How while being a man – stuck inside our hungry muscles and routinely embarrassed by our helpless erections... while trying to balance the endless heartache of being a man in an unjust world – that their touch could be our salvation…

I don’t think they understand how our fingertips always feel starved and aching for them.

The paralyzing sensation over our lips and tongue when we see the curves of their breasts or backside… their bare flesh.

Feels like they don’t need us,

         like we need them.

Like most women don’t understand...

how without their touch

most men grow hard

     and unhappy.

***

My mentor, Ed, knew right away I had an early “Kundalini awakening.” Which is a nice way to say I was exposed to pornography at age 5.

(sadly not as shocking as it used to be)

Some 90’s kids will remember… if your dad was cool, like mine, he could pay the cable guy fifty bucks to climb the pole and flip a switch… if your dad was cool, the cable guy would install the “Pirate Box” which gave you free HBO, Showtime, Cine-Max and Pay-per-view…

Other 90’s kids with cool dads will remember channel thirty-three… after ten P.M. started showing hardcore pornography until six A.M. the next morning.

Needless to say my older brother and I snuck down whenever we could get away with it...

***

In pursuit of truth—and in order to use the word most righteously—I’ve given serious consideration to castration.

I’ve often thought, “to Hell with all this damn lust, all the time…” I chop my balls off and live without the constant distraction!

I’m too chicken shit to actually do it… and the thought of waking up tomorrow without my two oldest dangling companions is truly terrifying… but more than that, if I ever did clip my manhood, I suspect I’d fail to find the truth in a different way… I’d be creating not the way God made me.

I suspect chopping my balls off would keep me from the truth in howling at the moon.

***

It takes a lot of laborious spiritual work and/or religious devotion to overcome this primary male drive…

Our hyper-sexualized culture sure don’t help.

And for me…. at 43, since the age of 5... it’s been impossible to tame or fully overcome…

Yes, I agree, it can be subdued by focus on other passions... yes, it disappears in solitary devotion and after taking enough deep breathes… but in my experience, all these years, no matter how disciplined my spiritual practice or how intense my focus on my art... it always comes back.

Most mornings… it’s still hard.

I’d bet Christ and the Buddha, even in their highest hours, couldn’t fully ignore it... I’d bet Jesus noticed how beautiful Mary Magdalene was before saving her from being stoned.

Living here as men, no matter how old or wise or enlightened we become... I reckon we’ll always want it.

We’ll live as regular (in my case regretful) servants to this “need” we have as men… this overwhelming compulsion for whatever magic potion leaks from a woman’s pores.

Today, at the ripe age of 43… even with all my high-minded ideas about celibacy and my constant connection to nature—in too many days for my liking—this “need” still dominates my internal life.

***

Right around the end of the Mayan calendar... I concluded entertaining women I don’t like in order to use them for sex is a waste of time, resources, and spirit… also unfair, unkind, and harmful to the women I use.

I became celibate in the first place because of a dirty, guilty feeling... after spending weeks texting with a woman I knew darn well I had nothing in common with, creatively reiterating how “sexy” I thought she was... and then one insufferable night pretending I had any care for what she was saying... and then some very unsatisfying “love making.”

And when it was over... lying with her in the silent, vacuous bed... I experienced a whole new kind of empty… a novel, overwhelming desire to run away… my traumas and my insatiable boner had led me, again, to a place the rest of my body—especially my heart—knew I shouldn’t go… again... my desire left me awkwardly stranded next to a stranger who I’d just used for a thrill.

And again, being a phony—no matter how high the high—wasn’t worth it after getting the reward.

Again, betraying the truth ends up the same...

I’m extra guilty and dirty again—after she gets attached and wants more…

I’m a total fraud and failure in the eyes of God... when I text them,

       “I’m sorry. I’m just super busy right now.”

So painfully obvious the next day: chasing my dick around is harmful to myself… and others.

