I never talk to liberals. Every so often I need to remind myself why.



I never talk to liberals.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration. I do talk to liberals. I know extended family members who are liberals. I go to the store, and I am sure some of the people I talk with are liberals.

I genuinely forget that there are people who still believe in 'the wage gap.' It’s insane.

But I don’t talk politics with liberals. I don’t work with liberals. I don’t suffer under a deranged HR regime whose raison d’être is making sure no employee even considers thinking some politically subversive thought that may, God forbid, go against prevailing liberal orthodoxy.

A quiet place

I live in a nice little town on Lake Michigan and it’s about 50% liberal, but they aren’t really so crazy or kooky. They are fine. People in this area of the state are pretty polite, so these liberals are just other people on the street. They aren’t in my face. I don’t live my life under a liberal framework, muzzling my every thought so I don’t offend the people around me.

I’ve been on the right almost my entire adult life. I don’t have a secret political identity that I need to guard so that I am not socially ostracized or left without a job. My kids are homeschooled, so we aren’t forced to interface with the general population or current brainwashing program of a public school. I’m just not really around liberals that much. I spend my days basking enjoyably in the conservative discourse. It’s very nice.

I live and work in the conservative world. All the debates I am involved with are intra-conservative ones. All the intellectual work I do in my mind is under the presumption of a conservative worldview. All the critique I feel or find myself discussing with others is critique of our own side. They are questions we are working out together so that we can be stronger. Intellectual teamwork. The liberals are just “the other side” or “those people over there,” and I don’t really devote any of my time considering what they are doing.

Picking my battles

I have to say my isolation from liberals has a positive impact on my mental health. It’s not only because I don’t have to deal with navigating the ever-changing labyrinth that is the progressive code of right and wrong. It’s because all my professional and personal efforts go toward helping strengthen our side. I don’t waste any intellectual firepower engaging with lost causes. It’s enriching to know your work builds.

While it’s very nice and I would never trade my position with anyone, I am certainly not champing at the bit to swim in the waters of modern liberalism. I am aware that I have some emotional blind spots due to my professional isolation from liberals.

Reality checks

Sometimes I forget just how insane things are over there. I genuinely forget that there are people who still believe in “the wage gap.” It’s insane. Every once in a while I will wade into the waters or hear a story, and it smacks me in the face.

“Wait, are you kidding me? These people really believe this? They really do?”

“Oh yeah, they do.”

I forget just how widespread the insane delusions are over there. I lose sight of just how deep the far-left creep has penetrated.

Of course I know it intellectually, but I don’t feel it. I can tell that sometimes in the back of my mind, I am referring to my conservative Democrat parents of 2003 and thinking they are somehow representative of anyone over there in the current era. But I know it’s delusional. In reality, my conservative parents of 2003 are more like staunch social conservatives of 2025.

This is what happens when you are far away from something. When you are isolated, you forget how things really are. It’s related to the same impulse we have to forget the bad memories but remember the good ones. I know that I suffer from this forgetfulness due to my glorious distance from the hysterical liberal framework.

Belly of the beast

I realize that my distance from liberals has softened my emotional response to them somewhere in my mind. I often find myself thinking about them — the opposition — in purely intellectual terms. I think of them earning a C- in class rather than a big, fat F. Or maybe they are like some distant tribe in the Amazon rainforest with strange and disturbing ways that aren’t compatible with our civilization. I enjoy the comfort of intellectual distance.

But then I inevitably have a wretched face-to-face encounter with 2025 liberalism, and my calm, zen-like attitude evaporates. I feel a surge of emotions; suddenly I'm disgusted, irritated, and angry. This is what people deal with every single day at work and every single day on the street. No wonder people are so angry all the time. I would be too.

I don’t even know how perpetually angry I would be if I had to deal with degenerating 2025 liberalism all the time.

It’s really interesting how distance obfuscates truth. How my isolation from liberals is great for my general outlook yet also threatens to delude me into a softer emotional response. I’m not eager to surround myself with liberals, trying to convince people who have no desire to be convinced. I’m going to stay right here in the heart of the right, working to make our side stronger. But maybe every once in a while I need to venture out into the belly of the beast just to remind myself how bad things really are and how miserable it must be to be a liberal in 2025.

“There but for the grace of God go I.”

Dystopian future as misguided safety push sends drivers to 'kill switch jail'



Imagine your 2026 car shutting off mid-drive because it thinks you’re drunk or otherwise impaired.

That’s real! And you can find it in Section 24220 of the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act — a mandate still alive despite fierce pushback, set to raise car prices and spark debate.

Proponents of the so-called "kill switch" say they just want to make the roads safer. But at what cost?

Consider the possibility of misreadings and technical errors. It's bad enough when a glitch keeps us out of an app or prevents us from sending an email. Now, imagine having the autonomy and freedom that comes with your car being taken from you at will.

No restart

Keep in mind that there are no reset or restart protocols outlined in the law. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration hasn’t finalized these rules yet, so any description of how a car restarts remains speculative based on current tech trends and the law’s intent.

No wonder they call it "kill switch jail." And unlike regular jail, you don't get to plead your case.

This is not just a gadget; it’s a computer judging us behind the wheel. When the bill passed, X erupted — drivers posted memes of cars as “nanny cops,” while safety groups cheered it as a lifeline.

This all depends on passive alcohol monitoring — a new and relatively untested technology in which no breathalyzers are required. You simply breathe normally and sensors in the cabin will tell you if you're good to go.

It's like having a traffic cop in the passenger seat, administering a continuous DUI check. In other words, you're guilty until proven innocent.

Freedom vs. safety

A 2022 survey by the American Automobile Association found 62% of Americans worry about tech overreach in cars, yet 55% support drunk-driving fixes.

This clash — freedom versus safety — is why Section 24220’s so divisive. As of March 31, 2025, it’s barreling toward reality. Can it be stopped? Will it save lives or just pad profits for insurance companies? Or is it going to stop drivers from buying a 2026 model car? We don’t need more nannies in our cars. Here’s the latest and what it means for your next ride.

Section 24220, tucked into the 1,100-page Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act — signed by President Biden on November 15, 2021 — requires every new car sold after 2026 to include “advanced impaired driving technology.”

