Kelly Kent

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Robert Mueller died last night. He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving. He had integrity. And tonight the President of the United States said good! I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good. I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word. Good. This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather. That is what is happening. That is what has happened. The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming. America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner. And the church said nothing. Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary. Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him. Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart. JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn. These men are something more painful than monsters. They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again. Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing. Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less. That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him. And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it. When Trump is gone, they will still be here. Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous. That morning is coming. Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say. He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true. He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad. The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it. That is all it needed to be. A man died. His family is broken open with grief. That is all it needed to be. Instead the President said good. And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸 Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

Billy Crystal pays tribute to the late Rob Reiner and Michele Singer Reiner at the 2026 #Oscars.

@tjm585 @DavidAFrench Horrific. 😢

I served with this man. He was a diligent, hard worker and just a good man. A professional officer. He died saving his students. I am just sad.

Talarico: I am tired of being pitted against my neighbor. I'm tired of being told to hate my neighbor. It's been more than ten years of this kind of politics. Politics as bloodsport, politics as trolling and owning politics as total war. It tears families apart. It ends friendships, and it leaves us all feeling terrible all the time.  We cannot defeat the politics of division with more division. We can't win their game. We have to change the game. This campaign is rooted in a fierce love for this state, for this country, and most importantly, for all of our neighbors.

The US is not currently bombing Iran's nuclear facilities. Senator Cruz said he has "no indication that they were anywhere close to getting nuclear weapons" before this recent attack due to the summer strikes. Note Rubio also refers to Iran's nuclear ambitions as worry not its current capacity.

When I was a high school principal, I interviewed a teacher named Jake Huggins. He seemed like a good candidate—friendly, experienced, and thoughtful. I believed he could be a solid addition to our faculty. But any lingering doubt disappeared when he answered one particular question. It has always been my favorite. I asked him, “Jake, in every school in America, you can place teachers on a continuum. On one end are those who don’t seem to want to be there. They’re always complaining. Their colleagues wonder why they haven’t retired yet. They drain the energy of the building. But on the other end are teachers who are excited to come to work. They love their students. They value their colleagues. They lift the spirits of everyone around them. When graduates come back, these are the teachers they want to see. So Jake… what’s the difference between these two teachers? What is the X factor? Because that’s what we’re looking for.” Most teachers answer that question by talking about passion. Or purpose. Or the desire to make a difference rather than just earn a paycheck. Those are good answers. But Jake said something different—something I’ve never forgotten. He said, “I think almost every teacher starts out idealistic. They love kids. They want to change the world. But after a few years, you hit a wall. You realize how hard this job really is. There are endless papers to grade. Some students make it incredibly challenging to teach. And parents aren’t always supportive. Some teachers never move past that reality check. They burn out. But others do. They keep their sense of purpose in spite of the challenges. The work is hard, but they remain convinced it matters. Some students are difficult, but they know those students need someone who refuses to give up on them. They face adversity, but they don’t let it steal their passion. Those are the teachers who make a difference year after year.” We hired Jake. A few years later he was named the school’s Teacher of the Year. So today, I salute Jake—and every educator who has faced that “reality check” and chosen to keep going. The ones who remember their whyon the hard days. The ones who refuse to let frustration turn into cynicism. The ones who continue to believe, even when the work is exhausting. Because those are the teachers who change lives. And they do it… year after year. Cheers, Danny

Worth your time.

A duck chose a school as home & returns every year to lay her eggs. When they hatch she leads the ducklings through the corridors to the courtyard lake. It’s now an annual ritual with children staying silent out of respect. Respect is beautiful.

@howie_hua I halved the dividend and the divisor tongst 180/4…then again to get 90/2…45.

It's Mental Math Monday! How would you mentally calculate 360÷8?

I did not expect to hear this beautiful meditation. Pray for this guy’s soul.

Congress is broken bc legislating doesn’t raise money, this does: “In a staff handbook, [Nancy Mace] outlined quotas for getting on cable news and local TV—at least one to three times per day for national outlets, and six times per week across her home state of South Carolina.”

This is one of the most beautiful moments you will ever witness. Sir Nicholas Winton helped 669 children — most of them Jewish — escape the Holocaust. His humanitarian accomplishments would remain unknown and unnoticed by the world for nearly 50 years. Then in 1988 he was invited to the BBC TV show That's Life!. There he sat — unknowingly — as part of the studio audience, surrounded by the children he had rescued. They were now adults. Then they surprised him with one of the greatest gifts of all time. Their presence. They were there, all alive — because of him. Not only was he reunited with dozens of children he had saved, but he was also introduced to many of their children and grandchildren. Please remember Sir Nicholas Winton, for his humanitarian operation known as the Czech Kindertransport. Sir Nicholas George Winton, a British stockbroker, and a gift to this planet, left us on July 1, 2015, at the age of 106. May his memory forever be a blessing and inspiration to all. Please share. International Holocaust Day cannot be forgotten. But many are working to make that happen.🕯️♥️

