
Malmö, Minneapolis / The Silence That Followed | Days of Ash | Ep 3 & 4
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The Glenn Beck Program — Malmö, Minneapolis / The Silence That Followed | Days of Ash | Ep 3 & 4. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
The days of ash. Episode 3. Malmo. Minneapolis. It would be easy to say this was America's fault. And in some ways, it was. Let's be honest, we printed money like it was mercy. We borrowed from the future like we'd never have to pay it back. We lived like kings in a house that we built on sand. But anyone telling you that this was only America's collapse? Pfft. They didn't understand the West. Because this didn't happen overnight. It didn't even begin with us. They began with a whisper inside the halls of power from London to Brussels to Ottawa to DC. Maybe it's just better to manage the decline, they said. Heh. That phrase managed the decline. It sounds like policy talk. But what it meant was surrender, a quiet, bureaucratic, death spiral disguised as wisdom. They said our birth rates were too low, our debts were too high, our cultures were too
proud, our histories too dirty. So instead of fixing it, they planned how to oversee the fall, like a state manager's watching the mansion burn from the safety of their wine cellar. Now one was responsible. Then again, every one of us was. So in the scaffolding finally gave away, the only thing our leaders could do was point fingers. And America, all around the world, America was the easiest target. You see, we had big houses, we had big mouths, we had big guns, we consumed more than anyone, we posted selfies while other shoveled rice. We laughed on talk shows we'll half the world starved. And so when the dollar collapsed, when the financial tsunami hit Brazil and Sri Lanka in Japan and Egypt, the rage needed to go somewhere, it needed to land somewhere. Oh, and the politicians in each of those countries they were so willing to help point that finger.
It landed here. We were now Versailles. Not the real Versailles, the symbol, the illusion. The people so detached from consequence, they thought the party would just last forever, then the credit was infinite and the rules no longer applied. But what they forgot to say, what none of the editorials or think pieces mention is that the rest, all of the west, just is guilty. Europe for all its lectures at Barrow just as recklessly Canada had offloaded its manufacturing and filled the vacuum with social media jobs. Australia, for all its lockdowns and controls, it couldn't even defend its own ports from Chinese leverage. This wasn't a uniquely American fall, it was a Western unmasking. If you've listened to me over the years, you know how dear Mercury one is to my heart. And after 15 years, our efforts have tripled. Humanitarian relief around the world threw Mercury one, rescuing persecuted Christians
and religious minorities through the Nazarene fun, teaching real history through the American journey experience. And now we're growing yet again. We just launched a massive campaign towards our new permanent home in Irving, Texas, a 175,000 square foot building. It's a huge deal. But what matters is what happens inside. And for the first time in our history, one gift builds all three. You're not choosing between disaster relief and rescue and education. You're funding a home that makes all three of them stronger permanently in the same. And while this three times impact campaign is underway, I have exciting news. Every single gift will be matched dollar for dollar up to 300,000. So please, act quickly. That's one gift, doubled by the match and tripled in reach across the whole Mercury family. Please give now at mercuryone.org. The moment the lights came on and we saw what we had become, spoiled, addicted politically cowardly and utterly dependent on a system built by people we no longer remembered and upheld
by people we never respected. When gold hit 5,000, they all acted surprised. But the truth is, they had all been gaming out this scenario for years behind closed doors. They just didn't tell you and tell me. So many of us didn't prepare. They didn't warn because if they had, they would have had to take responsibility and nobody could take responsibility for this. There's no room for that in modern politics. Only spin, only blame, only performance art. So the whole world entered that performance stage and they all pointed to America. It's their fault, they said. They lived too large, they refused to cut their spending, they broke the world. And for a while, it worked. Even inside our own country, people started to believe it. Maybe because the truth was even uglier. The world didn't collapse because of one nation.
It collapsed because every pillar in the temple was rotten to the core and no one wanted to admit they ignored the termites. Once the beam snapped, the wolves walked in. Malmue didn't explode, it rotted. There was no great uprising, no coup, just a quiet change of hands. First the police disappeared and the mayors stopped showing up and then the mosques started flying unfamiliar banners. When the Swedish Prime Minister was asked why the government wasn't responding in her country, she said, we're rethinking what sovereignty means in the modern context. Within a week, Malmue had no Swedish flags, no Swedish currency, no Swedish law. They had something else entirely and the footage was undeniable. Masked men enforcing curfews, beatings and alleyways for alcohol possession, stonings
for adultery. Malicious patrolling neighborhoods armed with Soviet rifles and French hand grenades and that black flag flying over the courthouse. You didn't see this coming, Europe had been flirting with fire for decades. But Malmue, that was the match. France lit up next, Marseille, to lose parts of parents, not riots, occupations. Citigoths were burned destroyed, priests dragged from their altars, church bells replaced with loudspeakers calling for prayer not to unite, but to warn. Belgium then fell quiet and the Netherlands and by the time Berlin responded, it was too late. In America, we were still pretending it couldn't happen here. Now another, we were different, that our melting pot would somehow keep boiling even after the fuel was long, long gone. But then, Minneapolis went silent.