This means cameras, sensors, or breath detectors passively monitoring your driving to detect if you’re drunk, distracted, or drowsy. If flagged, the car could stall or refuse to start. The law cites 10,142 alcohol-impaired driving deaths in 2019, aiming to tackle a $44 billion problem from 2010 data — adjusted to roughly $60 billion today with inflation, per the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The pitch was: Save lives and cut costs.

Murky details

The details are murky at best. The tech could include the Driver Alcohol Detection System for Safety funded by the NHTSA, based on three possible technologies targeting an .08 blood alcohol concentration cutoff: a touch sensor on the steering wheel sniffing alcohol through your skin; a touch sensor on the push-button ignition; or the aforementioned breath scanner in the cabin.

This information would be enhanced with other "evidence" gleaned from your car eavesdropping on your speech, monitoring your eyes through infrared sensors and cameras hidden in the dash or rearview mirror to detect a possible issue.

Who decides if you need to pull over? A computer decides. Again, welcome to “kill switch jail."

Disputed accuracy

Tests in 2023 claimed these systems could operate at 85% accuracy, but a Virginia Tech study found that something as simple as cold weather or the driver wearing gloves could disrupt it.

Cameras, like those in Tesla’s driver-monitoring system, watch your eyes — slow blinks or glances away trigger alerts. Volvo’s 2024 XC90 flags fatigue, but the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety reports a 10% false-positive rate in dim light.

These aren’t sci-fi toys; they’re real, flawed, and racing toward your dashboard. As of 2024, NHTSA has not defined the rules, with a possible three-year delay if the tech isn’t ready. How about defunding and removing this rule?!

Massie leads the charge

Rep. Thomas Massie of Kentucky (R) has led the charge against the mandate, calling it a “privacy nightmare” and “federal overreach.” In November 2023, his amendment to defund Section 24220 won 199 Republicans and two Democrats but failed with 229 to 201 votes, when 19 Republicans — including Rep. Nancy Mace (S.C.), Rep. Mike Garcia (Calif.), and Rep. Don Bacon (Neb.) — joined 210 Democrats to keep it alive.

Mace, a safety hawk after pushing a 2022 DUI crackdown in South Carolina, sees it as a legacy win, while Garcia’s district hosts tech firms like Qualcomm, hinting at job promises. The Alliance for Automotive Innovation — representing General Motors, Toyota, and Ford — lobbied $12 million in 2021 to shape the bill, per OpenSecrets.

Democrats lean on NHTSA’s 2022 “Vision Zero” pledge for zero traffic deaths by 2050, but critics like Sen. Rand Paul (R-Ky.), in a 2023 speech, warned of a “surveillance state on wheels.”

In February 2025, Massie grilled Michael Hanson of the Governors Highway Safety Association in a House hearing, demanding proof of this working tech. Hanson admitted it’s untested at scale, unlike seatbelts, which were standard in cars by the 1960s before mandates, or ignition interlock devices, which are breathalyzers that lock the car if you’re over the limit and cut repeat DUIs by 70%, per Mothers Against Drunk Driving.

Massie’s still fighting, but time’s running out: 2026 models are being built starting this summer.

Duffy to the rescue?

As of March 31, 2025, NHTSA’s rules remain unpublished. This is now in the hands of Secretary Sean Duffy. It can push it to 2027 with a progress report to Congress if tech lags, and with 2026 just months away, automakers are scrambling.

A 2022 repeal attempt — the Safeguarding Privacy in Your Car Act (S.4647) from Republican Sens. Mike Rounds (S.D.), Mike Braun (Ind.), and John Cornyn (Texas) — sits stalled in committee. NHTSA’s January 2024 proposal floats camera options, eyeing production in 2025 — maybe. Without a repeal, this kill switch still looms over consumers.

An expensive proposition

The cost will hit drivers hard, as adding cameras, sensors, and artificial intelligence to vehicles could tack hundreds of dollars onto each of the millions of new cars sold yearly in the U.S. This equals a $3.4 to $8.5 billion annual jump, straight from buyers’ pockets.

By 2030, 80% of cars will be connected. Expect more shop visits for failed sensors and software glitches — which will, in turn, increase the cost of insurance and ownership.

The NHTSA says this driver-monitoring tech could save 9,400 lives a year and erase a $60 billion burden from drunk driving: from lost jobs, hospital bills, and wrecked cars. In 2021, insurance companies paid out big for alcohol-related crashes, according to the Insurance Information Institute, but your premiums didn’t change — they just kept the extra cash. Hospitals didn’t lower bills, either. That $60 billion saving goes to them, not you.

Will it work?

So will it work? Drunk driving took over 12,000 lives in 2021, mostly from drivers over the legal limit, contributing to over 42,000 total traffic deaths — a 16-year high. Tougher laws and ignition interlock devices, such as breathalyzers that lock the car, have cut deaths by nearly a third since 1990, with millions installed, per Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Still, 2021’s jump sparked this push.

What about these high-tech in-car cameras? A 2024 study by the Swedish Transport Agency found Volvo’s Driver Alert Control system dropped fatigue crashes 20%, yet 15% of alerts were false. While this is a good example, glitches and privacy fears could tank drivers' trust in these new technologies. Data on your speed or habits could leak to insurers (jacking up premiums), advertisers (targeting you with ads), or the police. NHTSA denies a police kill switch, but hacking or future laws could shift that. Supporters argue NHTSA's estimated 9,400 lives saved justify it — if it’s flawless, which it definitely isn’t yet.

The 2026 deadline — set to sync with new models — gave automakers five years to get it done. By 2026, or 2029 if pushed, every new car could carry this new technology, raising prices and watching you like Big Brother. Massie has been applying pressure, but without a Senate breakthrough, expect that couple-hundred-dollar hike, no insurance relief, and a car that might misjudge you, sticking you in "kill switch jail."

So is this safety or overreach? What’s your take?

Lessons from the ice storm



I live way up in Northern Michigan. Not quite the Upper Peninsula but almost. Closer to Canada than Detroit, in what many would call the “middle of nowhere.”

