A timeless hit. The post The Tom Petty song Mike Campbell called “a dream come true” first appeared on Far Out Magazine.

We here at The American Spectator have justly lampooned the No Kings crowd. They’re easy to poke fun at, given that their very name and message is, well, obviously incorrect. Donald Trump has been called numerous things by the Left, most of which are at least subjective and debatable. For instance, one could argue in circles about how to best define the “democracy” that Trump is somehow unilaterally destroying. But a king? That’s pure nonsense from the get-go. (RELATED: The Ridiculous No Kings Protest) Donald Trump is, of course, not a monarch. Even if Donald Trump wanted to be king, he couldn’t. Gosh, Trump can’t even abolish the loathsome Department of Education. That’s because in our constitutional system of separation of powers and checks and balances, the legislative branch stops him. (RELATED: Linda McMahon Body-Slams Woke Classrooms) And yet, speaking of education, that hasn’t stopped the dimwits at the American Federation of Teachers from pushing the No Kings movement. The AFT’s website, the morning of the recent nationwide No Kings rallies, was filled with silly, incendiary language on “Why fascists fear teachers” and “No crowns, no thrones, no kings.” Gadzooks, you would think that teachers would know that Trump not only isn’t a king but has neither a crown nor throne! The AFT ought to be educating kids in a proper understanding of what words like “monarch” and “fascist” actually mean. (RELATED: The Spectacle Ep. 289: No Kings, Just Clowns: The Boomer Rebellion Against Reality) Apparently, the ignorance that pervades American public education starts at the top. To his immense credit, Donald Trump has seized upon the spectacle to have a little fun. He has trolled the No Kings crowd, posting manipulated photos of himself wearing a crown, which no doubt had them howling even louder: “See! See! We said he wants to be king! There you go!” (RELATED: The ‘No Kings’ Phonies) But alas, amid our lampooning of the No Kings howlers, it looks like they’re having the last laugh. But alas, amid our lampooning of the No Kings howlers, it looks like they’re having the last laugh. Well, not the last laugh, because they don’t laugh — they’re too angry. I should say, the No Kings howlers are having the last word. They’ve been suddenly vindicated. That is because Donald Trump, ladies and gentlemen, has in fact received a crown. Yes, it is true. If you didn’t catch the news, Donald J. Trump received a crown during his current swing through Asia. South Korean President Lee Jae Myung on Wednesday made Trump the first American president to receive South Korea’s highest honor, the Grand Order of Mugunghwa, replete with a replica of the golden Cheonmachong crown. President Donald Trump was awarded the Grand Order of Mugunghwa by South Korean President Lee Jae Myung during a ceremony at the Gyeongju National Museum, South Korea, on Oct. 29, 2025. (Official White House Photo by Daniel Torok/Flickr) No doubt, Trump can’t spell, let alone pronounce, “Mugunghwa” or “Cheonmachong.” But what does that matter? Mugunghwa or cowabunga, Trump at long last got his crown! Before I extend my congratulations to His Highness, let me add a few words of explication about South Korea, a country that I’ve lectured on for decades and alternately admire and find a little crazy. Not to rain on King Trump’s special parade. South Korea is quite the political soap opera. The country’s leadership has been mired in scandal for decades, and especially throughout the last year. The current leader who crowned Trump, Lee Jae Myung, who is a member of the Democratic Party of Korea — yes, a Democrat — took power last June after the impeachment, expulsion, and arrest of the previous leader, Yoon Suk Yeol, a right-leaning populist and nationalist who was being dubbed the “South Korean Donald Trump.” (RELATED: KPop Demon Hunters and South Korea’s Out of Control Lawfare) The American Left characterizes Jan. 6, 2021, as an attempted coup by Donald Trump, an insurrection that had teetered the nation’s capital in a state of near-martial law. But in fact, South Korea’s Yoon Suk Yeol was the real McCoy. Last January (as noted ironically in a January 6 piece for The American Spectator by Doug Bandow), Yoon declared martial law and deployed troops to the legislature, the National Assembly. These were real troops, not a bunch of yahoos banging on the side of a building with sticks. This very unpopular action by Yoon triggered his impeachment and indictment. (RELATED: South Korea’s President Commits Self-Immolation) Yoon’s authoritarian tactics harkened back to South Korea’s days under military rule, with leaders like Park Chung-hee, who ruled the country from 1961 to 1979 before being assassinated. There had been several assassination attempts against Park. His wife was killed in one of them. Their daughter was elected president decades later, but alas, she — Park Geun-hye — was driven out of office in 2017 and likewise put under arrest, given a 24-year prison sentence. Even South Korea’s new president has faced drama and serious danger. An assassination attempt was made against him as well (in January 2024). And I assure you, this is a mere short list of South Korean high-ranking officials targeted over the past 50-plus years (including Nobel Peace Prize winner and heroic dissident Kim Dae-Jung). South Korea is a wild place. No, it isn’t as crazy as the lunatic asylum run by the House of Kim up north — a communist-totalitarian monarchy — but at times it seems like an Asian Wild West. So, South Korea knows an authoritarian when it sees one! This will make sense to the No Kings folks. They will tell you — actually, they will scream from the streets — that Donald Trump is an authoritarian. South Korea’s leaders apparently know a king when they see one. Thus, they took the step of awarding Trump the crown that our homegrown No Kings movement had seen coming along. The irony was not lost on the political scientists at the New York Times. America’s newspaper of record confirmed in a headline, “Trump Has Likened Himself to a King. South Korea gave Him a Crown.” Indeed, New York Times. Spot on. Brilliant analysis. And so, there you go! The likes of the American Federation of Teachers have shown themselves not to be the dunces we thought they were, but rather astute political prognosticators. I guess they, too, know a monarch when they see one. Impressive, AFT. Who would’ve thunk it? The No Kings movement has proved astutely prophetic. Here’s hoping that Trump will start wearing his crown soon. I suggest The Donald don the crown for his next State of the Union address. I think the liberals would love that. READ MORE from Paul Kengor: Pop Music Isn’t as Popular Happy Indigenous Peoples’ Day! Blessed Is the Peacemaker

