Two brothers. Two Flying Vs. Two very different roads to Guitar God. I first heard Michael Schenker’s music before I even knew his name, while Rudolf Schenker entered my life through Scorpions and eventually became someone I had the privilege of meeting. From UFO and MSG to the riffs and relentless drive of Scorpions, the Schenker brothers show us two very different ways a guitarist can leave a mark on rock ’n’ roll. Decades later, the brothers who took separate journeys are still wielding their axes, influencing musicians, and proving one wonderful thing: Guitar Gods don’t have an expiration date.

Someone posted online that religious leaders are hiding a huge secret: that you're secretly a god, and the universe is a kind of hologram, and you're the "still point" holding it together. They backed this up with: A computer program with real, correct math in it (using things called quaternions, which are a real type of number system used in video games and robotics).

A response to S. C. Sayles on The Gates of Awakening This piece responds to S. C. Sayles' review, "A Logos-Centred Critique of The Gates of Awakening." I have not seen the original paper by Erydir Ceisiwr and Lumos Aureon. What I say about it is limited to what Sayles reports.

I joined the Air Force right out of High School. I wore the Security Police badge from 1981 to 1992. I stood posts on flight lines and trained on installations across the United States. I lived at Kunsan Air Base in Korea for more than a year and at Shaw Air Force Base for ten years. I also served in Jordan and Egypt, and deployed to the United Arab Emirates during the Gulf War. I drank the water where I was assigned. I never thought about it, and neither did anyone I served with.

I thought I discovered the J. Geils Band when “Centerfold” exploded across MTV. Instead, I had walked into the middle of a story that had been unfolding for years. Digging backward through Love Stinks, older songs, live albums, radio, and finally seeing them onstage taught me just how deep this band went. But Freeze-Frame also raises a bittersweet question: What happens when the breakthrough you've spent years chasing changes what everyone expects you to be? This is about a band that survived the climb, reached the summit, and discovered that success could be its own kind of struggle.

"Get on the Stage" Hasan Piker, the Democratic Party, and the Public Safety Question Its Leaders Won't Answer I was watching another Dave Rubin reaction video on the Democratic Party, and it reminded me why I chose freedom and love of America over the plantation known as the Democratic Party. Here is Hasan Piker, in his own words: "I want Chinese style communism to happen inside of the Democratic Party right now. Okay? I want to do cultural revolution." "We're doing a struggle session. Chuck Schumer, get on the cuck stage."

My brother Ric once looked at Little Angel, put a Cheap Trick record on the turntable, and said, “You need to hear this.” I responded by running up the stairs while he chased me playing air guitar. Years later, after Ric was gone, his monster stereo and record collection came home, and Dream Police was waiting for me. This time, I didn’t run. I listened. What began as a favorite memory of my big brother became a journey into Cheap Trick, “Surrender,” and one of my earliest realizations that a band could have something all its own: a sound.

In an Academia.edu post, Lumos Aureon claims religious leaders have hidden your “divine decreed sovereignty.” The post says you are an immortal observer inside a holographic universe. Its proof arrives in a rush: the UN flag, Mount Hermon, 33 vertebrae, Freemasonry, ancient sages, and a papal mitre. That rush is the method. Before one link can be checked, ten more appear.

Chicago was already a rock ’n’ roll giant when a hauntingly beautiful voice began pulling the band somewhere unexpected. I first heard that voice as a little girl with a 45 of “If You Leave Me Now,” a song I loved enough to take to school...and got teased for loving. Years later, the sound that had been called “wussy” would help power one of the most remarkable reinventions in rock history. This is about the Chicago that came before, the Peter Cetera who had been there all along, and what it felt like for Gen X to hear the room change while we were standing in it.

I went to Tower Records because Ann Wilson’s voice made me want the new Heart album. I left with two records and a question, thanks to a cute young guitarist who casually announced that he didn’t play licks from female guitar players. Then I dropped the needle on an older Heart album and heard “City’s Burning.” Suddenly, I wasn’t just hearing Heart anymore. I was listening to Nancy Wilson. What followed was a journey backward through the music and the discovery of a guitarist who earned her place in my pantheon the same way the boys did: she played, and I listened.

Why the Zealot Theory Does Not Fit the Whole Bible Some Bible teachers say the beast of Revelation 13 was already here. They argue that the beast was not a future Antichrist. They say it was Zealot-led Israel during the Jewish war against Rome from AD 66 to 70. Damien F. Mackey presents this view in his article Beast of Revelation 13. He relies heavily on the work of Adam Maarschalk and M. Booker.