We get a ton of snow storms — 125 inches of snow per year is the average. Weekends of 18 inches falling from the sky aren’t really that uncommon. “It snows every single day up there,” in the words of my father.

It was smart to trust our guts and leave when we did. In our modern world, we tend not to listen to our instincts. We think we are too smart for them.

But we don’t get too many ice storms. The temperature doesn’t tend to hang out around 32, accommodating the wicked mix of rain and sleet required to create any meaningful ice problems.

Frozen, creaking, snapping

Last weekend was different. The whole northern tip of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula was decimated by the worst ice storm we had seen in over a century. Everything shut down. Everywhere lost power. The streetlights were black. Gas stations unable to pump. Towns completely dark. Electrical substations were out of commission, hundreds of electrical poles had collapsed.

We lost power Saturday night at around 8 p.m. We assumed the lights would be back on in a few hours.

We were wrong. In the middle of the night, lying in bed, we listened to the frozen trees outside our window. The wind blew, and thousands of little cracks echoed in the air. The ice-covered branches sounded like mini machine guns rippling over our roof. Every once in a while, we heard a creak, a violent snap, followed by a low thud rattling the house.

It was eerie, lying there in the quiet, waiting for the next snap, wondering if one of the great trees in the back would end up coming down right through our roof.

The wind wasn’t terribly loud. There was no howling, only cracking. Being aware of the fact that the entire region was dark when viewed from outer space made those moments in bed that night all the more ominous. The whole wooded land dark, frozen, creaking, cracking, snapping.

Time to go

By noon the next day, things seemed to be getting worse. More branches came down, taking electrical wires with them. The electricity wasn’t coming back soon. We decided there was no reason to sit around and wait. We decided to pack up the kids and the $500 worth of meat in our chest freezer and head four hours south to stay with family in West Michigan.

With just under half a tank of gas, we needed to find a station as soon as possible. We found a Mobil with power in Boyne Falls. A line of cars stretched out of the parking lot. After 10 minutes, a worker came and told us they were out of gas.

We bought some ice inside, packed the coolers of meat full, and got back on the road. Fifteen miles farther south, in Alba, we found another station with power. This time they had gas. With a full tank and coolers full of ice, we were on our way.

Our neighbors stayed. They kept us updated with texts over the next few days. We told them to go over and raid our pantry, use our towels, and take anything they needed.

The great birch

Our power finally came back on Wednesday night, four days after it went out. Many suffered incredible damage. There are some in the country who still don’t have power. Thankfully, our house is relatively fine, though the great birch in the back is destroyed, and the maple lost some big branches, too.

With everything in life, there is always something to learn. Some lesson, some insight, some reflection. The smartest thing we did was leave when we thought we should leave. Four days without power isn’t a Herculean test, but it isn’t enjoyable when you are in the middle of an ice storm in the middle of nowhere. No one would really choose to do it.

I’m a workaholic. I’ve got too many deadlines and too many projects. If we would have stayed, I wouldn’t have gotten any work done. In addition to being out $500 dollars worth of meat, I would also be catching up for the next two weeks. Staying would have only made things worse for everyone.

It was smart to trust our guts and leave when we did. In our modern world, we tend not to listen to our instincts. We think we are too smart for them. They seem like hocus pocus when compared against the spreadsheet. We explain them away as being irrational or illogical. And of course, sometimes they are, but sometimes they aren’t.

This time, they weren’t.

Fragile systems

It’s incredible how fragile our modern systems are. We need electricity to do our work. We need electricity to keep our food fresh. We need electricity to call on the phone. We need electricity to get our gas. We need electricity to go anywhere. Just a few days without this thing, and the world comes crashing down.

Three hundred years ago, the same storm wouldn’t really impact life so much. The horses would keep marching, the letters would keep moving, the fire would stay burning, work would get done. No food would go bad, no systems would melt down. The only thing that might happen would be property damage due to a falling tree.

Today, if the electricity stops, life stops. It’s fascinating and worrying how fragile we, and our modern world, are. We are skating on egg shells.

The great, beautiful birch in our backyard is destroyed. The branches cracked at the top and buckled down. The old tree is drooped over our deck. We are all sad about it. We loved that tree. The long branches, the beautiful leaves, the white paper-like bark. Lying in the hammock on long summer days, watching the sky under the shady protection of the old beauty.

It’s the same story for all the big birches on our street. All those tall, lanky giants were taken down by the ice. Their strong trunks made no difference. Their long branches — the ones that only come with age — were too vulnerable.

The young ones around town are fine. Without any fatal cracks, they will bounce back soon as the weather warms. Their branches were too small and light to be broken under the weight of the ice. They’re OK. That's how it's supposed to be.

We need to start trusting our primal survival instincts again



“Never judge a book by its cover.”

“There’s some good in everyone.”

Our grandparents would look at a scenario like this and decide, correctly, that the visitor on their doorstep was not going to get an answer or an invitation.

“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

“Always give the benefit of the doubt first.”

Some of those sound like good advice to you, don’t they?

But are they, actually, good advice? Are these truisms enough moral instruction for children? Is that all they need to know before you send them to fly out of the nest?

Stranger danger

Or, do they need to hear these, too?

“Don’t talk to strange adults.”

“Be on your guard around suspicious looking people until you determine they’re safe.”

“Don’t automatically open the front door just because someone knocked.”

“Remember that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

The West, and America in particular, have been the subjects of a psychological manipulation project for at least 60 years. It’s been successful at dulling our God-given natural instincts. It has convinced us not only to ignore but to actively distrust our intuition.

It has done this by reframing our normal instinctive responses as “bigotry” and “cold-heartedness.”

The big lie

I’m not proposing a grand, conscious conspiracy from a government or shadowy organization. I don’t think this project is a fully plotted out “plan” by criminal masterminds.

Instead, I think that cultural forces — activist groups and politicians, media, universities — have collectively bought into a cultural push that benefits their interests at the cost of yours. They make money and accrue cultural power from your cooperation with their project of convincing you that you have to “be nice” and “be empathetic” to whichever favored group they promote. Whether this is fiscally, emotionally, or physically safe for you doesn’t matter.

In short, you’ve been lied to, and you now believe the lie.

