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00:00 Introduction and Episode Preview
00:43 Zohran Mamdani’s Housing Proposal and Rent Control
03:44 Foolishness of the Week: Do Goldfish Have Rights?
07:51 Introducing London River
09:55 The SAVE Act and Online Age Verification
11:35 Why Adult Websites Oppose ID Verification
13:26 Parents, Government, and Protecting Children Online
17:55 Privacy, Databases, and the Future of the Internet
20:23 Is Age Verification a First Amendment Issue?
24:01 Free Speech, the Second Amendment, and Government Overreach
26:02 Supreme Court Rulings on Online Speech
29:14 Why the Adult Industry Is the “Canary in the Coal Mine”
31:29 Defending Free Speech Before It’s Too Late
35:47 Soft Authoritarianism and Expanding Government Power
38:13 Final Thoughts and Closing Remarks

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The post Save Our Children! | Words & Numbers | Ep 516 appeared first on Free the People.

Byrne claims that, as a former CIA asset, he has knowledge that the voting machines used in American elections are not secure and have in fact been used by American intelligence agencies to influence the outcome of elections, not just in this country, but in 72 others around the globe.

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The post Democracy Is a Fraud | Guest: Patrick Byrne | Ep 396 appeared first on Free the People.

Specifically, Vance said that Trump ‘likes’ one of Sanders’ ideas for redistributing wealth — why does that sound familiar? — being realized from the massive profits of artificial intelligence companies (via The Mirror):

Vance, who is currently promoting a book about “finding [his] way back to faith,” took his pro-socialist/pro-fascist approach to the AI problem a step further by linking religion to the issue: “I think there’s like a deeply Christian concept to this,” he said. “There is a very deeply Christian concept that you have to give everybody in the country a seat at the table,” he explained.

While Trump, Vance, and MAGA will tell you that Trump and Sanders have nothing in common politically when it comes matters of corporate profits and wealth redistribution, it’s simply a fact that they are very simpatico in a host of areas.

For example, Trump announced the formation of the “U.S. Tech Force” in December 2025 to build out AI infrastructure using direct partnerships between private-sector tech giants and the federal government. The “U.S. Tech Force” consists of engineers and other specialists who will perform their tasks on behalf of the federal government, and includes nearly every Big Tech company you can think of (via Technocracy News):

Looking at the features of socialist and fascist ideologies, it’s quite clear that they have a specific common thread that links their desires for society (via Libertarian Europe):

Regarding these similarities, Ayn Rand wrote:

As I make clear in Chapter 14 of my book The New Axis of Evil: Exposing the Bipartisan War on Liberty, the marriage between Sanders’ socialism and Trump’s fascism isn’t all that unusual. In fact, it has been a reality for every president — Republican and Democrat — since 9/11. George W. Bush. Barack Obama. Donald Trump. Joe Biden. These four men — I refer to them as the founders of America’s police state — have worked in bipartisan fashion to destroy liberty.

The Big Tech/US Government partnership being promoted by the socialist ideology of Bernie Sanders and fascist policies of Donald Trump will ultimately give rise to an immortal dictator — a person who will have complete control of AI’s surveillance state.

While the scientific community has a lot to say about the world-altering impact of artificial intelligence on every aspect of our lives, they are eerily silent about its growing role in government and its destructive effect on our liberty, especially “the core democratic principles of privacy, autonomy, equality, the political process, and the rule of law.”

Trump has been quick to avail government of AI technology, but he has done little to nothing to ensure that the rights of the American people are protected. In fact, Trump’s AI ambitions have been marching on without any guardrails for transparency, accountability and adherence to the rule of law when it comes to the government’s use of the technology.

How do we protect liberty against the socialist ideology of Bernie Sanders and the fascist policies of Donald Trump when it comes to the development AI technology? The ability to do so may already be out of our hands. Here are just two examples:

In one of his first acts as president, Trump created the $2 trillion Sovereign Wealth Fund (SWF), via executive order, to “help maximize the stewardship of our national wealth” and to “invest in great national endeavors for the benefit of all of the American people.” We have since learned that the SWF has the end goal of implementing Universal Basic Income in response to massive job displacement due to AI advancements.

