• A Gallup poll shows that the percentage of U.S. adults under 35 who ever drink dropped from 72% in 2001–03 to 62% in 2021–23, indicating a clear long‑term decline focused on younger cohorts Forbes.

• In U.S. college students, the share abstaining rose from 20% in 2002 to 28% in 2018—and among non‑college peers, from 24% to nearly 30%.

As the world barrels toward a future shaped by plunging birth rates and intensifying religious transformations, demographic data tells a shocking story: while the global population is projected to peak around 2086 and decline thereafter, some countries are collapsing faster than others. Meanwhile, religious shifts—especially the surge of Islam in key regions—are redefining national identities, straining political systems, and challenging social norms.

The last 15 years of American political life have been a volatile tug-of-war, where each administration has pulled the nation further from the center. The Obama and Biden presidencies ushered in a wave of progressive transformation, while Donald Trump’s rise marked a ferocious counterattack from millions who felt betrayed by government, culture, and media.

Resistance movements drift as trust in the National Unity Government collapses

As Myanmar’s anti-junta resistance presses into its fourth year, what once looked like a united front has unraveled into a fragmented coalition of ethnic armed forces, decentralized civil administrations, and disillusioned activists. Central to this disintegration is the National Unity Government (NUG)—a body once viewed as a beacon of democratic hope, but now increasingly seen as ineffective, disjointed, and disconnected from the realities on the ground.

The Karen struggle for autonomy in Burma has long been marked by sacrifice, resilience, and a deep yearning for self-determination. But today, that struggle is being undermined—not by the enemy alone, but by deepening internal divisions. While multiple armed groups such as the KNLA, KNDO, and KTLA continue to fight for the freedom of Karen people, the Karen National Union (KNU) has taken a troubling stance: resisting efforts at cooperation and reportedly threatening its own members who seek collaboration with other resistance factions (BNI Online, 2023).

For years, Canada has been romanticized as the calmer, more compassionate cousin to the United States — a nation of polite people, universal healthcare, and government handouts. But peel back the polished branding, and the Canadian reality is far from utopian. On issues ranging from employment and economic freedom to healthcare and governance, the cracks are showing. Let’s dig into a side-by-side comparison of the facts and see why Canada may not be the better option.

In times of global uncertainty, there are moments that demand clarity, courage, and collective action. The recent threat of closure of the Strait of Hormuz by Iran marks one of these defining moments — not just for the Middle East, but for the world.

A Narrow Passage with Global Consequences

The Strait of Hormuz, a narrow 21-mile waterway linking the Persian Gulf to the Gulf of Oman, is far more than a shipping lane — it’s the lifeline of global energy. Roughly 20% of the world’s daily oil supply—nearly 20 million barrels per day—flows through this channel. A blockage here instantly affects oil prices, disrupts supply chains, and sends shockwaves across global financial markets.

You probably haven’t heard about this from the corporate media, but Chinese drug cartels are taking over rural America. Why? To create a marijuana empire.

Behind rolling cornfields and quiet barns lies a silent war—one not waged with bullets or bombs, but with illicit marijuana, chemical contamination, human trafficking, and foreign money laundering. A sprawling network of communist-affiliated Chinese criminal syndicates is rapidly establishing an underground empire in some of the most neglected regions of the United States.

For years, the narrative surrounding marijuana has shifted from taboo to trendy. It's portrayed in music videos, celebrated in memes, and marketed as a harmless way to relax. But beneath the haze of cultural acceptance lies a disturbing and growing body of research that should jolt every young person to attention: marijuana is far from harmless—and in many ways, it’s dangerously underestimated.

In the heart of Nigeria’s Benue State, beneath the tin roofs of a mission that once offered safety, nearly 200 Christians—men, women, and children—were massacred in a two-day terror unleashed by Islamist militants. The world took notice, briefly. But for the victims, silence has been the norm.

From June 13 to 14, 2025, Yelewata, a farming community already ravaged by prior displacement, became the scene of one of the most brutal acts of religious violence this year. Survivors describe how militants—shouting "Allahu Akbar"—stormed the village, torched shelters housing hundreds of internally displaced Christians, and slaughtered residents with bullets, machetes, and fire. Bodies were found charred, dismembered, or left bleeding in the fields.