You think you’re “racist” and “a bad person” when you cross the street to avoid a group of five young black men at night. You’re a “xenophobe” if you want illegal aliens deported and don’t wish them housed in the motel next to your daughter’s school. You’re “transphobic” if you don’t want grown men in lipstick traipsing through public bathrooms or your daughter’s college locker room.

This is a leftist mindset, but it does not only afflict the left. Just as the majority of women today, including many on the right, see the world at base through a feminist lens (men are responsible for women’s problems), many on the right are just as susceptible to turning off their intuition out of fear of being seen as “mean.”

Who goes there?

Let’s look at a real-life example. To understand this, you should watch this short video of a doorbell camera. It’s only 40 seconds long, but you need to see it in order to follow where I’m going next.

The scene is a front porch in a well-kept suburban neighborhood. A black woman and her young daughter walk onto the porch and ring the bell. The woman speaks to the camera and claims she wants to borrow a cup of sugar. Getting no response, she speaks more:

“You don’t have to answer, but, uh, I know you can hear me. I can hear you on the inside.”

Note that.

Still getting no response, the woman then stops pushing the doorbell and starts physically rapping on the door. The video ends at this point.

The variation in how people respond to this video concerns me. It is quite obvious that something is off about this woman’s behavior, yet many seem to believe it was the homeowner being “rude” or “weird” for not answering the door. That’s a direct reversal of reality.

Just a cup of sugar?

Wilfred Reilly, a college professor and podcaster (disclosure: I know Wil online, have appeared on shows with him, and I like and respect him), reacted with a post that claimed the video showed “the most sane and conventional interaction” and that right-wing people reacting badly to it were “panicking” at something totally benign.

“This is literally a neighbor asking to borrow a cup of sugar,” Reilly wrote.

No, it’s not. And there was nothing “sane and conventional” about this situation.

Let’s go through the “tells,” the alerts to potential danger, throughout this 40-second video.

  1. The neighborhood appears to be solidly upper-middle class. The woman who shows up is dressed in pajamas, a T-shirt, and has a shower cap on her head. She claims to be the homeowner’s “neighbor,” but this is unlikely (possible, but unlikely). Yes, I’m afraid that the fact that she’s black, and that she is dressed that way, does make it less likely that she lives in the neighborhood. Noticing this is not “racism”; it’s just plain, obvious common sense.

Therefore, we already have reason to believe the door-knocker is not being honest.

  1. Is it really likely that a “neighbor” you have never seen before would come over to your house to borrow a cup of sugar? Really? To onlookers like Wilfred Reilly, this seems normal. To me, it seems like a ham-fisted use of an old cliché by someone working an angle.
  2. Notice the attitude of entitlement and implied aggression in what the door-knocking woman says. “I know you can hear me,” and “I can hear you on the inside.” Does that sound like something that a kindly neighbor would say if she were hoping to get a favor from you? Would you take that tone with a stranger from whom you were asking for help? It’s simply not believable, and with all due respect to my friend Wil, this shouldn’t be difficult to discern.
  3. It’s possible that the woman really was home alone with her daughter and had to bring her daughter along to ask for sugar to finish making cookies. But it is not likely. It is more likely that this chick is working an angle for money and that she uses her daughter to appear harmless and to melt hearts. None of us can know for sure, but the “I’m sure she means well” interpretation is not a rational choice in this scenario.

Neutered intuition

There would be no point in writing this column decades ago, because the majority of people had common sense.

They had not yet been convinced that their instincts were false and that their intuitions were nothing but bigotry. Our grandparents would look at a scenario like this and decide, correctly, that the visitor on their doorstep was not going to get an answer or an invitation.

But modern Westerners have neutered their own intuition. IQ has nothing to do with it. Brilliant people, average people, and dim people alike have shut down their gut responses because we’re all afraid of being accused of being “discriminatory.”

It’s worth thinking about how “discrimination” simply means “making a choice between multiple options.” Modern Western culture — woke culture — doesn’t want you exercising judgment or making choices. Do we really think that’s to our benefit?

This tableaux on a suburban porch did not turn into anything truly dangerous or noteworthy, of course. But it could have. And the attitude taken by people who think the homeowners were in the wrong is the same attitude that gets nice people taken advantage of or killed.

'The Gift of Fear'

It’s easiest to see in the extreme cases. Travis Lewis, a black man, killed Martha McKay’s mother and cousin in 1996 (the McKays were white). Under the spell of “there’s some good in everyone,” Martha McKay befriended her mother’s murderer.

Twenty-six years later, Lewis killed Martha McKay, too, in the same house in which he killed her mother.

Terminal naivete and gullibility will get you and your family hurt, exploited, or killed. Modern Americans, particularly white Americans, suffer badly from this. Some are only going to learn at the very last moment, when they realize the nice man they wanted to help is about to pull the trigger in their face.

You don’t have to be one of these people. I have a prescription for a cure: Read Gavin de Becker's groundbreaking book "The Gift of Fear."

De Becker, who grew up in a violent and unstable home, has become the premiere personal security expert in the world. "The Gift of Fear" takes readers through real-life scenarios, illustrating the “tells” you should watch out for, guiding you away from self-endangering thinking that shuts down your gut instincts.

Read it before it’s too late.

Catholic craft brewers take a stand for gun ownership



One of the Midwest’s more popular microbreweries is showing its support for the Second Amendment with the release of its first India Pale Ale — 2nd Amendment New England IPA.

Illinois native Jeff Alcorn and his sons Trevor and Cameron started Tridentine Brewing Co. as a hobby, naming it in honor of their strong Catholic faith.

Not wanting their beer to get lost in a sea of IPAs, Tridentine went with a style focusing on 'more traditional and maltier expressions.'

When their home brews proved popular, the family partnered with Madison, Wisconsin-based Karben4 Brewery to launch their first commercially available beer in October 2024. Since then, the company has surged in popularity, building a fan base of 20,700 X followers and 6,400 Instagram followers and landing a major Forbesprofile in November.

Brewing anticipation

Trevor describes 2nd Amendment as a refreshing, mellow, and juicy New England-style IPA that is more approachable than contemporary IPA products. Its patriotic and pro-gun-rights branding reflects the company’s stances on these issues.

