Chris Mintz - a name you should remember after the Oregon shooting

On radio Friday, Glenn shared his reaction to the news of the previous day's shooting massacre in Oregon. With reports surfacing that the perpetrator seemed to be after the notoriety the typically follows such crimes, Glenn refused to even mention his name on radio.

Instead, he focused on one of the heroes that day - Chris Mintz

A 30-year-old Army vet attending the college, Mintz charged the shooter in an effort to save others.

Source: CBS Pittsburgh Source: CBS Pittsburgh

He was shot between five and seven times. As he lay wounded on the ground, all he kept saying was, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

Listen to the moving story or read the transcript below.

Below is a rush transcript of this segment, it might contain errors.

GLENN: The psychopath that killed at least nine in a college massacre, we know that he said on his Facebook page, everybody seems to remember those guys who did all the shootings. They're nobodies until they shoot people. And everybody knows their name. On this program, I'm not going to give this guy's name. His name is not important. He was a psychopath. He was a troubled, troubled individual. I don't know what his motivation was at this point. But it's certainly not what the media is giving you.

He was sick and disturbed. The name I want you to remember is Chris Mintz. He's a 30-year-old student that just started -- this was his first week at college. He was going because he wanted to become a fitness trainer. He was an Army vet. He was shot between five and seven times. We don't know the real number yet. Five and seven times while charging straight at the gunman in an effort to save other people.

He did so on his son's sixth birthday. As he lay wounded on the ground, all he kept saying was, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

When word of Chris Mintz, his heroism reached his native North Carolina. His cousin was hardly surprised. His cousin said, "Sounds like something he would do." He was amazed that a guy who survived a combat deployment without serious injury had come so close to being killed in a small town in Oregon.

They had both joined the Army after graduating from high school. Mintz had been sent to Fort Lewis in Washington State, both had been deployed. After leaving the Army, Chris Mintz, the hero yesterday, moved to Oregon, done a bit of martial arts. He had been working at the local YMCA, while enrolled at the community college, with an eye towards becoming a fitness trainer. His cousin said he's a big guy.

Mintz didn't forget the former colleagues and the former soldiers that he served with. He marked the seventh anniversary of the death of an Army captain Richard Gordon Jr. in Afghanistan by posting a photo and a bio of the fallen officer on Facebook. Just a few days ago, on September 28th on his Facebook page, he wrote, "To the limit. Sir, you are not forgotten."

Then yesterday Mintz began his day by posting again on Facebook. "Happy birthday, my son." Then he headed to UCC for his first week of classes. And when the gunman started firing, he did what he was trained to do. He did what he was born to do. Other students present, includes a woman who was a nurse. She began administering CPR in a desperate attempt to save one of the mortally wounded. After Mintz charged the gunman and he was laying down on the ground bleeding out, she held his hand and prayed with him while he just kept saying over and over again, "It's my son's birthday. It's my son's birthday."

Last night in the hospital, he underwent at least one surgery. He's expected to recover. Doctors say he's going to have to learn how to walk again. I don't want you to remember the guy's name who shot the people yesterday, that caused chaos, that brought death, because that's what he wanted. I don't want to mention his name on the air today. I'm not going to give him what he wants. But I do want you to remember the name Chris Mintz.

There was another veteran that showed up yesterday. He was at the college. He had a gun in his car. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had the college not told him -- I'm sorry. "Go back to your car. Give us your gun." They took his gun away. There was one security guard on campus. One security guard on campus.

He had a can of mace. People want to know why there's shootings at the schools. Because it's open season. You can kill as many as you want before anybody gets there and has any time to do anything. You can kill and kill and kill. It's open season.

You don't see a lot of shootings at firing ranges, do you?

I want you to remember one other thing today. Yesterday, at this time, I told you on the air that this is the time of Christian persecution. I told you at this time yesterday on the air that you were going to see more persecution coming and this was the time that Christians are being persecuted and killed in larger numbers than they have been in the last 2,000 years. More people, more Christians had died for their faith in the last three years than the last 2,000, combined.

