Black And Right

Black And Right Black and Right Radio speaks boldly against political correctness and the Left’s control of language. This is more than talk.
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We defend faith, freedom, and common sense, giving voice to those who refuse silence. It is truth, courage, and conviction.

Hahahahahahaha!!!!!!
10/19/2025

Hahahahahahaha!!!!!!

No KingsI’ve been hearing this chant “No Kings.”Funny how the same people shouting that now didn’t mind when the real ki...
10/18/2025

No Kings

I’ve been hearing this chant “No Kings.”
Funny how the same people shouting that now didn’t mind when the real kings showed up.

I remember when governors acted like royalty. When they shut down your business with the stroke of a pen. When they told you who was “essential” and who wasn’t. When pastors were fined for opening their churches. When cops were told to mask up and ticket a man for walking outside. When people were fired for refusing an injection.

That wasn’t freedom. That was control. And they called it compassion.

They decided when you could leave your house, when your kids could learn, when you could bury your dead. They said, “Do this, or else.” That’s not democracy. That’s a crown without accountability.

And now those same voices call Trump a king.
That’s rich.

Because unlike them, he follows the law. He doesn’t hide behind it.
Every decision he makes sits on the foundation of the Constitution.
Every executive order he signs traces back to an actual statute.
And when the courts rule against him, he complies not because he has to, but because he respects the process.

That’s what leadership looks like.
Compare that to the last crowd that ruled by proclamation.
They didn’t wait for debate. They didn’t care what the law said. They decided, you obey. They locked down cities. They weaponized agencies. They censored speech.

And then they called it democracy.

They talk about unity, but only on their terms. They talk about freedom, but only if you agree with them. They spent years telling you to sit down, shut up, and follow the science even when the science changed every two weeks.

Trump didn’t create that system. He exposed it. He’s tearing down what they built, the unelected class, the faceless decision makers, the kings who never earned a crown.

When he says law and order, he’s not talking about control. He’s talking about fairness. He’s talking about the right to work, to speak, to believe without needing permission from Washington.

They call him dangerous because he reminds them what limited government actually looks like.
Because when the law means something again, the people at the top lose the power they stole.

This “No Kings” crowd says they want freedom. What they really want is control with a smile. They want rules without responsibility. They want to play emperor while pretending they’re the resistance.

You want to know the difference?
When they lose in court, they rewrite the rules.
When Trump loses in court, he respects the system and moves forward.

That’s not a king. That’s a man who knows what law means.

So before anyone lectures me about tyranny, remember who made the proclamations.
Remember who destroyed small businesses, who silenced doctors, who told families they couldn’t attend funerals.

Trump isn’t the one handing down decrees. He’s the one undoing them.
We’re not the ones bowing to kings. We’re the ones standing up to them.

They told us to stand six feet apart like that would save us.
They taped arrows on grocery store floors so we’d march in circles like obedient cattle.
They shut down weddings, funerals, and baptisms but let mobs fill the streets.
They made kids eat lunch behind plastic dividers and called it science.
And we did it because we were told it was right.

That wasn’t medicine. That was training.
It was the conditioning of a free people to see authority as mercy.
And the same people who demanded it now call their movement “No Kings.”

“No Kings?” Spare me.
You let bureaucrats tell you how far to stand, what to inject, who to visit, what to believe.
You cheered as police were ordered to ticket churchgoers sitting in their cars.
You nodded when businesses were boarded up.
You silenced anyone who questioned it.
And now you want to talk about tyranny?

You’ve got candidates like Zohran Mamdani and Omar Fateh running around pretending to fight oppression while building a government that controls everything it touches.
They want to nationalize housing, regulate speech, and punish dissent but they post hashtags about freedom.
That’s not democracy. That’s design.

They scream “No Kings” while drafting policies that would give Washington the power to decide what you drive, what you eat, how you heat your home, and what your kids learn.
They don’t want to end monarchy. They want to modernize it with themselves on the throne.

Trump is the opposite of that.
He isn’t handing down decrees. He’s tearing them out by the roots.
He isn’t creating new rules. He’s ending the ones they buried us under.
He’s not silencing anyone. He’s daring them to debate him in daylight.

That’s why they hate him.
Because every time he follows the law, they lose the power they stole through fear.
Because every time he says “America First,” they hear the death of the globalist sermon they’ve been preaching for decades.

They claim to want equality, but what they want is obedience.
They claim to want justice, but they only deliver submission.
They claim to fear kings, but they worship government.

So no, this isn’t about fairness.
This is about survival.
It’s about whether the people still own their country or if we’ve handed it over to a class that hides its tyranny behind empathy and hashtags.

The “No Kings” movement isn’t rebellion. It’s theater.
Real rebellion is the single mother opening her business after the state shut her down.
Real rebellion is the cop who kept his oath when the mayor told him to stand down.
Real rebellion is the nurse who refused to take what her conscience couldn’t accept.
That’s what freedom looks like.

