Better in their words…

Bonus Post: More Trump court wins as SCOTUS OKs alien transfers; Texas floods raise strange questions; Gen Z finds faith; trad wives rise; and Dems face disaster as their neo-pagan coalition unravels.

Source: WHETHER IT’S WEATHER ☙ Sunday, July 6, 2025 ☙ C&C NEWS

WORLD NEWS AND COMMENTARY

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Yesterday, the New York Times ran an encouraging story headlined, “U.S. Turns Eight Migrants Over to South Sudan, Ending Weeks of Legal Limbo.” The case involving the eight male illegals went up to the Supreme Court twice. The second time finally did the trick.

Djibouti is a sun-blasted sliver of volcanic rock wedged between the Red Sea and the Horn of Africa, where cracked earth meets rust-colored mountains and the air shimmers like glass above salt flats older than civilization. It’s a crossroads of empires and empires-to-be— a blistering outpost where French colonial ghosts whisper from crumbling forts, Chinese railroads snake toward the ports, and American boots crunch over gravel on secretive bases that don’t officially exist.

The capital —bizarrely also called Djibouti— is a fever dream of rusting containers, buzzing tuk-tuks (the unholy union of a motorcycle and a golf cart), qat-stuffed cheeks, and windblown minarets, where the call to prayer competes with the thrum of diesel engines and the unrelenting sun turns every surface into a blazing stovetop. Just outside the city, camels shuffle through chalk-white deserts and flamingos stalk the acidic waters of Lake Assal, which is saltier than the Dead Sea.

In short, Djibouti is where the global chessboard meets the furnace of the earth—and nobody ends up there by accident.

Dijibouti is also where the eight random deportees waited, sweating, shackled and silent, as their fate was debated furiously in a federal courtroom in Boston by lawyers who’d never met them. One wonders whether the men even knew why they were being held, or where they were meant to go.

The fight was over their final destination. The United States had struck a quiet deal with South Sudan, which agreed —somehow— to accept them.

The ACLU lawyers were appalled. South Sudan? Too primitive. Too unstable. Too third-world. They insisted that conditions in South Sudanese detention facilities amounted to de facto torture. And under international law, they argued, that made the deportation flatly illegal— no matter the men’s criminal records, and no matter what promises South Sudan’s government made.

Twice, the case rocketed to the Supreme Court on emergency appeal. Twice, the justices declined to stop the deportations. The migrants’ lawyers filed motion after motion, raising everything from diplomatic perfidy to an obscure 19th-century precedent barring “infamous punishment.” It didn’t matter. The high court refused to blink.

A district judge in D.C. briefly paused the removals, warning that the U.S. can’t just “take human beings and send them into danger to make a point.” But he punted it back to Massachusetts, where Judge Murphy —already steamrolled once by the Supreme Court— reluctantly threw up his hands.

And so, after six surreal weeks locked in a cold steel box on a base in Djibouti, the men were shackled, marched onto a military plane, and flown to Juba just before midnight on Friday. Whether they were welcomed, jailed, disappeared, or simply dropped off at the airport with a wave is anyone’s guess.

But at least they’re out of Djibouti purgatory. Progress.

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Yesterday, a tragic story took a surprising turn. You may have heard of the horrific flash-flooding in Texas two days ago, where at least one Christian camp for young girls experienced multiple deaths and continues searching for still-missing campers. The New York Times ran an update this morning headlined, “More Than 50 Dead in Texas Floods as Search for Missing Grows Dire.”

So far as I can tell, relief agencies are working well, or at least as well as they ever do. I might not have mentioned this weird and unpleasant weather story at all, had it not been for yesterday’s bizarre turn.

Without a doubt, with its unpredictable flash flooding, the story fits our classic ‘weird weather’ category. Yesterday, Governor Greg Abbott of Texas visited Camp Mystic, where some two dozen girls staying near the Guadalupe River were reported missing in the floods. In a social media post, Abbot said —get this— that the all-girls camp and the river had been “horrendously ravaged in ways unlike I’ve seen in any natural disaster.”

Uh-oh.

The water pounded the Texas soil, fast and hard, suddenly and unexpectedly, without warning. “Some locations,” the Times explained, “saw a month’s worth of rain in only a few hours.” The Grey Lady quoted Emily Heller, a meteorologist in Austin’s National Weather Service office, who added, “It’s the prolonged excessive rainfall over one area that makes them so dangerous.”

Excessive was the key word.

🔥 Camp Mystic, the quiet little Christian girls’ camp at the heart of this story, is a hundred years old. During its century nestled alongside the Gaudalupe River, the camp never experienced this kind of flash flooding, or else camp officials would have been better prepared.