“We actually canned the batch on Tuesday, April 1, and it started to hit some stores, but it wasn’t widespread across all the locations we’re at in Wisconsin,” says Trevor. “I didn’t get the social media stuff up until late Saturday, but it’s getting out there more and it's pretty well received. People loved the artwork even before we brought the beer to share, and now that people have had the beer, the reception is pretty good.”

2nd Amendment is the brewery's fourth release. Like its predecessors, it tells a story through its packaging — an eye-catching can designed by Catholic illustrator Chris Lewis.

God-given rights

Tridentine's Quartermaster Jerry Blonde Ale pays tribute to late family patriarch Jerry Alcorn, who served in the U.S. Navy, while Cristeros Mexican Lager honors Catholics martryed by Mexico's socialist government in the 1920s. Dies Irae Imperial Stout alludes to the final judgment at the end of time. The company expects to launch a fifth beer this summer.

While 2nd Amendment may seem more explicitly topical than the other beers, Trevor says the message is ultimately timeless.

“The timing didn’t have to do with politics per se, with what's going on. This is just our strong belief in the God-given rights we have as Americans and supporting those. That’s the driving force behind it, and it ties into the patriotic theme. We want to drive home the message that being patriotic is not just a holiday thing. For us, honoring and saluting our veterans and our country is something we want to do year-round.”

Trevor also wanted the can's artwork to stress that the Second Amendment applies to all Americans, not just those in the military.

"We wanted to show ... a regular farmer," he says. "Someone who wasn’t in a Continental Army uniform [so we could] highlight the reason for the Second Amendment: for our right to firearms to defend ourselves and our community if needed.”

Tridentine Brewery Co.

A patriotic IPA

As for making it an IPA, Trevor says it just made sense. Given that IPAs control a 46% share of the craft beer industry, demand has been high for the company to branch out of lagers, stouts, and blonde ales.

Not wanting their beer to get lost in a sea of IPAs, Tridentine went with a style focusing on "more traditional and maltier expressions" seen in IPAs from New England — a perfect fit for the patriotic theme.

Tridentine Brewing Co.’s motto is “Brewing beer for the greater glory of God," and this is reflected at all levels of the company's work. Its social media presence is outspokenly Catholic, the family prays before brewing sessions, and the brewery was even blessed by a priest.

Tridentine beers are currently only available in Wisconsin. The company's contract with Karben4 and state liquor laws have slowed the rollout to other states. Still, the company hopes to expand distribution, starting with the Alcorns' home state of Illinois and eventually to other states. Given the passionate evangelization the beer inspires online, Tridentine seems well equipped to hit the target.

Introducing 'Quick Fix': Practical answers to all your car questions



Here in California, cars have always been king. Just look at the respect with which we refer to our freeways — it's never just 405, it's the 405, as a much a unique monument to human ingenuity and aspiration as the Great Pyramid of Giza.

And yet California is in many ways the worst place to be a driver. It's hard to beat the view from the PCH, but it's liable to turn into a parking lot at any given moment. And onerous emissions standards — which we're happy to impose on the rest of the country — can make staying street-legal a tedious slog.

This dichotomy applies to the auto industry in general. As drivers we've never had more choices, but those choices can seem disappointingly similar and restrictive — especially if you want a good, old-fashioned gas-guzzler.

We have cutting-edge technology at our disposal, but too often it gets in the way of the driving experience instead of enhancing it.

As for buying a car, every day it gets more and more like going to the dentist. It's disorienting and time-consuming, and you never know how much it's going to hurt.

Fortunately we have Lauren Fix to ease our pain. The longtime industry journalist and automotive expert is here to help with Quick Fix, a regular feature in which she answers your car questions — just send them to getquickfix@pm.me.

— Matt Himes, managing editor

************

Welcome to Quick Fix, where I attempt to solve your car quandaries, one question at a time.

After decades covering the industry, I've developed an immunity to the hype and double-talk surrounding cars. It doesn't hurt that I'm a mechanic and automotive entrepreneur as well.

I want to use that experience to help you — whether you're buying a car, shopping for insurance, or dealing with the myriad other complications of being a driver in 2025. Send me your questions, and together we can cut through the BS and get back behind the wheel.

That's the fun part, after all.

Today's question comes from Matt in Whittier, California. He writes: "After driving a used Tesla Model X for a few years, my wife is dead set on upgrading to a new Model 3. My question is: lease or buy — especially now that Elon's allowing lease buyouts?

"Bonus question for you: I doubt it will work, but can you suggest any Tesla alternatives I can pitch to my wife?"

Check out my answers in the video below — and send me any car questions you need answered to getquickfix@pm.me.

Ways to celebrate each day of Holy Week with your family



Whether or not you do egg hunts and chocolate bunnies, what’s often called Holy Week or Passion Week (the week before Easter) is a wonderful time for your family to absorb (or return to) the true story of that week — reading, discussing, and meditating on these passages:

Palm Sunday — the triumphal entry

Holy Monday — Jesus clears the Temple

Holy Tuesday — Jesus returns to Jerusalem

Our Savior had a lot to say during this day’s activities. Read one or more of these longer passages today:

Holy Wednesday — Judas plots to betray Jesus

Maundy Thursday — the Last Supper (the last Passover)

This day is so rich in meaning. It commemorates the Last Supper, Jesus’ amazing example of washing the disciples’ feet, and His “new” commandment that they love one another as He had loved them.

If you have an opportunity for your family to participate in a Passover meal, this can be a powerful lesson to help your children understand the significance of the ultimate Passover lamb. Because of that lamb, that year’s Passover, Christ’s last on earth, was the last Passover, period. Jesus is our Passover now.

  • Read Matthew 26:17-35, Mark 14:12-31, and/or Luke 22:7-38
  • Read John 13–17. In these five magnificent chapters, John records the Savior’s careful messaging to His disciples before His crucifixion. I suggest reading slowly and mindfully because these words are incredibly rich.

Good Friday

When I was younger, I wondered why we called it Good Friday. After all, it seemed like the worst Friday, or the worst day, in history.

But for human beings, it is very, very good. Sobering, to be sure. But this is the day we commemorate God sacrificing Himself so that we can have a path back to Him.

How much better does it get than that?

