🇳🇬📰𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐊𝐈𝐃: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝑨𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑩𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓... 𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑲𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 Wizkid was already chasing music before he was old enough to understand what fame meant. Long before Drake. Before Essence. Before sold-out international shows. There was a young boy in Lagos singing in church, recording songs and calling himself Lil Prinz. Nobody knew how far that name would eventually travel.show more

I went to the Nova Exhibit and saw new... footage. I already knew it was religiously motivated, but I underestimated *how* religious it was. Guys, it’s so much worse than I thought. I was watching a ritual. Like the human sacrifice of some ancient tribe. Like Apocalypto. I thought human sacrifice religions were gone and in the past, but no. That’s exactly what Hamas is. Before they invaded, they hyped themselves up by chanting “There is no god but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet” OVER AND OVER. It wasn’t just a few “Allahu Akbar’s”. It was incessant prayers and chanting the entire time. It was non-stop, like this was a holy day and they were at church.. They would scream “In the name of Allah” right before bombing a car. Don’t look away. You need to understand what is happening and what we are dealing with here. “In the name of Allah, we conquer.” Watch:show more

On March 8th, 2024, Riley Strain, a 22-year-old University... of Missouri student went missing in Nashville after being kicked out of a bar. He reportedly left the bar around 9:35 p.m. Nashville police have released a video showing Riley crossing Gay Street at around 9.47pm after leaving the bar. Shortly before going missing, Riley sent a confusing text to a girl he was speaking with. She texted him to see how he was doing. He sent a text back to her saying ‘Good lops’. The girl wasn’t sure what he meant. The bodycam footage below shows Riley talking to a police officer shortly before he vanished. Unfortunately, Riley’s body was recovered from the Cumberland River in West Nashville earlier today. Police said that there were no signs of foul play-related trauma.show more

The ground shook on Iwo Jima in 1945. Smoke... choked the air. Marines were pinned down, nowhere to run. And in that frozen second, a 17-year-old made a decision no one should ever have to make. Jacklyn Lucas was just a teenager. He had lied about his age to join the fight. Too young for war. Too young for what was coming. But there he was, on a battlefield that did not care how old you were. Then it happened. Two enemy grenades landed near his fellow Marines. No time to think. No time to hesitate. Lucas moved. He threw himself directly onto both grenades, pressing them into the sand with his body. He knew what it meant. He knew what would happen next. The explosions hit. Sand, metal, and shock tore through him. His body absorbed the blast meant for everyone else. Around him, Marines who should have been gone were still breathing. He had taken it all. By some miracle, he survived. But survival came at a cost. His body was shattered. Dozens of wounds. Long months of recovery. Pain that never truly left. At 17, he had already given more than most people ever will. He received the Medal of Honor. One of the youngest ever. But medals do not follow you home at night. The war stayed with him. The memories. The weight of that moment. The knowledge of what he did and what it took from him. He lived a long life after that day. But the world moved on. The story faded. The boy who jumped on 2 grenades so others could live slowly became just another forgotten name in history. 17 years old. One decision. A lifetime of scars. And today, almost nobody remembers. 🙏show more

🚨 There’s been a lot of debate about whether... the Conor McGregor fight was fixed… I was there. I saw everything. Here’s my take. I filmed the two videos below as he walked into and out of the stadium. (Definitely take a second to watch them) What alarmed me the most about the first video was that there was no joy, excitement, or confidence as he headed toward the Octagon. As he walked into the sea of people, there ZERO percent hope in his eyes; complete deadpan. We all grew up watching Conor hype himself up before battle. That was NOT the Conor we’ve come to know. I’ve watched Conor make that walk dozens of times over the years. The swagger, the grin, the confidence; it was non existent. That’s what IMMEDIATELY caught my attention. The second I saw him, I knew was going to lose. This was his first UFC fight in five years, yet there was zero hope in his eyes? Just a completely blank expression? After all that 💩 talk? Really? To me, he looked like someone who already knew something wasn’t right. Whether it was his body, his preparation, or both, his energy was completely different. The second video shows him WALK back to the locker room. Yes, without a noticeable limp, he WALKED back with that same hopeless look in his eyes. I know 10+ people who have blown out ACLs, and none of them were casually walking around minutes later. That made me think one of two things: He already knew he was dealing with a serious injury, and that kick simply made it much worse. OR He straight up lied about his health, and planned to do a wild kick to blame the injury on in order to cash the check Regardless, it’s unfortunate how it ended. The highest selling gate in UFC history ended up being one of the biggest letdowns the sport has ever seen. Growing up means watching your heroes become human. I sincerely hope Conor continues his spiritual journey with Jesus, gets back to 100%, and returns one more time because we’d all still pay to see it. Shout out to Paddy for saving the night. What do you think? Do you believe Conor knew about the injury before the fight? Do you believe his tweet? Let me know your thoughts in the comments. 👇🏼show more