The timid Times danced along a journalistic cliff’s edge, throwing hints around like candy from a Mardi Gras float, but stopping short of coming right out and saying it: this weather is not natural.

But other people are saying it. Social media sleuths got right to work, and quickly discovered TikToks from the last couple months posted by Texas campers complaining about strange “blue rain:”

CLIP: TikTok camper claims the rain is blue in a Texas state park (0:29).

Independent investigators next discovered that Texas has so many knownweather modification projects that it even maintains a whole special department and website. The climate ops started back in 1971. From Texas’s “Weather Modification Frequently Asked Questions:”

Now, in July, we are in the dead middle of Texas’s cloud-seeding season. (My favorite line: “The District … uses its own specially-equipped aircraft to conduct seeding operations”— yet the ‘experts’ still deny chemtrails exist. Experts are worse than useless. The information is right on the website.)

Camp Mystic, on the Guadalupe, is directly downstream from the CRMWD’s cloud-seeding activity conducted every year between April and October.

This kind of flash flood and its heartbreaking human cost has never happened at Camp Mystic before. You know what else has never happened before? Nine cloud-seeding projects running concurrently over West and South Texas. If, that is, we can believe the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation’s own website. I suppose there could be even more cloud-seeding going on, since the website looks a little out of date.

Somebody should probably ask.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, aluminum chaff, and silver iodide.

🔥 Someone else who noticed what the Times wouldn’t say was feisty, outspoken Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.). Yesterday, she announced she’d introduce a federal bill to ban weather modification projects— based on the law that Florida just passed.

The Texas disaster looks like a deadly weather-modifying duck. It quacks like anthropogenic iatrogenesis with webbed feet. It waddles like ecological friendly fire. Let’s face it: the government and its weather-modifying contractors probably killed those kids, probably accidentally. Probably.

They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. —Hosea 8:1.

If there is a silver iodide lining in this manufactured disaster, it is that it might finally make a federal ban like Marjorie’s politically possible. Half a dozen states now ban weather warping, and the public is beginning to wise up to the fact that it is human-engineered climate change, just not the kind of human-engineered climate change the ‘experts’ want us to think.

The next time they call the whirlwind a hundred-year flood, ask them how many sowing planes were in the winds. Let’s lock up the experts (after a fair trial, of course) and get on with it.

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Granted, this is a sample size of one, but it echoes a trend we’ve seen appearing in lots of other statistics: young people are returning to faith. Here, in her own words, a young lady describes discovering that Christianity isn’t about “being good, chill, and relaxed,” but instead it is an “incredibly complex” theology. “Dude, all I care about is God,” she gushed. “So good.”

CLIP: Gen-Z girl describes her spiritual journey (2:20).

“I’ve dabbled in New Age spirituality,” she said. But “Christianity is it.” And she wasn’t coming in shallow. She’s reading Mere Christianity. She’s watching “The Case for Christ.” She cited historical evidence. Listen to the clip. You can hear the wheels turning and the tumblers locking into place.

She’s not emoting her way in— she’s reasoning her way into faith.

If this is truly a trend—and mounting evidence suggests it is— it defies nearly every cultural prediction of the 20th century. The futurists and secularizers told us religion would wither away under modernity’s harsh glare, that science and technology would dissolve the ancient myths, and that young folks would surely trade stately stained glass for glowing screens, and abandon ancient creeds for curated, self-selected identities.

🔥 Time Magazine ran its infamous “Is God Dead?” cover on April 8, 1966. It was the first cover in the magazine’s history to feature only text —no image— just those three provocative red words against a stark black background. The headline article explored the rise of secular theology and asked whether traditional belief in a personal, active God could possibly survive in the modern technological world.

Instead, something totally unexpected is happening: in a hyper-connected, post-ironic, post-covid, artificially intelligent, neo-paganist, scrolling, spiritually exhausted age, Gen Z is circling back— not to trendy “New Age spirituality,” but to Christian orthodoxy. Not to fog-machine vibes and guitar-band worship, but to complex theology.

It’s as if, having tasted every cheap, modern counterfeit, they’re returning, starving and dying of spiritual thirst, to the original well of living water.

If anything, the pandemic —and the institutional failures it exposed— cracked the illusion that science, government, and progress could answer life’s deepest questions. For many young people, it wasn’t just the lockdowns, isolation, or fear. It was the hollow, mechanical, fruitless nature of the response. No comfort. No purpose. No answers. No sympathy. Just skewed algorithms, malfunctioning models, and malicious mandates.

Within that vacuum of irrationality, something ancient is stirring. Not crystal shops or astrology memes— but Christ. In the ruins of modern certainties, Gen Z is reaching backward, past the experts, past the slogans, back to stained glass, scripture, and a crucified King.

