ForeverFoppa

@KyleClark Well, CoCo and the Fox momentarily distract people from the honest branding, which should be "Front Range Passenger Rail: Blazing a path to the 20th century".

Colorado voters: Is Front Range Passenger Rail a smart investment or a financial boondoggle? Will it be useful and reliable? Front Range Passenger Rail: The train is fun and cool, like you! It wants to be your friend. Also, there is a cute fox mascot.

@CSOonX **GMFB Overtime, not main broadcast.**

Add a door for "Good Morning Football." 😢

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

@CHSommers @nytimes As they secretly send her their CV.

Mean girls @nytimes in a dither over Bari news.

Okay, I'm going to give it a try: “When people stop talking, really bad stuff starts. When marriages stop talking, divorce happens. When civilizations stop talking, civil war ensues. When you stop having a human connection with someone you disagree with, it becomes a lot easier to want to commit violence against that group. What we as a culture have to get back to is being able to have reasonable disagreement — where violence is not an option.” — Charlie Kirk 31 years old. Married. Two kids under the age of five. When I first heard the news, I didn’t believe it. Then I saw the video. There was Kirk, speaking before an audience, microphone in hand, when a crack splits through the air. His body goes stiff, his neck explodes with blood, his head falls back. Pure chaos ensues. I didn’t think it was real. Or I thought it was real, but I couldn’t process it — of course it's real, it’s right there — but I wanted so badly for it not to be. I could only watch it once. My stomach turned. I’m going to spend one sentence directly sharing my views about Charlie Kirk’s political positions: I vehemently disagreed with him on some things, and I thought he offered a great deal of needed clarity, often with courage, on others. Kirk made a living off of debating people. Most people know him through the viral, 30-second clips of him hitting someone with a closing slam dunk to “win” an argument. Yes, Kirk often framed his content as “owning” the left — but his goal was persuasion. Yes, he often went to college campuses and goaded (then ran circles around) sophomore lit majors on topics he was far more knowledgeable about — but if you watched his events in long form, you’d see something different, something far more empathetic. He was trying to persuade not just the person he was talking to but everyone watching, and then welcome them into his political movement. He would allow people to frame an argument, and then he’d ask follow-ups; he sought clarity on what they were saying, he made sure he understood them, and then he made his case. I remember the first time I watched a full video of one of his events. Having only been familiar with the 30-second dunking videos, I was seriously surprised by the tone — how often he said “that’s fair” or “that’s a good point” or “I understand why you think that” before he went into action — often in ways I found deeply alluring. Kirk was especially keen to compel young people, and young liberals, to the conservative cause. And he didn’t just operate where he had advantages; he’d debate political rivals, sitting down with people like Democratic California Gov. Gavin Newsom. He chose a righteous path of talking to people from across the aisle. In his own words, he did what he did because “when people stop talking, that’s when you get violence, that’s when civil war happens.” He did not use violence; he used words. He did not use pressure; he used intellect. He wasn’t a bully; he was a preacher. He wasn’t seeking enemies — he was trying to recruit allies. He was damn good at what he did, too, and smarter and better read than the vast majority of his critics. Even when he was saying things I disagreed with, I found myself raising my eyebrows and nodding at the sly and devilish way he made his points. I’d always wanted to interview him, in large part because I wanted to see how I could stack up with him on the issues where those disagreements lie. I wanted to see if I could hold my own, or maybe even inch him toward my perspective. Charlie Kirk used his great gift to inch others towards his perspective, moving an entire generation of voters rightward. He did this by speaking to them, directly, on terms they could relate to. By walking into the lion's den of critics and telling his story. And he was brave — he exposed himself to an unbelievable amount of criticism, he held views that people often didn’t voice before he voiced them, and he faced constant threats on his life (which he spoke about publicly). He was not a coward; he did not hide behind a rifle from hundreds of yards away. He stood up and said his truth, and he did it peacefully. For this, someone put a bullet in his neck. I know it’s not wise to make presumptions about motive before we have a suspect in custody. For now, though, I am going to make a presumption — one I feel confident in — that in this era of political violence, someone killed Kirk for his political rhetoric. If that presumption turns out to be wrong, I’ll be the first to correct the record here in this newsletter. But right now, I have to say it’s the outcome I find most plausible and most obvious (initial reports that investigators found anti-fascist and transgender rights messages on bullets in the gun they believe the shooter used support this presumption). I wish, fervently, that I had faith in the current FBI leadership to find his killer and flesh out what happened with an honest investigation — but instead I’ve got a terrible pit in my stomach that they are not equipped for this moment. They are not off to a good start. I also know it’s unwise to sanctify the recently deceased and pretend Kirk was always the best of us. He was, at his worst, a partisan flamethrower who reveled in saying inflammatory things, who sometimes framed his political opponents as evil enemies. Perhaps that piece of the story is important — that Kirk was capable of, and sometimes enjoyed, turning the temperature up. But then I see a video of his daughter running into his arms backstage, and I think, “What are we even talking about?” What deranged inclination inside of me wants to analyze his methods of discourse when someone murdered him in cold blood? Why do his political views matter even one iota? I’ve watched in horror as some people have celebrated or mocked his death. I’ve seen this reaction mostly in spaces like Bluesky, bastions of far-left discourse, and I believe (and hope) they are not the norm. Most people, including most of my liberal friends and the liberal pundits I follow, are horrified — as we all should be. But enough are celebrating, making jokes, or posting derisive comments to leave me sick to my stomach. So let me put it differently: This could have been