Reflecting on that sacrifice is utterly soul-enriching.

You might consider fasting on Good Friday and prayerfully meditating on the following passages:

Many churches offer a Good Friday service. Go.

And if you have kids at home, that Good Friday service can kick off an impactful Easter weekend, as it does for a former neighbor of mine, Kate Watson.

When Kate, her husband, James, and their children return from their Good Friday service, they gather all their flashlights and lanterns and candles and even headlamps — which they will need until Easter Sunday morning.

Because from Friday night to Sunday morning, the Watson house is dark. They have no overhead lights or table lamps (they even tape the light switches so nobody forgets and flips them on). They also tightly close the blinds and curtains so no daylight can penetrate.

Kate explains more here:

We go without our lights, to the degree that we can, from Friday evening (when Christ's body was placed in the tomb), until Sunday morning (when the women found the tomb empty) to remind us that for those hours so many years ago, the world was without its Light. The Light of the World was entombed, of His own volition, separated from the Love of the Father, experiencing a darkness and death that we will never have to endure. If you have been in my home, you know it's all open curtains, lamps everywhere, just as much light as I can get. The darkness of this exercise feels oppressive every year, yet so deeply significant. When we turn the lights back on we FEEL the freedom and joy and light of Christ's resurrection! We also see all that we missed in the darkness — our messes, like our sins, are so easily ignored in the darkness. But, goodness, when we live in the light we see so much more

The Watsons eat by lantern light. Kate Watson

I deeply regret that I never heard of this idea until my kids were long gone. What a vivid exercise to bring home the most profound of biblical truths!

“Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life’” (John 8:12).

But that’s not to say the kids don’t think it’s fun, too:

Kate Watson

Holy Saturday — the great Sabbath

The day between Good Friday and resurrection day is a day of waiting and contemplation (and a day of darkness, if you’ve decided to try the idea above).

That Sabbath, the week that Christ died, was the last time God required Sabbath keeping, because Jesus is our Sabbath rest now, as this article clearly explains. There’s a lot of misunderstanding on this issue.

For anyone who believes Christians must keep the Sabbath, quite a few scriptures say otherwise, including Colossians 2:16-17 and Romans 14:5. More on that here. (Also, to be clear, Sunday was never the Sabbath, but the early Christians began meeting that day to commemorate Christ’s resurrection on the first day of the week.)

If you’re going to do Easter baskets, Saturday would be the best day to have your kids fill their own Easter baskets with rocks! Look at this wonderful idea here or a variation here. I can’t think of a better reason to do Easter baskets!

Saturday night is also a great time to make resurrection cookies with your children — read all about it here.

Easter Sunday — resurrection day!

Yes, turn on all the lights! Christ is risen, He is risen indeed!

Enjoy those Easter baskets!

Go to church (go early, parking will be a bear).

Revel in a family-and-friends egg hunt before your celebratory Easter brunch or dinner.

Go to sleep marveling over the truth that one day, we will see this glorious Savior face to face — this Jesus who paid for each and every one of our sins so that we could live in His holy, perfect presence forever.

Blessed Easter to all!

On growing out of 'edgy' entertainment



I don’t really care about “really dark” TV shows or “screwed up” movies anymore.

They're supposed to rattle me or provoke me, but they don’t. They just bore me. I’m completely uninterested.

It’s almost as if these stories are created by people who have never really reflected on the deeper nature of life and tragedy.

In my 20s, I went through the typical phase of thinking shows and movies that “pushed the limit” were interesting, or at least might be worth watching. I don’t remember when exactly I grew out of that phase, but I can say confidently I am completely out of it at this point. I really just do not care about dark, screwed up, edgy, boundary-pushing television or movies anymore.

Method to the madness?

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t one of these people who are decidedly into shows or movies that push it as far as one can take it. But I wasn’t against it, either.

I thought there may be a reason why shows need to push you, shock you, or disgust you. That something more interesting was going on. That by brutalizing your eyes and sensibilities, they were preparing you for some kind of deeper truth or revelation that can only be understood in that kind of presentation.

Even if it seems confusing at first, there is a logic to the thing. Just wait. The story can only be told in this form, and you cannot extract the meaning without the brutalization. I was open to that theory of it all.

I’ve been trying to figure out why exactly I stopped being interested in this kind of thing. I can’t really pinpoint a year it happened. I can’t really figure out an exact reason, either.

Aging out

For a while, I thought it was because I became a parent. It would make sense. You are thinking about your kids all the time, so you end up transposing stories and all of that onto your thoughts about them, and it forces your tastes to change. You don’t really want to watch this garbage anymore.

I thought that could be it, but upon further reflection, I don’t think it is.

I think it happened as I aged.

Aging doesn’t happen in a linear fashion. Yes, our official age according to the United States government and every other legal entity on earth changes according to a universally recognized system of days, weeks, months, and years. And yes, it is all linear. But that’s not the kind of aging I am talking about.

I am talking about growing older, becoming more mature. It’s more than just a number. We go years without aging very much, and then, suddenly, we age a bunch over a few months. Something happens — sometimes something good, but more often than not it’s something bad — we are pulled through the ringer, and when we come out on the other side, it feels like we are different people in a bunch of ways we can’t really put our finger on. We aged.

After aging just a little, experiencing some things that weren’t exactly great, getting beat up a little bit here and there, and coming to realize that life is more fragile than I previously thought, I kind of stopped being so enthralled with the pointlessly vulgar and masochistically depressing television shows that seem to be everywhere.

Taste trumps trickery

My disinterest in this style of media isn’t just due to sentimentalism — though it would be just fine if it were — it’s about taste.

As I mentioned earlier, I originally thought there was a method to the madness and that the brutalization was necessary for the message, or question, of the art to be communicated. But the truth is, most of it’s not really art. It’s not really that thoughtful, either.

But it appears to be thoughtful mostly because it’s really easy to mass produce an endless stream of brooding and unsettling video imagery today. It’s a trick, basically.

Low brightness, strong contrast, minimal dialogue, strings scraping long chords every few minutes. Everything in Aeolian mode. Nihilistic characters who are disturbed, selfish, psychopathic, and generally unlikable. Pointlessly shocking details that convey a “really dark” sensibility with no resolution. You can crank that out over and over again and people eat it up.