When the U.S. executed a precision strike against Iranian nuclear facilities in June 2025, American intelligence should have stood ready to inform leadership and assure allies. Instead, a self-inflicted wound emerged—not from the enemy, but from within: a low-confidence, preliminary “restrike” report suggesting the strike had minimal effect.

That report—leaked to the press before proper analysis—sparked global confusion and cast doubt on U.S. capabilities. But this wasn’t just a leak. The core problem was the report’s existence at all. If analysts knew it was unreliable, why was it even created, let alone allowed to influence public perception?

In the shadows of Iran’s brutal theocracy, a name once cast into exile is rising again—Reza Pahlavi, the exiled Crown Prince and son of Iran’s last Shah. As discontent simmers within Iran and global outrage over the Islamic Republic’s human rights abuses intensifies, many Iranians—especially the younger generation—are looking back not in nostalgia, but in search of a new future. The question remains: Can Reza Pahlavi lead Iran toward a democratic, secular state?

After four brutal years of conflict since the 2021 military coup, the tide in Myanmar’s civil war is once again shifting. In a disheartening reversal of fortune, the military junta—led by General Min Aung Hlaing—has clawed back key territories in the north and east, regaining strategic momentum many believed had been lost. The recent unopposed reoccupation of Lashio serves as both a tactical and symbolic victory—and a stark reminder of the enduring dysfunction within the anti-regime movement.

In recent years, headlines have repeatedly claimed that firearms are now the leading cause of death for children in the United States. However, a closer and more honest examination of government data reveals that this is a selective interpretation—one that relies on manipulated definitions and cherry-picked age ranges to push a narrative.

Socialism often arrives cloaked in promises of equality, justice, and “free” services—free education, healthcare, housing, and jobs. Its appeal is emotional and idealistic, targeting the hopes of the marginalized and the frustrations of the working class. But beneath this seductive promise lies a historical reality drenched in oppression, economic collapse, and unimaginable human suffering. From the Soviet Union to Venezuela, socialism has consistently failed not just economically, but morally—leaving behind a legacy of destroyed economies, starved populations, crushed freedoms, and over 100 million dead.

General Min Aung Hlaing, the self-declared leader of Burma (Myanmar), has cemented his reputation as one of the most brutal autocrats in Southeast Asia. From orchestrating a bloody military coup to overseeing genocidal campaigns, Min Aung Hlaing has ruled with an iron fist. Backed by authoritarian allies China and Russia, his regime has waged war against democracy, ethnic minorities, and any opposition. But his unchecked power is now under pressure. As ethnic resistance forces gain ground, cracks are emerging in the once-impenetrable armor of the Burmese military.

Vladimir Putin, Russia’s long-standing leader, has ruled the country with an iron grip since 1999, either as president or prime minister. Despite projecting a persona of modesty and patriotism, Putin is widely believed to be the wealthiest man in the world, with estimates placing his hidden fortune at $200 billion or more—accumulated through shadow networks of oligarchs, state-sanctioned corruption, and shell companies. Behind his cultivated image as Russia’s savior lies a brutal legacy of murder, invasion, propaganda, and kleptocracy.

China's National University of Defense Technology (NUDT) in Hunan has publicly unveiled an astonishing innovation: a mosquito-sized surveillance drone, crafted for covert military and espionage missions. This development, though still in prototype form, has sparked both intrigue and alarm regarding its potential uses—and misuses.

In a time when education should be preparing young people for the complexities of adulthood—college, careers, and responsible citizenship—many students are sounding the alarm: classrooms are increasingly becoming ideological battlegrounds rather than places of genuine learning.

As Burma (Myanmar) descends deeper into civil war, a shadow network of Chinese military proxies has emerged from the fog of war. Modeled in function—if not in name—after Russia’s infamous Wagner Group, China has deployed a covert force of paramilitaries, local militias, and proxy regimes to secure its sprawling economic interests without exposing the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to the line of fire. The lynchpin of this strategy? The United Wa State Army (UWSA)—a powerful, autonomous militia force acting as China’s de facto Wagner in Southeast Asia.