Unbelievable Netflix documentary exposes amateur porn industry

June 05, 2015

WRITER

Stu watches a ton of documentaries, but the last one he watched left him more than a little concerned as a father. A new documentary on Netflix called ‘Hot Girls Wanted’ exposes the twisted world of the amataeur porn industry. How does a teenager go from being a cheerleader in Texas to sex on the internet? It’s much easier than you expect. Stu and Glenn discuss the documentary and debate some of the more questionable scenes on Friday’s radio show.

Watch a trailer for the film below, and scroll down for Glenn and Stu's analysis:

Below is a transcript of this segment:

STU: There is a new documentary on Netflix. It's called Hot Girls Wanted. And I actually did know it was a documentary before I opened it, I promise.

JEFFY: I didn't.

STU: It was Rashida Jones, who was on The Office. She's Quincy Jones' daughter. She's involved in the project. And it kind of chronicles these 18, 19-year-old girls that answer Craigslist ads for modeling or a free ticket to Miami. They go on these trips and wind up after a couple of half steps in hard-core pornography on the internet. And they're -- their transition, it's so sad and depressing. You want to talk about a movie that will make you want to lock up all your children and never let them out, it's that one. You know, there's this girl. Captain of the cheerleading team. Sweet girl from Texas from right around where we are. And, you know, she -- a couple of bad decisions, and she's in dozens of movies that will never go away.

GLENN: Okay. What are the decisions that get you from sweet, stay-at-home, pure as the driven snow cheerleader. Give me the two steps that get you to hard-core porn.

STU: She's unsatisfied with her hometown. She feels like there's no adventure there. You know, she sees the glitz and the glam of Miami. She gets a free ticket there. Lots of money thrown at her. And she's around -- and then she gets down there. She's around these other girls who are already doing it, who have all made these decisions and can all justify them because they've gone through this process in their over and over again. And all of a sudden, there she is. And they show the interactions with this one particular girl from Texas with her mom, when she kind of finds out about it.

GLENN: Oh, jeez.

STU: And, you know, she kind of takes that approach of, you know, you can tell it's killing her. But she's trying not to never talk to her daughter again. You know, she's trying to not blow up in her face.

GLENN: She's trying not to say, you whore!

STU: She's trying.

JEFFY: Wait until I tell your father.

GLENN: He's going to say, you whore!

STU: The other side of it that is really tough, especially as a dad, is seeing this girl go with her dad out shooting. Their little activity they always did together.

GLENN: No, no, no, no, no. Don't. I don't want to hear it.

STU: She has to tell her dad.

GLENN: She tells her dad at a shooting range? What kind of sick movie is this? Yeah. And here's what you'll do. You'll tell your father while he has the shotgun in his hand.

STU: That is a really good point.

GLENN: It didn't occur to you?

STU: No, I didn't think of -- I guess the part of it that's --

GLENN: Oh, my gosh, you don't want to tell me that sweetheart while I have a gun in my hand. Not that I want to shoot you, I just want to shoot somebody else.

STU: Maybe this explains what happened in this situation, that she never got the courage to tell her dad in that particular moment, which is probably smart.

GLENN: Of course not. Can you imagine dad -- you tell dad, and dad is standing there. And some stranger just goes, hey, I've seen your daughter before.

STU: Oh, yeah.

GLENN: At the --

[Gun goes off]

-- supermarket.

STU: One of the most depressing parts -- and there's lots of depressing parts of this movie. But one of the worst is, at the shooting range, he doesn't know. And she's supposed to tell him, but doesn't. And they're having these nice father/daughter moments where she's kind of trying to inch it into the conversation.

GLENN: Does she have cameras following her on this?

STU: Yes.

GLENN: This is cruel. Is she telling him like, oh, dad, I made a huge mistake, or is she like, hey, and I have to tell you about my new career?

STU: She goes through I would say the entire range of it. I think at times she thinks she thinks she'll become a celebrity and marry a rapper.

GLENN: That's another reason to shoot somebody.

STU: Well, it's -- it's like -- just to see though this -- hey, my daughter is away. I don't know. She's with her friends somewhere in Miami, I guess. And, hey, she's back for the weekend. We should go shooting. And he seems like this really nice guy. And he's just sitting there not having this knowledge that, of course, you know as a viewer. And it's just --

GLENN: Why would you watch this?

STU: It's a fascinating story. We should pull clips from it. You would be absolutely fascinated by it. And it's so depressing and scary that it's something that I think the audience would like too. There are times I warn you -- there are some scenes that are pretty rough, if you can't handle Jeffy explicit type material. There are a couple of moments. Not like a lot of nudity. But there are some moments in it that are really hard to take.

