In a world teetering between madness and manipulation, where slogans replace dialogue and tribal loyalty is demanded above truth, I walk a different road. One paved with personal scars, literary inspiration, and a fierce commitment to the sovereignty of thought. The world depicted in my recent video isn’t fiction—it’s reflection. It’s the culmination of lessons I learned not only from great authors, but from the streets I’ve walked and the digital shadows I’ve resisted.
Authors like George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Ray Bradbury, and Ayn Rand didn’t merely write stories. They warned us. They gave us maps for navigating the dystopias we were blindly building. Orwell taught us that language is the battlefield—when you can control what people are allowed to say, you control what they are able to think. Huxley showed us a society that would drown itself not in fear, but in amusement and passivity. Bradbury lit the fire of rebellion against the burning of books and the erasure of dissent. Rand, for all her divisiveness, reminded us of the inviolable value of the individual mind in the face of collectivist coercion.
Their voices echo in my work—not as idols, but as comrades in this intellectual resistance. Their warnings shaped my podcast, Disruptarian Radio. They inspired my books, “The Transparent Future” and “Echoes of Power,” which examine tyranny not as a relic of the past, but as an evolving force—creeping forward through both state and social mechanisms.
But inspiration alone doesn't build conviction. Real understanding comes through experience. And I have walked through fire—literally and figuratively. During the Seattle riots, I watched buildings burn. Not just from my screen, but from my doorstep. Angry mobs didn’t just chant slogans—they set homes ablaze. I lived in one of those buildings. And while the flames consumed drywall and furniture, they also burned away illusions. I saw what happens when ideology trumps humanity.
In the digital realm, the same inferno rages, cloaked in polite terms like “community guidelines” or “public safety.” My content has been measurably suppressed. Not because it was violent, or even controversial, but because it didn’t conform to the orthodoxy of the moment. I was guilty of “wrong think.”
The Biden administration, in coordination with major tech platforms, has carried out a campaign of narrative enforcement that would make Orwell nod in recognition. They don’t need jackboots when they have algorithms. They don’t need book burnings when they can make your content vanish into the shadow-ban abyss.
Yet I refuse to rage in partisan lockstep. On one side, I'm told to accept that a man is a woman because the Party says so. On the other, I'm told to submit to religious doctrines that claim exclusive rights to ultimate truth. And still, I stand in the middle.
My stance is disruptarian—not because I reject all systems, but because I question all systems. My approach is gnostic, in that I seek knowledge from experience, from spirit, from reality, not from institutional decree. Show me. Let me witness, let me test, let me discern. I will not be shouted into submission by mobs in the street, nor shamed into compliance by digital Pharisees.
Truth is not a slogan. It is not a tribe. It is not a trend. It is something deeper. And it demands that we engage with it courageously, knowing it will often offend both the left and the right.
In my video, you see me walking through the wreckage—the symbolic and literal ruins of a society at war with itself. Not as a hero. Not as a savior. But as someone unafraid to walk where others demand allegiance. I carry with me the truth of my experience, the power of literature, and the grounding image of my five children—four girls and one boy—whose future I fight for.
My books are not fiction wrapped in allegory. They are blueprints for those trying to survive the information war without losing themselves. “The Transparent Future” speaks to the coming age of digital visibility where privacy is a myth and free will is compromised by predictive systems. “Echoes of Power” reaches backward and forward in time to expose the repeating rhythms of tyranny—how it whispers before it shouts, how it seduces before it enslaves.
Some say I should pick a side. But both sides, at their extremes, demand something I will never give up: my ability to think for myself.
This is not neutrality. This is rebellion. To remain anchored in reality while others choose comfort in curated fictions is the greatest act of defiance. And I will not be moved.
I make these videos. I write these books. I speak into microphones not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. In every era, someone must choose truth over tribe. Someone must choose principle over popularity.
That someone is me.
And if you’re still reading, perhaps it’s you too.
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