And let’s talk about this claim that Trump’s use of the National Guard and ICE is proof of authoritarianism. That’s another lie.
ICE doesn’t have to conduct operations in the streets. It doesn’t have to knock on doors at dawn. It can do its job quietly and safely in the courts, in the jails, through lawful detainers, if states would simply cooperate.

But places like Illinois won’t.
Because of sanctuary policies and laws like the Trust Act, our own law enforcement can’t share information, can’t honor detainers, can’t let ICE do the job the law requires.
So agents have to go into neighborhoods and workplaces to find people they already should have met in custody. And when that happens, the same politicians who caused the problem run to the cameras and call it cruelty.

That’s not oppression. That’s obstruction.
Trump’s not militarizing the streets. He’s cleaning up the mess they made by refusing to enforce the law.
He sends the National Guard to protect federal officers and facilities from violence, not to terrorize families. He uses power to preserve order, not to destroy it.

That’s what the left can’t stand.
He proves that strength and legality can coexist.
That compassion doesn’t mean chaos.
That justice doesn’t require surrender.

So to everyone chanting “No Kings,” I’ve got news for you:
We remember who ruled us last time.
We remember the fear, the arrows, the empty classrooms, the glass between families.
We remember who turned law into suggestion and power into privilege.
And we’re not doing it again.

The age of fake kings is over.
The age of accountable leadership has begun.
And the people, not the politicians, will decide how this story ends.

Because the story isn’t over.
We’re still here. We’re still standing.
We’ve seen what happens when fear governs, and we’ve learned that courage is contagious.

They can mock, they can march, they can scream “No Kings” until their voices crack,
but the truth is rising faster than their lies can cover it.

America still belongs to the people.
It still belongs to the builder, the nurse, the officer, the teacher, the father, the mother, the dreamer, the forgotten.
It belongs to those who rise early, work hard, and refuse to kneel to men who call themselves masters.

The light is coming back.
The spine of this nation is still strong.
And the fire that once made America free will not go out again.

Because we are done bowing to crowns that never earned their thrones.
We are done letting fear speak louder than faith.
We are done letting kings rule a free people.

The people will lead now.
The people will build now.
And by the grace of Almighty God, the people will rise again.

And finally to my Christian brothers and sisters, hear me.
“No Kings” means just that, no kings. Yet you claim to serve the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
How can you chant “No Kings” and still kneel before the Cross?

How can you stand in rallies that reject authority while claiming to follow the One who holds all authority in His hand?
You cannot serve two masters. You cannot denounce kings and worship the King eternal.

The world may reject Him, but the Church cannot join their chorus.
If there was ever a time to stand apart, it is now.
Because when the world says “No Kings,” we say “Christ reigns.”

When they bow to government, we bow to God.
And when they call rebellion freedom, we call obedience liberty.

So let them shout. Let them rage. Let them march.
We will not curse our King.
We will not silence our faith.
And we will not surrender the crown that belongs only to Jesus Christ.

Because there are no kings but One.
And He still sits on the throne.

10/17/2025

Haha!!!!

My new book. I decided this one was more important than the Broken Leader. Prologue: The Ground Beneath EverythingThe la...
10/17/2025

My new book. I decided this one was more important than the Broken Leader.

Prologue: The Ground Beneath Everything

The land had been untouched for years. Weeds grew high where the soil had once been turned by work, and time had worn the field into quiet surrender. In the center stood nothing but a patch of earth flattened by wind and memory. Elias stood there one morning just after dawn, boots sinking slightly into the soft ground, hands deep in his pockets, watching his breath rise in the cold.

He had returned to this place because something in him needed to begin again. The years behind him had stripped away nearly everything that once gave him confidence. People had walked out. Faith had felt hollow. The man he used to be had fallen apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but fragments and ache. Yet here, on this silent stretch of earth, he felt something stir. A faint and stubborn whisper that said it was not over.

The air smelled of dirt and cedar. Mist hung low across the ridge, curling like smoke in the pale light. He had come with no blueprint, no crew, only a rough idea and the tools he still owned. What he carried was not hope exactly, but hunger. Hunger for steadiness. Hunger for something that could stand when he could not.

He crouched and ran his hand through the soil. The earth was firm, darker than he remembered, heavy with promise. “It starts here,” he whispered. Not with strength or ambition, but with soil.

A bird called in the distance. The sound echoed against the valley walls, and the stillness that followed carried weight. It was in that silence that the idea took root. He would build a house, not because he needed shelter, but because he needed meaning. Every beam, every nail, every layer would become a conversation between what was broken and what could still be made new.