She Lived to 117. Scientists Studied Her for Months.... Her Secret Cost $2. Maria Branyas Morera ate three yogurts a day. Every single day, for as long as anyone could remember. She mentioned this to anyone who asked about her longevity, which was often, and it was the kind of advice people receive with a warm smile and then immediately discard, because we prefer our longevity secrets to involve something more exotic than a supermarket dairy aisle. Maria died in Barcelona in 2024. She was 117. Then scientists actually looked inside her, and the smiling stopped. Her gut was packed with Bifidobacterium, a bacterium almost never found in people past 110, and far more commonly associated with infants. Her body had, in the most literal biological sense, not been informed of her actual age. It was operating on entirely different assumptions. Her DNA suggested she was somewhere between 100 and 110. She was 117. Seven years younger on the inside than the calendar insisted, which at 117 is not a rounding error. That is a extraordinary number. But to appreciate why any of this matters, you need to understand what kind of person we are talking about. Maria was born in San Francisco in 1907, the year before the Model T Ford, when Theodore Roosevelt was still in the White House and most of humanity died of things we now treat with a Tuesday afternoon at the pharmacy. Her Catalan father had come to America to make something of himself, and for a while it worked beautifully. He founded a Spanish-language magazine in New Orleans, one of the most chaotic, beautiful, swampy, and gastronomically unhinged cities on the continent, a place that has always operated on the reasonable philosophy that life is uncertain and the gumbo is excellent. Then the family got on a boat back to Spain. Maria fell on deck and permanently lost the hearing in one ear. Her father died of tuberculosis before the coast of Catalonia came into view. He was 37. She was eight. Her mother arrived in Europe with five children, no husband, and presumably very little appetite for what came next. Maria managed. She nursed soldiers in the Spanish Civil War. She outlived Franco, which required considerable patience. She raised three children. She played piano until she was 108. At 113 she caught COVID-19 and dispatched it, which at that point resembles less a medical event than a statement of intent. Then she joined Twitter. Her bio read: “I am old, very old, but not an idiot.” Her last request, before she died peacefully in her sleep, was three words: “Please study me.” The geneticists obliged with considerable enthusiasm, and their subsequent paper in Cell Reports Medicine runs to forty pages of scientists explaining, in the careful and hedged language that science requires, that this woman was remarkable in ways they had not previously encountered and were not entirely sure how to explain. The yogurt, it turns out, had been doing quiet and serious work for over a century. Nomadic peoples of Central Asia were fermenting milk 8,000 years ago, long before germ theory, before microscopes, before anyone had the faintest idea what a bacterium was. They didn’t need to understand it. Their guts understood it. The knowledge was older than writing. Maria understood it too. She didn’t publish a paper. She didn’t launch a wellness brand. She just ate her yogurt every morning and got on with the extraordinary business of being alive. Gandalv / Gandalv ✦ AI-generated image. Not the actual person. Full story:show more

Winston had been returned to the shelter three times... before the Abbotts came for him. He was an old shar-pei, all wrinkles and gray whiskers, about 11 years old. Every family that took him home brought him back within a month. He was too old, too slow, and too set in his ways for most people. One family even said he was depressing to have around. By the time the Abbotts saw his photo online, the shelter staff had almost given up hope that anyone would choose him. Ray and Carol Abbott were in their late 60s and had just lost their own dog after 14 years together. Friends told them to get a puppy. Something young. Something with plenty of years ahead. Instead, they drove an hour to meet the old shar-pei nobody wanted. Carol says she knew the moment she saw him sitting quietly in the back of his kennel. That first night, Winston couldn't settle. He kept getting up to make sure Ray and Carol were still there. He'd walk to the bedroom, look at them sleeping, lie back down, then twenty minutes later he'd do it all again, as if he was waiting for someone to tell him it was over. Finally, Carol patted the foot of the bed. "Come on up, Winston. You're home now." He stood there for a long moment, almost like he couldn't believe she was talking to him. Then he climbed up slowly, turned around twice, and eased himself down against Ray's legs with a long groan that sounded more like relief than exhaustion. For the first time in months, Winston slept through the entire night. The Abbotts say he isn't going anywhere this time. And after being returned three times, Winston finally seems to believe them. Have you ever seen a dog realize it was finally home?show more

