'Go to Hell, Go to Texas: Why the Lone Star State Holds the Last Line of Defense' by Steve

The Alamo at night - San Antonio, TX by Mike Boening Photography is licensed under by-nc-nd
"You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas."

When Davy Crockett uttered these words in 1835 after losing his congressional reelection bid, the Tennessee legend wasn't retreating—he was advancing toward the Alamo. Today, that same spirit animates the most consequential political battle in America, not in Washington, but in Austin.

The federal system is broken. With $40 trillion in debt, a Senate parliamentarian gutting reconciliation, and DOGE shown the door, D.C. has become a $40 trillion graveyard of conservative ambition. While Ken Paxton prepares to leave Texas for what will surely disillusion him in the Senate, others are heading the opposite direction. Chip Roy, the fifth-generation Texan with Alamo blood in his veins, is running for Attorney General—a move that represents something rare in modern politics: a recognition that the real fight has moved to the states.

Texas is the largest conservative state in the union, and its AG will become the primary bulwark against federal overreach. Roy represents the "go to hell, I'm going to Texas" ethos Crockett embodied—swearing an oath to both constitutions while preparing to defend the Lone Star State against Washington's encroachment. This matters because the storm is coming.

The "three I's" of 2016—Inflation, Immigration, and Islam—remain unresolved. Despite Trump's tenure, these issues lacked lasting policy fixes. Meanwhile, the left's judicial infrastructure remains intact, with Obama-Soros appointees serving lifetime tenements, ensuring "No Kings" applies only to conservative governance. The exodus of conservative fighters tells the tale: DeSantis is termed out, Thomas Massie faces defeat, Marjorie Taylor Greene quit, Mark Green resigned, and even stalwarts like Marsha Blackburn and Tommy Tuberville are fleeing to their home states, realizing the swamp cannot be drained from within.

The warning signs are flashing red. Republicans have hemorrhaged special elections, including Trump's own Mar-a-Lago district. Virginia and North Carolina have fallen—Youngkin's legacy erased in a month, constitutional norms dismantled, with Washington State's illegal income tax providing the blueprint for national overreach. Imagine Jamie Raskin as Attorney General, AOC at HHS, or Jasmine Crockett defining housing policy for billions of dollars. This isn't fear-mongering; it's Tuesday if the pendulum swings.

By 2030, Census data counting illegal immigrants will manufacture congressional seats in Michigan and Louisiana with phantom constituents. Another flood of ten million illegals threatens to overwhelm the finger-in-the-dike enforcement Trump and Tom Homan managed.

Crockett died at the Alamo, but his choice—to fight where the battle mattered most rather than plead with a broken system—echoes through history. Chip Roy represents that same calculation. When the federal government has failed, when the fighters have departed, when the spending cannot stop and the debt cannot be contained, the states become the last redoubt. Texas isn't just a state; it's the Alamo of American conservatism. And in 2025, as in 1835, the real heroes aren't heading to Washington—they're going home to defend it.

Editorial comments expressed in this column are the sole opinion of the writer
Sign Up For Our Newsletter