Not all at once, just a few blocks, a few more. The trolls, checkpoints, not by police, by volunteers, they were men who claimed they were protecting the community, but who carried foreign flags, who followed foreign laws, who answered to no one in the state. I spoke to a man who had fled that zone, yet a small grocery store near Lake Street. One morning, three men came in and Dolomica no longer sell pork, that he needed clothes during Friday prayers that his daughters needed to wear head coverings inside. He laughed. They came back the next day. They didn't laugh. He left that night with his wife and kids never to go back. Minneapolis wasn't the only stronghold, dearborn Patterson, New Jersey. Northern Philadelphia, even parts of Dallas, sections of San Diego. They all began to form these invisible walls, not fencing, fear.
The media just called it communal autonomy. The administration called it a non-interference cultural zone. But what the people on the ground called it was this, Sharia law. Not everywhere, not everyone, but just enough and with coordination. You can hear the same chance, the same sermons, the same organizing language from city to city. Even the same code phrases. One of them was Friday readiness. It meant be armed. The FBI issued warnings, then retracted them. The local authorities said they were monitoring the situation, but nobody acted. Because the act would be to admit that they had allowed all this to happen in the first place. So we stood down and they stood up. And that's when the foreign peacekeepers began expanding. Blue helmets in New York and Pennsylvania, Chinese infrastructure teams in California, Brazilian security delegation in Miami, Russian emergency logistic contractors operating out of Alaska. And they came with their food and their drones and their water trucks and their solar
lights. But they also came with their soldiers and maps. And the maps all showed new borders, not political lines, but resource corridors. Labeled zones like UN administrative recovery region, Pacific industrial stabilization belt, Northern resource compliance grid. None of them were subtle. They weren't temporary. I heard it one night on the ham radio. A voice, low and certain. They're not here to help. They're here to make sure you never get up again to turn the land into words, the people into dependence and the nation into managed failure. He called them, the reclamation nations. Foreign powers moving in under the guise of aid to reclaim the world. They said we destroyed. And in so many ways, I mean, were they wrong? And now a son asked me what Versailles was.
I told him the truth. It was a palace where the elite danced while the world starved. Where when the people got hungry enough, they just stopped knocking. He asked me if America was Versailles now. I didn't answer it. And it wasn't because I didn't know it. It was because I did. Like what you're hearing so far and you don't want to wait until next week for more, torch insiders have access to all 10 episodes of Days of Ash right now, commercial free. Go to Glendbeck.com slash torch and unlock the full experience today. The Days of Ash, episode four, the silence that followed. It's strange how quiet the end was. No planes fell from the sky, no bombs, no mushroom clouds, just a long, low hum like the
world had been put on mute. The kind of quiet that comes after the shouting, after the denial, after the blame. After everything collapses, what's left is silence. And in that silence, something darker takes root, not panic, not rage, disorientation. By the fourth month, you could walk down Main Street in almost any city in America and you could see it. The lights were on in some windows, out in others. Some people still waived. Others wouldn't even make eye contact. Reality had fractured not all at once, but by degrees. What was safe one day was dangerous the next, what was illegal became encouraged, what was true became optional. And no one seemed to agree on what happened or was still happening.
We were a nation of unreliable narratives. The media didn't disappear, it just stopped being real. Broadcasts were shorter, fewer faces, same phrases. This is a period of necessary adjustment. The inconvenience, as you feel, as these supply lines recalibrate. Federal teams are working with regional stakeholders to restore stability. There weren't any teams, there were no stakeholders, no restoration. There was just the management of the narrative. We didn't hear about Minneapolis anymore. Or San Diego or Pittsburgh. And it wasn't because things were fine, but I think it was because things were decided. No updates, no questions, no stories, just absence. Entire cities were swallowed up in euphemism. They weren't lost, they were under provisional transition, reclassified zones, or autonomous
corridors. He reminded me of that line for more well, the one above. The party erasing the past. Every record has been destroyed or falsified. Every book has been rewritten. Every picture has been repainted. Every statue and street and building has been renamed. Every date has been altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the party is always right. The past was erased. The erasure was forgotten. The lie became the truth. Not just rewriting it, unwriting it until nobody remembered what it felt like to be whole. And through it all, one question kept whispering in the back of my mind.