me. I came up in the same era as Kirk. I never got to meet him personally, but I know a lot of people who have. I never had anything close to a platform as large or influential as his, but we swam in some of the same waters. I’ve spoken at events he’s spoken at. I’ve been on podcasts he’s been on. I’ve done TV hits with anchors he’s been interviewed by. He was just a few years younger than me, and I watched his stardom take off as a YouTube personality, podcast host, political organizer and public speaker at the same time I was trying to build my own, albeit very different, media brand. I see the things people say about someone like Charlie Kirk — that he’s enabling fascism or has blood on his hands — and then I see similar people level the same accusations against me. Not just anonymously on X or in my inbox, but in the comments sections of the very media company I built. I see people say that “being a moderate” is giving way to authoritarianism on the right, that I’m a secret Trumper, that I’m the worst kind of pundit because I pretend to be fair but I’m not, that I’m spreading blood libel, that people will die because of my views. In this business, people call you evil or send their hate mail, and you respond to some but try to ignore most of it. “It doesn’t happen here,” you’ll think. “The threats aren’t real.” But they are. And it does. There are a lot of very angry, highly motivated, deeply unwell people out there, some of whom have fixated on me in the past. It’s hard to shake the feeling — the urge to flee. To shut up. To get out of Dodge. The incidents of political violence in are many — they come from all sides — and the problem does not seem to be getting better. Yesterday, the Tangle Instagram account posted about Kirk’s death. One of the most common responses, which an alarming number of people repeated, was copying and pasting a quote from Kirk about gun rights, in which he argues that we will never live in a society where we have gun rights and no gun deaths, and says the “cost” of some gun deaths every year is a “prudent deal” to maintain our Second Amendment rights to protect against tyranny. I’m not sure what these commenters intend to convey by copying and pasting Kirk’s quote. I suppose the point is that this quote, this view, means Kirk should die? That his death is deserved? Or perhaps they think it is funny and quippy and clever to post a “gotcha” quote about him while his body lies dead in the hospital from a gunshot wound? Even if you want to interpret his statement as uncharitably as possible, here is my response: Is the punishment for Charlie’s position the death penalty? Is the punishment for believing something you find abhorrent being killed? I’d like to know more about how this logic works and how I can extend it to other issues. Should every woman who believes in abortion rights be condemned to miscarriages in pregnancy? Is that rationale a just view for pro-life conservatives to hold? What are we doing here? I knew from following Kirk that he had two young children. There is a very memorable clip of Kirk going on the Whatever podcast and describing what it’s like being a dad. In the wake of his death the clip is now going viral, and rightfully so. It’s a nice window into who he was. In it, Kirk says that nothing he’s experienced — not flying on Air Force One or meeting presidents or any of his professional successes — compares to the simple pleasure of coming home and having his daughter run up to him and hug his leg. And when you watch him say it, you can tell he really means it. He’s not putting on a character, he’s trying to convince the hosts in front of him — and the listeners of the show — that they will find tremendous meaning and happiness in creating a family. He’s genuinely expressing his love for the life he’s been delivered. My son was home sick from daycare yesterday when I got the news. So my first instinct was to run upstairs and grab him from our babysitter, to smell his little head and kiss him and nibble on his toes and try to make him laugh and tell him I loved him. I just walked around the house with him for a few minutes to try to breathe. Then a wave of utter despair and nausea came over me. My North Star promise is to give you my honest view. It’s to say what I really, truly believe, and nothing more. And most days, the truth of the matter is that I am an optimist — I am hopeful about our country and the people that inhabit it and our resilience against the scourge of division and conspiracy and hate. But today, this is my truth: I don’t know where we go from here. This country, this society — it feels irredeemable on days like this. I’m watching influential conservative voices declare civil war. MSNBC analysts are on air justifying Kirk’s murder (and justifiably getting fired for it) while guests are suggesting that maybe he was shot by a supporter “shooting their gun off in celebration.” Kirk was the one trying to do it with persuasion, the one trying to go into these bastions of liberalism and talk them to his side; he was, in simple terms, a young guy who held pretty standard Christian views that, 30 years ago, were near ubiquitous in our country (and are still incredibly popular). And now political pundits on national TV are rationalizing his assassination. Amid all this, a breaking news alert: At least two students have been shot in a school shooting in Denver. Truthfully, the whole thing just makes me want to quit — to coil up and get out of the arena and do something else. I expressed this feeling to our Editor-at-large Kmele Foster, who urged me to remember that “we are on the side of the angels here” — and I know what he means. We are doing the very thing we need to pull us back from the brink: bringing together disparate political groups, creating dialogue, exposing people to viewpoint diversity in hopes of making us all a bit less extreme. Maybe Kmele is right. But how do I take the stage at our event in California in a few weeks after seeing what I’ve seen now? How do I get on the plane and leave my family? Charlie Kirk is dead. Assassinated. The words don’t feel real on the page, but there they are. Two beautiful young children will grow up without their father; vengeance will be promised, and maybe even delivered. We have now had several chances to realize where we are and do something about it — Trump’s assassination attempt, the killing of Brian Thompson, the killing of Melissa Hortman — but we moved on. We buried it or joked about it or, God forbid, celebrated it. The rational among us hoped it would get better. Then we went right back to the most extreme, divisive, incendiary rhetoric we had. When we can see clearly the threat before us, what will we do? What are we made of, really? I pray. I hope. I beg that we can find a new path — but my take, my truth, is that I fear we’ve stepped into the abyss.