At the end of the day... there seems a bit of shame in being a slut... in opening your legs for anyone or sticking your dick in anything… there seems a flaw in following the lead of our insatiable boners.

***

     So... what to do?

With all this baby-making fuel—all this testosterone raging?

What to do with all this aching capacity to create life??

                 Well, I’m not God…

     I can’t begin to fathom

the incomprehensible

concept of Me…

With all my injuries

making me wish

     to run away

and masturbate…

  The Grand I am…

But… I will say, in denying this central part of me, in pretending I can do breath work to extinguish it or becoming a Kundalini master to control it… feels a lot like the wish to chop my balls off.

***

          43...

Never married, no kids (that I know of). I’ve done more fucking than I’d like to admit…

There’s no ego boost in remembering or reporting all the women I’ve bedded.

Looking back all my “sexual conquests” (minus a handful of guilt-free romps with women who I had natural chemistry with) looks like failure… a product of false conditioning making me believe my value was tied to how many women I could bring home from the bar... looking back I see a boy... an injured soul trying to use cheap thrills to fill a giant Christ-shaped hole in his heart...

***

Most my life I’ve been a hopeless romantic… believing the cultural zeitgeist saying I need a woman to be complete… minus the last handful of years, I’ve agreed that being without a woman meant I wasn’t whole... nodding along, I thought, “unless I find and attach myself to a woman, something’s wrong...”

But in the words of Bob Dylan, “things have changed...”

Like the feminists say, but in reverse,

             “I don’t need a woman!”

Except for when I do…

     and when

my right hand

   won’t do…

***

God is a funny being... putting a pleasure stick (or a button) in the center of us... then making it a sin and self-destructive to play with it too much.

***

          So what to do?

Break down... impoverish and degrade myself for another prostitute?

     Patronize another Asian massage parlor?

Re-download Tinder and start pretending again?

I don’t want to do that... and that’s not what I want for you.

             We sense in our guts 

it’s wrong to ignore our higher selves

and to let lust win

inside of us.

***

I pray to be invulnerable to their sweet-smelling, intoxicating charms… and to live free from their power over me... but here I am, at 43—and I’m still thirsty.

I pray to be more than my desire…

      but I can’t really help that

(more than beer or tobacco… gluttony, sloth, or wrath…

(I never found utility in pride, greed, or envy))

  more than nature or creation…

      supple female flesh

is what I desire most.

***

Maybe I’ll go celibate again… stop watching porn and start retaining my semen… then maybe I’ll wrestle control of the United States Federal government from the clutches of the Federal Reserve and the Zionists and the Military Industrial Complex…

Maybe with all that extra fuel... I could become President... and actually make America great again??

I won’t know until I’m strong enough to stop jerking off.

***

Ah, heck... I’ve made myself vulnerable, again… come back next week to see if I can ever figure out how on this day (25 years and one month ago) two planes made 3 steel-reinforced skyscrapers collapse in their own footprint??

Until then... please remember to be good to each other, be good to yourself – don’t live in fear – and I love you.

I am this man.

***

At the close of the foulest year since they killed Jesus, 2020… my wildest dreams came true.

40 raw American acres... nothing but hills and trees… untouched majesty for 360 degrees... no neighbors to feel watched by... two limestone peaks, a meandering stream full of meal-sized trout offering a year-round, extra-clean and life-affirming 40-degree plunge... deer and game everywhere... golden and bald eagles patrol the skies... divinity in the wind and the tall grass’ sway... simple Zen in the effortless trickle of the stream…

It took 38 years... but I found and paid for my tiny slice of paradise... my earthly nook to feel un-mortgaged, unbothered and free.

Half a lifetime, now 43... I built my fortress of solitude (electricity last year, running water this year; hopefully a flushable toilet soon) with my own blood, sweat and joyous tears... and a lot of help from my friends... I created shelter from the storm, here—away in the wooded hills.

And let me tell you, my fellow man – it’s even better than you imagine.