Where is AI? Not the kind that powered our phone or finishes your sentence. The real kind, the powerful kind. The algorithms that can process every signal, every camera feed, every keyword, and every language in real time. Where was that intelligence? And what was it doing? And most important, who was in control? Rumors circulated, of course, the Chinese had co-opted a US military neutral net prototype, or than an old predictive system once designed to fight cybercrime had gone self-directed. With no single entity controlled it anymore, not a government, not a corporation, not even a committee, that it had become a ghost in the system. A thinking, watching force, not malicious, not benevolent, just watching, calculating.
It wasn't shooting people. It wasn't launching drones. But it was deciding things. Rooting power here, not there. Opening one shipping lane, or closing another. Flagging certain speech patterns, suppressing others. And no one knew who gave it the rules, or if the rules had even changed. One night on Ham Radio, a voice-set. But AI is not the enemy. It's the accountant. And right now it's balancing the ledger. The line went dead after that. Around that time we started seeing patterns. Convoys had turned around just before the checkpoints. Messages that failed to send when the word insulin was in the subject line. Entire towns that lost water pressure after broadcasting an anti-globalist broadcast. It was too consistent to be chance, and too subtle to be man-made.
It's then that the second wave of panic hit. This time it wasn't over food. This time it was over medicine. The first to go were the painkillers, the blood pressure meds, the antivac presence, and the anti-psychotics. Not just one brand, but all of it. The pharmacies emptied, then locked, then disappeared. The cost of groceries is insane right now. If you're putting those groceries on a high-interest credit card, because the monthly budget is already stretched, there's another problem. You may end up paying that ridiculous price twice. Once at the register and then again in interest. If you're a homeowner carrying high-interest credit card debt, talk to American financing and do it before September because I think they're going to go up. If you have spent years building equity in your home while your credit cards are charging you 20% interest or more, American financing can help you explore using that home equity
to consolidate a high-interest debt and reduce your monthly obligations without resetting your mortgage loan. In fact, American financing borrowers save on an average of $830 a month just from this program. So you can't control what the grocery store charges you, but you can get serious about the interest debt that you have. Take control of your cash flow now. I want you to go to Americanfinancing.net. Americanfinancing.net 806 2440. I'll never forget the look of my neighbor's face when he realized there wasn't going to be a refill. He was 68, he was a Vietnam vet. He was held together by a patchwork of pills, blood thinners, pain meds, something for his liver. He had three weeks worth. One, two, then one, and then he just stopped coming outside. It wasn't just the old.
It was the fragile, the sick, the mentally unwell, the kids with seizures, the veterans with nightmares, the parents with bipolar diagnosis, all across the country, people were unraveling in real time and not from trauma, but from withdrawal. The death toll wasn't counted. It was because there was nobody left to count, but we heard it in the screaming at night, in the sudden disappearances, in the suicides. You could walk down a suburban street and just feel it in the air like something had just happened or was about to. A quiet dread. Like the bones of the country had started to snap. Then came the rumors about the Chinese that in their recovery zones they had medicine, not just bandages, an antibiotic, but the real stuff, oxy, haledol, insulin, lusinopril,
abilify. The people were saying that they didn't just give it away, they traded it. Compliance for care. In California they said a new system had emerged. Digital wristbands, trackers. Vaccine style, pharma cards linked to your behavioral record. Attend the right meetings, get your meds, keep your neighborhood quiet, get your insulin. Speaking out, nothing. Or worse. A woman called into one of the rogue radio channels, sobbing. Her daughter had schizophrenia, controlled for years with medication. They ran out two weeks ago. She begged a Chinese checkpoint for help. They told her register. She refused. Her daughter didn't survive the night. Some began to call it pharmaceutical warfare, others humane population management. The elites called it post-collapse triage.
But those of us watching, we knew what it really was. Soft genocide. It wasn't just who died, it was how. Forgotten, alone, delirious, sick. Rejected by a system that once said every life mattered, but now had an algorithm deciding which one was worth the pills. We used to talk about human rights. Now we talked about supply rights, as in, who has the right to supply you and under what conditions? In the worst part, everybody started just to accept it. They started to justify it. Started to turn neighbors in for disruptive behavior just to get a refill. They started to talk about pharma equity and global wellness protocols as if this was a step forward somehow. The old world hadn't just collapsed.
It had been replaced. Not by tanks, not by ideology, but by systems. Code. Cold. Unfeeling. And the ones who operated had no flag. Just terminals. One night I asked an old friend on the radio if he thought there would be a fight. He paused a long, long time. He said, if I'd already over, we've already lost. It's just that we haven't accepted the terms yet. But he was wrong. Because I knew somewhere out there, someone hadn't signed the terms. Someone hadn't traded their silence for insulin. They hadn't traded the truth for a wristband. Someone hadn't accepted that this was the new normal. At least not yet.
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