Donald Trump and the Deep State he claims to be dismantling turbocharged the surveillance state when he equipped the FBI with AI surveillance drones with facial recognition and other spying technology.

Whatever you choose to call Bernie Sanders (leftist, socialist, Democratic Socialist, Communist) and Donald Trump (dictator, authoritarian, fascist, king) the creation of a government-owned tech sector is the likely future facing America unless we rein in the Republican/Democrat duopoly… NOW!

The post Socialist Sanders and Fascist Trump: Two Sides of the Same Coin appeared first on Free the People.

So, what happens when voters wholeheartedly hold beliefs which are simply not true? The savvy politician knows that it would be political suicide to try to correct the public’s misapprehensions. No one likes being told “you’re wrong”, after all. All the incentives instead push politicians towards the soothing position of “the customer is always right”, even when that’s objectively not the case.

This is not a new problem, but it is one that we are now seeing play out on a scale that I, at least, have not witnessed before. If you frequent online spaces where young people hang out, you will hear one sentiment repeated over and over again, ad nauseam, like a piece of religious dogma that cannot be questioned. Gen Z has it worse than any previous generation. The American dream is dead, we’ll never own a home, and it’s all the Boomers’ fault.

Now, before you angrily click away, let me concede a couple of points to the doomer crowd. Affordability is a real problem. Housing prices are far too high, inflation is unacceptably bad, and America’s health care system is a disaster. I don’t dispute any of that, and it’s the kernel of truth that underlies any convincing falsehood. All these problems should be addressed, and the government’s refusal to do so is yet another indictment of the immeasurable malice and incompetence of our elected officials. All this, I grant.

But, the idea that life in 2026 America is worse than it was for previous generations is simply ridiculous. We live in the wealthiest country in the world at the wealthiest time in human history. The standard of living for the average 25 year old would make ancient kings and pharaohs gasp with wonder. To name just a few of the luxuries of modern life, we enjoy hot and cold running water (clean, drinkable water, mind you); indoor plumbing and sewage services (no chamber pots or outhouses necessary); state of the art automobiles in every garage and public transportation in most cities; a handheld supercomputer in every pocket, loaded with the entirety of the accumulated knowledge of mankind; air conditioning (as World Cup tourists discovered to their amazement); more music, movies, games, books, and other entertainment than we could explore in a hundred lifetimes. It’s possible to travel the globe in a matter of hours, not weeks, and be in instant communication with anyone no matter how far away they are. People are making good money, not by toiling all day in dangerous factories or mines, but by sending emails from the comfort of an office building, playing video games for an audience, or taking photos of themselves in their underwear. And if enjoying all that luxury tires you out, you can have food from every cuisine on Earth delivered straight to your door. In fact, food is so abundant that the biggest health risk faced by our poorest citizens is obesity rather than starvation.

And yet, in spite of all this, people have never been more convinced that life is a raw deal and that they’ve been cheated out of some imaginary birthright. Young people are forgoing having children because they believe that raising them is too expensive or, worse, that the world is so awful that it would be crime to drag another life into this miserable place. Disgruntled youngsters are romanticizing the life of a feudal peasant, believing that the grueling and uncertain labor of subsistence agriculture for the benefit of a tyrannical lord to be preferable to spending an hour in a Zoom meeting. These are the same people seething with envy at their grandparents who lived through the Great Depression or were drafted to fight, and potentially die, in World War II.

The preceding is not merely the “when I was your age” ranting of an elderly curmudgeon; the delusion of Gen Z oppression is perfectly demonstrable with data. Despite the widespread belief that it’s impossible for young people to buy houses, Americans in their 20s are actually outpacing previous generations in terms of homeownership. And in defiance of their self-perception as a perpetually, institutionally impoverished class, Gen Z is on pace to become the wealthiest generation ever.