***

See it, brothers... whenever and wherever the urge strikes you… no doors, no lines, no toilet bowl to aim for or men to stand awkwardly next to at a urinal… imagine the grateful feeling letting go and giving it some much-needed sunlight... I’m telling you, my dudes – it’s glorious!

***

The dream was: if only I can get far enough away... if only I can escape the city and the expectations of the mob and the routine trappings of modernity... I’ll be okay.

If only I can get far enough away... find a safe, quiet place to feel all the way alone… unprovoked and unobserved… to pray and meditate and become one with nature…

If only I can get far enough away…

I’ll overcome my post-traumatic stress,

         and be okay.

***

I never found peace living inside a city... since the war... coming back right into the heart of Minneapolis and then six years inside Chicago, three more in the suburban sprawl in a little old cabin on Island Lake... the dominant feeling being around most people—especially in crowds – was “I can’t wait to be alone again.”

All those crowded years... I found very few spaces that didn’t feel agitating—inside the menacing hum of the metropolis, all those years... I had no hope of taking a deep breath, and thus no chance of un-clenching my asshole.

***

“A man needs time alone in the woods.”

We benefit from peace and quiet... the symphony of nature unfolding (women, too).

Pretty old ideas... many ancient modalities (to include the White man’s) have recognized our relationship with nature... our place between North, East, South and West, above and below, as a moral compass… delete the last couple thousand years, most folk have seen mother earth below and father sky above as the foundation of our spiritual well-being.

And today, asking most folk about it... they look at me like I’m a weirdo.

Like a fringe, “hippie” tree-hugger.

***

I’ve ingested a lot of good, illegal medicine over the years... got a couple years of good therapy at the V.A... I’ve met a lot a lot of elder veterans (many on bar stools) and healers across the country and the globe.

In my deepest gratitude, it’s helped more than I can say.

But none has been as helpful or therapeutic as living in constant relation with my land… no medicine has been greater than falling out of the pace with (and caring as little as possible about) the cruel hustle of the urban and suburban sprawl…

No better medicine than falling out-of-sync with the city... and into the easy, unforced pace of nature.

The dream was I’d feel better,

and here I am…

and I do.

***

If you’re out there—a veteran struggling or just a traumatized and over-stimulated human being—may I suggest a season in the woods?

(Ever hear of WWOOFING?)

Maybe you’d feel better

in quiet wide-open spaces

without all the provocation...

Maybe you’d feel better

without all the man-made static?

***

Still, dear city-dwelling friend thinking the grass is greener… though more peaceful, I promise it ain’t easy...

It ain’t easy transforming a piece of raw land into a place where your city-slicking family and friends can come and feel comfortable staying.

I promise it ain’t easy… living and breathing an ultimate male fantasy… and still my life is defined mostly by “suffering.”

Primarily doing things I don’t want to do... to maintain and protect my tiny slice of paradise... to keep my wildest dreams coming true.

I’m not yet all the way free and I still have to go into the city, almost every week, to gather enough fiat currency to bring resources back to the land.

To keep the dream alive… I must be a servant of it.

***

Thanks Uncle Sam for teaching me, “service is its own reward!”

And now—unlike all those years inside the maddening hum of modernity – my “suffering” has a clear purpose.

***

A different kind of struggle from yours, no doubt... and still a grind out here living in never-never land.

Out here... just pissing and shitting anywhere I please...

seems a fantasy… and you may think

    “Hakuna Matata” but,

have you ever been stabbed

     in the eyeball

by a Honeysuckle?

Ever had a bee sting on the bottom of your foot?

Ever sat so long in nature

    to see no one cares?

Ever understand Mother Earth wants to eat us... and

to consume and recapture everything we create?

       Ever been so alone…

it all makes sense?

***

It takes about a month out here in never-never land... before it starts to feel unnatural and I start to get lonely.

Quite suddenly the short interactions with my neighbors and the smiles exchanged with the gals working the register in town becomes not enough.

