. Colorado, that rogue center-post of the Union, spat on Trump’s pardon. State crimes, they said. When asked whether Tina will be released by the State of Colorado, AG Phil Weiser declares, “No, there’s no legal authority for any federal government action to take a prisoner who’s in state custody.”

If you are plugged into the matrix, there is no path. Elections are safe and secure. Biden got 81 million votes. Our country has not been usurped by traitors. The snake news repeats the feed over and over.

But when you unplug, see the slime, a different picture emerges.

The problem is resolved by revisiting the civil rights movement. Men and women with a different skin color, denied the fullness of their humanity, unable to go to the same schools as whites. Racist governors cried states’ rights and defiance of federal law. Civil rights icons emerged.

Fast forward to the day, and we have the ultimate civil rights icon in the making, though no one seems to grasp it yet. Tina Peters fought for all Americans, none of them treated equally under the law because the black boxes fractionalized the vote. We all became less than human. Presidents before stood up to tyrants masquerading under the guise of state’s rights and separation of power. Black men and women liberated through a show of force after the Insurrection Act was declared.

If you have followed me at all, then you know that I believe Trump told us he left office in April of 2020, in shadow, invoking Continuity of Government under Presidential Policy Directive 40. Trump speaking at the RNC with bandaged ear—points to the famous immigration chart—stating, “That was my last week in office.”

The quiet law that bids the government endure, devolving powers to the faithful when the center cracks. No fanfare. No Congress needed at first. Just the President’s word, secret as a loaded rifle in the night.

This was war, hidden but real. Not the thunder of Gettysburg, but the soft coup of rigged tallies and silenced witnesses. Antifa’s designation as a terrorist organization had shown the way, where anarchists and their funders have been traced to Venezuelan narcs, another designated terrorist organization, both tied to Smartmatic machines. They contain the slavemaster’s code, toppling countries without a single shot fired. All laid bare like guts on a table.

An important nexus point? Eric Coomer, the Dominion whisperer with his Antifa ink, lurked as one of the Smartmatic architects, his hands deep in the fraud’s dark weave, while Peters paid the price for pulling the thread. Now she, the clerk who cracked the code through sheer courage, rotted for her virtue: exposing the treason Coomer and his kind had wrought. Trump had vowed it plain: truckloads of evidence coming, proof of the steal in heaps, ammunition enough to bury the lie. “We have all the ammunition,” he said, eyes hard as flint. “You’ll see it come out.”

Just days later, on the fifteenth, Trump stood at the podium and laid it bare: “The governor of Colorado is a weak and pathetic man who was run by Tren de Aragua. Criminals from Venezuela took over sections of Colorado, and he was afraid to do anything. But he puts Tina in jail for nine years because she caught people cheating.”

That same day, he signed the order classifying fentanyl a weapon of mass destruction—no bomb killed like it, 200,000 to 300,000 dead a year. Cartels waged chemical war, the executive stroke turning poison to WMD, opening military doors against the flood.

Do you see the threads coming together?

Tina is a hostage to illegitimate usurpers, aiders and abettors, with captured courts playing the delay game as her body and mind withers.

Plugged into the matrix, Tina must wait.

Unplugged from the lie, Tina can be rescued.

The plan is simple.

Liberate first.

Play lawyer second.

Men of action have done so before.

And that’s the topic for today.

The Immediate Liberation of Tina Peters: A Plain Reckoning

Step one: Trump acknowledges the shadow continuity of government, live since April 1, 2020. That fool’s day marked the fracture, the signal in the chart Trump waved after the Butler shot grazed him. Continuity of Government under PPD-40 hums on until the mission of saving the Republic is accomplished. Bunkers at Cheyenne Mountain remain alert, Space Force continues to scan servers from Serbia to Caracas. No need to stir it anew. Just a quiet memo to the Joint Chiefs, calling forth any dormant commands to loyal generals. This cracked the vaults—Presidential Emergency Action Documents, the veiled scripts for unbroken rule in crisis. With continuity of government enduring, Trump, our Republic, holds a wartime edge, though bent under the weight of its own shadows.

Woven tight with continuity of government secrecy, the Insurrection Act stands ready—10 U.S.C. §§ 251-255, that blunt tool from Washington’s time, known to the public like a rifle in plain sight. No hidden signals here; a proclamation could rally the people, make the move clear as day. Trump could blend them: continuity of government for the unseen hand, guiding from the depths, while the Act brought troops to the surface, federalizing the Guard without a governor’s nod. This dual strike pierces obstacles—Posse Comitatus yielding under the Act’s weight, public eyes seeing justice march, not lurk. We know that the Posse Comitatus Act, 18 U.S.C. § 1385 serves as a bar on troops policing civilians.

Trump had spoken of the Insurrection Act often, the fire in his voice a match to dry grass. At Quantico before military brass, he said “George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Grover Cleveland, George Bush, and others all use the armed forces to keep domestic order in peace.”

Trump laid the conditions bare: if people died while judges or mayors held up the law, he could act. Tina is dying in a cell while lawlessness abounds. Policing civilians is one thing. What about policing the police? Deposing prison guards, or a warden? What does history say about a conflict between a commander-in-chief and a governor offering defiance?

President Dwight D. Eisenhower at Little Rock in 1957. Arkansas Governor Orval Faubus called out his state’s National Guard to bar nine Black students—the Little Rock Nine—from entering Central High School, defying the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Education ruling that ended school segregation. Eisenhower federalized the Arkansas Guard, removing it from Faubus’ control, and sent 1,000 paratroopers from the 101st Airborne Division. Federal troops escorted the students past hostile crowds and local police who had failed to maintain order, directly overriding state resistance.

So too at the University of Mississippi in 1962: President John F. Kennedy deployed over 30,000 troops after Mississippi Governor Ross Barnett used state police and highway patrol to block Black student James Meredith from enrolling, defying federal court orders. Federal forces confronted rioters supported by state officials, two dead in the clash, but Meredith registered.

And at the University of Alabama in 1963: Governor George Wallace personally stood in the schoolhouse door, backed by Alabama state troopers, to prevent two Black students, Vivian Malone and James Hood, from registering. Kennedy federalized the Alabama National Guard, which escorted the students past Wallace and his troopers, forcing compliance without major violence.

Atlanta Federal Penitentiary riot in 1987: President Ronald Reagan invoked the Insurrection Act for Cuban detainees holding hostages; troops prepared but not deployed, the threat alone bending the chaos.

Step two: The extraction. If Trump has the courage, he calls the Colorado Army National Guard to Title 10, 5,000 strong from the 5th Brigade. They roll at dawn, Strykers humming on I-70, MPs in riot gear. No court in Denver could stop it. The Act suspends Posse Comitatus like a lock picked clean.

The Practical Snag: State police barricades, perhaps a governor’s frantic call to arms. The solution? State police aren’t made for such a conflict. But if necessary, honor the rules of engagement, non-lethal—tear gas, flashbangs, the fortitude of men who know right from rot. Echo Ulysses S. Grant in 1871, suspending habeas in Carolina counties, arresting Klansmen by the hundred. Federal troops dragged them from beds, trials swift under martial shadow. No bloodbath. Just the weight of the Union.

Joint Task Force, 500 MPs first—quiet approach to the prison gates. Warden notified at 0600: Federal custody transfer, per Insurrection proclamation. If resisted, the Guard seals the yard, helicopters overhead from the 100th Aviation Regiment. Peters walks out at 0630, into a Black Hawk bound for Buckley Space Force Base. No shots. Clean. Fast. Where the brave move before the storm breaks.

The Legal Hurdle? Colorado’s suit in federal court, screaming federalism, dual sovereignty under the 10th Amendment. States own their crimes, they cry—pardon power stops at the border, per Ex parte Grossman, 1925.

Answer? Military tribunal under the Military Commissions Act, 10 U.S.C. §§ 948a-950w. For unlawful enemy combatants—here, state officials as digital belligerents in a color revolution. Polis, Weiser, Griswold, Coomer, and Venezuelan indictments under the foreign terrorist organization label—Cartel de los Soles, Tren de Aragua, ghost votes from Smartmatic’s lair. Peters’ evidence, that unprecedented dump from Mesa County, proved it.

The Act lets JAG officers—600 nationwide, 20 in D.C.—run sealed courts at bases like Fort Carson. Admit classified DNI reports. No delays from captured judges. The enemy’s counter strategy? A Habeas flood from ACLU lawyers, screaming Milligan—civil courts open, no martial law. You see Ex parte Milligan, 1866 says tribunals are void where judges sit.

The Solution? The Assimilative Crimes Act, 18 U.S.C. § 13, folds state offenses into federal code on martial ground. With Insurrection live, the prison becomes a federal enclave. Trump’s plenary power under Article II, Section 2—unlimited but for impeachment. The case Schick v. Reed, 1974: No conditions, no bounds. Ford freed Nixon preemptively; Carter amnestied the draft dodgers. Trump frees the truth-tellers.

Historical brace: After Lincoln’s assassination, President Andrew Johnson’s Reconstruction amnesties, 1865-1868, blanketed the South in mercy, but only after federal troops held the line. I’m not in the mood for mercy, just a firing squad and a lot of bullets. Check in with me in 5 to 10.

And then there’s the practical bind. Expect a public firestorm, blue governors howling tyranny.

Trump speaks at Quantico, as he did months ago: “I am the 45th, 46th, 47th.” The shadow war revealed, April Fool’s no jest. The people see: not coup, but cure. At Fort Carson and a dozen other bases, under canvas and floodlight, the judges in black robes of justice. State DA, the judge who sentenced Peters—indicted for seditious conspiracy, 18 U.S.C. § 2384.

Guilty.

Peters testifies free, her voice the Republic’s.

Obstacles lingered, ghosts in the wind. Federalism’s wall, the 10th Amendment reserving state powers. That could be answered by the Supremacy Clause, Article VI—federal law trumps, especially in war. Civil relief would follow, voiding the false judgments built on lies. Settlements like Freeman and Moss against Giuliani—$148 million bled from a man who spoke truth—could shatter if tribunals proved the fraud. Victims like Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powell, Mike Lindell, Joe Oltmann, and the Hoft brothers—Joe and Jim, the Gateway Pundit men—stood for the light, their suits reopened, countersuits for malicious prosecution.

The five truth-holders I just mentioned—Giuliani with his mayor’s grit, Powell the lawyer who dared, Lindell the pillow man unbowed, Oltmann the tech CEO turned podcaster who heard the whispers, the Hofts printing the forbidden—would lead the charge, their burdens lifted, the Republic mended in their wake.

Let it be Christmas Eve when Tina Peters walks free. Let her step into the snow a gift to her and to all patriots who held the line. She is worth the saving. The radical left will scream and spiral, their hissy fit loud as winter wind. But it will be stomped quick, clean as a boot on ice. All that bars her now is Trump forgetting he is the Commander-in-Chief, listening to the fearful little men who whisper caution. It is time he leaves the shadows, speaks the truth plain: we have been at war since that April fool’s day in 2020. The Republic waits for the brave to act.