When Bill Gates announced his “pivot” from climate catastrophe to humanitarian hope, the press dutifully nodded along. A messiah-complex monopolist shedding his alarmist mantle for a brighter, kinder cause. Take a closer look, though, and you’ll see the same stage, the same spotlight, the same script — just new marketing. For decades, Gates has backed policies that punished farmers, penalized energy independence, and empowered unelected technocrats who operate far beyond democratic reach. For decades, Gates has backed policies that punished farmers, penalized energy independence, and empowered unelected technocrats who operate far beyond democratic reach. He invested in synthetic meat and lab-grown crops while millions of real farmers faced ruin under the weight of green regulation. He funded climate models that forecasted apocalypse, and initiatives that made energy scarce and food expensive — all under the banner of “saving the planet.” (RELATED: Saving the Planet by Eating Fruit and Whole Grains Is Possible — If You’re Dumb Enough) Now that public trust in climate crusades is crumbling, he’s rewriting his role. The new storyline: humanity first. Less “save the Earth,” more “save the poor.” It’s a clever shift — not a retreat, but a rebrand. By recasting the mission as “human development,” Gates retains the same hierarchy: billionaires setting the agenda, governments executing it, and citizens left to applaud or adapt. The faces change, the structure doesn’t. (RELATED: A Better Alternative To the Davos Elites) What looks like repentance is really repositioning. The sermon has simply moved from melting ice caps to malnourished children. The congregation, weary of doom, is offered a gentler gospel. One where Gates emerges as a benevolent pragmatist rather than a panicked prophet. Yet beneath the new tone lies the same theology: that salvation flows downward, from the billionaire to the billions. His new rhetoric sounds refreshingly modest. Let’s stop catastrophizing, let’s focus on real improvements in living standards. Again, though, look closer and you’ll see that the modesty is strategic. He isn’t ceding power; he’s consolidating it. For years, his foundation’s model has relied on bypassing local governments and funneling vast sums through “partnerships” with international NGOs. The pivot doesn’t end that pattern. If anything, it perfects it. The climate panic made him influential. The humanitarian pivot will make him indispensable. And there’s something almost comic in the presentation. The man who told the world to eat less beef and burn less fuel now frames himself as a champion of practical prosperity. The same policies that strangled small farms and inflated food prices are now being recast as learning curves — as if the damage were a necessary prelude to wisdom. The irony is thick enough to spread on toast. (RELATED: The Great Salad Scam) To his credit, Gates is not wrong that poverty and disease kill far more people than carbon. But when he says so, he speaks as though the crises were separate, when in truth, one fed the other. Climate orthodoxy — the kind he financed — throttled developing nations’ access to affordable energy. It kept the poorest poor. Now, in an act of almost biblical self-forgiveness, he presents himself as the one to lift them up again. (RELATED: Europe’s Energy Suicide: Brussels Trades Industry for Ideology) It’s the same savior complex with a new script. The same conviction that global order can be engineered from a Seattle office park. The same faith that the planet’s problems can be solved if only the rest of us would get out of the way. That’s the real meaning behind the pivot. There’s a darker side, too. When philanthropy becomes policymaking, democracy shrinks. Decisions about vaccines, food systems, and climate strategies migrate from parliaments to private foundations. No one voted for this, yet it happens anyway. Gates’ fortune makes him unaccountable, and his causes, however noble in appearance, come with no oversight. He may preach transparency, but he governs through opacity — a king whose crown is the presumption of good intent. The joke, if there is one, is cosmic. The man who spent years warning us that we were running out of time now assures us that everything will be fine — provided we follow his next plan. The stage lights dim. The actor changes costume. And the audience, desperate for reassurance, claps on cue. Meanwhile, governments that once marched to the tune of climate panic now quietly rebrand their failures as “development strategies.” Corporations that cashed in on green hysteria are pivoting, too, marketing the same control with friendlier campaigns. The transition from fear to hope may feel fresh, but it’s still theater. The same hands still pull the strings. So what do we do when the man with more money than many small nations becomes the moral compass of modern policy? The answer begins with skepticism. It’s not enough to ask what he funds — we must ask what he gains. Every pivot preserves his power. Every cause, however well-presented, extends his reach. This is the paradox of Gates. His vision always sounds virtuous, but it always ends with him in charge. Climate, health, education — the topics shift, the hierarchy stays. And now, with his latest transformation from technocrat to “humanitarian,” he is no longer selling fear but faith — in himself. READ MORE from John Mac Ghlionn: The Catholic Roots of America’s Horror Craze The Harvard Index of Holiness How the Irish Became America’s Favorite Fantasy

