Somewhere between Wallace and Wellfleet, Nebraska, on June 16, 2025, a funnel reached from the belly of a supercell and touched the earth. It scoured the prairie under a sky heavy with fury and silence, twisting dust into the air with surgical precision.
Locals will mark the moment by fences snapped, pivots overturned, and sky-colored memories that will take years to fade. But there’s more to this than a single twister.
Because this wasn’t just weather.
This was warning.
What Happened
On the evening of June 16th, a confirmed tornado developed in Hayes County, Nebraska. Touching down between Wallace and Wellfleet, it tore across rural farmland in open daylight, observed by meteorologists and private citizens alike. It formed under a rotating supercell that had already prompted multiple tornado warnings from the National Weather Service. Hail the size of ping pong balls accompanied it. Thankfully, no fatalities have been confirmed.
The funnel and its rotation were unmistakable—seen on radar, in real time, and through the lenses of those who still believe witnessing counts for something.
Where We’re Headed
Events like this used to be described as freak weather. Now they’re part of a system—both atmospheric and political.
This administration has gutted climate monitoring, slashed NOAA budget lines, and undermined the National Weather Service’s authority—all while wrapping “weather forecasting” in the language of culture wars. DEI programs that once supported rural public safety outreach? Gone. Climate science collaborations with universities? Dismantled. Leadership at FEMA and the Department of Energy? Replaced by political loyalists with no crisis credentials.
The storm didn’t ask who you voted for.
It didn’t check your party registration before it spun out of the sky.
The Real Danger Isn’t the Wind
The danger is the hollowing out of our institutions. When science is politicized and emergency preparedness is recast as “woke overreach,” we end up with a country unprepared to warn, adapt, or rebuild.
The midwestern plains have always carried risk. But in 2025, the greatest risk isn’t in the clouds—it’s in Washington.
Because you can survive a tornado.
But you cannot rebuild what you defund.