Mr. President, if you see this. This analysis was dreamed up by an unemployed professor and former prosecutor in his garage. No resources other than the mind God gave me. You still have cowards in the DOJ and FBI with small minds. For you and the country I love, sign me up. I’ll serve for free.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

Substack:

The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

or GiveSendGo:

https://www.givesendgo.com/ProfessorDavidClements/donate

He continued, “Some jewels in pure light, whatever that color is to begin with, they may be red, blue, or green, turn into all the colors of the rainbow and have the most fantastic patterns. Other precious stones (isotropic) in pure light lose all their color… they just go black and look like a lump of coal dust.”

“Diamonds in pure light are nothing. Now here’s the fascinating thing. The 12 precious stones that God uses to build the New Jerusalem are all anisotropic. In pure light they are all far more beautiful, and God doesn’t touch the diamonds or the rubies.”

I BURNED THE MIDNIGHT OIL with new friends in Franklin, Tennessee. They were ministers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We exchanged stories. I shared about my experiences in the political trenches, fighting the invisible wars—the rigged elections that stole voices, the government rot that spread like gangrene, the Covid deceptions that chained the world in fear. They revealed a spiritual mirror to that world from their work in exorcisms, deliverance, praying for (and receiving) spiritual gifts. I noticed an overlap. A meeting in the middle. Over the past 5 years, I have spoken less like a professor and more like preacher. And they spoke with a dawning realization that politics is the arena where spiritual warfare is most needed, most contested, most consequential. All else is child’s play.

Nation state power plays. Power people kill for. Seduction. Blackmail. Faustian bargains at every turn. The human soul up for grabs.

You see Satan is not omnipotent, ever-present, or all powerful. While his efficiency to steal, kill, and destroy has been calibrated for eons, he does not have time to persecute believers doing trivial things. He focuses on Presidents, Kings, and Reformers. No wasted time for the nominal Christian with a leash tied to hell.

I had stood against the suits and the shadows, the ones pulling strings from high places. Trump stood like Cyrus, the outsider king raised to smash the gates, expose the fraud, let the truth flood in like daylight on a 2020 heist gone wrong. But victories like that need a King Darius to follow, the consolidator, the one who locks down the territory, builds the walls that last. Trump still has vipers in his circle, a mix of demons whispering poison and intercessors praying fire.

We need more godly muscle, the kind that crushes the WEF, the occult overlords of the New World Order, the anti-God machines in the halls of power. Tear them out root and branch, make way for the government that rests on His shoulders, the one with no end to its peace.

To know why that day is coming sure as the sunrise, you have to go back to the original betrayal, back when the Morning Star still walked the high ground.

Ezekiel 28 pulls the curtain.

He was there in Eden, the garden of God, perfect in beauty, the anointed cherub who covered the throne itself. Every precious stone was his covering (sardius, topaz, diamond, beryl, onyx, jasper, sapphire, emerald, carbuncle, gold). The workmanship of his settings and sockets was in him from the day he was created, flawless cut, flashing fire in every direction. He stood at the heart of God’s perfect system, the living diamond of glory where the four creatures roared holy and the twenty-four elders bowed in rhythm. He watched it work. He saw how every stone caught the uncreated light of the Throne and threw it back brighter, anisotropic, alive, magnifying the Lamb before the Lamb was ever slain. He saw perfection and it wasn’t enough.

Because he loved himself more than the Light.

He said, “I will ascend. I will be like the Most High.”

One look in the mirror and the cherub turned counterfeit godfather. The first organized crime syndicate was born.

And that’s the topic for today.

The First Organized Crime Syndicate: Lucifer’s Mafia and the Cosmic Turf War

The stones that once adorned him became his brand, the white solitaire diamond his signature piece, the isotropicheart of the new outfit. That stone could look brilliant in scattered, dirty light (this world’s light), but it could not magnify the true glory. It only took, never gave back. Self-love carved into crystal. David Pawson explains, “No diamonds, no rubies, no garnets, they’re isotropic. Who knew this 2,000 years ago? No scientists knew it. Nobody knew it. John the Apostle writing the down the book of Revelation as the Lord dictated it to him, he didn’t know it. Nobody knew except one person in the entire universe… and that was God himself.”

If I had to summarize what I just heard, it’s this.

Diamonds look like gods in the devil’s disco.

In the light of the Lamb they’re just expensive coal.

Back to our crime story.

The mob hit came. Lucifer wanted the top spot. He gathered his crew—a third of the angels, the “made” men of the celestial mob—and they plotted the takeover. “I will ascend,” he said, Isaiah recording the words like a wiretap. The first syndicate sought to defy the Boss of all bosses. They moved on the throne, but the war was short and brutal. Michael and his loyalists crushed them, Revelation spelling it out: the dragon and his angels hurled down, no place left for them in Heaven. Cast to the second heaven, that murky layer between God’s realm and earth, where the air crackles with schemes.

From there, it became a giant turf war, spanning ages. The fallen set up their counterfeit council, a twisted mirror of the divine one. Principalities and powers, thrones and dominions, Ephesians naming them like a lineup. The stones he once wore as honor he now peddled as power. The solitaire became the covenant ring of every false bride, every freemason lodge, every bloodline, every don who wanted to play God. That is why, when John got the tour of the city that needs no sun, the diamond is gone.

Not merely absent, erased.

Revelation 21 lists the twelve foundations, jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, carnelian, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprase, jacinth, amethyst. Twelve stones, every last one anisotropic. When the uncreated light of the Lamb floods them, they do not go black. They ignite. Rainbows, fire, patterns no earthly cutter could dream. They take the glory and hurl it back brighter.

In that same pure light they turn to coal dust, color bled out, isotropic frauds that can only shine by stealing scattered rays. They were the morning star’s old uniform, the bling of the rebel cherub. When the true Light walks in, those stones cannot bear His presence. They die. So, He leaves them outside the gates with their former owner.

But before divine justice comes, we have to re-examine how the angelic mob took power on Earth. Adam and Eve made a deal with the devil.

Their treason gave the Fallen legal claims to rule the nations.

Listen close, because the outfit I’m talking about wrote the book every mob on earth still copies—the one that started before the world had streets. The following may be conjecture informed by earnest prayers to the Holy Spirit. It’s certainly not gospel. It’s not biblical canon. I’m not inerrant. I’m striving to reveal something that stirs a memory from the time you watched The Godfather, Goodfellas, or some other movie. Here’s my best shot.

At the top sits the Don. Not a don, the Don. They called him the Morning Star once. Wore every stone you ever wanted, diamond right in the center. Makes every final call. No appeal. He’s called Satan now.

Directly under him, the Underboss. One guy only. Runs the whole show if the Don ever gets locked up or goes quiet. Name’s Asmodeus, or some other underboss jockeying for the spot as there is no honor among thieves. Old-school, vicious, hates marriage, hates life, hates anything that breathes happy. When the Don’s out of sight, Asmodeus keeps the crews in line and the blood flowing.

Then you got the Consigliere. Stands outside the chain on purpose, so he can whisper in the Don’s ear without getting his own hands dirty. Ice-cold strategist, lawyer to the damned. You’ve heard him called Mephistopheles. Offers deals, writes contracts in blood, always looks like he’s doing you a favor while he’s picking your bones clean.

Below them, the Capos. The heavy hitters. Belial runs lies and lawlessness, Mammon shakes down the greedy, Beelzebub lords the flies and rot, Leviathan twists the seas and minds—a dozen more, each with his territory, his racket. Nations, cities, bloodlines, whole empires. They kick up the take, keep the streets hot, make sure the fear and the green keep rolling uphill.

The muscle? That’s the Riders. Four horses, each a different color, straight out of the apocalypse ledger. Conquest on the white, bow drawn, crowning the puppets. War on the red, sword swinging, setting brother against brother. Famine on the black, scales tipping, starving the weak. Death on the pale, leading Hades and the grave like backup shooters. These are the hitmen, the ones who ride out when the Capos give the nod. No mercy, no take-backs. They carve the chaos, leave the bodies, and the Don collects the souls.

Under the Riders, the Soldiers. Made men. Lesser demons, fully initiated, sworn in fire instead of blood. You don’t touch one without the Don’s say-so or every crew in the circuit comes for your head (unless Christ the King gives you the assignment to go to war. We’ll discuss this in a minute).

At the bottom, the Associates. Not “made” men, never will be, but they do ninety percent of the work. Human beings mostly, some carrying Nephilim blood from way back, some just useful idiots. Presidents, bankers, popes, generals, celebrities, traffickers, tech lords. Any ethnicity, any flag. They drive the cars, move the product, launder the cash, pass the laws, start the wars. They think they’re players. They’re just delivery boys who don’t know the package is rigged to blow up in their hands.

Whole thing’s shaped like a diamond, double pyramid locked at the base. Top half in the second heaven, bottom half down here. Same structure the Mafia copied, the lodges copied, intelligence agencies copied. Because the first Family showed them how to keep power forever.

Only one problem for them now.

The real Boss rose from the dead, took the keys back, and He’s coming to collect.

The structure dug in deep. Nimrod ran the first earthly outfit in Babel, his tower a stab at the heavens, sealed with the star—the eight-pointed Star of Babylon, Ishtar’s mark, the queen of heaven Jeremiah railed against. You see it everywhere. The eight-pointed Star of Babylon, ancient emblem of Ishtar’s cosmic dominion, gleams in modern sheriff’s badges across the U.S., evoking unyielding authority from Babylonian roots. It crowns Mitsubishi’s logo, three diamonds fusing into its points to whisper of universal balance and corporate conquest. Starbucks’ siren swims encircled by its rays, blending Babylonian goddess vibes with daily caffeine rituals. If you partake, pray off the demon and give thanks to God for the coffee bean.

The structure spread like a virus. Egyptian pharaohs played god-kings, their pyramids echoing the shape. Greek mysteries, Roman cults, all hierarchies with initiates climbing degrees, blood oaths binding more “made” men. Knights Templar hoarded loot during the Crusades, alchemists twisted the knowledge. Royals locked it in bloodlines, claiming divine right but serving the Nephilim whisper, Genesis 6’s fallen sons mixing with daughters of men.

By the time Sicily birthed the Mafia, it was old hat. Pyramidal, insulated, just like the feudal barons before them, private armies collecting protection. The ‘Ndrangheta made it blood-tight, kin only, harder to crack, with more revenue generated than McDonalds and Coca Cola combined. Yakuza with their oyabun-kobun bonds, fail and lose a finger. Triads with dragon heads— all counterfeits of the angelic fall, the same diamond grid directing the flow.

Politicians? They are the pseudo-capos of the modern era. Think Nancy Pelosi, Mitch McConnell, Dan Crenshaw. Presenting themselves as servants of the law, but more blood was on their hands than any black-ledger mob family. They think themselves bosses but are openly mocked by their demon handlers, who see the sand in their hourglasses quickly running out. Freemasons in the lodges, climbing to the 33rd, their squares and compasses hiding the star. They wore the solitaires, white diamonds on fingers, the stone of the morning star. As above, so below, the hermetic lie.

