In the final hours of an elderly Jewish man’s life at Melbourne’s Alfred Hospital, someone plastered anti-Israel stickers on the wall beside his deathbed — a Star of David with a red line slashed through it. He died staring at it. That stomach-churning detail is buried inside a sweeping exposé of rampant antisemitism festering inside Australian hospitals — and it lands like a gut punch just as a Sydney court handed a jaw-dropping legal victory to two nurses caught on camera bragging about murdering Israeli patients. A judge this week tossed the viral video of Ahmad Nadir, 28, and Sarah Abu Lebdeh, 27 — the Bankstown-Lidcombe Hospital night-shift nurses who told Israeli influencer Max Veifer on ChatRoulette that they wouldn’t just refuse Jewish patients, they’d kill them. Nadir punctuated the point with a slow throat-slitting gesture and boasted about sending Israelis to hell. Gone. Inadmissible. Because nobody asked their permission to record them. Judge Michael McHugh of Sydney’s Downing Centre District Court acknowledged the footage was “at the very least likely highly disturbing to right-minded people” — then tossed it anyway, citing privacy concerns. The pair still face trial August 31, but without their own recorded words, prosecutors are fighting with both hands tied behind their backs. The court bombshell arrives against a backdrop of documented, systemic Jew-hatred spreading through Australian healthcare like an infection since the October 7 Hamas massacre. Doctors and nurses have shown up to work wearing “From the river to the sea” insignia. Hospital corridors and toilet stalls have been wallpapered with anti-Israel stickers. A Jewish ICU nurse quit after more than a decade on the job because management refused to act. A Jewish woman receiving cancer treatment suspects a nurse deliberately botched her IV four times, leaving her bruised for weeks — only connecting the dots after the Bankstown nurses story broke. A Melbourne mother called a suicide hotline after learning two cousins were murdered in a Hamas kibbutz attack — and the counselor scolded her for not expressing enough sympathy for Gaza. A conference on lifesaving gunshot wound treatment — techniques forged on actual battlefields — was canceled after anti-Israel medical workers threatened mass protests. Weeks later, a terrorist attacked Bondi Beach. Meanwhile, activists, influencers, and pro-Palestine medical groups—including the Australia Palestine Advocacy Network—have mobilized to pressure Australia’s healthcare regulator, AHPRA. The coordinated campaign demands that the agency revoke its recent decision to adopt the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism. The dying man at The Alfred Hospital had no one to protect him from the vile antisemitism he was forced to see before he died. It’s no surprise.

Former President Joe Biden spoke at the Maryland Democratic Party’s Fight Back and Win Summit in Baltimore — and after shouting and mumbling through his remarks, he appeared to have some difficulty finding his way off the stage. Biden’s typical speech patterns have not changed much since he left the White House in early 2025, as he alternately addressed the crowd calmly and raised his voice to a shout, at seemingly random intervals. WATCH:

Louisiana Republicans on Saturday selected Congresswoman Julia Letlow as their Republican nominee for the U.S. Senate, all but ensuring she will replace outgoing Sen. Bill Cassidy in the upper chamber.  With nearly all votes counted, Letlow — endorsed by President Donald Trump — defeated State Treasurer John Fleming in the runoff with about 57% of the vote. The two advanced to the runoff in May after no candidate cleared the 50% threshold, with incumbent Sen. Bill Cassidy eliminated in the first round. In a victory speech, Letlow celebrated the results, thanking Louisiana voters and Trump, calling him the “greatest president this country has ever had.”  “Great News!!! Julia Letlow WON in Louisiana, beating conclusively a very strong and smart opponent,” Trump said in a Truth Social post. “Congratulations to Julia. She will be a truly GREAT Senator!”  Cassidy’s fall from grace is another sign of Trump’s enduring grip on the Republican base, as the president continues flexing his political muscle to target GOP lawmakers he views as disloyal to his agenda. “Senator Bill Cassidy of Louisiana is a disloyal disaster,” the president wrote on Truth Social, noting that the two-term senator had voted to impeach him after the January 6, 2021, riots on Capitol Hill. “Bill Cassidy is a sleazebag, a terrible guy, who is BAD FOR LOUISIANA. Now he’s going to get CLOBBERED, hopefully, in today’s BIG election, by two great people!!!” In January, Trump endorsed Letlow (R-LA) to replace Sen. Cassidy, who was one of seven Senate Republicans who voted to convict Trump after January 6. In a February 2021 column that has since come back to haunt him politically, Cassidy wrote that Trump was “guilty” of inciting the riot and “actively subverting the peaceful transfer of power.”  