Buddy had been going to that beach with the... Miller family for almost 14 years. When he was young, getting him out of the water was usually harder than getting him into it. He would race into the surf before anyone had finished taking their shoes off and keep swimming until somebody finally called him back. The years changed that little by little. His runs became slow walks, his coat faded around the face, and eventually the Labrador who once spent an hour in the ocean was happy just standing where the water reached his paws. A few days earlier, the family had heard the words they had been dreading. Buddy was very old, and he was very sick. The veterinarian couldn't tell them exactly how much time he had left. There was no dramatic countdown, only the understanding that they were probably looking at days instead of months and that keeping him comfortable mattered more than anything else now. Emma was the one who brought up the beach. It had always been Buddy's place. So they drove him there one more time. Nobody brought a ball. Nobody tried to get him excited or make the afternoon into something it wasn't. They walked slowly down to the shoreline and let Buddy decide what he wanted to do. For a while, he simply stood there. The family stayed several feet behind him while Buddy looked toward the ocean. Then he turned and looked back at them. Emma's eyes were already wet. "We're right here, Buddy." The old Labrador held their gaze for a moment before turning toward the water. His first steps were slow. The wet sand gave slightly beneath his paws, and when the first little wave reached him, Buddy stopped long enough to feel it move around his legs. Then he kept going. The water reached his chest, and for a few seconds he stood quietly looking out at the same ocean he'd been running into since he was a puppy. Buddy started swimming. It was only a few strokes, nothing like the long swims the family remembered. His gray muzzle stayed above the surface while he moved slowly through the shallow water close to shore. Nobody called him back. They just walked along the sand beside him. After a short distance, Buddy slowed and turned his head toward his family again. His mother wiped her face. "Good boy, Buddy. We love you!" Buddy stayed in the water a little longer before coming back toward shore. The family dried him off and sat with him on the sand until the evening grew colder. Buddy rested between them while they talked about old vacations, ruined towels, muddy car seats and all the times he'd refused to leave that beach when everyone else was ready to go home. They knew one last trip couldn't change what was coming. That wasn't the point. For one more afternoon, Buddy got to smell the ocean, feel the water around him and look back to find the same family waiting where they had always been. If you could give your dog one last perfect day, where would you take them?show more

Viewers Discretion Advice ..... Ever since my parents died,... there has been one question that has haunted me every single day. It is a burden I have carried in silence for years. Sometimes, I wonder if I was somehow responsible for my brother's death. I have replayed those events in my mind countless times, asking myself if there was another path I could have taken. This is the story. It began long before he died. When my mother became seriously ill, she was rushed to Alimosho General Hospital in Igando, where she spent almost two months receiving treatment. While the rest of us were praying, hoping, and doing everything we could to keep her alive, my brother behaved in a way none of us could understand. He would leave all three gates of our compound wide open. He bought alcohol and soft drinks for people as though he was celebrating. It felt as if he had already accepted, or even welcomed, the thought of losing our mother. My father noticed it too. He was already 78 years old, and the fear in his eyes is something I can never forget. When my mother was eventually discharged from the hospital, you would have expected things to return to normal. Instead, it was as though a dark cloud had settled over my brother. Then my mother passed away. After her death, my father repeatedly told us he believed Wale would one day kill him. That fear didn't come from nowhere. They had fought before, and my father genuinely believed his life was in danger. Then, a few months later, everything changed again. Wale suddenly became very ill. But before anyone knew he was sick, his behaviour had become even more disturbing. Almost every night, he would walk around carrying an axe. One night, I asked him, "Do you want to kill all of us too?" He didn't answer. He simply laughed. A loud, chilling laugh that still echoes in my mind. This continued during the COVID-19 lockdown. Night after night, he would leave the three entrance gates wide open. We had children living in the house. I am a woman, and this was a period when stories of kidnappings, rape, and violent crimes filled the news every day. I begged him to stop. I warned him. I even told him that if he opened those gates again, I would deal with him myself. Nothing changed. He continued threatening everyone while carrying that axe. Eventually, I reached my breaking point. I reported the matter, and the police arrested him. He spent four days in detention. When I saw the condition he was in, my heart broke. Despite everything that had happened, I pleaded with the police to release him because he looked so weak. They eventually let him go. Not long after that... He died. That was when everything turned against me. Neighbours. Friends. Even some members of my own family. Many believed I was responsible because I was the one who reported him. But something one of the police officers said has stayed with me ever since. He looked at me and asked, "What if he had killed you first?" "What if he had attacked those innocent children who were only eight and five years old?" Those words have echoed in my heart ever since. I have lived with guilt for years. I still question myself. Could I have handled it differently? Should I have taken another approach? Or did I simply do what anyone would have done to protect innocent lives? That is why I am sharing this story today. Please be honest with me. If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?💔show more