After a few weeks... I realize I don’t want to be all the way alone.

Despite my unquenchable thirst for solitude... the truth is... I still need you.

Truth is, despite my devotion to rugged individualism: I couldn’t do this without you.

“Fuck this!” feels good to scream at an uncaring, sterilized society... but running off to the woods means coming to terms with one resounding human fact: we’re not meant to be all the way alone.

After so long out here... it becomes clear: we need each other.

***

As for my little dot of influence—my tiny/exponential opportunity to let Christ’s love and Buddha’s Zen grow in this realm—I choose to sit here, mostly... between my un-corrupted hills.

Where I’m best able to serve, and hear God’s word

best able to become the Axis mundi...

Out here, almost all the way alone

where I’m best able to let Christ

      work through me...

For my infinitesimal dot...

in the ever-growing ocean of humanity,

I choose to live mostly unplugged.

To be disconnected...

   in order to be

better connected.

***

Come back next week to see if I can ever get to the bottom of this insatiable libido right smack at the center of me… and to hear me gripe about all the ways it’s being provoked by glowing rectangles, yoga pants, and social media…

Until then... please remember to be good to each other, be good to yourself – don’t live in fear – and I love you.

young fella.

Just yesterday, we were you:

all old people were uncool, and

          out-of-touch…

It will happen too fast... that’s

just how losing youth

      always goes…

And you’ll wake up tomorrow…

and you, too, will be too old

       to understand.

You too will have to listen to teenagers

make up words only they know the meaning of…

and you too will feel mocked and stupid

for being on the outside of their inside joke.

Tomorrow you’re going to wake up

and you, too... will be stupefied

     by the next generation.

So, again... young fella,

don’t get too cocky.

but God, and the ghost of George Washington

                  are crying.

They’re asking “what the fuck

        happened here?”

They wonder how their vision…

became so corrupted??

***

They had a dream…

We were all created equal…

Endowed by our creator

with certain unalienable rights

and “among these are Life,

               Liberty,

and the pursuit of happiness.”

They had this “crazy” revolutionary idea…

for the first time in history, authority would be

legitimized by “the consent of the governed.”

And We the People could live free.

                No kings!

They dreamed of a government

that acted as a servant rather than

             a master.

A government that can only ask for our money…

and our allegiance, if we agree it is for the common good…

and when it doesn’t serve these ends… we have the

God-given right to “alter or abolish it.”

***

              Happy 250…

How depressingly far we’ve strayed

from our origin story…

a nation born in revolt

           of taxation

without representation...

now devolved into nothing

                  but that.

***

           Happy 250!

Eat your Cheetos and drink your Bud light…

Salute Donald Trump, and ignore

that he’s not working for us… but,

(in the words of Christ)

“those who say they are Jews…

but are not.”

Happy 250… ignore your birthright…

blame the liberals for being such pussies

blame conservatives for being such Nazis…

Just don’t ask too many questions…

about the Federal Reserve.

Happy 250… ignore your soul suggesting,

               “this ain’t right!”

***

Happy 250… you stupid fucking American!

Today... on our hallowed Independence Day...

with God, and the ghost of George Washington,

                I’m crying.

                    Because…

I fought for you.

To be (for the first time in our lives) on the receiving end of racism and unthinking prejudice... to feel from our fellow human beings (fellow Americans) a malicious blame for things that we, and our ancestors, have nothing to do with…

I know my European cousins have felt the same in the homes their forefathers built...

***

I got an extra dose because of my flowing blonde hair and curious blue eyes… I eat more shit because, you know... the way I was born is associated with the little Mustache Man (who gassed a debatable number of ones who wear tiny hats)… and now all our institutions agree we should hate the little Mustache Man and Aryan people most.

I got an extra dose because whatever this scary, predatory force of “Whiteness” is… everyone agrees I look like it.