He stood again, looking at the wide space before him. The past came back in waves, his father’s workshop, the smell of sawdust and sweat, the way the old man would measure twice and cut once, always humming under his breath as if music could steady the blade. Those memories had once made Elias ache. Now they made him grateful. His father had built houses, but what he really built was character. Elias had not understood that as a boy. He did now.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain. He could almost hear his father’s voice again, calm and practical. “Before you raise a wall, before you chase the roof, you learn your ground. The foundation will tell you what kind of man you are.”

He nodded to no one in particular and began to clear the first line of the site. His hands were stiff from the cold, but the rhythm of work warmed him. The shovel struck the soil with a deep and honest sound. Every motion carried a quiet purpose. Digging, measuring, marking, starting again.

As the sun climbed higher, the land began to change. What had been wild and uneven started to take shape beneath his effort. Sweat traced the dirt along his neck, and his back ached before noon, but the ache felt right. It was the kind that came from creation, not exhaustion.

He worked until shadows stretched long across the field, then stepped back to see what he had done. The marks were rough and uneven, nothing that anyone else would notice or praise. But to him, it was sacred. For the first time in years, he had made something that stayed.

He sat on the edge of the trench, breathing hard, the horizon glowing red behind the distant trees. His hands were blistered and raw, his clothes heavy with dust, yet his chest carried something clean and full. Beneath the fatigue, he felt peace. Not loud or triumphant. Quiet, steady, and earned.

He looked down into the trench and smiled. “You build what you believe,” he said softly. “And you can only build on what is real.”

The wind swept across the open land again, brushing through the tall grass. The valley answered with its silence as if listening. Somewhere within that silence, something in him shifted.

He realized then that this would not be a story about wood and stone. It would be a story about foundation. About what it takes to hold when everything else gives way. A house is not built to impress the sky. It is built to endure the storm.

He stood, brushing the dirt from his palms, and stared at the ground one more time. The shadows had deepened, and the first stars had begun to appear. Tomorrow would bring the mixing of concrete, the placement of rebar, the beginning of permanence. But tonight, the soil itself was enough.

He walked toward his truck, the fading light following behind him. The house was still invisible, but he could already see it in his mind, the walls, the windows, the ceiling, the glow of light spilling from within. It was not yet real, but it was possible.

That was all he needed.

Elias turned once more toward the field, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s begin.”

Reflection

Every man reaches a moment when he must return to his own ground. The soil may look barren, the space may feel empty, but there comes a time when the only way forward is to start over. Not with applause or certainty, but with a shovel and a choice.

This is not only Elias’s story. It is the story of every man who has watched something crumble and wondered if he still has the strength to build again. The foundation of a house and the foundation of a soul are not made of different things. Both demand truth. Both require patience. Both begin with dirt and end with purpose.

The lesson is simple but costly. You build what you believe, and you cannot build what you refuse to face.

So before the walls rise, before the lights glow, before the roof shelters, every man must kneel once in the dust of his own becoming and say, with humility and courage, “Let’s begin.”

FYI!
10/17/2025

FYI!

Official statement from the Oakland County Republican Party on the planned No Kings mobilizations this Saturday.

Powerful!!! State Representative Nicole La Ha
10/16/2025

Powerful!!! State Representative Nicole La Ha

I keep seeing this “No Kings” protest and I can’t help but shake my head. Where were all these voices when real tyranny ...
10/15/2025

I keep seeing this “No Kings” protest and I can’t help but shake my head. Where were all these voices when real tyranny was staring us in the face?

Do you remember when governors and mayors ruled by proclamation? When bureaucrats and health departments decided who was “essential” and who wasn’t? When churches were closed, schools were shuttered, and families were separated in the name of safety? That wasn’t leadership. That was domination.

People watched their parents die through glass windows. They waved goodbye from parking lots because they weren’t allowed inside. They buried loved ones on livestreams. They stood in funeral homes with limits on who could grieve. Those weren’t choices made by kings. They were made by public servants who said they were protecting us.

For years we were told to sit down, shut up, and comply. Businesses were destroyed, children lost milestones, and voices of dissent were silenced. Now the same people who applauded those mandates are out in the streets screaming “No Kings”? Spare me.

If sanctuary cities are collapsing, it’s because their leaders chose politics over partnership. They could fix their chaos by working with the federal government instead of fighting it. Accountability isn’t oppression. Responsibility isn’t tyranny.

We’ve lived through what control really looks like, and it didn’t wear a crown.



10/14/2025

Charlie…

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10/12/2025

Please follow my YouTube channel.
Link in comments!
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10/11/2025

Call John! 312-642-5600

10/10/2025

Explosion in Tennessee? Any news on it

Big news, Chicago!Tomorrow morning I will be hosting Chicago’s Morning Answer bringing you real talk, real issues, and r...
10/10/2025

Big news, Chicago!

Tomorrow morning I will be hosting Chicago’s Morning Answer bringing you real talk, real issues, and real solutions.

Tune in live on AM 560 The Answer.

Call in and join the conversation. Your voice matters.

Let’s make it a morning to remember, Chicago. See you on the airwaves.

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