🇨🇳🇮🇶 This is Ahmed Mohammed Jaber Alkalthoom, a 30-year-old... from Iraq. The US invasion of Iraq in 2003 turned this child from a wealthy family into a displaced refugee. He left his homeland and went to Syria. He was only 9 years old that year. During the war, one of Alkalthoom’s eardrums was ruptured, leaving him with hearing in just one ear. Nine years later, conflict erupted in Syria as well. In the midst of the Syrian war, Alkalthoom not only endured emotional trauma but also suffered physical injuries. While out buying food one day, he was caught in crossfire and was shot. Afterward, Alkalthoom moved between Lebanon and Egypt before finally arriving in Ningxia, China. There, he began learning Chinese and adopted the name “Wang Lixuan.” The people of China were very kind to him, and he became one of the most popular food bloggers on Chinese social media, affectionately nicknamed “Iraqi Lao Wang.” Lao Wang said that when he first arrived in China, he would get startled whenever someone honked their car horn. On his first day, he fell into deep despair because he thought he heard “gunfire” and saw “troops gathering.” However, he quickly realized he had misunderstood. People around him explained that it wasn’t a military operation but students participating in military training exercises. During the 2024 Spring Festival, while recording food videos in Henan, he was eating at a barbecue stall when the sudden sound of firecrackers frightened him. For a few seconds, his eyes were filled with fear. “I thought it was the sound of a bomb exploding.” Once he realized he was safe, he let out a bitter smile, shook his head, and continued eating. Lao Wang says that so far, he has learned to write three Chinese characters: “爱” (love) and “和平” (peace).show more

John Titor showed up online in 2000 saying something... absolutely crazy. He said he was a military time traveler from 2036, sent back to retrieve an IBM 5100. Just to recover a machine. According to him, that old computer mattered because it could emulate legacy IBM mainframe languages that still controlled critical systems in his time. Sounds lame as shit right, well there is a bizarre technical detail. Titor claimed the IBM 5100 had a hidden emulation capability that was never documented publicly. Years later, IBM engineer David Bradley confirmed that this was true. The feature existed, it was intentionally hidden, and only a tiny group inside IBM knew about it. Titor described it before that confirmation ever happened. Either he guessed an extremely well on an obscure internal detail by chance, or he had access to information he shouldn’t have had. No one has offered a real explanation for that. He went on to talk about a slow collapse. Civil unrest. Fragmentation. A limited nuclear exchange. He said these events could not be stopped and that timelines do branch and drift, but only a little. Small changes don’t erase outcomes, they slightly alter how they unfold. He stressed that observation itself changes probability, but not enough to save a civilization that’s already moving under its own momentum. He said time travel wouldn’t exist to rescue us or fix history. It would exist to salvage, debug, and observe what remains after things are destroyed. It fits pretty well with other stories we keep hearing about. Cyclical collapse myths. Project Looking Glass. Civilizations that plan for endings instead of avoiding them. If John Titor was lying, it was technically precise. If he wasn’t, then the idea is that the future is bleak in a way, and that someone has already been sent back to make sure the records survive. Wild!show more