So please forgive me if I’m sensitive about the way I look being systemically demonized and attacked by the institutions my ancestors built for goodness sake!

Institutions created for posterity... to uphold their radical ideas of human sovereignty... in order to codify a government that acts as a servant rather than a master.

***

Peoples of Colors other than White just don’t get it…

There you are… a descendant of the race who finally thought to abolish slavery... the first ones to give women the right to vote... walking around trying to be a loyal follower of Christ... of European enlightenment values and the American constitution’s promise of freedom within the bounds of harming others… trying to be good—to do good—to live by the classically liberal principles that made the whole world want to come join us...

There you are... and in the course of just one decade... the way you were born becomes the enemy… quite suddenly the zeitgeist declares your identity a symbol of oppression and supremacy... seemingly overnight, as far as the system is concerned: I (along with the promises of the American constitution) am a subject worthy of ridicule... a punching bag for anyone with a grievance (especially the educated “liberal” women of my own race) to project onto.

There you are… then somebody (don’t blame “the Jews”) flips a switch... a bunch of people start treating you like they have some kind of right to take a shit on you.

***

They say the Devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he didn’t exist… but close to that is convincing an entire generation of affluent, educated young White women to hate and blame their fathers for giving them a life only a Disney princess could dream of…

Imagine working your whole life—providing… then sending your sweet angel to a good college… maybe going into debt... only for her to come back hating you—hating herself… declaring the whole family guilty for the crimes of the U.S. Federal Government and the Queen of England… for the sins of all pale people - everywhere—throughout all human history.

Imagine paying for your daughter to be instructed to kill her own bloodline...

One Hell of a trick... the fallen leader of this world sure is clever... to paint the most democratic, egalitarian force in history – I do mean the European Man—as the oppressor.

The misnomer of “White Supremacy” I’ve got to hand it to him... is a pretty brilliant way to divide us.

***

I actually like diversity; I enjoy meeting and having cultural exchanges with people who are different than me.

But not if that diversity is being trained to hate and blame me.

I actually like most black people I meet in real life… ain’t it funny how I dislike most Black people presented to me through a screen.

Does this say something about me… or the machine?

***

Dear White Man… you’re not crazy; They are working against you.

They’ll mock and gaslight you for noticing... They’ll call you racist for objecting to racism being directed at you… They’ll come right out and say, “because you’re a White Man you have no right to an opinion!”

Be cool, white man… it’s true: They are bigots - They are wrong... and you’re not crazy to recognize we are under attack.

Whoever “They” are??? You’re not crazy to recognize They’re intentionally trying to denigrate our identity.

From race swaps in Hollywood to blatant anti-white propaganda in public schools to London Bobbies handcuffing English stabbing victims as they lay dying… They’re coming for us... and the goal in using Their institutional power is to kill Whitey.

***

Why?

Well, think of it this way, if you were a subhuman greed monster hellbent on total subjugation of the human race—committed to the stamping out of any sense of sovereignty or freedom within the human soul—which demographic would be most in your way?

They’re coming for “Whiteness” because the best way to usher in Their AI overlords… the best way to kill the concept of human freedom—is to kill the identity which birthed it.

That’s what all this nonsense about spaces being “too White” has been about.

Our institutions have been captured by They who have a direct antipathy for the foundational ideals on which our nation was birthed… our un-elected rulers – this precarious Deep State—hates nothing more than the promise of the American Constitution that says They have no right to rule over us… and that They’re not permitted to do anything without our consent.

***

Take heart, dear fellow White Man… racism is a concept so vile, so un-American… that not even Black people could make it cool.

Take heart, our Constitution (the world’s oldest living document) still lives... protecting all under its purview… dear white man and Peoples of Colors other than White, take heart... racism will never be cool in America... and it’s only a loud amplified minority who thinks it is.

Take heart, white folk, just like with us... racism is as foul and unnatural to all the other races.