We were losing the turf war, outgunned and blind. The counterfeit council held the high ground, princes like the one over Persia delaying prayers, Daniel fasting through the blockade. Asmodeus the demon stone cutter and Ephippas the demon stone mover—venerated by freemasons—set cornerstones of rebellion at lodges and government buildings throughout the world. Human associates and their families, scrambling to keep their grip.

Then the Resurrection hit like a thunderclap. Christ, the true Boss, rose from the dead, Colossians declaring He disarmed the powers, paraded them in triumph. The cross was the ultimate sting, paying the debt, reclaiming the authority Adam lost. All power in heaven and earth—His. The counterfeit lost their legal turf, turned to squatters, ruling only by bluff and deception. Satan, the god of this age, 2 Corinthians called him, but only because we let him.

But we slumbered. Forgot our authority, the keys to bind and loose, Matthew handing them over. In Jesus’ name, we could command. The blood in my veins churns after a long stakeout on behalf of my King. A hope and joy I wanted to share with you. It’s this.

What if I were to tell you that a group of intercessors has prayed for our nation for 9 years?

Every day, every hour, every minute. That they are praying even now, as you listen to my words.

What if I told you those intercessors have traveled as the King’s divine process servers to every corner of the globe? They stood at the cornerstones of the Great Pyramid and the Grand Lodge in London to restrain the spirit of freemasonry. “Restrained and evicted,” the decree read, voices rising like a jury’s verdict, annulling every blood oath, every square and compass that had chained the UK and the world to the counterfeit council. No more lodges whispering deals in the dark; the King of Glory was welcomed back, marriage vows renewed, the land declared holy ground.

They entered the Forbidden City in China to tell the dragon, “Be gone!”—to evicting Mammon outside Lucis Trust in the heart of the New York Stock Exchange, binding his greedy claws from the world’s financial veins. They confronted Molech at every single state capitol, warring for the lives of the preborn. They rebuked Baal in Jerusalem while the Iron Dome intercepted rocket fire aimed for holy sites. That I have been able to partake in their ministry has been a great honor.

The dates and locations visited by these nameless Royal Intercessors are etched in my mind now, each one wielding a massive hammer blow in the cosmic courtroom. The Bride of Christ has discovered the Don’s final organizational chart, updated for the endgame, every capo and rider pinned like butterflies under glass. Gone are timidity and fear. Instead, they blow the shofar and announce, “Make way for the King!”

His process servers are still on the move—ordinary sons and daughters, steel in their spines, assignments clutched like warrants from the Throne. They weren’t vigilantes, no—just deputies on assignment, carrying a holy seal forged in the fire of the Lamb’s blood. Authority wasn’t begged; it was bestowed, Luke 10:19 handing us the boots to tread on serpents.

Sons and daughters, raised up from the dust, waiting in the shadows for the marching orders that came like thunder: “Restrain the ancient thugs, evict the squatters, raise godly vice-regents in their stead.” Men and women of iron faith stepping into the vacancies—vice-regents not for show, but to serve the King, channeling His rule into the streets, the capitals, the air itself. Watch for the new crop of leaders running for Governor in Colorado and Tennessee. These men have received orders from the King.

The climax hit like a raid at dawn, papers served across the globe, the Hydra’s heads severed one after another, no regeneration this time. The diamond grid cracked, the solitaire at its heart blackening under the advancing light. The Don’s empire folded, his counterfeit council scattered like rats in a floodlight. And in the cleared turf, vice-regents rose—humble, holy, hands steady on the plow, eyes on the horizon where the King Himself rode in. With Him, The Ekklesia, the called-out ones, they were the enforcers now, seated above the principalities, Ephesians seating us with Him.

Asmodeus is scared now, his territory shrinking. The ancient fallen scramble, their diamond grids cracking under the prayers. We the People, awakening, displacing the Freemasons, the demons, the occult veils. Trump’s Cyrus broke the seals, but Darius must rise—the solidifier, purging the mix around him, the demons fleeing before the intercessors’ fire. After that, leaders that will usher in a new wave of mercy, kindness, and reverence toward God Almighty. A time marked by the orphan and widow being protected, the housing of the homeless, the feeding of the hungry.

But for now, we must crush the WEF, shatter the NWO, dismantle the anti-God empires. Make way for His government, Isaiah’s promise: on His shoulders, increasing without end.

The diamond’s gone in the new city, Revelation omitting it deliberate—no anisotropic counterfeit, no channel for false light. Jasper, sapphire, the foundations pure, the Lamb and His Light magnified.

The midnight oil has burned through. My Tennessee friends turned in for bed. I laid awake for hours pondering this puzzle, before I put pen to paper. In fact, I missed last week’s self-imposed deadline because I couldn’t see the problem clear enough. So, I waited.

What do you think? Was the wait worth it?

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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That was the opening shot of nonlinear warfare, and the enemy has never changed his weapon.

He fights with stories.

We were made to fight the same way. For two centuries the American story was simple enough that a child could repeat it: a nation under God, liberty purchased by blood, righteousness exalting a people. It was not perfect, but it was coherent.

Coherence is armor.

Incoherence is surrender.

Between 2020 and 2024 the armor finally cracked wide open. Cities burned while the news called it “mostly peaceful.” Children were taught to hate the color of their own skin. Men in dresses read stories to toddlers in libraries while the churches locked their doors and zoomed their sermons.

The story fractured.

A nation that forgets who it is becomes a ghost wandering its own house. I used to blame Beijing alone. The communists. Acquiring our land, culture, movie studios, and theater chains. Even sports stars have toed the line. When then-Houston Rockets GM Daryl Morey tweeted “Fight for Freedom. Stand with Hong Kong” after concerns that protesters would be extradited to mainland China for persecution, LeBron James called Morey misinformed. “He wasn’t educated on…the situation at hand” James said, doing damage control for a country that provided slave labor to make his sneakers. Think on that.

He kneeled for BLM condemning U.S. slavery 150 years in the rearview mirror, then brushed away his own corporate slave master ties to Chinese sweatshops. After Morey’s Hong Kong tweet, China pulled NBA games from state TV (a $1–2 billion annual loss). The league’s response: Adam Silver flew to Shanghai and apologized, players were muzzled, and “Free Hong Kong” shirts were confiscated from arenas in the United States. A private American sports league enforced CCP speech codes on American soil.

Now I ask, can America play its films—or tell its stories—in communist China?

Yes and No.

There is a quota.

Just thirty-four films a year, carefully edited so that Taiwan never appears on a jacket in Top Gun: Maverick, so that the China National Space Administration saves Matt Damon in The Martian, after the Americans botch their mission, then botch his rescue. Since 2016, every foreign film that wants to enter China must first be pre-approved by the CCP’s Film Bureau. Scripts are submitted months in advance.

Can you spot the pattern? In Transformers: Age of Extinction, American Cade Yeager (Mark Wahlberg) is a broke inventor, paranoid, and on the run. Su Yueming, played by Li Bingbing, is CEO of a Chinese tech giant, brilliant, poised, and helps fund the heroes.

In The Meg, Jonas Taylor played by Jason Statham, is an alcoholic, divorced, blamed for deaths, his career ruined. Compare with the Chinese protagonist Suyin Zhang, played by the same actress as before. She is a top oceanographer, submersible pilot, single mom, and holds at least 1 PhD, with possibly more.

Then there’s Marvel. Doctor Strange’s Ancient One bleached of Tibet. Iron Man 3’s arch-villain quietly rewritten from Mandarin warlord to American capitalist. No Chinese villains allowed. Good luck finding one in a film. World War Z’s zombie plague uprooted from Chinese labs and replanted in North Korea. In modern times, the Covid-19 bioweapon was removed from Wuhan’s labs and put in a faraway bat market.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood was pulled when Beijing demanded Brad Pitt’s Cliff Booth not humiliate Bruce Lee—too much Western dominance, too little Eastern deference. Pixels swapped the Great Wall’s destruction for the Taj Mahal’s, lest a national symbol fall to pixel aliens. Actor John Cena fell all over himself to apologize to China for saying Taiwan was a country.

Story supremacy is the real Art of War. And owning studios costs less than aircraft carriers priced at 18 billion dollars. The return is measured in minds, not tonnage. The enemy does not need to brandish a foreign flag when he already owns the studio. Compare. Legendary Studios was purchased for 3.5 billion by the Chinese-controlled Wanda Group, and targets our student age population. Our universities finish the job with “Confucius Institutes,” communist indoctrination under the guise of language training. No mention of Mao in their materials, the murderer of millions, just the fortune cookie guy that dispenses bite-size wisdom.

China is not alone in the telling of stories. And there is no bigger story than the one told on election night. China manufactures the machines, and hosts servers in Serbia with Dominion at the helm. Venezuela’s narco-terrorists put their rigged code inside. All that was left was a soft power campaign to dumb us down. I saw the red hand and thought the threat was external.

But it’s clear that Satan doesn’t confine our enslavement with an allegiance to human geography, or political ideology. The only battle lines that truly matter are between the Kingdom of Darkness and the Kingdom of Heaven, and U.S. politicians turned traitors are hard to differentiate from those that don the Hammer and Sickle. The World Economic Forum’s 2021–2023 “Great Narrative” project openly called for “new global narratives” to replace our national ones.

And that’s our topic for today.

“Reclaiming America’s Stories: The Nonlinear War of Soft Power.”

In the forties, as the world burned, the Office of Strategic Services—the wartime spy outfit that would birth the CIA—raided Hollywood’s backlots for talent, pulling in over a thousand writers, directors, actors, and technicians to wage the shadow fight on American minds.

At first it was innocent enough. Marlene Dietrich crooned morale-boosting tunes for GIs in foxholes; Julia Child, not yet a kitchen queen, cranked out coded messages from a desk in Ceylon, now Sri Lanka; Sterling Hayden wired explosives for partisan raids in the Balkans. The recruits weren’t just cover—they built the reels: training films that taught frogmen to blow bridges, morale shorts that turned Rosie the Riveter into a national creed.

Wild Bill Donovan turned Warner Bros. into a propaganda forge, churning out “Know Your Enemy: Japan,” where Disney’s animators sketched Emperor Hirohito as a bucktoothed rat gnawing at freedom’s edges. The reels rolled out to theaters, to bases, to the home front—simple stories that made the abstract horror concrete, the distant war personal.

Victory came, but the machinery hummed on. Things turned darker. Quickly. And the Cold War made the soft power fight industrial. Operation Mockingbird put four hundred journalists on the payroll; declassified files showing the taps and the plants. These numbers pale in comparison to the modern-day money poured into NGOs by the election rigging narco-terrorists. Oh, the stories they told about elections.

Films like The Manchurian Candidate—that 1962 fever dream of brainwashed pawns pulling triggers on cue—leak the playbook, or so the theorists say, tied to MKUltra’s acid tests. Now, look at the class of Washington candidates. Eric Swalwell declaring we should vote from our phones. One uniform script. “W” looking blank after the towers fell. Biden lost on a stage.

But why the movies?

To inoculate: make the puppet-master real enough to thrill, fictional enough to dismiss, so when whispers surface of presidents marching to hidden strings the public shrugs: “Seen it in the movies.”