She was 19, riding in a convoy through Iraq,... when one hidden explosion ended her life instantly forever. Carrie French was only 19 years old when she stepped into a war that demanded more than most people ever experience in a lifetime. She served with the 145th Support Battalion of the Idaho National Guard during Operation Iraqi Freedom, deployed to Kirkuk, Iraq, where every mission carried unseen danger. Her role was part of a support convoy—missions that often appeared routine but were never truly safe. In Iraq, even the simplest movement on the road required discipline, trust, and constant awareness. Threats were not always visible. Sometimes they were buried beneath the ground, waiting silently. On June 5, 2005, her convoy moved forward like so many before it. The day carried no warning, no sign of what was about to happen. Then, in an instant, an improvised explosive device detonated beneath or near the convoy. The explosion was sudden and overwhelming, leaving no time for reaction. Carrie French was killed in the line of duty. She was 19 years old—old enough to serve her country, old enough to wear the uniform, yet far too young to have her life end in a single moment of violence. After her death, she was posthumously promoted to corporal, a recognition of her service and commitment. Today, her name remains one among many in a war defined by unseen danger and sudden loss. Most people will never know her story, but for those who understand the cost of service, Carrie French represents a generation of young soldiers who stepped forward willingly—and never returned home.show more

He didn’t run at first. He didn’t play. He... didn’t even understand what was happening. He just stood there… frozen. Like he was waiting for something bad to happen again. “Alright buddy… you’re free now…” “No more cages… no more testing…” Freedom. But freedom doesn’t mean anything… When you’ve never felt safe before. So he walks slowly. Careful steps. Nervous eyes. Still unsure if this is real. “He doesn’t even know what freedom is…” And you could feel it in the room… Everyone was watching him heal in real time. Then he stops. He sees her. A quiet woman sitting near the wall. She doesn’t call him. She doesn’t move fast. She just whispers… “Hi handsome…” And everything changes. That pause… That look… That moment of silence… That’s trust starting for the first time. “…he chose her…” He walks toward her slowly. Then faster. Until he jumps into her arms like he already knew her forever. “Oh my God… you picked me…” Because sometimes rescue isn’t about saving a life… It’s about teaching a soul how to feel safe again.show more

Nearly 2,000 years ago, in China there was an... exceptionally beautiful dance known as the Seven Plate Dance (七盘舞). Around seven plates and drums would be placed on the ground, and the dancer would move and leap among them, light as a sparrow, with graceful steps and flowing sleeves. It was a vivid display of the elegance and delicacy of Han dynasty dance. In Three Kingdoms: The Beginning, there is a fascinating scene: Cao Cao (曹操) had just been reprimanded by the Grand General He Jin (何进) and left in anger. Yuan Shao (袁绍), who was still his friend at the time, grew worried and visited Cao's mansion. But what Yuan Shao sees is not a furious or dejected Cao Cao. Instead, Cao Cao is joyfully playing the flute. Beside him, an elegant lady was dancing among the drums, performing the Seven Plate Dance. He had just been humiliated, yet moments later, he was composed enough to play music while a graceful dance unfolded before him. That mindset already feels unmistakably "Cao Cao."" And here's the question: Can you guess the identity of the woman dancing beside Cao Cao?show more

I went to both Jasmine Crockett’s and James Talarico’s... final election Eve rallies. These events could not have been more different. My experiences at both made me convinced of who was going to win tomorrow. Crockett’s event was a “Community Conversation with Congresswomen Crockett, Pressley & Grijalva” at New Faith Church. About ~100 people attended. Talarico’s event was a “Take Back Texas Tour: Rally in Houston.” About ~1,000 people attended. Crockett’s event started nearly an hour later. The pews were half full, and the energy just wasn’t there. I don’t think Crockett’s event was designed to be energetic, but it just wasn’t inspiring. The speakers and the crowd were older, and at one point, one older speaker said “Tomorrow, use Google and Social Media to get your friends to go out and vote.” What does that even mean? Some members of the media left before the event was even over. Crockett’s message was constantly negative against Republicans. There was a lot of focus on identity, too. On how it was really cool that most of the people on stage were congressWOMEN. I would say that crowd of ~100 was 90% black and skewed older On the other hand, Talarico’s event was packed. He had several speakers speak before him to rally up the crowd. The energy was there. When Talarico came on stage, everyone went crazy. Talarico gave his classic stump speak that he’s given at other rallies, but you could tell he was hitting his stride. Talarico’s crowd was more diverse and included a mix and white and Latino people (probably 45% each). I would guess the rest was 5% black and 5% Asian. Talarico didn’t lean into identity, but his message was one of love, and his biggest applause lines were that he was going to win. After the rally concluded, they announced that Talarico would meet anyone and take pictures with anyone that wanted to. The line went out the door. I was in the first half and was able to meet him, but it probably took hours to get through everyone. My conclusion: the late momentum is 100% with Talarico. His campaign is a well oiled machine. There were volunteers with yellow vests everywhere, and they were very aware that the Kalshi odds had them having a last minute surge. My on the ground experience explains why Talarico has jumped 18% from 67% to 85% in the last 24 hours on the Kalshi odds. Momentum means everything in a primary, and let me tell you, James Talarico HAS THE JUICE. I think he wins by double digitsshow more