Media Matters, other organizations mocked me ironically -- mocked me by yesterday afternoon while Christians were being shot in Oregon. Nobody seems to want to really point out and focus that this man lined people up and said, "Are you a Christian?" If you failed to answer or you answered no, he shot you in the leg. If you answered yes, he shot you in the head. Does that sound like persecution?

But I don't want to focus on the persecution. I again want to focus on the positive. I've said on this program recently, I think al-Qaeda could come over here or ISIS could come over here and I'm not sure they would find any Christians.

Just like the Christians in the Middle East, there are those who are standing up. There are those who are not afraid. What would you have done yesterday as a Christian and you saw him asking people, "Are you a Christian?" And when you said yes, he shot you in the head. How would you have answered?

We have at least nine people that answered yes. Courage is contagious.

This morning as I was driving in, I started to say a prayer. And I asked for prayers last night on Facebook because I saw the president's speech. I see what the media is doing. Nobody seems to care about -- nobody seems to care about the kids that are being shot in Chicago. The president's hometown of Chicago being slaughtered on the streets. Is anybody saying anything about that?

The president is getting angry now because he can't get his way. Hillary Clinton came out yesterday and said, "People just think that this Second Amendment is sacrosanct." It is.

I got into my car this morning, and I -- I said, "God, it's me. It's all of us. Man, how tired you must be of hearing from us on days like today. It's your children, the ones who forget about you all the time, the ones who become arrogant, the ones who get busy. It's us. Your children that don't ever call you, except maybe on your birthday or the holidays. Good morning, Dad. It's us. You know, the children that only call when we're in trouble or we need money. I'm sorry, Dad."

It's funny, now that I'm a dad, now that I'm a grandfather, now that I'm getting older, I really see that I did all of those things to my parents until I was about 30. I forgot about them. It was all about me. I only called them when I needed something or I needed money. And in some ways, the pattern is repeating.

I can't imagine what it's like to be you. Eternal. With billions of children. All making the same mistake. Hearing from us only when we're in trouble.

You had to know we would be calling this morning. You had to know when we were closing our eyes last night that your phone would ring today because we're in trouble. You had to know yesterday when you saw a man walk in and target your children by name, you had to know as darkness played, instead of us coming together, some are using this event to keep us apart again. Some see the killing here in Oregon, that they see it for political purposes.

And I say that's for political purposes because they fail to see the killing on the streets in Chicago. Almost 400 of your kids, our brothers and sisters died this year in Chicago. Six times the amount that were killed yesterday were killed last month in Chicago. Nobody seems to say anything about those kids. Those brothers. Those sisters.

No one in the press seems to notice or care that it was Christians that were martyred yesterday. That this isn't new. Not to you. There were 2 million Christians in Syria 18 months ago. There are now less than 400,000. Children have been crucified in your name while we remain asleep.

Dad, I don't know how you put up with us. Forgive us.

I've been reading the patterns of history. I read what you told Jeremiah when he came to you because they were in trouble. You were really clear. You told him, "Tell the people just stop listening to the liars. Stop listening to the liars that say the temple, the temple, the temple. Stop listening to the liars who are saying, you're going to be fine. God's never going to wipe us off the map. He wouldn't do that. We're his people."

I read where you said, "Yes, I will. I've done it before. And I'll do it again."

I read where you said, "It was too late, Jeremiah. Don't even pray for them anymore."

Dad, I don't have any right to ask you this, but please who may be calling on you for the first time since your birthday. Hear the voices who are calling on you for the first time maybe ever.

I'd just like to remind you in a humble way, I have no right to do this to you, but it was you that chose your children of Israel. It was you that said, "I love these people. I love these children." And you established Israel. But there's only one nation, only one group of people that ever chose you. You chose the Israelites. But we chose you.