Consider 1997’s “Wag the Dog.” Two weeks before a presidential election, the incumbent U.S. President is caught in a sex scandal with an underage girl. To distract the public and save his re-election, spin doctor Conrad Brean (Robert De Niro) is brought in. Brean’s strategy: invent a fake war. Remarkably, the film was released just weeks before the real-life Clinton/Lewinsky scandal and the U.S. bombing of Sudan and Afghanistan—events that many immediately compared to the movie’s premise.

Then there is 2006’s “Man of the Year,” a satirical comedy where late-night comedian Tom Dobbs (Robin Williams) unexpectedly wins the U.S. presidency due to a software glitch in the new Delacroy electronic voting machines, which miscounts votes in key states. Fast forward and relative newcomer Barack Obama beats Hillary Clinton, a household name, after co-founder of Smartmatic, Roger Piñate, gamed the election in Cook County, Illinois. It spurred Obama to preselected victory in the primary.

The rest is history. Smartmatic’s chairman, Lord Mark Malloch-Brown, sat on the board of George Soros’s Open Society Foundations for 18 years and is a deputy chairman of the World Economic Forum. The same tiny circle that scripts the movies also funds the “election integrity” NGOs and voting-machine companies.

And what about censorship? Internal TikTok documents leaked in 2023 (confirmed by Forbes and The Intercept) show that content mentioning Tiananmen Square, Tibetan independence, or Falun Gong is throttled to zero visibility in under 60 seconds — globally, not just in China. The app is owned by ByteDance, a Chinese company with a CCP committee embedded in its governance. 170 million Americans now get their “stories” from an algorithm that disappears anything Beijing dislikes.

American censorship rivals it. Censorship expert Mike Benz explains, “The two most censored events in human history are the 2020 election and the Covid 19 pandemic…. You could literally be on your toilet seat and tweet, “I think that mail-in ballots are illegitimate.” And you were essentially then caught up in the crosshairs of the Department of Homeland Security, classifying you as conducting a cyber-attack on US critical infrastructure.” Tucker Carlson responds in disbelief, “Complaining about election fraud is the same as taking down our power grid!”

Misdirection as craft. The Committee of Three Hundred lurks in the fringes, John Coleman’s ninety-two pamphlet sketching a cabal engineering the endgame through celluloid: depopulation flicks, New World orders in the margins, occult nods in the credits.

The online forums hum.

And the false flags: The Lone Gunmen’s “Pilot” episode aired March 4, 2001, and is now legendary for its eerie prescience. In it, the protagonists uncover a secret U.S. government faction planning to hijack a commercial airliner by remote control and crash it into the World Trade Center. The motive? To stage a terrorist attack, blame it on a foreign dictator (in the story, a fictional Middle Eastern country), and boost defense spending in a new Cold War-style conflict. Six months later--9/11, The Patriot Act, and a two decades long “War on Terror” lines the pockets of the military industrial complex.

Before that, Fight Club’s buildings fell like cards, anarchists resetting the financial sector. Because we saw buildings drop before, we didn’t question the misdirect, where suits, and not Tyler Durden, reset the scales in favor of Wall Street during the 2008 Great Recession. Eight trillion dollars vanished from our balance sheet.

Afterwards, then Congressman Alan Grayson grilled the Inspector General of the Federal Reserve, Elizabeth Coleman, stating: “What have you done to investigate the off-balance sheet transactions conducted by the Federal Reserve, which according to Bloomberg, now total $9 trillion in the last eight months?”

Coleman responds, “I’ll have to look specifically at that Bloomberg article. I, I’m not, um, I, I don’t know if I have actually seen that particular one.”

Grayson replies, “That’s not the point. The question is, have you done any investigation or editing of off-balance sheet transactions conducted by the Federal Reserve?”

The Inspector General had no clue where $9 trillion went.

Not a reset for the people. Just the banking elite.

Disney acted as predictive programmer. Disney never needed a quota from the Party. They volunteered. Frozen’s Elsa, ice-blue gowns and sharp cheekbones, singing “Let It Go” right before another ice queen Hillary wore ice-blue pantsuits. Closeted tropes, effeminate snowmen. This wasn’t just a movie. It was a subliminal political campaign that required no disclosures to the FEC (Frozen’s budget was $150 million).

Hillary was unpopular, but if we could imagine a person underneath the icy exterior, and “Let it Go,” she would be coronated. Toy Story 4’s Forky—a spork that insists it is trash, demanding to be called a toy by Woody. He exclaims, “…this spork… uh THIS TOY, is crucial to Bonnie getting adjusted to kindergarten.”

Delivered to three-year-olds as a parable of self-creation. Subliminal transgender grooming: you can be whatever you want. The children sang along. The parents paid for the tickets.

The story did its work.

First Man left Ryan Gosling’s Neil Armstrong staring at the lunar soil, but the flag had to be planted off-screen due to communist script doctors. Gone is the human triumph of the stars and stripes waving in vacuum. Artistic choice, they said. But the omission lingered like a shadow. And a paradox emerged. In the corners of forums, the old questions stirred—how much of our space program’s boasting is real? Who were the bigger liars, foreign or domestic? Conspiracy or not, the doubt seeded incoherence: if the greatest stories are faked, even for a time, what else?

Building Seven fell straight down that September afternoon, steel and office paper in freefall, never struck. Reports later said steel fell because of fire. The footage looped in basements, whispering of controlled charges, inside jobs, a narrative too tidy for the chaos. Tucker knows. I think Trump and Guiliani do as well. Will there be more declassification incoming? Or will the political machine continue to win out with our continued programming?

They say politics is downstream of culture.

But the culture is downstream from our stories.

And the father of lies has always understood sequencing.

But God also fights with stories, and in times of war, allows for permissible deception. Rahab hid the spies under flax. She told the king’s men, “They went that way.” The men ran. Jericho later fell. Rahab lived. Gideon gave three hundred men jars, torches, trumpets. At midnight they smashed the jars, blew the horns, shouted. Midian woke to fire and noise everywhere. They fled, killing each other in the dark. Not one Israelite sword was drawn.

David pretended madness before Achish, drooling and scribbling on gates—false appearance to slip Philistine nooses. Jehu drove hard into Samaria. “Ahab served Baal a little,” he said. “I will serve him much.” He called every Baal-worshiper to a great sacrifice. They came. He locked the doors and killed them all. The temple became a latrine. God said, “You have done well.” Ehud hid a sword on the wrong thigh and spoke honeyed words to a fat king—tactical deceit, a left-handed stab that felled an empire.

Five lies leading to victories.

In kinetic war the rules are clear: ruses are lawful, treachery is not. Camouflage, feigned retreats, dummy tanks—yes. False surrender, misusing the Red Cross—no.

But we are not in kinetic war.

We are in the long, undefined non-kinetic war the generals now call Phase Zero, the war for the mind before the first shot is fired. In that war the old boundaries blur, and the church has been slow to remember its own precedents. God never told us to be transparent with demons. He told us to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. He told us to overcome evil with good, not with press releases. He told us that the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty for pulling down strongholds. One such demonic stronghold are stories that has been believed too long. It spends billions to keep the stronghold standing. It grooms, infiltrates, converts.

It waits for the moment a man is tired, a woman is lonely, a child is confused, and it whispers a better ending than the one God wrote. Stories can turn.

The health of a nation mirrors the health of a man. When a man knows whose son he is, he stands straighter. When a nation remembers whose it is, it does not bow to dragons—foreign or domestic. We have been lied to long enough to recognize the voice. We have been edited, redacted, recut.

Now we learn the craft ourselves—not to lie as the father of lies lies, but to tell the truth in a way that cannot be censored by quota or algorithm. We conceal not to hide, but to reveal—at the right hour, to the right ears. We tell the old stories again: the crossing of the Red Sea, the walls of Jericho falling at a shout, the empty tomb that made every empire’s propaganda obsolete.

We tell new ones: the pilot who kept the flags on his jacket, the actress who refused to self-censor, the father who taught his daughter the real ending of the Forky story—You were fearfully and wonderfully made, and no spork gets the last word on that. The astronaut who plants the flag, for real, I hope. The engineer who questions Building Seven not with rage, but with quiet files and open eyes—holy concealment until the truth breaks free.

The war is nonlinear.

So is the victory.

A single true story, told at the right moment, can shatter a stronghold that a thousand tanks could not touch. The enemy has had the megaphone long enough. It is time for the sons and daughters of the King to remember who they are, pick up the weapon we were born to wield, and tell better stories. The devil has been doing it since the garden. We are late to the fight.

But we are not too late.

When the enemy flooded the world with lies, God did not send more facts — He sent a Man who said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.’ The ultimate counter-story was a Person. Our job is to tell the world His name again, in ways the algorithm can’t delete.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

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Where to go for resources, refreshment, perspective?

My mind goes to a prison cell.

The cell is black. Not dark. Black. Richard Wurmbrand sits on a small stool, naked, the cold biting into his bones like a slow wolf. He counted days by the beat of his heart. The guards had taken his name. He had preached in the open once. In Bucharest, before the boots came. He had stood in the pulpit and told the communists that Christ was King and that no man could serve two masters. They laughed at first. Then they took him.

Richard Wurmbrand was born in 1909 in Bucharest to a Jewish family that cared little for God. By thirty he cared for nothing but Christ. He became a Lutheran pastor, married Sabina, and preached in the streets and air-raid shelters of wartime Romania. When the communists took power he stood before four thousand delegates of the new puppet church and declared that a Christian’s duty is to glorify God and Christ alone. That speech bought him fourteen years in hell’s basement. Three of them were spent thirty feet beneath Bucharest in cells where daylight was only a rumor. He emerged in 1964, half-crippled, wholly alive, and spent the rest of his days telling free Christians what it really costs to follow the King who refuses to bow.

They tried to break him in countless ways. Wurmbrand stands as judge of the tepidness of the modern-day church. Churches that preach the Gospel with words alone, but with no action when it could disturb their comfort. A Gospel that preaches that it is wisdom to avoid the political battlefield, implying that the Bible has nothing to say about governance and wielding the sword with wisdom.

Wurmbrand also stands as the example that slaps me awake. No self-pity. You can always give more. You have suffered little compared to what is possible. My cigar is done burning. My four-hour vacation is over. The topic for today is:

Ten Lessons from the Sufferings of Richard Wurmbrand

They locked Wurmbrand in the carceret, an upright box lined with nails that waited for the knees to buckle. When exhaustion bent him, the iron drank. In that suffocating coffin, I imagine that he remembered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego strolling in the furnace with a fourth man who looked like the Son of God.

He learned to lock his knees and lean his head and shoulders against opposite walls in such a way that the spikes barely touched the skin. The moment his strength began to fail, he would shift his weight millimeter by millimeter to keep the nails from penetrating deeply.

He forced himself to compose and memorize entire sermons in his head—one verse or one thought at a time. This kept his mind from drifting into despair or unconsciousness. He later said he preached more sermons in the carceret than in many years of freedom.

“I felt arms around me that were not human arms. I was held as a mother holds a child. I do not know how long—minutes, hours—but when I came to myself I was still standing and the nails had not entered deeply. I knew then that He would not let me die before my time.”