I could present more data, but there’s little point, because no amount of studies or spreadsheets will change how people feel, and right now people feel poor. Why they feel that way is a bit of a mystery to me. I suspect it is from a combination of ignorance of history (if you want to feel good about your situation in life, try reading about the Anglo-Saxons) and a deliberate propaganda effort by elite institutions like universities and the media. Whatever the case, statistics are no match for emotions, or in the parlance of today, “lived experience.”

Some people in politics have tried to draw attention to this disconnect between belief and reality. In a stunning lack of political tact, White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt accused Gen Z of being born with silver spoons in their mouths. The fact that this point may have some truth to it is irrelevant to those who want to be told that their struggles are indeed unprecedented and that their feelings are “valid” (whatever that means.)

Meanwhile, smarter politicians are finding ways to capitalize on the pessimism of youth. In New York, Mayor Zohran Mamdani ran a brilliant campaign based on telling people that nothing is their fault, and that the government will fix everything for them. Never mind that his half-baked socialist solutions have repeatedly failed in the past. He listened to voters and then repeated their own opinions back at them, which is really all anyone can ask for. The fact that more politicians are not emulating this strategy is frankly surprising, but as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez ramps up for a potential 2028 run at the presidency, I think we can expect to see a lot more agreement that, yes, Gen Z are in fact the innocent victims of their evil predecessors.

It’s a cynical play coming from the Party who spent the last few years desperately trying to shut down “misinformation” online, but what else can we expect from politics but cynicism? It turns out it’s only misinformation if it helps get the other guy elected. Otherwise it’s simply “your truth” (as distinct from “the truth”).

There’s no place for brutal honesty or tough love in politics. If you want the support of the public, you have to tell them what they want to hear, even if what they want to hear is a big fat lie.

The post There’s No Place for Tough Love in Politics appeared first on Free the People.

Supporters argue that allowing more sales of gasoline blended with 15 percent ethanol will reduce prices at the pump. Even if consumers occasionally see a few cents shaved off a gallon of fuel, that visible savings tells only part of the story. By focusing solely on the sticker price, policymakers ignore the far larger costs consumers have already paid before that fuel ever reaches the gas station.

Economist Frédéric Bastiat warned against this type of mistake nearly two centuries ago.

In his famous essay on the broken window fallacy, Bastiat describes a crowd watching a shopkeeper whose window has been shattered. Some observers argue that the accident is beneficial because replacing the window creates work for the window maker. The fixed window is visible. What goes unseen is what the shopkeeper would have otherwise done with that money—perhaps buying new furniture, investing in his business, or hiring another worker. Society gains nothing from replacing what was unnecessarily destroyed; resources have merely been redirected.

Public policy often suffers from the same illusion as the onlooker.

The Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS) and decades of ethanol subsidies produce highly visible beneficiaries. Corn growers receive increased demand; ethanol producers expand production, and politicians point to lower advertised gasoline prices. Those are the “seen” effects.

The unseen costs are far broader.

Federal farm programs have long directed substantial taxpayer support toward farmers, with the largest share, $3.2 billion in 2024, dedicated to corn. The subsidies come in different forms and include commodity programs, crop insurance, conservation payments, and other incentives. Rather than simply responding to market demand, these policies encourage greater corn production while making alternative crops comparatively less attractive. The result is a market shaped as much by government policy as by consumer preference.

Those subsidies are paid for by taxpayers long before ethanol reaches the pump.

Federal ethanol blending mandates effectively guarantee demand for ethanol regardless of broader market conditions. Consumers therefore finance ethanol production both through tax-supported agricultural programs and through regulatory requirements that reshape fuel markets.

Even when pump prices are modestly lower, those savings frequently disappear once consumers account for fuel economy. Because ethanol contains less energy than conventional gasoline, higher ethanol blends generally deliver fewer miles per gallon. A lower price per gallon does not necessarily translate into a lower cost per mile driven, a distinction many policymakers overlook.

Nor are fuel markets the only place consumers bear these costs.