GLENN: Oh, so they made this almost impossible to watch now. A hot cheerleader having sex. You're going to have to try to get through that if you really want to see this. It's really -- oh, come on.

STU: I'm warning our audience who does care about such things.

GLENN: I do care. I'm not going to watch that because of that.

STU: But it is a good title.

GLENN: You're trying to do good, you don't show her in that --

STU: I don't know if I buy that.

JEFFY: Yes.

STU: Look, the idea of a good documentary --

GLENN: Jeffy, you have no place to talk here. Yes. You're right. He should show -- I wanted more of that.

JEFFY: I mean, you have to show what she's going through. Right?

GLENN: Shush.

STU: Look, a great documentary works that way well. You know, when you're drawn in by something, you might find it enticing. You might like porn. And you go on the site. You watch these girls go through this, and it's difficult at the end to like it. I'll tell you that.

GLENN: Let me ask you this: How does the producer of this film live with himself?

STU: What are you --

GLENN: Seriously. No, seriously. No, no, seriously. Stu, think of this.

STU: Wow. I don't understand this argument.

GLENN: Just this of this.

STU: Uh-huh.

GLENN: You know that one of my daughters -- let's make up Hildegard. So we're not talking about any of my daughters. Hildegard is --

JEFFY: Frightening name for porn, actually.

GLENN: It is. Hildegard. She's witchy.

STU: Not very marketable.

GLENN: Yeah, I know. So Hildegard is in a porn, okay?

Do you in your wildest dreams, not because of any other reason other than I cannot do that to Glenn say, Hildegard, wait, let's get some cameras and let's capture this while on camera.

STU: Well, you're a friend of mine. I wouldn't do it to you.

GLENN: Okay. But as long as you don't know the person, you're fine.

STU: In a way, yeah.

JEFFY: That's the process.

STU: News cameras --

GLENN: Aren't we supposed to have a heart?

STU: That's ridiculous. So you can't have an interview with someone who is going through something you disagree with.

GLENN: Come on. You know -- you both know, there's something different about your daughter and your relationship with your daughter, and your daughter comes and tells you something like that. Is there a worse place in your life?

STU: No.

JEFFY: Why are you bringing my daughter into this?

STU: Your daughter Hildegard.

GLENN: Beatrice.

STU: But that's not your responsibility.

JEFFY: Oh, my gosh.

GLENN: Seriously, is there anything worse than --

JEFFY: No.

STU: Terrible.

GLENN: -- other than your wife or one of your children has been raped or killed, that is up there with that.

STU: Sure. One of the worst experiences you can experience as a father.

JEFFY: No question.

GLENN: So you're sitting there, and you think you as a producer, I don't care how much good you think you're doing --

STU: Oh, I totally disagree with that.

JEFFY: I disagree with that.

GLENN: You really think so?

STU: I honestly straight-out think that the movie did something positive, which is you're informing people. As a parent, I am damn sure glad I know this stuff is going on. I -- I mean, obviously you imagine that this stuff does occur. Somebody is getting into those videos. Right?

These guys, they show clips of it. They post an ad on Craigslist. Hey, free flight to Miami. Next morning, wakes up, he has seven 18-year-old girls from all around the country in small towns wanting to come down and get into porn. Like, that's how crazy it is. One of the really crazy parts about the movie is they show -- you think, okay, you'll get into porn. You'll sacrifice whatever you're sacrificing to get into it. But at least you'll walk out of that rich. No. There's so much supply of 18-year-old girls from around small towns in America, that these girls aren't even making money out of it. They're walking out of it with almost nothing.

The girl from Texas goes through this. Does three months. She's only able to stay in it for three months. Three months of porn. Films a few dozen movies and makes $25,000. She's done all this for $25,000. Gets home after all expenses with two grand in her account. All of this for $2,000.

GLENN: When we come back, I want to hear what dad's response was.

[BREAK]

GLENN: So we were talking about this Netflix show that Stu wants to -- to not show me, but take me through next week. So maybe next we'll do it. It's a sad tragic story about these girls who are 18 years old. They get out of high school. They want to have an exciting life. Craigslist says, hey, free tickets to Miami. Two moves later, and they're in hard-core porn films. And we were talking about the dad, this documentary shows her coming back to her dad and telling her dad.

STU: Or trying to.

JEFFY: Trying to.

GLENN: So what is the dad's reaction?

STU: They actually don't show it. Which I assume means he was, of course, devastated.

GLENN: Of course, he was.

STU: And did not want to show it. To respect him.

GLENN: How would you react to it?

STU: If I didn't kill myself, I would probably just sob in the corner.