Four Old Men. Two Wheelchairs. One Beach. Alan Alda’s 90th Birthday January 28, 2026. Alan Alda turned 90. His family planned a safe celebration at home. Cake. Balloons. Grandkids. Alan said no. “I don’t want a party,” he said. His daughter frowned. “Dad… you’re turning ninety. This is a big deal.” “I know,” Alan said. “But I don’t want to celebrate here.” “Then where?” Alan didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to the beach.” The room went still. “The beach?” “Dad, you’re in a wheelchair.” “You can barely stand.” Alan smiled. That smile. The Hawkeye Pierce smile — the one that always meant something stubborn was coming. “So?” By that afternoon, he had already decided who was coming. “The four of us,” he said. “The last four.” Gary Burghoff. Jamie Farr. Mike Farrell. And himself. The final survivors of the 4077th. “No cameras. No interviews. No speeches,” Alan said. “Just us.” The phone calls began. Gary answered first. “Happy birthday, old man! Ninety!” “Thanks. I need you to drive.” “Drive where?” “To the beach.” A pause. “Alan… you’re in a wheelchair.” “So are facts. They don’t stop me either.” Gary laughed. That Radar laugh Alan had known for over fifty years. “Fine. But I’m not pushing you through sand.” “I’ll crawl if I have to.” “You’re insane.” “I’m Hawkeye. Same thing.” Jamie Farr was next. “The beach?” Jamie said. “I’m ninety-one and in a wheelchair.” “Then we’ll have two wheelchairs at the beach.” “Like a parade?” “Like a victory lap.” Jamie laughed until his voice cracked. “You haven’t changed since 1972.” “And you’re still Klinger.” “Fine. I’m in.” Mike Farrell sighed the moment he answered. “Let me guess,” he said. “You want me to push your wheelchair.” “Yes.” “I’m eighty-six. I use a cane.” “BJ Hunnicutt once saved a man with dental floss,” Alan said. “You’ll manage.” Long pause. “…Fine.” January 28. 6:00 a.m. Gary arrived in a rented van. Two wheelchair spaces. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. At Alan’s house, his daughter hovered. “Dad, are you sure?” “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” “What if something happens?” “Something is always about to happen at ninety,” Alan said. “Might as well happen at the beach.” Jamie was waiting outside his house. Wheelchair. Sunglasses. Hawaiian shirt. “You coordinated outfits?” Gary asked. “It’s tradition,” Jamie said. “The 4077th always matched.” Mike showed up next. Also in a Hawaiian shirt. Four old men. One van. Heading west. On the drive, memories filled the air. Harry driving too fast. Larry bringing his own wine. Radar making everyone cry. Klinger never sleeping. When the MASH* theme song came on, no one spoke. After it ended, Alan said quietly, “That song used to annoy me.” “Now?” “Now it just reminds me how lucky we were.” At Malibu, reality hit. Wheelchairs don’t work on sand. Jamie grumbled. Mike rubbed his back. Alan stared at the ocean. Gary disappeared. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with two lifeguards and two beach wheelchairs. One lifeguard whispered, “My grandmother watched MASH* every night.” It took time. Transfers were slow. Hands trembled. Bones protested. But they made it. To the water. Alan closed his eyes. The sound of waves. Salt in the air. Sun on his face. “I forgot what this felt like,” he said. They talked about the ones who weren’t there. McLean. Wayne. Larry. Harry. Bill. David. Loretta. Jamie finally broke the silence. “Let’s race.” Two wheelchairs. Two pushers. One rock. They raced. They tied. People on the beach stared. A teenager asked, “What are those old guys doing?” His mother said, “Living.” As the sun set, Alan spoke. “This might be the last time.” No one argued. “That’s why it matters,” he said. “Because we know.” He made a wish. “One more year.” “One more adventure.” “Korea. Together.” They promised.

@constructivist4 @sweat_nancy And shoutout to Kelly for the reminder that mindset matters. 👏 Sometimes it’s not about changing the situation, but how we choose to approach it. Grateful for educators who lift each other up. 💙 #WellnessWednesday

Still reflecting on yesterday’s incredible visit to @AADreamAcademy at Seatack Elementary & Lynnhaven Middle. Seeing students & teachers living the #SAME dream through their energy, passion, & learning is always inspiring! Extra bonus was a reunion with @SharaeB27325317 💚💙

@sweat_nancy @AADULLC "There's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing." – Alfred Wainwright. 😊

@AADULLC Working hard on four of these, but honestly, it’s been too cold to get outside regularly. I’ll add that one as my fifth intention - brave the cold.

Showing up for students starts with showing up for ourselves. When we prioritize our own wellness, we build the capacity to lead, teach, and care with intention and consistency. What are you doing to take care of yourself right now? #WellnessWednesday #AADULLC #NewYearNewGoals

Now that’s what you call a surprise! This old bag sure feels the love! 😉💖 Thank you, Bono and @U2 for making my birthday extra special.

This 👇🏼