We founded our nation on you. We dedicated this nation to you. We're the only nation to ever do that, Lord. And I know we have so sorely lost our way, but that foundation, that covenant is still good. We just need your help. There's so many of us that refuse to wake up. And I thank you for the nudging. I thank you for all of the things that you have done so far to wake us up. You're ripping off the blankets, and you're even turning on the lights. You're opening up the curtains. I know because my mother used to do it to me when I wouldn't get up, and you're doing it to the whole world now.

Please remember, Dad, that we love you. Please remember that we're just foolish children, but there are millions here. And we know because we saw just a handful of them yesterday stand up and die for your sake, your name. Please hear us today. Please call on us. For here I am. Dad, I got to get to work. I know you don't have a reason to believe me. But I will call you back later today just to catch up. We love you.

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

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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.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

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Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A break in trust: A NEW Watergate is brewing in plain sight

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When institutions betray the public’s trust, the country splits, and the spiral is hard to stop.

Something drastic is happening in American life. Headlines that should leave us stunned barely register anymore. Stories that once would have united the country instead dissolve into silence or shrugs.

It is not apathy exactly. It is something deeper — a growing belief that the people in charge either cannot or will not fix what is broken.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf.

I call this response the Bubba effect. It describes what happens when institutions lose so much public trust that “Bubba,” the average American minding his own business, finally throws his hands up and says, “Fine. I will handle it myself.” Not because he wants to, but because the system that was supposed to protect him now feels indifferent, corrupt, or openly hostile.

The Bubba effect is not a political movement. It is a survival instinct.

What triggers the Bubba effect

We are watching the triggers unfold in real time. When members of Congress publicly encourage active duty troops to disregard orders from the commander in chief, that is not a political squabble. When a federal judge quietly rewrites the rules so one branch of government can secretly surveil another, that is not normal. That is how republics fall. Yet these stories glided across the news cycle without urgency, without consequence, without explanation.

When the American people see the leadership class shrug, they conclude — correctly — that no one is steering the ship.

This is how the Bubba effect spreads. It is not just individuals resisting authority. It is sheriffs refusing to enforce new policies, school boards ignoring state mandates, entire communities saying, “We do not believe you anymore.” It becomes institutional, cultural, national.

A country cracking from the inside

This effect can be seen in Dearborn, Michigan. In the rise of fringe voices like Nick Fuentes. In the Epstein scandal, where powerful people could not seem to locate a single accountable adult. These stories are different in content but identical in message: The system protects itself, not you.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf. That does not mean they suddenly agree with everything that person says. It means they feel abandoned by the institutions that were supposed to be trustworthy.

The Bubba effect is what fills that vacuum.

The dangers of a faithless system

A republic cannot survive without credibility. Congress cannot oversee intelligence agencies if it refuses to discipline its own members. The military cannot remain apolitical if its chain of command becomes optional. The judiciary cannot defend the Constitution while inventing loopholes that erase the separation of powers.

History shows that once a nation militarizes politics, normalizes constitutional shortcuts, or allows government agencies to operate without scrutiny, it does not return to equilibrium peacefully. Something will give.

The question is what — and when.

The responsibility now belongs to us

In a healthy country, this is where the media steps in. This is where universities, pastors, journalists, and cultural leaders pause the outrage machine and explain what is at stake. But today, too many see themselves not as guardians of the republic, but of ideology. Their first loyalty is to narrative, not truth.

The founders never trusted the press more than the public. They trusted citizens who understood their rights, lived their responsibilities, and demanded accountability. That is the antidote to the Bubba effect — not rage, but citizenship.

How to respond without breaking ourselves

Do not riot. Do not withdraw. Do not cheer on destruction just because you dislike the target. That is how nations lose themselves. Instead, demand transparency. Call your representatives. Insist on consequences. Refuse to normalize constitutional violations simply because “everyone does it.” If you expect nothing, you will get nothing.

Do not hand your voice to the loudest warrior simply because he is swinging a bat at the establishment. You do not beat corruption by joining a different version of it. You beat it by modeling the country you want to preserve: principled, accountable, rooted in truth.