It’s all so obvious and heavy-handed. It’s so predictable and boring. The drive toward crudity isn’t a necessary part of uncovering richer insights into the human experience. It’s just a pointless, desensitized form of slop that rots one’s brain and taste.

Blunt and obvious

It’s almost as if these stories are created by people who have never really reflected on the deeper nature of life and tragedy. Or maybe they haven’t ever developed any kind of nuanced emotional sensibility, so the only way they have to portray “feeling” is in the most blunt and obvious way imaginable.

I think that gets to the bottom of it. Having aged just a little bit has shown me some things about myself and life that are more sensitive and too delicate to portray, or exist in concert with, such grotesque storytelling.

Encountering such blunt, needlessly provocative eye-poking just grates on me at this point. It doesn’t shock me. It doesn’t provoke me. It doesn’t do anything they want it to do.

It just irritates me. Bores me. It feels like listening to a crappy garage band after hearing a string quartet play Mozart.

Morning sickness, Italian-style



My wife and I were in Italy when we found out she was pregnant with our first. We were so happy.

Then the nausea came. And it was bad. Real bad. It turns out my wife experiences something called hyperemesis gravidarum during her first trimester.

I remember standing in the bedroom telling her in quite forceful language, 'You have to eat. There is no other option. You need to eat to survive.'

Basically it’s extraordinarily terrible morning sickness. We didn’t know it was a thing at the time. It was only years later and another kid later that we realized there was a name for it and that what she experiences isn’t just normal morning sickness.

The technical jargon doesn’t really matter, though. That there is some designated medical term to describe her grueling morning sickness isn’t really relevant to any of this. The point is that she gets it bad, real bad. And we had no idea what we were in for when we found out we were going to be parents.

Italian for 'bagel'?

It was February. We were staying at an Airbnb in a small town named Loiano about 40 kilometers from Bologna. We were there for three weeks. Every day I would walk to the little grocery store in search of anything my wife could stomach. She felt like she was going to vomit constantly. All day, all night. That’s how it is for her during the first trimester. All she wanted was a bagel, but there are no bagels in Loiano. The closest bagel was probably somewhere in Paris.

I walked to the pharmacy a couple of times to try to get her some medicine to alleviate the sickness. Pitifully fighting through the Italian language, I tried to communicate to the pharmacist what we needed. He gave me some stuff a couple of times, but it never seemed to work for my wife.

She didn’t want to eat at all. I remember standing in the bedroom telling her in quite forceful language, “You have to eat. There is no other option. You need to eat to survive.”

Bed rest

She didn’t leave the Airbnb for 10 days. My job was basically running around town trying to find food she could eat, medicine that might make her feel better, returning the rental car to Bologna, working, cleaning, and trying to figure out some way to make her anything other than miserable.

Everything was melting down. I remember one night her telling me that she didn’t know if she could handle a plane ride because she felt so terrible. We sat there trying to brainstorm any kind of solution. “How are we going to get back home?”

I think about that trip a lot. It was a turning point in our relationship. It was the last trip we took as people without kids and the first trip we took as people with kids. It was the first time we had to really work together in a different, more adult kind of way.

We had to solve these problems together in a way that we never had to before. It was the first time I really saw her in a bad state. Really worried. Really just not herself.

Welcome to the team

It was our first introduction into what your life is like as a parent. You are part of a team in a way you never were before. You’ve got to get the job done, and your feelings matter less than they used to.

We have different feelings about that time. My wife hates thinking about Loiano. When I dare utter the name, she winces in pain. All she remembers is being sick. I have different memories. It was hard, of course. I was busy doing everything I could on my end to try to help her while also getting my work done. Someone needs to pay the bills. But I wasn’t suffering like she was.

I have fond memories of walking in town to get more groceries in hopes of finding something she could stomach. The low winter sun. Long shadows. The brown grass and bare branches. The quiet streets in this small Italian town.

Standing on the balcony at 2:30 a.m. after I had finally finished my work, drinking bourbon, watching the lights of a car heading down the small country road far in the distance. The big, bright moon overhead.

Growth mindset

That was six years ago. I’ve grown a lot since then. I feel like a different person in a lot of ways, because I kind of am. I said that time was hard, but it wasn’t really. It only felt hard because I was pretty weak. I wasn’t used to solving real problems. Now, after having a couple of kids and managing a lot worse stuff, Loiano would be child’s play for us.

But we can’t go back and live life again with the knowledge we have today. To look back and see our past worries as simple or our old stress as quaint is a good thing. It’s a blessing to remember and realize that we were different then from what we are today. We’ve grown, learned, lived, and aged. What wonderful gifts those are.

Death is inevitable — getting stiffed by the funeral home isn't



She was 78 years old, and her husband had dropped dead in the living room the day before she called me. Mrs. Schultz was trying to come to grips with reality; her husband’s death wasn’t yet fully real to her even though she was planning his funeral.

“We moved down here to Florida last year after talking about doing it for decades,” she said in her Bronx accent. “I think Martin was surprised to die so suddenly.”

The price for the same burial service, all in one town, can vary by 200% to 300%, depending on which funeral home you choose.

We both waited a beat and then shared a chuckle. Laughter and tears go together.

Death and taxes

It was Mrs. Schultz who was surprised and grieving and a little lost. She called me for help planning her husband’s funeral. At the time, I was the director of a nonprofit consumer group dedicated to helping grieving people plan funerals that were both meaningful and affordable. Americans spend more than $20 billion a year to bury or cremate our dead, and a single full-service funeral can easily run $10,000 or more.

But it doesn’t have to cost that much, and it doesn’t have to be the frightening and mysterious transaction that funeral planning has become for so many Americans.

Readers, I want to have a family talk with you. If you’re middle-aged, grab your mom and dad. If you’re elderly, grab your mid-life children. This is the conversation I know that none of you want to have, but I promise that you’ll find yourself feeling relieved when we’re done.

The death of a loved one is the most stressful event that will happen in your life. There’s no reason for the funeral planning to add to the grief. The unknown is what scares us the most, so let’s take the mystery out of it. I’m going to give you an overview of the most typical funeral, burial, and cremation options and how to avoid overspending in a time of grief.

