They tell you to move on. They tell you to accept it. They sneer that you are undermining democracy merely by demanding that democracy prove it is real.

Let us state the obvious with crystalline clarity. A republic does not endure on liturgical incantations recited by news anchors and bureaucrats.

It endures on evidence, transparency, and the immutable right of the citizen to inspect the machinery by which power is conferred.

In 2020, when tens of millions of Americans watched a presidential election mutate into an un-auditable, procedurally elastic, statistically grotesque spectacle, the response from the political class was not inquiry but suppression.Not review but reprisal. Not investigation but excommunication.

One can scarcely imagine a more brazen inversion of democratic legitimacy. Those who asked the questions were declared the enemy, while those who demanded silence were celebrated as defenders of democracy. This was not merely an election. This was a confidence heist.

Once upon a time, it was relatively easy to spot an email scam.

They were flawed. Bad grammar, broken formatting, poor spelling and typos, and a sort of odd cadence often referred to as "Engrish" exposed them for what they were: attempts to extract money from "rich" Americans, most commonly by people outside America.

Often the scams seemed reasonable, except when they weren't, as with the famous Prince of Nigeria scam: send me a couple thousand dollars so I can release my $1.7 million account, and I'll split it with you.

And for a little while they worked, until people's reason caught up with their greed.

They were profitable for scammers, who could send an email to thousands of people in hopes that maybe ten would fall for the scam. And they did. But more scammers got into the business, and as the market grew crowded, the suckers grew scarcer. The scams had to get better in order to turn a profit.

So they did.

There’s something genuinely funny going on in the United Kingdom right now.

The British government’s Prevent office, housed under the Home Office (think Department of the Interior, but allergic to dissent), partnered with a media nonprofit called Shout Out UK (like a PBS focused on preventing "radicalism") to come up with a clever new way to re-educate British youth.

The concern, as always, was “radicalization.”

They thought the solution was inspired: a choice-based video game. Kids like games. Games involve decisions. Decisions shape values. What could possibly go wrong?

Thus Pathways was born, a government-funded interactive morality play designed to gently shepherd British children toward being properly antiracist, properly accepting, and properly enthusiastic about the ever-increasing number of migrants reshaping their country.

Civics class, but fun. And digital. And corrective.

As part of this effort, the designers introduced a character named Amelia, a cute, purple-haired, vaguely goth girl who carries a Union Jack and talks about Britain being for the British.

She was meant to function as a warning, a living illustration of how nationalism can look attractive, even charming, and yet be dangerous to the impressionable youths of Britain who may not have fully internalized the idea that Brexit is bad and they are to obey their elitist overlords.

What they did not anticipate was that the public would take one look at adorable, charming Amelia and decide she was the good guy.

One thing that’s overlooked in Rules for Radicals – even by Alinsky himself – is the key role played by what I call “Alinsky Republicans” or “Alinsky conservatives.”

These are the people who, despite their professed opposition to everything Alinsky and his book were trying to achieve, act as the catalyst – the trigger or fuse – for the climactic events leading to victory for radical activists.

These are the defeatists, the doom trolls, who, after being frozen and personalized in good Alinskian fashion, simply give up, throw in the towel, and sell out the cause they supposedly represent.

They act as a kind of seed, in the same way that dust particles seed rainclouds, around which other weak sisters can congregate until enough come together to bring down the entire system and allow the barbarian hordes in.

They’re always around, waiting in the background.

They’re always active, always ready to surrender.

They’re active today.

This week, the New York Times published an article called "Americans Are Turning Against Gay People," and if you're wondering whether the paper has completely lost touch with reality, the answer is yes.

The piece opens with some gushing about a show I’ve never even heard of — and I suspect you haven’t, either — called Heated Rivalry, featuring gay hockey players, suggesting that its success proves "acceptance of queer love continues to grow."

The authors, Tessa Charlesworth and Eli Finkel, lament that this is not the case.

"We wish we could share that optimism," they write, before citing research showing that acceptance of gay people peaked around 2020 and has "sharply reversed" since then.

I’d be willing to bet that most people haven’t heard of Heated Rivalry, but even so, it’s irrelevant.

Gay characters have been on television and in movies for decades, often as leads.

These days, you’d have a tougher time finding a show or movie that doesn’t feature LGBTQ characters.

If you watch game shows, you’ve probably wondered if they have quotas for LGBTQ contestants, and if they’re required to boast about their sexual orientation.

Nevertheless, the article expresses shock that anti-gay bias reversed course after two decades.