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Every republic reaches a moment when historians will later say, “That was the warning.” We are living in ours. But warnings are gifts if they are recognized. Institutions bend. People fail. The Constitution can recover — if enough Americans still know and cherish it.

It does not take a majority. Twenty percent of the country — awake, educated, and courageous — can reset the system. It has happened before. It can happen again.

Wake up. Stand up. Demand integrity — from leaders, from institutions, and from yourself. Because the Bubba effect will not end until Americans reclaim the duty that has always belonged to them: preserving the republic for the next generation.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Warning: Stop letting TikTok activists think for you

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Bad-faith attacks on Israel and AIPAC warp every debate. Real answers emerge only when people set aside scripts and ask what serves America’s long-term interests.

The search for truth has always required something very much in short supply these days: honesty. Not performative questions, not scripted outrage, not whatever happens to be trending on TikTok, but real curiosity.

Some issues, often focused on foreign aid, AIPAC, or Israel, have become hotbeds of debate and disagreement. Before we jump into those debates, however, we must return to a simpler, more important issue: honest questioning. Without it, nothing in these debates matters.

Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

The phrase “just asking questions” has re-entered the zeitgeist, and that’s fine. We should always question power. But too many of those questions feel preloaded with someone else’s answer. If the goal is truth, then the questions should come from a sincere desire to understand, not from a hunt for a villain.

Honest desire for truth is the only foundation that can support a real conversation about these issues.

Truth-seeking is real work

Right now, plenty of people are not seeking the truth at all. They are repeating something they heard from a politician on cable news or from a stranger on TikTok who has never opened a history book. That is not a search for answers. That is simply outsourcing your own thought.

If you want the truth, you need to work for it. You cannot treat the world like a Marvel movie where the good guy appears in a cape and the villain hisses on command. Real life does not give you a neat script with the moral wrapped up in two hours.

But that is how people are approaching politics now. They want the oppressed and the oppressor, the heroic underdog and the cartoon villain. They embrace this fantastical framing because it is easier than wrestling with reality.

This framing took root in the 1960s when the left rebuilt its worldview around colonizers and the colonized. Overnight, Zionism was recast as imperialism. Suddenly, every conflict had to fit the same script. Today’s young activists are just recycling the same narrative with updated graphics. Everything becomes a morality play. No nuance, no context, just the comforting clarity of heroes and villains.

Bad-faith questions

This same mindset is fueling the sudden obsession with Israel, and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in particular. You hear it from members of Congress and activists alike: AIPAC pulls the strings, AIPAC controls the government, AIPAC should register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. The questions are dramatic, but are they being asked in good faith?

FARA is clear. The standard is whether an individual or group acts under the direction or control of a foreign government. AIPAC simply does not qualify.

Here is a detail conveniently left out of these arguments: Dozens of domestic organizations — Armenian, Cuban, Irish, Turkish — lobby Congress on behalf of other countries. None of them registers under FARA because — like AIPAC — they are independent, domestic organizations.

If someone has a sincere problem with the structure of foreign lobbying, fair enough. Let us have that conversation. But singling out AIPAC alone is not a search for truth. It is bias dressed up as bravery.

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If someone wants to question foreign aid to Israel, fine. Let’s have that debate. But let’s ask the right questions. The issue is not the size of the package but whether the aid advances our interests. What does the United States gain? Does the investment strengthen our position in the region? How does it compare to what we give other nations? And do we examine those countries with the same intensity?

The real target

These questions reflect good-faith scrutiny. But narrowing the entire argument to one country or one dollar amount misses the larger problem. If someone objects to the way America handles foreign aid, the target is not Israel. The target is the system itself — an entrenched bureaucracy, poor transparency, and decades-old commitments that have never been re-examined. Those problems run through programs around the world.

If you want answers, you need to broaden the lens. You have to be willing to put aside the movie script and confront reality. You have to hold yourself to a simple rule: Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

That is the only way this country ever gets clarity on foreign aid, influence, alliances, and our place in the world. Questioning is not just allowed. It is essential. But only if it is honest.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.