GLENN: I have to tell you, I would be hostile at the cameras first.

JEFFY: Yeah.

GLENN: Get these cameras out of my face.

JEFFY: That's why these cameras are here. For that?

GLENN: Right? Are you kidding me? You thought this was a good idea?

STU: You would be pissed at your daughter for allowing it.

GLENN: Oh, my gosh. You would be so angry. And then I would just do nothing, but weep. Holy cow.

JEFFY: Hopefully in the end you would be able to embrace it.

STU: No. No, Jeffy.

GLENN: No. Jeffy. You're misunderstanding.

[BREAK]

When 'Abolish America' stops being symbolic

Al Drago / Stringer | Getty Images

Prosecutors stopped a New Year’s Eve bombing plot rooted in ideology that treats the US as an enemy to be destroyed.

Federal prosecutors in Los Angeles announced that four members of an anti-capitalist extremist group were arrested on Friday for plotting coordinated bombings in California on New Year’s Eve.

According to the Department of Justice, the suspects planned to detonate explosives concealed in backpacks at various businesses while also targeting ICE agents and vehicles. The attacks were supposed to coincide with midnight celebrations.

Marxists, anarchists, and Islamist movements share a conviction that the United States, like Israel, is a colonial project that must be destroyed.

The plot was disrupted before any lives were lost. The group behind the plot calls itself the Turtle Island Liberation Front. That name matters more than you might think.

When ideology turns operational

For years, the media has told us that radical, violent rhetoric on the left is mostly symbolic. They explained away the angry slogans, destructive language, and calls for “liberation” as performance or hyperbole.

Bombs are not metaphors, however.

Once explosives enter the picture, framing the issue as harmless expression becomes much more difficult. What makes this case different is the ideological ecosystem behind it.

The Turtle Island Liberation Front was not a single-issue group. It was anti-American, anti-capitalist, and explicitly revolutionary. Its members viewed the United States as an illegitimate occupying force rather than a sovereign nation. America, in their view, is not a nation, not a country; it is a structure that must be dismantled at any cost.

What ‘Turtle Island’ really means

“Turtle Island” is not an innocent cultural reference. In modern activist usage, it is shorthand for the claim that the United States has no moral or legal right to exist. It reframes the country as stolen land, permanently occupied by an illegitimate society.

Once people accept that premise, the use of violence against their perceived enemies becomes not only permissible, but virtuous. That framing is not unique to one movement. It appears again and again across radical networks that otherwise disagree on nearly everything.

Marxists, anarchists, and Islamist movements do not share the same vision for the future. They do not even trust one another. But they share a conviction that the United States, like Israel, is a colonial project that must be destroyed. The alignment of radical, hostile ideologies is anything but a coincidence.

The red-green alliance

For decades, analysts have warned about what is often called the red-green alliance: the convergence of far-left revolutionary politics with Islamist movements. The alliance is not based on shared values, but on shared enemies. Capitalism, national sovereignty, Western culture, and constitutional government all fall into that category.

History has shown us how this process works. Revolutionary coalitions form to tear down an existing order, promising liberation and justice. Once power is seized, the alliance fractures, and the most ruthless faction takes control.

Iran’s 1979 revolution followed this exact pattern. Leftist revolutionaries helped topple the shah. Within a few years, tens of thousands of them were imprisoned, executed, or “disappeared” by the Islamist regime they helped install. Those who do not understand history, the saying goes, are doomed to repeat it.

ALEX WROBLEWSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

This moment is different

What happened in California was not a foreign conflict bleeding into the United States or a solitary extremist acting on impulse. It was an organized domestic group, steeped in ideological narratives long validated by universities, activist networks, and the media.

The language that once circulated on campuses and social media is now appearing in criminal indictments. “Liberation” has become a justification for explosives. “Resistance” has become a plan with a date and a time. When groups openly call for the destruction of the United States and then prepare bombs to make it happen, the country has entered a new phase. Pretending things have not gotten worse, that we have not crossed a line as a country, is reckless denial.

Every movement like this depends on confusion. Its supporters insist that calls for America’s destruction are symbolic, even as they stockpile weapons. They denounce violence while preparing for it. They cloak criminal intent in the language of justice and morality. That ambiguity is not accidental. It is deliberate.

The California plot should end the debate over whether these red-green alliances exist. They do. The only question left is whether the country will recognize the pattern before more plots advance farther — and succeed.

This is not about one group, one ideology, or one arrest. It is about a growing coalition that has moved past rhetoric and into action. History leaves no doubt where that path leads. The only uncertainty is whether Americans will step in and stop it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

Vaughn Ridley / Stringer | Getty Images

Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.