@Buccigross Marchand/Nugent-Hopkins #bucciovertimechallenge

Game 4 goes to a #bucciovertimechallenge Oilers and Panthers on TNT...

@Buccigross Verhaeghe/Perry #bucciovertimechallenge

The 19th #bucciovertimechallenge game of the 2025 Stanley Cup Playoffs. Panthers vs Oilers.

@Buccigross Verhaeghe/Kane #bucciovertimechallenge

The 18th #bucciovertimechallenge game of the 2025 Stanley Cup Playoffs. Panthers vs Oilers.

@janecoaston You're all being held in many hearts today and going forward. What an amazing person. Her spirit is so evident in you. Bless you and your family.

Stephanie Jo 'Jody' Coaston, May 19, 1948 - April 18, 2025. My dad took this photo of her in 1977, and developed it in the pantry of the apartment they shared.

This place was obviously discovered by a woman.

@CHSommers It's @JewdyGold. She's awesome for many reasons; this is just another to add to the list.

Me too.

Yeah, really not a fan of this. In no sane world did Ukraine start the war. Russia, led my a murderous dictator, did. Every person & country has the right to self-defense. I am begging Donald Trump to stop pushing Kremlin propaganda.

@bariweiss Need a @TheFP / @NewsNation collab, stat.

I desperately want to watch a TV show about this.

This will be a topic on tomorrow's show because I kind of feel it. Like the country is waking up from some spell cast by a bunch of witches.

@SherreeBurruss @Capitals Love seeing the puck representation from you, Manti and Isaiah over the past couple of months. Let's go, Ovi! #GoAvsGo 🏈 🙂

Shout out to the Washington Capitals - they’re playing some incredible hockey lately and tonight they’re taking on the Penguins. A classic rivalry - Caps v Pens! #ALLCAPS @Capitals

I'm visiting America from Australia, and I have to say that you guys have a truly awesome country. Narratives of decline are off-the-mark. While there are faults, you guys are free & live on bountiful land. Those of us not born here are jealous. Be grateful for what you have!

WKU helmets tonight make them look like one of those species that evolved to have fake eyes to convince predators not to attack them

@janecoaston Velociraptor Cthulu, aka Muffin.

Also the author being like "they named a girl dog Bluey???" Sir they are Blue Heelers honestly the only issue with the name Bluey is that a more accurate name would be Velociraptor Cthulu

The comments section stands with Bluey.

@SteveStaeger The Avs are special in this regard, apparently. Lucky us. 😡 #GoAvsGo

It seems every other NHL team is getting this figured out.

This is one of the most impactful speeches in American history - RFK gave it the day after MLK Jr. was murdered in Memphis. He knew violence all too well as his brother was also murdered only a few years prior. His words ring true to this day: youtu.be/ncUYKk_CuTM?si…