Ryan Girdusky, a conservative political consultant, called that vote the “ultimate betrayal.”  “The impeachment vote against Trump is really what did him in; had he not voted to impeach Trump, he wouldn’t be in this position,” Girdusky said. “If they successfully had a trial against him, he would have been ineligible to run for President. So maybe that’s what Cassidy was rooting for.” In her campaign launch, Letlow said that in “a state as conservative as ours, we shouldn’t have to wonder how our senator will vote when the pressure’s on. Louisiana deserves conservative champions, leaders who will not flinch,” The Daily Wire previously reported. The congresswoman took office in April 2021, following a special election triggered by her husband’s death. During the campaign, Cassidy and Fleming targeted Letlow over past comments praising diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts, questioning her conservative credentials. “She’s as moderate as Bill Cassidy is,” Girdusky told The Daily Wire. “So it’s not like they’re trading a moderate for a conservative. They’re trading a moderate for a moderate, but one that Trump approved versus one that Trump didn’t approve.”  Cassidy also faced heat for stalling some of Trump’s high-profile nominees, including Surgeon General pick Dr. Casey Means.  “Bill Cassidy is a mindless avatar for his donors and a blind defender of the status quo system that is profiting from American sickness,” Calley Means, Casey Means’ brother, said on social media. The president piled on, calling Cassidy a “very disloyal person” who “stood in the way” of RFK Jr.’s preferred nominee. Widely regarded as the GOP’s kingmaker, Trump has recently retaliated against Indiana Republicans who opposed his redistricting effort, along with Rep. Thomas Massie (R-KY) and Texas Sen. John Cornyn. “It shows that it’s really about Trump,” Girdusky said. “It shows that voters have this innate belief that he has their best interests at heart, and that he is feeling the anger that they’re feeling of betrayal from the elected officials.” Letlow will face off against Democrat Jamie Davis. Cook Political Report rates the race as solid Republican going into November. 

June 23 marked the 54th anniversary of Title IX, a law whose passage deserves a moment to reflect on what this landmark accomplished. For more than five decades, Title IX has expanded opportunities for generations of women and girls in education and athletics. It created pathways that previous generations could only dream of. Because of Title IX, millions of young women have had the opportunity to compete, earn scholarships, develop leadership skills, and pursue excellence on a level playing field. I am one of those women. As a former Division I track and field athlete, I dedicated years of my life to pursuing athletic success. Like so many female athletes, I woke up before sunrise for practice, sacrificed social events, trained through injuries, and pushed myself physically and mentally to compete at the highest level. Those sacrifices paid off when I won the Big Sky Conference championship in the 800-meter and set my sights on even greater goals. Then, during my final year of eligibility, I learned I would be competing against a biological male athlete who had previously competed in the men’s category. Suddenly, the reality of competition changed. Athletes are taught to overcome obstacles. If someone is faster, you train harder. If someone is stronger, you improve your technique. But no training program can eliminate biological differences between males and females. Males can run approximately 11% faster than females, and can accelerate around 20% faster than females. No amount of determination or additional hours of training can erase the physical advantages that Title IX recognized when it created separate athletic categories in the first place. This is why the Supreme Court’s upcoming decisions on Little v. Hecox and West Virginia v. B.P.J. regarding women’s sports matters so much. At its core, the question before the Court is not whether every individual deserves dignity and respect. They do. The question is whether female athletes will continue to be a protected category in which success is determined by talent, discipline, and hard work rather than by biological advantages. When Congress passed Title IX in 1972, lawmakers understood that equal opportunity did not mean identical treatment. Women’s sports were created precisely because sex-based differences matter