Mortuary mythology

Mortuary mythology: that’s what I call the set of beliefs most adult Americans hold about death, dying, and funerals. Having spoken to tens of thousands of grieving people over the years, I’ve learned that almost everything we think we know about the process is wrong. And it’s wrong in a way that can cost you money you don’t need to spend.

Very few things are required by law when it comes to burying the dead. In every U.S. state, the only legal requirements are for a physician or coroner to certify the death and file a death certificate, for certain paperwork like burial or cremation permits to be filed, and that the body be buried, cremated, or donated to anatomical science.

Really. That’s it. Everything else is your choice. And that includes whether or not to embalm or use a casket.

Embalming is extra

No law in any U.S. state requires embalming simply because someone has died. You do not need to embalm the body to bury it — or even to view it.

Some states do require some kind of preservation if a body is not buried or cremated within 24 hours of death, but embalming (with a price tag of $600 or more) is not the only option; refrigeration can be far more economical.

One other note: Don't let anyone tell you embalming is necessary to “prevent disease"; contrary to popular misconceptions, dead bodies are not a source of disease transmission.

No casket, no problem

Caskets are not required by law. No law in any state requires a coffin as a condition of burial. Most cemeteries will require them, but so-called “green cemeteries” bar them and prefer old-time burial in just a shroud.

No special casket, even if it’s marketed as “sealed” or “protective” will prevent the body from decomposing. None of them will keep air, water, or earth out.

Neither will any vault or outer burial container (a box for the box that most cemeteries require in order to keep the cemetery level when heavy mowing equipment is used that could crush the casket). Spending extra on a “sealed” box is just throwing cash into a hole in the ground.

Know your options

You can arrange a funeral, burial, cremation, or a memorial service, in almost any combination. Or you can have no ceremony at all and opt for a “direct” cremation or burial. You may also donate a loved one’s body to a medical school.

There are some “new” ways of doing these things you may have heard about, but they’re merely variations on the same basics.

Green or “natural” cemeteries prohibit embalming and metal caskets, preferring to bury the dead naturally as our ancestors did before the late 19th century, with an eye to conserving the land.

You may have heard of “water cremation,” sometimes referred to by brand names such as “Aquamation.” This is the process of using a base (the opposite of an acid) to quickly reduce the body to liquid. Just like with flame cremation, you get the “cremated remains,” the sand-like bone fragments, returned at the end of the process.

Your rights under the 'Funeral Rule'

Your best protection as a funeral services consumer is something called the “Funeral Rule.” This is a regulation from the Federal Trade Commission that gives you, the customer, the following rights.

By law, funeral homes must:

  • Give you price quotes by phone on request;
  • Hand you a printed, itemized price list, just like a menu at a restaurant, when you meet with a funeral director to make arrangements; and
  • Ensure that the price list allows you to choose "a la carte." Funeral homes may offer you all-inclusive packages, but they may not require you to buy a package.

The Funeral Rule does not yet require funeral homes to put their price lists online, but consumer advocates hope that will change soon.

Why does the Funeral Rule matter to you? Because of the shocking variation in price between funeral homes for essentially the same service.

Shopping around

You’re used to finding modest price variations on new cars or new phones depending on the vendor. But we’re not talking about that. The price for the same burial service, all in one town, can vary by 200% to 300%, depending on which funeral home you choose.

Let’s look at a real-world example. The nonprofit Funeral Consumers Alliance (I used to direct the organization) is a network of volunteer organizations that does cost-comparison surveys of funeral and cremation prices to make shopping around easier for you.

We’ll use the latest price survey from the Funeral Consumers Alliance of Western Massachusetts as an example.

Suppose we live in the region and are looking for what's called “direct cremation” and “immediate burial.” Direct cremation is the simplest, least expensive service. There’s no embalming, no casket, and no ceremony. It’s just the retrieval of the body from the place of death, the paperwork, the cremation, and the return of the remains to the family.

A reasonable price for this service is somewhere around $1,200, give or take, and depending on your area of the country. Immediate burial is the same simple service, it just ends at the cemetery instead of the crematory (but remember, cemetery costs are extra).

Consider the incredible price spread for this one service in one region: Depending on which local funeral home you use, you'll be charged anywhere from $1,600 to $5,275.

This is why shopping around ahead of time when you are not under pressure is the most effective way to control funeral costs. Most families simply use the same funeral home generation after generation without ever comparing services and costs. As a result, many overpay, whether they’re looking for something simple or a more involved funeral.

Your turn

Anne called Funeral Consumers Alliance about seven years ago. Her mother had died, and she didn’t know what to do. The only thing her mother had said about her last wishes was, “I want to be buried next to your father, everything else is up to you.”

But in the intervening years, mom had moved to Wyoming, while Anne lived in Alabama. Dad was buried at the old church cemetery in Maine. The cost of having her mother’s body prepared and flown across the country for a distant burial was not something Anne could afford without jeopardizing her kids’ tuition and the mortgage.

Anne was crying with worry that she was letting her mother down. I suggested that, if her mother could be there now, she probably would not say “Yes, Anne, I want you to skip paying the mortgage and pull my grandkids out of school so that you can afford something expensive and complicated for my dead body.”

The relief was immediate. “You’re right,” Anne said, “My mother wouldn’t want this. She’d understand.”

My friend Michael’s father, Irving, paid for his funeral ahead of time (not usually a good idea). Irving sealed up the paperwork in an envelope labeled, “To my son Michael only to be opened AT MY DEATH.”

I begged Michael to disobey his father and open that envelope early. I knew that his father believed they paid for everything but that Michael would find out otherwise when death came. Michael refused.

Then, his father died. As I feared, there were thousands of dollars in unwelcome and unexpected cemetery fees that could not have been prepaid. This made his father’s death much more difficult for Michael.

I relate these stories in hopes of convincing you to have an open, candid family discussion about funeral planning now, while everyone is still alive. It’s not morbid or weird; it’s loving.

We are all going to die, and we will all leave behind people who miss us and mourn us. Death should be a time for families to come together in grief and remembrance. We don’t have to add financial stress to emotional pain.