The lesson is plain: when the culture nails you into a box labeled bigot or insurrectionist, the spikes are not the final word. When you see no way out, the Son will hold you upright. He still walks inside the fire. The Pastors who feel the points coming do not need to slump into silence. The yoke is light because the One who shares it has already been pierced.

They put Wurmbrand barefoot on a block of ice for days, then into scalding steam—freeze, burn, repeat—until the nerves in his feet died. Years later in America, a freezer door at a supermarket could drop him straight back into the cell. He would stand shaking until he breathed the name of Jesus and walked on. Like Joseph in the pit, sold by brothers, waiting in darkness until the throne was ready. Cold betrayal did not destroy Joseph; it prepared him. The church today, frozen by old wounds or new threats, does not need to deny the trembling. It needs the promise set before Christ, that he would make all things new, which carried Him through the cross and will carry His people through every ambush of memory.

They beat the soles of Wurmbrand’s feet with rubber hoses until skin split and bones wept. In the middle of the blows he prayed for the guard swinging the hose. He thought of Stephen kneeling under stones, asking forgiveness for his killers. Pain has a ceiling; love does not. When the state or the mob today swings at patriots and pastors who name the sins written into law—abortion, child mutilation, the worship of power—do not curse back. Bless. That is the one blow no regime has ever learned to block.

And remind yourself, if you are reading this you aren’t in a cell. Count your blessings that nothing but fear prohibits you from going on offense politically to fight against such Satanic treachery.

They kept Wurmbrand three years in total darkness. A cell three paces by three paces—so black he forgot the color of bread. He preached hundreds of sermons to invisible congregations. He thought of Paul and Silas singing at midnight until the prison doors shook.

Light is not required for worship; only a heart is. When the culture cancels and drives biblical voices underground, the church does not need bigger platforms. It needs deeper darkness, where sermons are born and prisoners become preachers. Have you been cancelled on social media? If digital doors are closed, seek out real people and build alliances in person.

They put Wurmbrand in solitary, forbidding him to speak aloud. Could you imagine being separated from your child and bride for 14 years? He tapped on pipes until someone tapped back and a hidden orchestra began. He thought of Elijah hearing the still small voice after the earthquake and fire. No matter how alone you feel. Whether in real chains, or just the space between your ears, the Spirit still connects the scattered. Pastors and patriots who feel alone in their stand need only tap. Somewhere another trembling shepherd will answer.

They injected Wurmbrand with drugs meant to scramble the mind. He recited Scripture until the Word outran the poison. Oh, the jabs and pills “We the People” have willingly put into our bodies. Not to mention the things we can’t avoid. Chemicals in the air, the water, our food. Wurmbrand thought of Jesus in the wilderness meeting every lie with “It is written.” Have you prayed to combat the poison, real or spiritual, running through your veins? The Great Physician awaits. When the culture pumps its venom into schools, laws, and even pulpits, the antidote is not clever argument. It is the spoken Word, louder than the needle.

They finally let Wurmbrand look into a mirror after years of darkness and disfigurement. The handsome young pastor was gone. A skull stared back, teeth broken, face collapsed, eyes sunken in a mask of ruin. He wept—not for vanity, but for the glory of it. He thought of Isaiah’s Suffering Servant, marred beyond human likeness, of Jesus on the cross, battered until unrecognizable. The lesson burned: the body of Christ is most beautiful when it is most broken, because every bruise purchased a soul. Pastors and patriots who fear looking ugly in the public square—fear the sneer, the meme, the late-night host’s joke—have forgotten that the gospel advances by scarred flesh, not polished image.

One day in Wurmbrand’s labor camp, an old abbot lay dying beside the very interrogator who had tortured him for years, Captain Vasilescu, now himself imprisoned by the next wave of purges. The abbot reached out a skeletal hand, forgave the man who had crushed his fingers one by one, and led him to Christ. That night both men died and, Wurmbrand believed, entered heaven together. He thought of Jesus praying from the cross, “Father, forgive them.”

Forgiveness is the ultimate act of war against hell. The church that withholds it has already lost the battle. Can you defeat the rigged election usurpers—bureaucrats and blue-check inquisitors by righteously wielding the government’s sword—and then brandish a heart soft enough to share the Gospel after they are caught?

Wurmbrand’s hell had loudspeakers that blared the same messages over and over again: “Christianity is dead. The church is finished. Nobody loves you. You are forgotten.” Wurmbrand laughed until the guards beat him for laughing. I think of the bots today, the black-pill accounts on every platform, the endless chorus that nothing changes, no one is coming, it’s all over. Same loudspeakers, newer wires. Every time I submit an article, I wince in preparation of the slander, hatred, and demoralized sneers to come.

The answer is the same: the tomb is empty, the church is alive, and the One who loves you has scars in His hands to prove it. Do more than play at being Christian. Earn some scars along the way.

Finally, in 1964, Wurmbrand’s communist torturers shoved him across the U.S. border with the warning: one public word and your family dies. He found the nearest microphone and used it until his voice gave out. Like Esther walking uninvited to the throne and of the apostles filling Jerusalem with teaching the moment the prison doors opened. Silence after deliverance is betrayal.

Richard Wurmbrand is dead. His scars sleep in a grave outside Los Angeles, California. But the lessons still walk. They limp into our carpeted sanctuaries and ask the question the communists never managed to beat out of him:

Are you afraid of the world, or of God?

The phrase “separation of church and state” is not in the founding documents any more than it was in the founding documents of Babylon, Persia, or Rome. Joseph, Daniel, Nehemiah, and Esther never found it there either. They found only one command: obey God rather than men when the two collide.

The yoke is still easy.

The burden is still light.

The joy of the Lord is still strength.

The cell door may wait.

But to live is Christ and to die is gain.

My mind wanders to one more cell, occupied by prisoner Tina Peters. Seventy years old. Defamed. Slandered. Abused. Threatened. Imprisoned for exposing the truth. A living martyr.

That one honest election clerk demonstrates greater sacrifice than any pastor in America shows you how far we have fallen.

Oh church, when will you wake up and drive out the election slavers? When will you unplug from the matrix? When will you risk flipping over a table?

To President Trump, I recognize that war brings about collateral damage. That state charges prohibit a federal pardon being given. But please don’t forget about Tina. She is a prisoner of the information war you chose to prosecute on behalf of the American people.

The DOJ continues to think small in how to free her. She is as deserving as any political hostage needing liberation. You told her tormentors to release her “or else.” We are at the “or else” stage.

To Tina, every day you are locked away your legend grows. I pray that angels visit you. That Richard Wurmbrand is part of the cloud of witnesses giving you comfort each night. We love you. We miss you.

So, we keep your memory front and center.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

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I scrolled deeper. Hundreds of blue checks lit up the screen, maybe a thousand voices by week’s count, piling stones on the grave they dug in hours. Ben Shapiro, eyebrows like mustaches, called it cowardice. The Republican Jewish Coalition spoke as one: appalled, disgusted. Even pastors joined the chorus. Greg Locke, the firebrand from Tennessee, blasted Tucker on his platform, calling him a wolf in sheep’s clothing for giving air to Fuentes’ views. Ted Cruz echoed it, still hurt after Tucker embarrassed him on his wafer-thin theological grounds for always sounding the war drums against enemies Trump was trying to secure peace with.

They accuse Tucker of being lured by Fuentes’ snake charm, or that Tucker was simply revealing a radical bent that was there all along, hidden from view until the interview aired. They condemned the platform given, and then the man, guilt by handshake, no trial, no mercy. Despite Tucker frequently opposing Nick Fuentes’ views; that Jews should never be singled out.

Tucker stating, “They’re against me. I’ve always thought I have the world’s most moderate position on Israel. Don’t hate Israel. Just don’t want to get involved in their wars. Don’t want to pay for this. Don’t want to pay for abortion on demand in a foreign country. Sorry…. It’s not America first. That’s my view. Not embarrassed of it at all. They are totally determined to take me out, I think because I’m reasonable. Who would disagree with that? And call me all these names, the most dangerous anti-Semite.”

“I’m not even an anti-Semite. And they’re not doing that to you…. because they’re like, Fuentes discredits the reasonable people because he’s always banging on about the Jews, the Jews. And so he makes everyone else look like a Nazi. And so it’s like, he’s playing a pretty valuable role in the same way that Israel has always funded extremism throughout the Middle East, including Hamas, because it discredits the reasonable people. That’s a fact.”

I’ve seen the template before, remembering Mel Gibson, the film that split the air like lightning. The Passion, blood on the frame, Pilate at the bowl, washing hands of the storm. The priests take the weight: His blood on us, on our children. Straight from Matthew’s ink, black as night. Diane Sawyer leaned in, voice soft as silk. Is that fair? Mel met her eyes. It’s the text, he said. They called Mel poison too, an antisemite, though the Good Book lay open, clear on the matter.

Fast forward to Tucker’s words at Charlie Kirk’s memorial service: Carlson recounted the plot to kill Jesus as described in the Gospel of John (11:47-53), paraphrasing it as follows: “Two thousand years ago, in a lamp-lit room in Jerusalem, a bunch of guys sitting around eating hummus were trying to figure out how to kill Jesus because he was saying things they didn’t like. And they decided that the only way to shut him up was to crucify him. And they did. And they thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.”

Was this statement inconsistent with the Bible’s text? No. And any Bible believing Christian would tell you that it wasn’t the Jews that truly placed Christ on the cross. It was our sin. My sin. And if it helps Tucker’s accusers drop their stones, I openly declare my guilt.

Matthew 26:52–54 states:

“When the mob came to arrest Jesus in Gethsemane and Peter drew his sword, Jesus stopped him and said: “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?”

It was Christ’s love that sent Him to the cross. It was His choice to suffer a sinner’s death, though He was innocent. To redeem all mankind, Jew and Gentile alike.

Like the Pharisees of old, Levin and his ilk would rather encourage the mob to set Barabbas free, than deal with a Christian nationalist that threatens their designs to bring the GOP back to the clutches of Mike Pence and Nikki Haley.

I’m sure other conservative voices silently agree with Tucker. But they, like Pilate, simply wash their hands and step back from a possible digital riot that would put them by his side.

So, what is it we are seeing? The religious spirit.

And that’s the topic for today:

Pharisees of the Feed: Tucker Sat at a Table with a Sinner, Oh My!

Luke 18:11-12 tells us about the Pharisee that “stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.”

They hurled outrage at Jesus, when they intoned, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” (Luke 15:2).

Do you see what’s happening? Conservative Inc. has made one thing abundantly clear. They are more righteous than Tucker. They are not like the sinner Fuentes. They would never sit and eat with these men, and they let you know through a thousand posts of condemnation.

It forced me to think of Christ’s response. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Tucker has his defenders. Bret Weinstein, a Jewish intellectual, cut through the noise, his words stark on X. He states, “I wish Israelis understood what is happening to the good will towards Israel that existed in the U.S., and why that good will is evaporating. Considerable antisemitism here, spreading. But also legitimate questions, shut down with false accusations of bigotry. That has to stop. It is pushing the antisemites and the people with legitimate concerns onto the same team—a colossal blunder.”

His statement hung like smoke: the danger is in the blur, the innocent caught in the net.