Corn diverted toward ethanol production becomes unavailable for food and livestock feed, increasing costs throughout the agricultural economy. The Congressional Budget Office concluded that expanding ethanol production contributed to higher food prices by increasing demand for corn and related commodities. Poultry producers have similarly documented higher feed costs resulting from ethanol policies, costs that ultimately work their way into grocery bills.

Viewed individually, each of these costs may appear manageable. Together, they paint a different picture. Consumers help finance corn subsidies through their taxes. They pay again through policies that distort fuel markets. They pay once more through higher food prices. And only after all those costs have accumulated do they arrive at the gas station, where politicians celebrate shaving a few cents off a gallon of E15.

That is not affordability.

It is simply moving costs from one pocket to another.

Real consumer affordability isn’t achieved by masking prices through subsidies and mandates. It comes from competitive markets where producers succeed by offering consumers better value, not because the government has tilted the playing field in their favor.

Congress should remember Bastiat’s lesson. Good policy requires looking beyond what is immediately visible. Until lawmakers account for the hidden costs imposed throughout the ethanol supply chain, promises of cheaper gasoline will remain little more than another broken window.

The post Broken Windows and Broken Ethanol: The Costs Consumers Never See appeared first on Free the People.

00:00 Introduction and Episode Preview
00:56 Thomas Massie on Congress and Presidential Power
03:34 A Promising New Alzheimer’s Treatment
07:03 Foolishness of the Week: California’s Town Council Refuses to Leave Office
08:40 America’s Population Slowdown and Why It Matters
11:03 Immigration, Social Security, and Demographic Challenges
12:11 States Competing for Residents
17:19 Technical Difficulties
17:55 Does Bigger Government Lead to Better Outcomes?
20:20 Why Americans Are Leaving High-Tax States
23:26 Government Growth, Incentives, and Long-Term Stability
26:19 Immigration, Welfare, and Population Policy
28:38 Remote Work Is Reshaping State Economies
30:36 Competition Between States and the Future of America
31:51 Final Thoughts and Closing Remarks

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The post Government’s Footprint | Words & Numbers | Ep 515 appeared first on Free the People.

Filmed on June 26, 2026, this inaugural in-person Liberty Pub discussion explores why clear rules, rule of law, and enforceable contracts are essential to keeping innovation in the United States. From the Howey test and the Clarity Act to Bitcoin, stablecoins, AI, and on-chain settlement, Chairman Atkins makes the case for replacing regulation by enforcement with predictable, durable rules that allow builders, investors, and entrepreneurs to take risks with confidence.

Cheers to innovation, ownership, and the return of Liberty Pub.

The post Liberty Pub Live at PubKey | Guest: SEC Chairman Paul Atkins appeared first on Free the People.

At this year’s FreedomFest, Matt Kibbe sat down with Moicano to discuss how he discovered the ideas of free markets, sound money, and private property and why he found it important to share those insights with his fans. In conversation, the fighter proves every bit as passionate and formidable as he does in the ring.

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The post This UFC Champion Is Fighting for Freedom | Guest: Renato Moicano | Ep 395 appeared first on Free the People.

It has to be the warmest weekend on record for the Big Sweaty Apple. All day and night, sirens wail, mostly ambulances picking up passed-out bodies on the walkways and, I assume, tossing them into the East River for a shock-revival. The ring brings back stark memories of the Covid-era, when tocsins sounded clockround, announcing another pair of lungs was in retreat.

All those medics racing plaid routes through the city, A/C cranked down, so many compressors pumping the gift of chilled draughts, bringing an Arctic curative to the torrid masses.

And here I sit, sweating in my own bedsit, facing my own climate-control unit, which has, by legal writ, been permanently set to tea-warm 78 degrees Fahrenheit. Technically, the display reads 25.556°C, since our Mayor, after imposing his earth-saving measure to arrest apartment temperature control, spent an undisclosed sum replacing every single air-condition box across the five boroughs. The units were specially shipped from Europe, so read a foreign measure, because, our conscientious Mayor assured us, the “Celsius scale, like the metric system, just makes more logical sense.”