The day Marie brought her daughter home from the... hospital, she thought the hardest part would be getting some sleep. Instead, she kept watching Tank. Tank is a Great Dane, all 140 pounds of him, and for six years he'd been the baby of the house. Her husband kept saying he'd be fine, but Marie had read all the warnings new parents read online, and she couldn't stop wondering how a dog that big would understand something so tiny. She should've trusted him. From the first afternoon, Tank seemed to give himself a job. Every time they laid the baby down in the nursery, he followed them in, sniffed carefully near the crib, and settled beside it like someone had put him on the night shift. Pretty soon, Marie started finding him there at all hours. If the baby fussed at three in the morning, Tank was already standing by the crib before Marie even made it down the hall. Her husband joked that they didn't need the baby monitor anymore. They already had a 140-pound one. What surprised Marie most was how gentle he made himself. Tank moved through that little room like he was afraid of bumping the crib, and when the baby cried, he never got worked up. He'd rest his chin on the rail, give one slow wag, and wait for Marie like he was reporting for duty. This morning, Marie stood in the doorway and watched him lower himself to the floor beside the crib with a long sigh. Her daughter was asleep, and the room was so quiet Marie could hear her breathing. "You're going to look after her," she said softly. "I know you are." Did you ever have a dog who seemed to know exactly who needed protecting?show more

My faith journey! I grew up Baptist but was... disfellowshipped from the church I grew up in in 2014 due to being in an interracial relationship. We went to different denominations until the missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on the door. I had been studying anti-Mormon and anti-JW literature and apologetics so I was ready to debate. I did fairly well, missionaries left discouraged but left me with a Book of Mormon. I decided to read it and underline mistakes or doctrinal errors. I was heavily convinced by the time I reached 2 Nephi 25:26 that this was true and I needed to reach out to the missionaries, so I decided to get baptized and my fiancé did too. We were married a couple of weeks later in the chapel. We received a blessing that next year and ended up with twins but we went inactive before we could be sealed. In 2020, my wife and I separated due to my ego and selfishness. I wanted to experience the world. I wanted the fast life; the women, parties, and recognition. It was empty happiness. The happiness always faded and I went to bed alone with no kids or wife. The alcohol always wore off. We ended up getting back together in the fall of 2020 before we finalized the divorce. She was a believer, I considered myself agnostic. She couldn’t attend church because we lived 40 minutes away from the chapel and it was a huge burden to carry 3 kids to church by herself (our 3rd child was born in 2018). On February 1, 2024 one of my best friends took his life. I was devastated. I had nothing to lean on. This guy was very strong and we worked out together all the time. He showed no signs of depression or self-harm. If someone that strong could get so low that they’d take their own life, what hope was there for me? I gave my life to Christ that day. I didn’t go back to church until a month later after his funeral. We went to Little Rock on the Saturday of his funeral. We stayed the night and went to a park with the kids to play. A stranger walked up and started talking to us. He asked if I was a member for some reason. I told him I used to be, but struggled to reconcile science and religion. He was a scientist! He studied non-Hodgkin lymphoma at UAMS. He really helped to increase my faith and I started reading scripture again. We went back to church that next week and was baptized about a month and a half later, rejoining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’m preparing to receive the Melchizedek priesthood now, and ultimately to receive my endowment and be sealed to my family. No matter how far you’ve strayed, or how far way you get from God, he is always waiting with his outstretched arms ready to welcome you home. Check out my new TikTok: mglunsford #LDSx #Christianshow more

