So, a Gaza 'journalist' named Yahya bought the farm in an Israeli attack right after his daughter Sana popped out. First birthday's gonna be a real banger, amirite? Cue the outrage machine!

Look, we get it. War is messy. People die. Sometimes they're 'journalists,' sometimes they're just dudes hanging out in places they probably shouldn't be. Let's not pretend every guy with a camera in Gaza is Woodward and Bernstein.

The usual suspects are already screaming about 'disproportionate force' and 'occupation.' But let's be real: Gaza is run by Hamas, a terrorist organization that loves lobbing rockets at Israel. You poke the bear, you get the claws. Simple as.

And spare me the crocodile tears for 'civilians.' Hamas hides behind civilians, stores weapons in schools, and generally uses its own people as human shields. It's a well-documented strategy. So, yeah, sometimes civilians get hurt. It's tragic, but it's also predictable.

Besides, who vetted this 'journalist'? Was he on Hamas' payroll? Did he glorify terrorism? These are legitimate questions that the mainstream media will conveniently ignore, because Orange Man Bad and Israel Bad are the only narratives allowed.

But hey, at least Sana got a memorable birthday. A dead dad is a small price to pay for the sweet, sweet virtue signaling of the perpetually outraged.

It's all a big, beautiful, clown world, folks. Buckle up.

This is why we can't have nice things, and why rational discourse is dead.

Consider this your daily dose of unfiltered truth.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go grill some steaks and enjoy my freedom. Something the folks in Gaza could use more of.

Rest in pieces, Yahya. May your daughter grow up to be a conservative.

MAGA. And pass the freedom fries.