Nick Fuentes is more than a provocateur; he is a symptom of a digital right that has traded principle for clicks. In livestreams and social media posts, he packages resentment, anger, and conspiracy into a profitable brand, preying on young men who feel alienated by a rapidly changing world. His collaboration with Tucker Carlson signals a deeper moral crisis: when extremism becomes mainstream, the movement itself is at risk. The Fuentes-Carlson alliance is not merely a matter of personalities. It exemplifies a structural problem within modern conservatism: the exploitation of disillusioned youth. Many young men, untethered in a society transformed by technology, shifting gender norms, and collapsing traditional structures, are drawn to the false promise of belonging and purpose. Into that vacuum step digital demagogues who offer identity and influence — but only in exchange for anger, conspiracy, and moral compromise. (RELATED: The Spectacle Ep. 260: Conspiracy Watch: Is Nick Fuentes a Fed? Is Bill Gates’s Butter Real? And Is Clinton a Gangster?) They convert rage into a commodity, eroding the very foundations of the society they claim to defend. Conservative philosophy at its core is about discipline, responsibility, and the cultivation of character. It is about building institutions, families, and communities that endure. What Fuentes and his imitators sell is the opposite: chaos masquerading as rebellion, moral abdication presented as insight. They convert rage into a commodity, eroding the very foundations of the society they claim to defend. (RELATED: The Myth of the Radical Young Right) Social media amplifies the danger. Algorithms reward provocation, and every extreme comment or conspiracy theory spreads faster than reasoned debate. Carlson’s platform, with its massive reach, magnifies these messages further, giving young men the sense that anger and disillusionment are not only acceptable — they are rewarded. Mentorship, guidance, and civic responsibility are replaced by manipulation, turning disaffection into a political weapon. (RELATED: A Message to Young Conservatives: Get Involved) This is the Republican Party’s problem to solve. Extremism of this kind cannot be shrugged off as harmless or merely “edgy.” Fuentes represents the worst of the digital right: monetized hate, glorified grievance, and moral corruption of a generation. Tolerating this behavior risks far more than election losses; it risks the movement’s ethical and cultural legitimacy. The GOP must draw a clear line between legitimate policy debate and identity-based extremism. Condemnation is necessary, but so is proactive mentorship: young men need guidance, purpose, and community — not digital cults of rage. (RELATED: Is the Right Pining for Racial Purity?) There is also a broader lesson for conservatives. The culture wars, media narratives, and outrage cycles matter, but the more pressing battle is internal: the fight over the moral character of the movement. How the right handles figures like Fuentes will define its credibility for decades. Anger and hate cannot dominate the discourse without corroding principle, substance, and moral authority. Traditional conservatives, in particular, recognize the stakes of mismanaged influence. We see the danger of ideologies that exploit anger, alienation, and resentment for power, while disregarding the communities affected. Discipline, responsibility, and legacy matter — not just for individuals, but for the health of an entire movement. Conservatism must nurture character, not chaos. Nick Fuentes is a symptom, not the disease. The disease is a moral and cultural environment where hate is marketable, conspiracy is currency, and young men are guided by rage rather than purpose. Platforms like Carlson’s, intentionally or not, enable the worst instincts in American conservatism, and the consequences extend far beyond any single broadcast or livestream. If the right hopes to reclaim its credibility, it must begin with moral authority. That means rejecting the monetization of hate, denouncing extremists who exploit disillusionment, and investing in the mentorship and formation of the next generation of conservative men. Without these measures, the movement will continue to trade substance for spectacle, and the digital right will continue to sell rage as gospel. Conservatism is about more than clicks. It is about clarity, courage, and character. The question is whether the movement has the moral courage to reclaim these values before the false prophets of the digital right make them irrelevant. READ MORE from David Sypher Jr.: The Group Chat Wasn’t an Anomaly — It Was a Mirror NC Gov. Josh Stein Chooses Softness Over Safety The Mississippi Miracle: What Real Respect for Black Students Looks Like

by Susan Duclos, All News Pipeline: An Ohio Dollar General, on advice from a security group, boarded up their windows and doors in preparation for possible looting when Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits run out on November 1, 2025, due to the government shutdown after Democrats voted more than a dozen times to reject […]

from The National Pulse: WHAT HAPPENED: The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) reported an 8,000 percent increase in death threats against U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) personnel. ?WHO WAS INVOLVED: ICE officers and their families are the targets of these threats, as the agency enforces President Donald J. Trump’s mass deportations policy. ?WHEN & WHERE: The threats have been escalating recently, […]

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