in athletic competition. Without separate categories, female athletes would lose opportunities to compete, earn scholarships, win championships, and break records. That reality has not changed. Therefore, the Supreme Court should easily be able to come to a unanimous conclusion — biological reality does exist. Supporters of allowing biological males to compete in women’s sports often frame the issue as one of inclusion. But inclusion cannot come at the expense of fairness. Asking female athletes to surrender opportunities that Title IX was designed to protect is not advancing women’s rights — it is diminishing them. For years, many female athletes have remained silent because speaking out carries consequences. We have been told that raising concerns about fairness makes us intolerant or discriminatory. Yet the very existence of women’s sports is based on recognizing biological differences. Defending that principle is not discrimination. It is the foundation of women’s athletics. To me, Title IX means opportunity, equality, and empowerment. Through track, I found my confidence, developed leadership skills, and discovered my voice. I am forever grateful for the protections this law provides, ensuring that women like me can thrive both on and off the field. As we celebrate another year of Title IX, we should remember why the law was necessary in the first place. Women fought for decades to gain access to athletic opportunities. They fought for scholarships, facilities, coaching resources, and the chance to compete against one another on fair terms. Those hard-won gains deserve protection. The Supreme Court now has an opportunity to reaffirm a simple principle: women deserve their own space in sports. Not because we are less capable, but because equal opportunity requires fair competition. That was the promise of Title IX 54 years ago. It should remain a promise we keep. *** Linnea Saltz is an Independent Women ambassador and former NCAA track and field athlete. During her time at Southern Utah University, she was forced to compete against the first male athlete to compete in Division I cross country.

This article is part of Upstream, The Daily Wire’s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories — from our featured writers to you. *** Almost a year ago, when my doctor recommended I go on a weight-loss medication, she asked what my goal weight was. After having six babies in nine years, I had trouble remembering what number the scale sat at before I started having children in my mid-twenties. Pregnancy, nursing, and the years of raising young children had blurred together. I could remember clothing sizes and life stages, but I rarely stepped on the scale. I settled on what seemed like an absurdly low number, one I hadn’t seen in many years and wasn’t convinced I could reach. The truth, though, is that my real goal wasn’t the number on the scale at all; it was one in my bloodwork. Diabetes runs in my family, and after watching relatives struggle with the disease and seeing my own markers moving in the wrong direction, I knew I needed to act. If the end result was also looking better in family photos, I considered that a welcome bonus. Months ago, I hit that supposedly impossible number. Now I’m faced with a different question: How low can I go? And, more importantly, when should I stop? Like many women who have spent years pregnant or recovering from pregnancy, I carry the physical evidence of those years. There is extra skin and a pouch around my middle that no amount of wishful thinking seems capable of eliminating. Six pregnancies leave their mark, and no medication can entirely erase them. Could and should I continue losing weight in an effort to get rid of those reminders? Would I actually want to? That was the question my doctor posed last week as we discussed what to do next. When I reached my goal weight, we moved from weekly injections to every other week. As we debated whether to continue on that schedule or space them out even further, I joked, “I’m not interested in looking like Demi Moore, Ariana Grande, or Kelly Osbourne.” My doctor immediately understood what I meant. My bloodwork is dramatically improved, I have more energy than I did a year ago, and I am now well within the range of what any reasonable person would call a healthy weight. At a certain point, however, continuing to lose weight stops being about health and starts becoming about something else entirely: vanity. Our society has always struggled to recognize where the line between health and vanity lies, but it’s particularly bad now that medications have made it possible for millions of people to keep shrinking long after the health benefits have largely been achieved. If you’re old enough, you remember the last