Matt Barnes, Glenn Greenwald, Jason Whitlock, offered more defense, and echoed the danger of the blur. To question Israel’s government, Mossad, Bibi, the IDF’s delay in combatting the October 7^th terrorist attack, all clumsily rendered antisemitism.

Instead of Lara Loomer conceding that Tucker’s critique is of Israel’s government, and not it’s people, she went straight for the jugular. “When can we admit that @TuckerCarlson is a raging Jew hater? ... He is denying we are American because we are Jewish... You hate Jews Tucker. We get it. Just say that. How badly do you want to call me a K*ke Tucker? Just say it already.”

Bannon pushed back on Loomer’s inability to see Israel’s very own deep state.

“[If] the Israeli government had dealt straight with us, you wouldn’t have had this problem. They’re liars. They’ve been stone-cold liars. They gave bad information. So I’m not going to let that go unchallenged. That’s just bullshit. OK?”

He escalated further: “Do not—don’t sit there all innocent about what Netanyahu’s—Netanyahu’s government has been atrocious, and we should have regime change in Jerusalem, and we should have it immediately. They’ve lied to the American government. They’ve lied to the American people consistently... We need regime change in Jerusalem and we need it tonight!”

Tucker’s critics do not know it, but every pseudo-Nazi sympathizing tweet thrown his way was a cry for a guilty verdict in the Courts of Heaven. Satan, the accuser of all accusers, delights in the digital mob picking up stones to hurl accusation. Planks in eyes, searching for Tucker’s speck.

The kategoros of Revelation 12:10—who stands at the right hand of the throne, day and night, twisting evidence, takes a step back and marvels at the all the misguided Christians, Jews, patriots, and pastors, doing his job for him. Even the radical left stands awestruck in silence. Why join the chorus when Mark Levin’s shrieks will do the trick. Satan needs no algorithm (though he has it) only our mouths. Too bad Christ is not an X moderator, drawing a line in the sand, asking the digital mob whether they were free from sin before they loosed their self-righteous keystrokes.

I continue to think of the place where thrones sit heavy and the Ancient of Days opens ledgers. Daniel saw scrolls, judgment white as snow (Daniel 7:9-10). Psalm eighty-two has God amid shadows, scales steady. Satan at the right hand, as in Zechariah’s vision, hissing accusations. Revelation names him thrown down, yet his echo lingers in Conservative Inc.’s retweets, binding the innocent to thorns.

The interview played in my head, unedited. Tucker, leaning in like a confessor, Nick’s flinty face across. Why one tribe? Tucker pressed, four times. Speak to all men, universal fire. Fuentes dodged, swung wild—and joked about Stalin being his hero. Critics’ seized upon Tucker’s puzzlement. Why didn’t you confront him about what was said? Was Fuentes doing his best Norm MacDonald “Hitler was a good guy” impression? Was Tucker obligated to say, “you are joking, right?” Whatever you think his silence might mean, Tucker has a 30-year career leaving no doubts about what he thinks of Stalin.

Levin and Shapiro, the poorly re-cloaked neocons, lead the charge. I recall Levin’s old tapes—Never Trump in sixteen, a Nixonian trickster with dirty hands, I would never vote for him, he said, count me out—only to flip when the wind turned, his endorsement sounding like swallowed glass.

From Ben Shapiro, the scorn was sharper: he branded Trump a “buffoon” and “unprincipled” on his podcast, declaring, “I will not vote for Donald Trump,” while stumping for Ted Cruz as “the last best hope for conservatism,” even writing in Cruz’s name over Trump in the general. Then, in 2023, he pivoted to Ron DeSantis, hailing him as the GOP’s future, praising his governance over Trump’s divisiveness—only to waver when DeSantis fell. Hypocrisy glows in the feed’s light. The voice of the base, they claim today, but the base was never theirs. They flipped scripts when the wind turned, yet swing stones at Tucker with the same old fire.

I don’t want to preach about planks and splinters, casting stones, or when to rebuke versus seek the lost—Saul, persecutor of Christians, became Paul on a Damascus road; Nick, mock persecutor of Jews, might be a lost cause worth reaching. Time will tell. Instead, I’ve observed the 72-hour rule, watching for patterns to emerge, to sift authentic argument from bot scripts. One thing is for sure. Tucker and Fuentes aren’t done talking—their voices will echo beyond this storm.

They say the sit-down with Nick sparked his rise, gave him wings. I checked the numbers. Nick roared for years before Tucker dialed him up. The clip didn’t birth him—it exposed a wound. The real spark? DEI policies screaming that white boys are born wrong, maleness toxic, skin a debt unpaid. Nick, a shock troll thriving on controversy, is their creation, inevitable as are the millions of demonized white males existing in silence.

So many compare Fuentes to Hitler—but their rebuke collapses as soon as you realize the absurdity of equating appalling words to the actual atrocious deeds of a mass-murderer. What is the greater sin, Fuentes’ reckless trolling, saying things he may not even believe to grab attention, or being so intellectually sloppy that we compare a twenty-something podcaster to an actual mass murderer?

Yes, Fuentes spews indefensible filth about women, blacks, and Jews, making him the perfect target. But his critics wield those sins as a veil to dismiss something he is telling the absolute truth about: U.S. foreign policy’s overreach, including Mossad’s outsized influence on American politics. Wrong on so much, yes, but right on the war machine’s excess, a point the neocons bury under ad hominem snow.

Tucker approached Nick not with stones but with a shepherd’s resolve, driven by a biblical call despite the personal sting. In an interview with Dave Smith, Tucker revealed, “Nick Fuentes is the most influential voice for men under 30. More influential than me or you! [...] But look, he’s said some wild stuff about me, about my family—calling my kids things I won’t repeat here. And yeah, that stings. It’s personal, it’s ugly, but it’s also why I had him on. You can’t ignore a guy like that; he’s got a grip on a generation that’s pissed off and disaffected.”

This wasn’t vengeance but a confrontation, a chance to turn a lost cause like Saul on his road to Damascus, facing the venom head-on to seek out a disaffected youth cancelled at every turn. Yet the neocons, blind to their own planks, cry monster, turning accusation into reality.

Dinesh states on X, “Nick Fuentes is not a real Nazi. He’s a poseur. Nazism is his shtick…. They know Nick is too much of a beta male and a pansy to do any of the things Hitler did.” Talk about a dog whistle. Is Dinesh baiting Fuentes to do more than talk like a Nazi, and start executing Jews like Hitler? How reckless. You see the trap? Either Fuentes is the monster Dinesh says he is, or he will encourage Fuentes to become the monster he says he is.

Make no mistake, the outrage we are seeing is not about Tucker interviewing Nick Fuentes—it’s a about the power vacuum of what happens when Trump exits the stage. I hope Trump sticks around for another term. Levin, Shapiro, the neocon relics, say he can’t. Tucker has stated he would never run for President, but he would be a wildly popular candidate. His influence far outstrips his critics. And he dares to question their script. Everyone is jockeying for position.

My interest in this hatchet scheme differs from the screen-glued masses. I love Israel’s people. I can even be persuaded to some degree that foreign aid in the region meets our legitimate national security interests. But I am war weary. I question my own government’s corruption daily. It does not make me a hater of America. So, can I question Israel’s political corruption, without being called a Jew hater? Can we question Israel’s designs to use its relationship with America to see certain nations as forever enemies, rather than seeking peace—no matter how unlikely?

While I monitor the Pharisees’ Feed, I’m far more concerned about the continued silence over the 2020 election, rigged and stolen, never addressed by politicians bought and paid for by AIPAC.

Recall Matt Gaetz stating the following: “I remember my first AIPAC reception, and like your fundraiser tells you ‘you have to go,’ and your chief of staff tells you ‘you have to go,’ your committee chairmen all tell you ‘you have to go.’ You get there and you wear this name badge and I remember there’s a QR code on it, and what we were supposed to do was go talk to donors, and then if they liked you, they scanned your QR code to make a donation, like on the spot.”

What sway does Israel hold over our leaders’ selection? I know that Marxists, domestic and foreign, rig the game; but is it unreasonable to suggest other foreign interests, tempted alike, could do the same? Indirect funding flows from pro-Israel groups into Turning Point—ballot chasing, early voting, silent on rigged machines—tying their initiatives to electoral outcomes. Over 100 million dollars allocated to the effort. Talking points in lockstep with intelligence agencies controlling the modern-day slave trade. And make no mistake, this foreign electioneering serves as an existential threat to our country being “of the people.”

Which people? My people. American citizens.

Charlie Kirk questioned Israel’s censorship on their delayed response to the October 7^th attack. I can only pray he was on the cusp of seeing how foreign interests filling his election coffers to fund deep state talking points on how to “secure” our elections was a form of nonlinear warfare that destabilized us as a nation. Now he’s dead, another vacuum left. A leaked memo confirms that Kirk called for a DOGE like audit of Turning Point just days before he was assassinated. He raised questions over funding sources.

Netanyahu allegedly offered to arrange a massive new infusion of Zionist money into TPUSA via wealthy U.S. donors, in exchange for Kirk toning down criticisms of Israel’s influence in Washington, its Gaza operations, and Netanyahu’s role in pushing for war with Iran. Kirk reportedly rejected the offer, viewing it as an attempt to “bring him to heel” or buy silence. Shortly after Kirk was assassinated, Ben Shapiro pledged 1 million dollars to Turning Point, stating “we’re gonna pick up that blood-stained microphone where Charlie left it.”

Investigative journalist Brian Ference asked,”Maybe we should be transparent about the TPUSA donor list, what foreign countries they represent, where the money went, and why Tyler Bowyer [Kirk’s right hand] cancelled the DOGE style audit and culture change Charlie Kirk ordered as his last wishes?”

Now look at the narratives that emerged from Tuesday’s election results.

Lara Loomer declares, “The GOP lost every major election and now multiple Islamic jihadists are in power. I warned the GOP this would happen if they didn’t start speaking out about the Islamification of America... The GOP has their priorities wrong.”

Not true. We lost because our elections are rigged.

Jack Posobiec opines, “Mamdani has a 12-point lead coming out of early voting. This is what happens when you let the left own the mail-in and early vote game. GOP has to match intensity before Election Day.”

Not true. We lost because our elections are rigged.

Scott Presler admonishes, “If you do not engage in early voting, and if you request a mail-in ballot, you are going to lose everything.”

Not true. We lost because our elections are rigged.

None of these takes on why the GOP had its ass handed to it are correct. What do they all have in common? Silence concerning the CIA/Mossad backed subversion of our elections through use of rigged machines, rigged software, mail-in ballots, and forever voting.

These are all limited hangout narratives. Lies wrapped with truth.

Is antisemitism real? Yes.

Is Islamic extremism dangerous? Yes.

But both threats pale in comparison to the actual soft coup carried out November 3^rd, 2020. We were already overtaken from within. And for some reason, these influencers seem to always deflect from what made it all possible.

The slave master’s election code.

I end with this. Israel has an unquestionable right to exist.

But so does America. Our birthright was purchased by the blood of our Founding Fathers, not foreign lobbyists.

