In the land of the free and the home of the brave, where apple pie is a staple and baseball is a religion, there’s something decidedly unsettling wafting through the air. It’s not political craziness, surprisingly; it’s the sound of mainstream pundits turning America into a cold, hard economic spreadsheet. Our dear readers are invited to consider Tucker Carlson’s words as he skeptically sizes up America’s favorite fast-talker and debate-whirlwind, Ben Shapiro. Apparently, Shapiro’s vision of America isn’t about fields of amber grain but more about stacks of dollars and cents—where our birthplaces are of no more significance than a blip on a radar.
It seems Ben has got himself tangled in a far-too-common web woven by elites, who view citizens as mere economic units. Tucker, swatting away these ideas as if they were pesky flies at a BBQ, emphasizes the very real cultural and emotional ties Americans have to their hometowns and resting places of their ancestors. After all, what’s the point of living in a country if we can’t feel a connection, right? Yet, according to Shapiro’s alleged lines of thinking, your hometown could be as interchangeable as socks in a drawer—cold, distant, and oh-so pragmatic.
Adding to this, the sage behind the nightly newsdesk critiques Shapiro’s ideas on retirement, which arguably makes about as much sense as saying pineapples grow on oak trees. According to the narrative, Shapiro seems to dismiss the traditional idea of retiring at 65 with a similar level of disrespect as an unsolicited telemarketer. Why retire at all, Shapiro asks, as if thinking living off the fruits of one’s labor in twilight years is some radical concept. Most folks might say working a lifetime should surely earn one a cozy armchair and the leisure to finally learn golf.
Tucker reckons that Shapiro’s vision tends to ignore the heartfelt realities of everyday Americans. Instead, it positions people as mere players on a giant economic chessboard where the king is profit and the pawns are, well, you. God forbid someone might want a stable job in the town where their grandparents built the very first corner store or barn. Perhaps the thing that makes this more unpalatable than unsalted fries is the underlying notion that folks should move if they can’t afford to live where they grew up—no sentimental value, no little league nostalgia, just pack up and poof, off you go.
For readers, whether team Shapiro or team Tucker, the squabble might seem like an epic clash of ideologies in soundbite form. But truth be told, it’s a reminder that the soul of America isn’t just in GDP numbers; it’s in the values, traditions, and yes, the very places where history, personal and collective, is built. From the rolling plains of Kansas to the neon lights of Vegas, it’s these treasures that give America its unique identity. To forget that might just be as sad as a dry turkey on Thanksgiving.