time this happened. The 1990s gave us heroin chic, a look defined by hollow cheeks, protruding bones, and bodies that were alarmingly fragile. Fashion magazines celebrated women who looked exhausted and underfed, and our culture largely went along with it. Eventually, there was a backlash when Americans grew tired of pretending that obvious signs of ill health were aspirational, and the pendulum swung dramatically in the opposite direction, swaying violently too far in the other direction, embracing “fat positivity.” The rise of body positivity brought with it some necessary corrections, but a great deal of our culture lost the ability to acknowledge the obvious reality that obesity carries genuine health risks, not to mention that there might be meaningful distinctions between acceptance and celebration. Any discussion of weight became suspect, and acknowledgment of health consequences was treated as cruelty. Then came Ozempic, Wegovy, Zepbound, and the rest of the GLP-1 revolution, and almost overnight, the culture lurched in a different direction. Celebrities who had spent years insisting they were perfectly happy carrying extra weight no longer had to maintain the fiction. The pounds disappeared, and with them disappeared much of the rhetoric about body positivity that had dominated the previous decade. For many public figures, the process didn’t stop when they reached a healthy weight, and, for once, our culture is raising red flags. Every night, Ariana Grande posts photographs from her performances while she’s on tour, and every night the reaction is remarkably similar: many of her fans seem genuinely, and rightfully, concerned. She is clearly terrifyingly thin, all sharp angles and jutting bones, and it is difficult to imagine anyone looking at those images and concluding that this could possibly be healthy. What’s striking is not simply Grande’s appearance but the public reaction to it. For years, Americans have been lectured that noticing physical reality is judgmental, that commenting on obvious signs of poor health is cruel, and that discussing weight at all is beyond the bounds of polite society. Yet despite years of elites lecturing ordinary people about politeness, we have retained the ability to recognize when something appears off, and when celebrities appear in public looking like the victims of a starvation campaign, the comments light up with truth-telling. The comments sections underneath celebrity photos may be one of the few places where cultural sanity still survives. Americans are looking at bodies that would have been celebrated on fashion runways 25 years ago and rejecting them. They are looking at collarbones that protrude dramatically and faces that appear increasingly gaunt, and they respond, rightfully, with discomfort. That discomfort is not evidence of cruelty; it is proof that most people still possess healthy instincts about what human flourishing looks like. There is such a thing as too thin. That shouldn’t be controversial, yet increasingly it feels as though it needs to be repeated. Just as there is such a thing as carrying too much weight, there is also such a thing as carrying too little. Weight-loss medications have transformed millions of lives, including mine. I am healthier today than I was a year ago, my risk factors are lower, and I am deeply grateful that modern medicine arrived at exactly the moment I needed it. But these drugs have also created a question that many Americans have never had to confront before. For decades, the challenge was figuring out how to lose the weight. Now, for the first time, millions of people are having to decide when enough is enough. Sitting in my doctor’s office this week, I realized that I already knew the answer. The number on the scale had stopped mattering months ago. The victory wasn’t fitting into a smaller size or reaching some arbitrary number from my twenties; it was improving my health, and I achieved that. The loose skin will remain — as a reminder that my body spent nearly a decade growing and nourishing six babies. That’s fine. Not every mark of a life well-lived is a flaw that needs to be corrected. A year ago, I was trying to lose enough weight to avoid becoming diabetic. Today, I find myself resisting a different temptation; I’m not fighting the food noise anymore. I’m fighting an unhealthy aesthetic that has been in and out of fashion for most of my life. Medicine helped me lose the weight, but I’m grateful for the wisdom of knowing when to stop. *** Bethany Mandel (@bethanyshondark) is a homeschooling mother of six and a writer. She is the bestselling co-author, with Karol Markowicz, of “Stolen Youth: How Radicals Are Erasing Innocence and Indoctrinating a Generation.” She writes and podcasts at The Mom Wars.