Tucker is a threat, but not the one his critics suggest. He has picked the far more difficult path. To not be the tool of the war machine. And no Christian should be demanding that Tucker repent for having a conversation where he did not yield any portion of his Christian witness.

I heard the man’s interview. He sees all individuals as image bearers of God. He rejects collectivist calls to demonize entire people groups. And I believe Tucker’s interview demonstrated a man willing to overlook personal attacks, a willingness to pursue, reason, and petition someone that needed correction. A man in Nick Fuentes whose social media following rivals that of the entire U.S. Jewish voting population. Saul’s threats to Christians turned to preaching, with one-time Pharisee brothers demanding his death once he was renamed Paul. Nick Fuentes’ road awaits.

Christ words loom large.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43–48)

I type the following slowly: For those I have attacked in the fog of war, quick to accuse, I repent for what those accusations were used for in the Courts of Heaven. Let’s walk away from Satan as he stands using our accusations against enemies we should be praying for. Imagine his smile fading as we walk away, the deceiver standing alone. Pray that Tucker’s accusers let their stones fall.

When I examine my advocacy these past five years, I hope it will be said, that my chief contribution was not accusation. Our Great Advocate’s plea holds. We are saved by His righteousness. His blood. Pray for Israel’s people, yes. Pray for all people. And pray for your enemies. I find it hard to hate someone I force myself to pray for.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

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“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

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An old quote popped into my head. It goes, “Bereft of a solution, I had been granted the gift of a problem.”

This problem is the latest I desire to solve, not without reservation. Tonight, I write not as a professor, not as a lawyer, but as a witness. What follows is the anatomy of a possibility: how Trump could return to the Oval Office again, not from conspiracy, but from the slow, deliberate reassertion of the people’s will—or from the quiet activation of plans already in motion. I walk through every path to Trump’s next presidency. I show the mechanics, the obstacles, the failure points. No slogans. No theatrics. Just the gears.

The biblical pattern comes first, because the Republic was built on it.

Humility marked David as a shepherd, so he could become a soft-hearted King.

Faith marked Moses. That self-aware stutterer split the sea.

Integrity marked Joseph, who refused Potiphar’s wife, and Lincoln, who split rails and told the truth.

Courage marked Joshua, who marched around Jericho, and Paul, who faced the Sanhedrin.

Love for the flock marked the shepherd who lays down his life.

Teachability marked Samuel, who slept by the ark, and Timothy, who studied.

Sovereign selection marked Cyrus, who never knew the God who named him.

Trump fits none of these cleanly from outward appearance. He is loud where David was quiet, rich where Moses was exiled. Yet the pattern holds: God uses the unlikely. And God sees the heart. And in the eyes of God, I believe Trump checks off more of these qualities than he is given credit for. The question is not whether Trump is anointed. The question is whether the Republic still recognizes the difference between anointing and ambition.

The Constitution is not marble. It is paper. Ink. Breath. “We the People” is not a flourish. It is a mechanism. Article V offers two paths: Congress or the states. Precedent shows twenty-seven amendments, seventeen since the Bill of Rights. Speed is possible. The Twenty-sixth Amendment, lowering the voting age to eighteen during the Vietnam War when young men were drafted but could not vote, took one hundred days. The document can be changed. It has been changed. The only question is whether the will is there.

And that’s the topic for today:

The Unfinished Term: How Trump Claims His Next Presidency

Before 1951, no president served more than two terms except Franklin Roosevelt. George Washington, the Virginia planter who led the Continental Army to victory at Yorktown in 1781 and presided over the Constitutional Convention in 1787, set the precedent by refusing a third term in 1796, warning in his Farewell Address of the dangers of permanent power. Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence and third president, codified the two-term tradition in letters and practice. Ulysses S. Grant, the Union general who accepted Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in 1865 and served as eighteenth president, briefly considered a third term in 1876 but was shamed into silence by party elders.

Roosevelt broke the mold with the Great Depression and World War II, winning four terms and dying in office in April 1945. The Twenty-second Amendment was not wisdom. It was panic. The Eightieth Congress, Republican-controlled in 1947, proposed it. The House passed it 285 to 121. The Senate passed it 59 to 23. Ratification came on February 27, 1951. The text is narrow: no person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice. The clause does not bar service beyond ten years through succession. It does not bar non-consecutive terms. It was written to stop another Roosevelt, not to stop the people. But most people agree. You don’t get to be President for more than two elected terms. Let’s walk the path of each argument for Trump being elected in 2028.

The vice-presidential succession gambit begins with Trump running as vice president in 2028 under a proxy such as J.D. Vance, or Marco Rubio. “I’d be allowed to do that,” Trump said aboard Air Force One on October 27, 2025. The proxy wins. The proxy resigns on January 21, 2029. Trump becomes president without election. Lawyers will advise that the Twelfth Amendment blocks it: no person constitutionally ineligible to the office of President shall be eligible to that of Vice-President. It’s right there in black and white. Trump’s two terms would be his undoing. The Supreme Court recoils from chaos. Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Barrett would likely write the majority opinion.

Even Trump himself called it “too cute... the people wouldn’t like that. It wouldn’t be right.” The closest precedent is John Tyler, the Virginia lawyer and tenth vice president who ascended in 1841 after William Henry Harrison’s sudden death from illness thirty-one days into office—a genuine tragedy, not a maneuver—and Tyler, fully eligible, served the remainder of the term without seeking reelection. The gambit dies before the oath.

The Speaker ascension theory begins with Trump elected just before this term expires, no residency required. This theory was given life when then-Congressman Matt Gaetz nominated Trump for Speaker after Speaker Kevin McCarthy was ousted following a motion to vacate on October 3, 2023. The premise is this. The president and vice president die or resign. Trump becomes president. The Succession Act of 1947 requires that the presidency devolves to the next officer “who shall be eligible to the office of President under the Constitution.” The scholars would cry that a two-term president is not eligible under the 22nd Amendment. Lawsuits flood the D.C. Circuit within hours. Even the new Congress balks at coronating a non-president. The trick dies in committee.

The non-consecutive argument is next. It declares that the 22nd amendment counts only for consecutive terms. The years 2017 to 2021 and 2025 to 2029 equal two. 2028 becomes the third, but non-consecutive. The text is plain: “No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice.” Notice how the word “consecutive,” or the phrase “two in a row,” are nowhere to be found. Those looking for a loophole or gaps will be disappointed. The Congressional Record from 1947 is explicit. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge Jr. warned that any interruption, any pause, would invite endless cycles. Representative John W. McCormack countered that the amendment must be ironclad, not riddled with exceptions. The House Judiciary Committee report rejected non-consecutive service in a single paragraph: “The limitation is absolute.” The Supreme Court would need only open the statute and the debates to rule nine to zero, Justice Thomas writing the opinion. The argument is laughable and over in one paragraph.

Then there is the stolen term hypothesis: 2020 was taken. The machines, the mail-ins, the midnight counts—every forensic audit I have held in my hands confirms it. Yet captured media, corrupted courts, and a deceived public still cling to the lie. Sixty rulings dismissed the evidence not on merit but on procedure, timing, standing. Congress certified Biden on January 7, 2021, under duress and darkness. Laches was weaponized to protect the theft. 2025 to 2029 is the rightful second term. 2028 would be the third, but not consecutive. This still presents a problem if the Supreme Court declares you get only two terms. Period. And despite that argument, millions remain brainwashed that 2020 was legitimate. Which brings me to the next argument.

The continuity-of-government argument is the one I carry closest. It declares that Executive Order 13848 in 2018 made election interference a national emergency. On April 1, 2020—April Fool’s Day, though no one was laughing—Trump activated Directive 40 in response to seditious actions within the Pentagon. The TV generals—Milley, Austin, and elements of the Joint Chiefs—were not read in. They were, by my analysis, part of the seditious conspiracy that necessitated the activation. The military never fully transferred power to Joe Biden.

2021 to 2025 was an interregnum, a shadow government. Trump never stopped being the 45th, 46th, and 47th President. With hats and merchandise emblazed with “45-47,” the dash suggesting a pause, skipping Biden entirely—2025 to 2029 is the continuation of his first term. The obstacle is brutal: Article II, Section 1, says the president shall hold office during the term of four years. Biden took the oath. Trump did not, at least not publicly.

An extended single term, 2017 until continuity-of-government is restored to Trump, in theory, does the trick. But this begs the question. What signals the end of Trump’s first term? Military tribunals and the draining of the swamp of the treasonous lot? Seditious conspirators shot by firing squad? The problem this theory presents is that it would necessarily call into question whether 2024 was legitimate. Whether it counts.

Because if it does, you run right back to “the-two-terms-only” problem. Still, I think this is the best theory that Trump has not enjoyed two terms. But regardless of my enthusiasm for this theory, it’s too mind-numbingly incredible for most of America to wrap their heads around. And that is the strongest argument against it.

The repeal of the 22nd Amendment is the only path with teeth in the open. It requires two-thirds of the House, 290 votes. It requires two-thirds of the Senate, 67 votes. It requires three-fourths of the states, 38. Timeline ranges from one hundred to one hundred eighty days. The filibuster blocks it even with 62 Republican senators. If even eight defect, the repeal dies. California, New York, Illinois never ratify.

The path requires a miracle.

A miracle that would need to be paired with a safeguard: the Twenty-eighth Amendment, passed in the same breath, grants a single, one-time third term to the once-in-a-lifetime president who reclaimed our stolen Republic from the abyss. After him, the old ways return—no constitutional limit, only the pre-FDR tradition upheld by secure elections. Tyrants cannot cling to power when the ballot is honest and the count is clean. The people, not parchment, become the final term limit.

I believe in a God that can make all things possible. But for the miracle to work, we must seek His glory, not the tool of His divine appointment.

Second. This path only works in the daylight. I have seen the data. I have held the ballots. I know the mechanics. I call it Operation Clean Slate.

It’s the rollout of a massive declassification of 2020 and 2024’s fraud that reaches the brainwashed in unrelenting fashion. Nation state experts from the inside of the NSA provide unassailable proof. Dominion and Smartmatic executives turned whistleblowers sing about their corruption to avoid the death penalty. Cyber findings reveal where the 6.3 million votes went missing for Kamala Harris, and why she could not match Joe Biden’s ridiculous 81 million vote total that no rational human being could believe. All that’s required is an emergency broadcast that we can’t turn our eyes from. Back to Operation Clean Slate.

Within the next few months, Trump issues the mother of all election integrity executive orders—rooted squarely in his plenary authority as commander-in-chief—mandating hand-marked paper ballots, in-person voting on the first Tuesday after the first Monday, voter ID with signature match, no mail-in except for military and overseas, and hand counts in public view. The National Guard stands ready to secure the primaries and general election.

After the clean 2026 midterms deliver an overwhelming mandate, the Clean Slate Act is introduced and passed in 2027: House 318 to 117, Senate 69 to 31, signed into permanent law on June 30.

The purge comes in November 2026. Turnout reaches eighty-seven percent, the highest since 1876. The House flips to 335 to 100 Republican. The Senate flips to 67 to 33 Republican. Governorships reach 38 Republican. New blood enters: Kari Lake, restored to an office of her choosing after both her governor’s and Senate races were stolen; Sam Brown, the Nevada veteran; and many J6ers who suffered unjustly, including John Strand and Jeremy Brown, who ran for office from jail.