🔥 We can see the dots connecting all across the board. Consider yesterday’s London Times:

In the U.K., church attendance among 18 to 24‑year‑olds has quietly quadrupled in five years— from an anemic 4% in 2018 to roughly 16% in 2024— with young men leading the charge (rising to 21%).

It seems to be, just like the pandemic was, a worldwide phenomenon. Call it another covid miracle. Last month, Axios ran this surprising headline:

“Christianity,” Axios reported, “is starting to make a comeback in the U.S. and other Western countries, led by young people.” The story reported that across America, Gen- Z has stopped collapsing into irreligion. The share identifying as Christian flattened between the 1990s and 2000s cohorts (both ~46%) and is now rising, reversing the historical trendline.

Ryan Burge, a political scientist at Eastern Illinois University, said, “Gen Z is not that much less religious than their parents, and that’s a big deal.” His analysis showed that Gen-Z-ers — especially Gen-Z men — “are actually more likely to attend weekly religious services than millennials and even some younger Gen-X-ers.”

According to religious pollster Barna’s latest survey data from April, two-thirds (66%) of all U.S. adults claim to have made a personal commitment to Jesus that remains important in their life today. That is a +12% increase just since 2021, when commitment levels scraped the bottom in more than three decades of Barna tracking.

Finally, behold this astonishing “weird but true” headline from the New York Post, published one week ago:

Pre-pandemic, “hot girl summer” meant tequila shots, dating apps, and glitter at music festivals. Now, a growing number of Gen Z ladies are choosing convents instead. You can’t make this stuff up.

🔥 It’s all very bad news for Democrats. Democrats spent the last two decades zealously driving the religious-minded out of their political temple. In their rush to appease every fringe of secular progressivism, they mocked faith as backward, excluded it from their platforms, and treated devout believers —especially Christians— as latent bigots in need of reeducation.

Now, just as a spiritually starving generation starts returning to the altar, the left finds itself on the wrong side of the sanctuary doors, clinging to a coalition that thinks religion is dangerous, patriarchal, or embarrassing.

You can’t harvest votes from churches you spent years burning down.

If Gen-Z’s return to religion is more than a passing phase, it implicitly challenges a massive chunk of the modern Democratic platform. We’re not just talking about disagreements over marginal tax brackets. We’re talking about bedrock issues: abortion, gender ideology, family structure, religious liberty, parental rights, even the moral authority of the state itself.

A serious embrace of orthodox Christianity or traditional moral frameworks doesn’t just nudge Gen-Z away from Democratic policies— it puts them on a head-on collision course. You can’t affirm biblical anthropology and also celebrate unlimited self-definition. You can’t believe life begins at conception and cheer for taxpayer-funded abortion access. You can’t hold to spiritual hierarchy and simultaneously accept that truth is fluid, power-based, and crowd-sourced from TikTok.

In that light, Gen-Z’s religious turn isn’t just cultural—it’s a political jailbreak. And it could realign the future in ways Democrats never saw coming.

Let us recall once again the pandemic’s role.

🔥 The big-government guarantee of state-provided protection misfired catastrophically during the pandemic. For all the promises of safety, what young people actually experienced was isolation, confusion, censorship, and a creeping sense that no one in charge really knew what they were doing.

The government couldn’t keep them safe— but it did close their schools, silence their doubts, distance their social lives, and offer Netflix and DoorDash as substitutes for community and meaning. That failure left a blackened bruise. It exposed the wafer-thin limits of the maternal state— the idea that if you just follow the rules, the experts will tuck you in and make it all okay.

For a generation raised on institutional promises, the betrayal was spiritual. And now many young adults —let’s call them “Tribulation Saints”— are searching for something older, stronger, and true.

They’re a ragtag remnant raised under a Beast System algorithm, catechized by influencers, and tested in the fiery furnace of state-enforced conformity. They didn’t inherit faith— they recovered it. Dug it up treasure buried in a ruined field of institutional collapse and cultural derision.

They are Daniels in the public schools, refusing the king’s meat. Esthers with Instagram accounts, wondering if they’ve been called for such a time as this. They’re not perfect. They’ve been wounded by the world they grew up in—scarred by broken families, by soul-sapping corporate media, and by cancerous synthetic morality. But that’s what makes their turn all the more remarkable.

They aren’t converting because it’s socially advantageous. Quite the opposite. They’re choosing faith in spite of the costs— mockery, alienation, career friction. They know full well what the culture demands, and they’re refusing to bow.

It’s not too late for the rest of us, either.

Have a Blessed Sunday! Thank you immensely for your continuing and loyal support of the C&C mission. I hope you enjoy a beautiful and bountiful Lord’s Day. Then swivel back here in the morning, to get the week kicked off right, with another fresh installment of essential news and commentary.

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