And I agree, to a point. Look, I voted for Mayor Mamdani. I considered him a refreshing splash of Hudson drift after the tepid, rancid mayoralty of Eric Adams. My apartment isn’t rent-controlled, but I held out a slither of hope he’d interdict my annual rent hike anyway. Boundless hope—the socialist’s currency even after hyperinflation!

Well, no new rent freezes have been announced. Instead, we get a halt on lowering indoor ambience. At first, I didn’t think it would be a sweat-induced swamp. Isn’t 78° lower than 80°? It couldn’t be that bad, right? And doesn’t the rest of the industrialized world adhere to the same thermo-standard? Why not us extravagant Americans?

I switched on CNN to see if there was an update, or maybe a budge in official government policy. The anchors appear cool, unbothered. Men in three-piece suits; women in dark dresses. Not one dot of perspiration running their foundation. How are they not soaking through their tailored wear? There. That chubby guy mouthing platitudes about “working people”. His shirt should be translucent by now. What is happening? How do they all appear so put together and not ruffled in smearing heat shimmers?

My TV starts to blink, like its heated innards are whirring in a steaming pace. I click it off. Seconds later my mom calls. To check in and gloat about her Freon-sprinkling A/C, no doubt. She never puts down anyone in a consciously malevolent way, but in the manner of carefree retired conservatives: that any practice lacking ostentatious consumption is strange, stupid, vaguely criminal. I pick up to: “Hot enough there for yaaa?!” Her dry laugh muffles through the audio-out earpiece. I can’t tell if it’s her cracked voice or my phone malfunctioning due to contact with the rills of sweat running down my temple.

“Yeah, Mom, it’s hot here. I told you that yesterday.”

“Well, Fox says you’re all sitting in self-imposed saunas thanks to your ridiculous Mayor. It’s like I said since you were in diapers. Liberals just want us to be miserable. It’s the truth!”

“Yeah, Mom, I hear you.”

I can also hear her nippy Bichon Frisé yapping in the background; it’s a squeak of a bark that, I imagine, projects a fluffy vapor cloud. My mother never notches the thermostat above 62° in the summer. Al Gore can suck rocks on his private jet, she insists. But she makes an occasional $1,000 deposit into the bank account she started for me when I was 16, so I tolerate these humble-mock conversations.

“Well, I just wanted to call and make sure you haven’t melted. Try to stay cool! And hydrate! Although I wouldn’t drink any of that filthy tap water. Buy a bottle from those little shops you like!”

“Mom, New York City’s drinking water is supposed to be the cleanest in the world.”

A pause.

She sighs. “With all the trash piling up on the streets? And the sun baking it all, making it stink to high heaven? That can’t be good for the water. You need to make sure you stay cool!”

“OK, Mom. I will.”

“Good. I hear your father calling. He’s tryin’ to install a sill bird feeder so we can keep the window open and see chickadees come grub.”

“Isn’t it 110 in Sarasota right now? How can you have a window open?”

A scratchy guffaw. “Your father turned the ‘stat down to sixty on the dot. It’s Nova Scotia in this Sunshine State! Love you much, keep cool.”

If my mother bid adieu with any other mindless borax, it was hushed by the film of hidrosis on my phone screen. The stuffy, molten atmosphere wasn’t relenting, only roasting hotter. Out of desperation, I jammed my thumb at the downarrow on my A/C. No change. I pushed a few more times to no effect. The number couldn’t crack the floor. Its artificial output kept a warm breath on my pinking face.

“Forget this,” I grumbled. Sitting stagnant in a stale hothouse was maddening. Every residence and business in the city was mandated to this mire. Even the subway was a veritable seventh circle of Hell. The only wisp of refreshment to be found was in a taxi. I didn’t think; I slipped on a pair of thinning sandals, snatched my keys and stole out the door. An arduous four flights descending into flaming perdition later, I emerged onto a soupy 83rd Street. Seconds within entering the sultry slough, I second-guessed. Calling the ovened outside an inferno insults the divinely inspired idea of “hot.” This was walking barefoot on Pompeii’s caldera just after its magma upchuck. In my haste, I didn’t think to grab my Camelbak. Before I could turn heel, a familiar yellow ride pulled around 2nd Avenue. Unthinking, my hand darted. The sun was too searing to see if its light flashed. But chances were it’d be empty. The sidewalk was blessedly vacant; no competition.

