Today is going to be a beautiful day. Actually, every day is a beautiful day, if you look at it from the proper perspective. It’s raining? Rain nourishes the Earth. Hot? It’s Summer. You will look back fondly on this day come January. Plans disrupted? Make new ones. Enjoy today, and every day.
Below I am sharing 2 very different articles. One may shock, and the other may inform. I hope both provoke thought. Enjoy!
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Women shouldn’t be cops and they shouldn’t be in the military—and we need to bring back adultery laws
It really comes down to a cost-benefit analysis and the reality of net outcomes.
BY: Olivia Murray, The American Thinker (July 20, 2026).
Listen, I know this is controversial, and it’s going to ruffle some feathers. And do not take this in any way as an effort to discount all the heroism and selflessness we have seen from women in uniform (a true and sincere thanks)—but women should not be cops, and they shouldn’t be in the military. It really comes down to a cost-benefit analysis and the reality of net outcomes.
I had the thought when I read a story in the New York Post about a married female cop (and the mother of three young children) in Nashville who filmed herself having “depraved sex” with a cop coworker “inside the middle school where she worked—while students and staff were just outside her office….”
The sordid details came out during an investigation into her conduct, which also revealed that this wasn’t a one-off: She’d also filmed herself hooking up with her affair partner inside his cop car on “at least two occasions while on duty.”
She was immediately decommissioned and resigned shortly afterward, and it’s not exactly clear what happened to her adulterous paramour, who’d been on the force for 18 years (though he was decommissioned, too).
Now, if only men were allowed on the force? This never would have happened. (Or, the chances of it happening would be infinitesimally small.)
We wouldn’t be reading about “depraved sex” going on mere feet away from where our children are supposed to be learning, in what’s supposed to be a safe environment. We wouldn’t have one more broken family (probably two), with more children whose innocence has been stolen because they’ve been shoved into a world where adults couldn’t act like adults.
Our trust in our law enforcement wouldn’t have taken yet another hit. We wouldn’t have wasted who knows how many tax dollars paying the salaries of people who lack the character to be in civil service and investigating their bad behavior after the fact.
Are all those costs really worth it to have a person who’s objectively physically inferior in a world where physical superiority is a matter of life and death, not only for them but for citizens as well? I just can’t justify it.
The same goes for the military (which has a high rate of cheating). Women do offer benefits in these worlds, but the net results as a whole are negative.
There are countless historical examples of how great the fallout of adultery and illicit sex is and how far it ripples—David and Bathsheba (their child’s death and the collapse of a kingdom), Cleopatra and her Roman men, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Alexander Hamilton and Maria Reynolds (blackmail), and Frank Lloyd Wright and Mamah (murder) are just a few. A comprehensive list would read like an encyclopedia set, so I’ll stop there.
Yes, there are women who could join law enforcement or enlist in the military and not be shameless attention-seekers (read: whores), but because too many can’t, we all have to be excluded.
I’m being hard on women, I know, and it’s not one-sided. Yes, too many women can’t be professional, but too many men lack the self-control and discipline to deny sexual temptation right in front of them—Joseph turned and literally ran from Potiphar because he knew staying meant a guaranteed breach of trust and morality.
Men can’t just hightail it from the cop station or a patrol car when confronted with the same reality, though, so the solution is to remove the temptation, since someone has to do the job. Someone has to do the job of law enforcement and national security, and if it can be only one of the sexes, to remove all the dysfunction that comes with a mixed-sex environment, it needs to be the men.
And here’s my last point: We need to bring back adultery laws (where they’ve been struck from the books) and start prosecuting affairs as criminal offenses once again. Making immorality illegal means criminal punishment for violations, which does deter behavior.
Adultery rates have risen dramatically since the pain of the consequences is no longer a metaphorical burning at the stake but more of a rubber-band snap on the wrist. Now, the only person I’ve really heard talking about this is Florida gubernatorial candidate James Fishback, who proposed changing the state’s divorce laws to punish an offending spouse. I think that’s a great start, and I applaud his position.
History shows that the disastrous consequences of just one affair can truly alter the course of history in an incomprehensible way, and it’s time we reject the normalization of affairs and infidelity and treat them with the gravity they demand.
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The Constitution is not a mood ring
Originalism, constitutional stability, and the danger of chasing political fashion.
BY: George P. Brooks, The American Thinker (July 21, 2026).