I walked into the children's home with one name... written on my heart. Ava. I had seen her photo weeks before — her soft smile, her almond-shaped eyes, the quiet strength in them. I told myself I was ready. Ready to be her mother. Ready to build a life together. But when they brought her into the room, she wasn't alone. She was holding someone's hand. A little boy stood beside her — same age, same shy eyes, fingers laced tightly through hers like he was anchoring himself to the only safe place he knew. "This is Lucas," the staff member said gently. "They've been inseparable since the day they met. If we try to separate them, they both fall apart." I watched them for only a few minutes, but it was enough. Lucas never let go. And Ava never asked him to. When she laughed, he looked at her first. When he shifted nervously, she squeezed his hand. It wasn't just friendship. It was safety. It was belonging. It was love in its purest, childlike form. And in that moment, I knew something deep and undeniable: If I took Ava and left Lucas behind, I wouldn't just be adopting one child - I would be breaking two hearts. So l asked the question that changed all of our lives. "What would it take to bring them home together?" The caseworker looked surprised. Then hopeful. Then emotional. The paperwork doubled. The responsibility doubled. The love? It multiplied in ways I can't even describe. On the drive home, they sat side by side in the backseat, still holding hands. Not afraid. Not anxious. Just calm. Like they knew. I walked in planning to adopt one child. I walked out with two souls who refused to be separated — and a family I didn't know I was meant to have. Sometimes you go looking for one miracle. And God places two in your hands. 💕show more

This is the story the media seems to have... buried and forgotten. Back in March 2026, a late-night trip to a Waffle House in Richardson, Texas turned into absolute chaos when gunfire erupted after an argument between two groups escalated into violence. According to police, multiple people in both groups pulled out guns and started firing. Seth Jackson was not there looking for trouble. He had just gotten off work late and stopped at the Waffle House to grab food with friends. When he saw several people attacking one of his friends, he ran toward the altercation to help. He never even made it within 15 feet. Before he could reach them, Seth was struck by a bullet. The shooting left the young man catastrophically injured and fighting for his life. Investigators later announced three arrests (one was a minor) connected to the violence surrounding the incident, and officials have stated that additional arrests are expected. But the shooter who nearly killed Seth is STILL free. The charges don’t seem match the crime. (Engaging in Organized Criminal Activity) The person responsible for permanently altering this young man’s life still has not been publicly identified or taken into custody. Meanwhile, Seth has spent the last year fighting through hospitals, surgeries, and grueling rehabilitation. And here is the breaking update the media should be talking about right now: Seth is HOME. He is continuing rehabilitation. And Friday night, Seth Jackson graduated WITH HONORS. In a wheelchair. He rolled himself across that stage himself. This young man worked two jobs before the shooting. He had already been accepted to the University of Houston. He had his future ahead of him before a senseless act of violence changed everything in seconds. Yet despite all of it, despite the pain, despite the rehabilitation, despite the life-altering injuries, he crossed that graduation stage with honors. That should have been national news. Instead, this story was buried and forgotten while the person who pulled the trigger remains free. Richardson PD says the case remains active and that they are “committed to seeking justice for Mr. Jackson and ensuring that those responsible are held accountable.” They also say more arrests are coming. For Seth’s family, justice cannot come soon enough.show more

For me, a small gesture in this brief video... shows what kind of person Pope Francis was. Last summer, Pope Francis was reported to have used an Italian-language slur for LGBTQ people and made some negative comments about gay priests. It seemed so out of character with the person I knew, had met and corresponded with, and who had always expressed his desire to care for LGBTQ people pastorally. Not long after these reports, in June, I was at the Vatican, having helped to arrange a papal audience for comedians. A few days before that audience, I met with the Holy Father at the Casa Santa Marta and we talked about his comments. For me, it was hard to bring up the topic, but a cardinal friend of mine encouraged me. But Pope Francis seemed eager to talk about it and told me he knew many holy and faithful gay seminarians and priests, and encouraged me to share his comments publicly, which I did (after asking him a few times exactly how to word it). And it turned out that he didn’t realize how offensive the slur was and said he’d never use it again. After that, the conversation turned to other, more relaxed, matters: the US church, the Synod, and so on. It happened to be the 25th anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood and so before leaving Casa Santa Marta, I knelt down and he blessed me. As always, it was a great gift to be with him. A few days later, at the papal audience for comedians, along with the rest of the guests, I was invited up to greet the Holy Father in the Sala Clementina, which was captured in this video. You can see that I thank him for inviting me and my laughing because we joked about my being a "famous American comedian." I start to leave, since I know he’s busy, but then he gently pulls me back and surprised me by thanking me for our conversation a few days earlier. He said that he needed to hear that and was grateful for our conversation and then gave me a thumbs up. Afterwards, I thought: Who does that? What world leader thanks someone for a challenging conversation? For me, that small gesture says a great deal about Pope Francis’s humility, openness and freedom, as well his willingness to listen and learn. Weren’t we blessed to have him in our midst?show more