The repeal begins in January 2027 with House Joint Resolution 1: the Twenty-second Amendment is repealed. States ratify in waves. Texas, Florida, Georgia on day one. Pennsylvania, Arizona, Wisconsin in week two. North Carolina, Nevada in week four. Minnesota becomes the thirty-eighth on June 15.

The Twenty-eighth Amendment is ratified. 2028 arrives. Trump runs unopposed in the primary. Gavin Newsom, the California governor, runs for the Democrats if he’s not in jail. Trump wins 520 electoral votes and seventy percent of the popular vote. “I would love to do it,” he said of a third term—or fourth, or unfinished first. “I have my best numbers ever.”

The Republic does not end. It breathes. The chain is gone. The people spoke. Yet humility, faith, integrity, courage, love, teachability, and sovereign selection remain the pattern. We the People can express our desire for Trump to serve again—whether as a third term, a fourth, or the completion of an unfinished first—but we must ask God what He wants. Any scheme will fall apart without His providential blessing. Saul was anointed, then rejected, because he forgot the pattern. A pathway cleared for Trump can be exploited by those who do not love the Lord. Honest elections are the surest term limit. Tyrants are given the boot not by amendment, but by ballot.

One day Trump won’t be here. His energy defies his age. The surest way to secure a lasting and generational victory is to set the stage for more of “the unlikely” to emerge. Those anointed and appointed by God. Those that understand the most valuable thing on Earth is Jesus Christ, and that the government will be on His shoulders.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

Substack:

The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

or GiveSendGo:

https://www.givesendgo.com/ProfessorDavidClements/donate

I responded “you have to focus on the exposure, the good news, and embrace the battle. If we are alive to fight injustice, then it is a good day.” Like Gary, I battle the weariness that comes from a 5-year marathon. But I also have joy. So here is my musing, my daydream, on why I have such joy.

This article is for Gary.

The man in the White House saw the “No Kings” protests, the NGO engineered “millions” with their signs, and grinned. On Truth Social, he fired off videos—AI-crafted, sharp as steel: him in a jet, dumping sludge, or something worse, on marchers to “Danger Zone”; him in a crown, sword raised, Democrats bowing to “Hail to the King.” A meme joked he’d rule till year 9,000, and the faithful roared.

Joking aside, Trump would say “I’m not a king,” voice rough from battle. “I work my ass off to make this country great.” The people nod, knowing the sweat, the fight against the tide.

After fake reporters tried to make a point about Trump having dissenters in the streets, they were undone by two words. “Who cares?” said the White House’s Abigail Jackson, her words a rifle crack.

The White House X account posted Trump and Vance in crowns, Jeffries and Schumer in sombreros: “We’re built different.” Karoline Leavitt calls marchers “Hamas terrorists, illegal aliens, violent criminals,” her words fists, unyielding. The faithful smile, free from fear’s grip. The White House is following the lead of The Lord.

The God who laughs at His enemies. So, now the man they call king joins the chorus.

Psalm 37:13 states:

“The Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming.”

The faithful see it—the critics’ time is short, their noise fading like a spent storm.

Matthew 5:11-12 shines bright, declaring:

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you… Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.”

Insults have come MAGA’s way, but our joy is our shield, laughter our sword.

Because now the laughter is swelling to an all-time high, a great rolling wave crashing through the halls of justice, echoing off the marble and the bars, a divine roll call of the fallen. The indictments, the arrests—they pile up like spent shells on a battlefield, each one a peal of triumph, each name a note in the symphony of the wicked’s downfall. The faithful gather, heads thrown back, and we let it out, a pure unbridled joy given by the Lord Himself, as the enemy’s champions topple one by one.

And that’s the topic for today.

“MAGA’s Anthem of Joy: The Lord’s Laughter Breaks the Enemy”

Let’s start with the witch hunters who hounded the man himself—James Comey, the tall tale-spinner, former FBI chief, indicted September 26, 2025, for false statements to Congress and obstruction, arraigned, pleading not guilty, but the noose of his 2016 shadows tightening—Comey, caught in his own web, the man who leaked and lied, now the liar on trial.

Ha!

Letitia James, the New York AG with her civil fraud hammer in 2023, now indicted October 9, 2025, for bank fraud and false statements, mortgage lies exposed, her multimillion-dollar vendetta boomeranging back, cuffs clicking as she faced the mirror of her own schemes.

Ha! Ha!

Fani Willis in Georgia, the election meddler with her racketeering dreams, her August 2023 case stalled, her ethics probed, now removed from the Trump case in December 2024 for impropriety, her appeals denied September 2025. Willis, is now gone, disgraced, her day done.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Adam Schiff, the impeachment architect, is now under investigation for mortgage fraud, his California senator’s seat stained with the same deceit he peddled about Russia. Laughter bubbles up, deep and full.

John Bolton, once a hawk in Trump’s nest, hurled accusations over the Mar-a-Lago raid, his voice sharp with judgment on classified sins. He painted Trump a reckless keeper of secrets, yet now the boomerang turns, its edge slicing back with his own indictment—eight counts of transmission, ten of retention, a mirror to the chaos he decried.

John Brennan, an architect of the Russia Hoax, his fabricated shadow cast against Trump, built on brittle dossiers and whispered deceit, now crumbles, with his referral to the DOJ a stark reckoning for knowingly making false statements to Congress.

Then the lesser wolves, the grifters and street fighters, fell in a cascade.

Shalomyah Bowers, BLM’s money-grubbing executive, was accused September 2022 of siphoning $10 million in donor funds. A lawsuit rages into 2025. His consulting firm was a piggy bank exposed. IRS audits bit deep. Bowers, the usurper, was brought low.

Sir Maejor Page, the Atlanta BLM fraudster, was sentenced August 27, 2025, to 42 months for wire fraud and laundering over $450,000. Donors were duped for George Floyd’s fight. Cash funneled to guns and glamour. Page, parading his fake nonprofit, is now pacing a cell.

Xahra Saleem in Bristol, the statue-toppler of 2020, was jailed October 2023 for $30,000 fraud. Her BLM fundraiser was a lavish lie. Saleem, the high-profile hypocrite, sat behind bars.

Monica Cannon-Grant in Boston was indicted March 2022 for $185,000 scam with her husband. Violence in Boston was a veil for vacations and rent. Federal fraud charges stuck through appeals into 2025. Cannon-Grant, the activist turned thief, found her nonprofit a noose.

And the Antifa pack: Cameron Arnold and Zachary Evetts, the Texas cell, were indicted October 16, 2025, first-ever terrorism charges for the July 4 Prairieland ICE ambush. Semiauto rifles blazed, fireworks as cover. They were arrested with eight others for attempted murder, material support to terrorists. Their anarchist dreams shatter in federal court.

Elias Cepeda in Chicago was nabbed September 26, 2025, outside ICE Broadview with a loaded gun and four mags. Antifa ties screamed from his posts calling agents Nazis. Cepeda, the rioter-journalist, the teacher of terror, was cuffed and cornered.

Portland’s siege saw 17 federally charged for arson and assaults on the ICE office. Three more were grabbed October 1. Guillotine-rollers and flag-burners were hauled away. Explosives hurled, officers doxxed. Portland’s Antifa hellfire was crushed under federal boots.

Seattle’s 23 anarchists were cuffed May 2025 in Cal Anderson Park, Antifa heartland raided. The Atlanta 23 from March 2023 riots faced domestic terrorism for torching the police site with Molotovs. Each was a spark, the wave crashing full.

Oh, where is your joy my dear MAGA friends?

You think we are done?

Representative Anna Paulina Luna revealed a ledger of power, a stark tally of $294 million funneled into the “No Kings” cause—Arabella with $79 million, Soros with $72 million, Ford with $51 million, Tides with $45 million, Rockefeller with $28 million, and Buffett with $16 million—etched in cold figures on a spreadsheet that spoke of hidden hands. Many of the fake protesters are illegal aliens. And Kristi Noem just announcing 480,000 illegal aliens have been arrested, 70% with criminal stains.

Let’s repeat the figure again. 480,000 illegal aliens have been arrested.

Still, the deep state’s mockery didn’t stop there—it reached my own mockers, those ink-stained scribes who thought their pens were swords. Reuters in 2022 painted me as an election denier, a traveling false prophet. The Washington Post trailed me town to town, whispering of myths. NPR lumped me with the faithful as spreaders of misinformation. They called me evangelist of refusal, a former professor turned thorn. They feared I’d wake the nation to the machines’ whispers, the ballots’ betrayals.

Ha!

And now? Their houses crumble. Bureaucracy bled out like bad ink.

The Washington Post saw a firing spree this month. Over a dozen in Opinion were axed, no copy editors left. A hundred were gone from business in January. Subscribers fled Bezos’ barren pages—$77 million lost in ’23, more now.

Their “democracy dies in darkness” was a punchline in the light. NPR? Taxpayer funds were yanked in April 2025. The faithful exposed their woke whispers. FCC probes in January hit for commercials in the quiet. Funding froze. The people they scorned silenced their voice.

And USAID, their globalist spigot? The faithful dismantled it by July 2025. They axed 83% of programs, canceled billions. Defunding was a divine joke on their gospel. I howled with the faithful, sides splitting. These were the scribes who’d scripted my smears, now scripted out. Their exposures were a mirror to the fraud they chased.

The joy erupted. These were the enemies—the prosecutors turned prosecuted, the rioters reaped, the grifters gripped, the mockers muzzled—who thought to break the unbreakable, to chain the free.

But God laughed first (Psalm 2:4), and now His people joined, the sound a victory hymn, inviting all to taste it: the sweet, defiant mirth of the redeemed, enemies scattered like chaff, their plots dust in the wind. Rejoice, for great is the reward!

The Lesson Forward

To my friend Gary. See the victories and have hope. The lesson is clear: seek the joy of the Lord, and fear dies. Abide in His presence, pray for boldness, sing His praise, and the enemy’s altar crumbles. Joy is not passive; it’s a weapon, forged in worship, sharpened by truth. Going forward, the faithful must hold fast—meet daily in His presence, pray as Paul did in Ephesians 6:19 for fearless words, laugh as God laughs at the wicked. The demons feed on fear, but they choke on joy. Let the faithful gather, sing, and march, not in protest but in triumph, knowing the Lord has done great things.

The streets are quiet now, the “No Kings” protests done. Seven million, they claimed, but protestors on payroll do not keep long hours. Their noise faded fast.

The man in the White House stands firm. The people, the true ones, feel the joy of the Lord and stand with him. Not a king but a warrior, and they laugh with him. The fear is gone, the chain shattered. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and the laughter of triumph is our song.

David K. Clements is a seasoned attorney, former law professor, filmmaker and dedicated advocate for election integrity and constitutional rights. If you think he’s on to something, consider being a monthly sponsor of his independent journalism at:

Substack:

The Professor's Record with David Clements

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson

By Professor David Clements

or GiveSendGo:

https://www.givesendgo.com/ProfessorDavidClements/donate