The cab pulled up. Its windows were curiously open. As soon as my fingers grasped the door latch, I could tell something was wrong. Bright red. My entire body felt it. “Sorry, no A/C,” the swarthy driver barked. “In or out?”

“Out!” I retreated. Stumbling back to the sidewalk felt like I was treading sand. The taxi zoomed off in hazy whoooooosh, sending a scalding Sirocco in its wake. My throat quinched. I desperately craned my neck to find another golden chariot. Huzzah! Sweet deliverance! Another taxi whipped around the same corner. I could just make out beyond the salty beading in my eyes that its windows were closed. As it motored closer, its light was visible. My arm once more shot out.

The next minute was a desperate blur. When my senses straightened, I was inside, cool, life-giving, machine-manufactured air blasted my face, filled my pores, lanced my body. I had no recollection of what address I gave the driver. It was irrelevant. The meter climbed furiously. No matter. My father’s credit card would catch it.

The first jut went unnoticed in my wintery spa. When we hung a left on East End Avenue, the bucking became unignorable. A string of expletives roused me. “FUGGIN THING AGAIN!!!

The stalking heat slowly blanketed my being again. “Can you turn up the A/C,” I meekly petitioned, dreading the response.

“NOOOOOOO BUST DAMN FUGGIN TING BUST!!!”

Hotter. My skin flushed. The familiar blaze reignited. “Pull over!” I shouted. The taxi came to a shunting halt. I hopped out, hellward, stammering to the sidewalk, not even bothering to pay. The driver was too distracted to ask, raging as he popped the simmering hood.

Once again, I was a lone traveler in the Hall of Dis. The street was empty but for my stark mad cabbie, who was now screaming into his phone while removing his stained shirt. No taxis were milling. I set off, feeling parched, down the Saharan street in search of an oasis, otherwise known as a bodega. Water. Needed water. My steps trudged heavier as I went. The heat numbed all feeling. I kept on, peering down byways, finding blank storefronts. Was the city abandoned? Everyone flying north, away from Manhattan’s sky’s relentless death rays? My body sagged. I could barely arch my neck, when I managed one last look ‘round. Gracie Mansion! I was next to Gracie Mansion! That’s when the blurriness took me.

The first thing I noticed before my eyes lifted was coolness. A restorative cold. My eyes shaded up to a familiar face. Mayor Mamdani! That toothsome grin, behind which lurk a thousand redistribution plans.

“Hey…hey…you all right?” the Mayor asks in soft, smooth tones.

“Yes, I…” as I start to rise, I see them. Two aides, young, female, in flowly shifts, holding iPhones so steady they look like manikins.

“Scarlet, Sheila. Make sure you’re set at 60 fps,” he demands. Back graciously to me: “Let’s get you to your feet.” The Mayor hoists me up with a rough lift before steadying me. “You see, New Yorkers,” he turns to face both phones. “This is why we urge you to stay inside and keep cool as much as possible. We found this gentleman struggling outside, downed by the heat.” His white-picket smile beamed. “Times are tough. But together, we’ll get through this.”

I stood there like a prop, grinning bewilderingly, confused as to why the Mayor’s residence felt so much cooler than my own arid apartment. That’s when I saw it, just off the cameras’ scope. A thermostat. Set to 62°.

“And remember, don’t try to tool with your city-provided A/Cs. The Department of Climate Integrity can detect if any units are tampered with. Twenty-five is the legally mandated degree floor. Like I always say: Collective action is necessary for collective benefit. We’re all in this together.”

A welcoming chill down my back, I smiled vacantly for the cameras.

The post Collective Action Is Necessary for Collective Benefit appeared first on Free the People.