Over the last several days, I’ve found myself going down a rabbit hole studying a constitutional philosophy known as originalism. I’ll admit, it wasn’t something I had spent a great deal of time researching before. Like many Americans, I’d heard the term thrown around in political debates, usually as either praise or criticism depending on which side was speaking. But once I actually sat down and read what originalism is—and, just as importantly, what it is not—I began to appreciate why it has become such an important part of our national conversation.
At its core, originalism is fairly straightforward. It holds that the Constitution should be interpreted according to the original public meaning of its words at the time they were adopted. That does not mean America must somehow return to the eighteenth century, nor does it require pretending that modern technology or contemporary problems do not exist. It simply means the meaning of the Constitution should not change because our politics do.
That distinction is important.
I am fully aware that society changes. Technology evolves. New legal questions arise that the Founders could never have imagined. The internet, artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and social media were obviously beyond their comprehension. But I believe there is a meaningful difference between applying an enduring constitutional principle to a new circumstance and redefining the principle itself.
That is where my concern begins.
As a black conservative Christian, I often hear people speak about the Constitution as though it should be molded to fit whatever political movement currently enjoys cultural momentum. Whether the issue is on the left or the right, I find that way of thinking unsettling. A Constitution that changes its meaning according to the passions of the moment eventually ceases to function as a Constitution at all. It becomes little more than a mirror reflecting whichever ideology happens to be winning at the time.
That was never its purpose.
The Constitution was written to place limits on government—not simply to organize it. It was designed to create stability in a nation that understood political passions come and go. Elections change. Presidents change. Congress changes. Public opinion changes. The Constitution was intended to be the stable foundation underneath all of it.
If that foundation begins shifting every time society develops a new political preference, then constitutional rights stop being rights and become temporary privileges dependent upon judicial philosophy and cultural trends.
History gives us plenty of reasons to be cautious about allowing rights to fluctuate with popular opinion. Majorities are not always wise. Cultural consensus is not always moral. Public sentiment often defended ideas we now recognize as profound injustices. One generation may celebrate something another generation later condemns.
That is precisely why constitutional government matters.
Its purpose is not to eliminate disagreement. Its purpose is to establish enduring rules that survive disagreement, ones rooted in objective morality.
One example that comes to mind is the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The Act addressed one of the greatest moral failures in American history by prohibiting discrimination in employment, education, and public accommodations. It represented an extraordinary effort to guarantee equal treatment under the law, particularly for black Americans who had long been denied rights already promised by the Constitution. That original purpose should never be forgotten.
At the same time, it is fair to ask whether every modern interpretation of civil rights law reflects the intent of the legislation as it was enacted. Reasonable people disagree about that question, and they should be able to do so without immediately being accused of bad faith.
Some argue that broad statutory language naturally applies to new circumstances that Congress could not specifically anticipate. Others contend that certain interpretations have expanded the law beyond what Congress intended, effectively creating new legal obligations that legislators themselves never debated or approved.
Whether one agrees with either position is almost secondary to the constitutional principle involved.
Who is supposed to make those decisions?
Should sweeping changes in public policy primarily come through elected representatives accountable to voters? Or should they emerge through judicial interpretation that extends existing statutes into areas Congress never explicitly addressed?
Constitutional republics function best when major policy questions are answered through legislation rather than judicial innovation, and it’s exactly how ours was designed to work. If Americans believe new legal protections are necessary, then our elected representatives possess both the authority and the responsibility to debate those proposals openly. If constitutional change itself is required, amendments can be added in one of two ways—a process which is intentionally difficult.
Some view that as a weakness, but I view it as wisdom.
The Founders understood that liberty requires stability every bit as much as it requires freedom. They intentionally made constitutional change difficult because they recognized that temporary passions often produce permanent consequences. That principle remains just as relevant today as it was more than two centuries ago.
Too often, we have become comfortable asking not, “What does the Constitution say?” but rather, “How can the Constitution be interpreted to support what I already believe?” Those are fundamentally different questions. The first seeks truth. The second seeks validation.
A constitutional republic cannot survive if interpretation becomes little more than political preference dressed up as legal reasoning.
That concern applies regardless of who occupies the White House or which party controls Congress. Principles that allow one side to stretch constitutional meaning today inevitably allow the other side to do the same tomorrow. If we celebrate constitutional elasticity only when it produces outcomes we personally like, we have abandoned constitutional consistency altogether.
That is a dangerous precedent for any free people.
Perhaps that is why originalism has become increasingly compelling to me. Not because it promises conservative outcomes in every case—it doesn’t—but because it begins with a simple question that every judge, lawyer, legislator, and citizen should ask before anything else:
What does the Constitution actually say?
Everything else should come afterward.
GFK
Observations From The Fifth Estate 