For me, Y&T wasn’t just another great Bay Area band. They were part of the soundtrack of growing up, the band that opened the door to heavy metal and gave me one of those rock voices I never forgot. From “Forever” to “Mean Streak” and beyond, their mix of melody, muscle, harmonies and screaming guitars still takes me home. I saw them when it was happening, and decades later, I got to hear Dave Meniketti sing again. Some music takes you back. Y&T reminds me I never really left.

A friend recently sent me a long, careful argument for reading Genesis 1 as evidence of a pre-Adamic age, one in which Satan ruled and ruined an earlier earth before God's six-day creation week restored it. He built the case out of real texts: Isaiah 14, Ezekiel 28, Job 38, Luke 10:18, Revelation 12, and a set of striking numerical patterns in the Genesis 5 genealogies. It is a serious argument, made by a serious reader, and it deserves a serious answer rather than a dismissal. I want to walk through that answer here, because the questions underneath it, what the firmament actually is, what "without form and void" actually means, and whether Scripture ever hands us a chronology for Satan's fall, come up again and again in these conversations. Getting them right matters more than winning a particular exchange.

I knew Rainbow. I knew the songs. I knew Ritchie Blackmore. Or at least I thought I did. Then a guitarist in my first little band called him “the technician,” and suddenly I had questions. Those questions sent me backward from Rainbow into Deep Purple, taught me the difference between hearing a guitar and truly listening to the guitarist, and eventually followed me all the way to seeing Blackmore play live. This is the story of the Guitar God I had to learn how to hear.

Some songs entertain us. Others somehow find us exactly when we need them. For Little Angel, Triumph’s “Magic Power” was more than a rock song. It seemed to understand the lonely girl lying in her bedroom with a radio, a head full of stories, and dreams much bigger than the world around her. Then I saw Triumph live and discovered the musicianship behind the magic. Decades later, the posters may be gone and the little radio has disappeared, but the music still takes me back. Triumph never demanded that I remember them. They gave me a reason to.

Before I knew who was in ELO, I knew what their music did to me. It lifted. It bounced. It took me somewhere. From the lonely beauty of “Telephone Line” to the instant Gen X Reflex of “Don’t Bring Me Down,” Electric Light Orchestra created rock ’n’ roll filled with strings, synthesizers, spaceships, melody, and wonder. They were already established when my generation arrived, then came with us into the MTV age without losing what made them unmistakably ELO. I didn’t know their names or their stories. The music was the celebrity. And somehow, ELO always brought us up.

Before we called them legends, we called them Guitar Gods, and we meant it. They walked onto stages with long hair, leather, spandex, screaming amplifiers, and an instrument so badass we called it an axe. We screamed for them, worshipped them, and sometimes wanted to become them. I know I did. Somewhere in the shadows, a Black girl who thought nobody would understand picked up an electric guitar and learned her first rock licks. From Hendrix and Van Halen to Prince and Satriani, this is about the era when the solo was sacred, the arena was church, and we had been baptized.

I grew up knowing the Rolling Stones as a band that was happening now. What I didn’t understand was that they had already been rock ’n’ roll giants for decades. Then classic-rock radio sent me digging backward, and suddenly the band giving my generation “Start Me Up” and “Hang Fire” was also the band behind “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” “Satisfaction,” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” They survived the British Invasion, MTV, hip-hop, streaming, and generations of musical change without ever needing a comeback. Which leaves one perfectly reasonable question: Are these guys immortal?

The first scratch hits and my body already knows what comes next. “Rockit.” In 1983, Herbie Hancock gave Gen X a record that sounded like the future, sending dancers into school performances, breakdancers onto television, and silver-painted robots onto the streets of Fisherman’s Wharf. But what Young Angel couldn’t know was that the man behind that strange new sound was already a musical giant who had spent decades refusing to stay inside anyone’s box. We thought Herbie Hancock had stepped into our generation. Looking back, I realize something else: we had finally caught up with him.

Millennials, born between 1981 and 1996, have navigated a transformative era shaped by rapid technological advancements, transitioning from dial-up internet to a world that is always connected. They've witnessed the rise of personal computers, the internet, and smartphones, fundamentally changing communication, work, and daily life. However, this evolution has come with challenges such as the Great Recession, student debt, high housing prices, and unstable careers, making traditional milestones harder to achieve. In response, Millennials have redefined adulthood, embracing "adulting," often delaying independence while adopting flexible jobs, gig work, and side hustles. Through these adaptations, they are reshaping definitions of success, stability, and maturity, showcasing resilience and creativity in an ever-changing landscape.