***

Be cool, white man... going about your day and meeting the successfully brainwashed – be cool when encountering the unfortunately programmed women of your own race... be kind meeting the small minority of Peoples of Colors other than White who have been broken... and blame you for their problems.

Encountering the passive-aggressive insults and manufactured vitriol... remember how they treated Jesus…

Remember He walked before us and in comparison, this is pretty tame.

Be kind, my Euro bro…

Remember most of all Colors, wherever you go (when we meet offline) are good... and don’t get out of bed intending to be hateful.

Remember the glowing rectangle is a liar. It should not define your reality… be reassured by the people you meet in real life.

***

Take heart... American culture has corrected itself, again… George Floyd didn’t overdose yesterday… false accusations of racism are now a meme… like always the Devil has overplayed his hand and it’s obvious to everyone, today (especially the young) being racist is still for dummies.

En mass... and more colorful than we used to be... most Americans still reject hatred based on race, class, gender, or religion.

Today, we’re still Americans… Black White Brown Yellow or Red… we’re still better than that.

***

So, be cool, white man… resist the algorithm’s efforts to reduce you to impotent rage.

Resist Them trying to make you hate and blame other impoverished people.

Be so cool the stereotype being thrust upon you turns into dust.

Be so cool... you crack the brainwash.

Be so cool, White Man,

in honor of your ancestors…

that your very presence,

proves the haters wrong.

***

Come back next week to see if I can finally get a handle on why They censored large parts of the bible... and the systemic efforts to disconnect us from nature…

Until then… be good to yourself, be good to each other – don’t live in fear – and I love you.

John and the whore are loyal

as his blood meets soil.

the 75-pound Pit Bull.

She tells everyone he’s

      “the sweetest.”

      ***

Brutus sleeps... in Chelsea’s bed.

        She could never dream

of her sweet boy... ripping a child’s arm off, or

murdering a Chihuahua with a single snap of his jaw.

      ***

        He’s too sweet

to kill... and Chelsea’s too naive...

        (and privileged)

to understand why men breed fighting dogs, or

how killer loyalty can be sown and grown...

        into a bloodline.

      ***

        And somehow...

Affluent White Female Liberals

        tell me I’m racist...

for believing Chelsea is irresponsible.

(not that they should).

***

Inside us there are two forces:

what we want to do…

and what we need to do.

And it’s better to let what we need to do win

              inside.

***

What do I NEED to do?

           God, and everyone, cares.

And it’s better for me, and the whole,

           when I do

what I NEED

      to do.

***

My want is everywhere -

             all at once.

***

I want Pooh Bear.

***

I want sunshine.

***

I want to kill myself.

***

Doing what we want to do…

        most of the time

          means misery.

Doing what we need to do…

        most of the time

            means bliss.

***

It’s no wonder greed never gained any real traction inside of us...

and the wise,

still seek

  Jesus.

***

It’s no wonder when I quiet the desperate orgy

of my competing desires...

      what I need to do,

becomes clear.

***

Ah! Heck,

cheese-and-rice!

       I can’t do,

what I wanted to...

“The universe…

      is not fair.”

***

         Who cares?

***

         Not me!

     Not God...

Not anyone.

Why in God’s good name would you send 100,000+ Somalian Muslim refugees from the horn of Africa to one of the coldest, most Nordic, most geographically and culturally different cities in North America?

The United Nations rule on refugees is, “first safe harbor.”

So how—by the authority of our global institutions and in cooperation with our local government—did that become Minnesota?

***

On national television... “I think what Americans should be most afraid of…” said the Somalian-born MN representative Ilhan Ohmar, is “White Men.”

The distinguished gentlewoman cast this wide, nebulous net of fear last year…

This year she’s commanding us, “in America! We don’t blame a whole community for the actions of a few.”

(As with defunding Israeli bombs, I sometimes agree with my foreign-born representative.)

Meanwhile, Governor Walz, in his “knucklehead” way, stammers emphatically that noticing and demanding accountability for fraud is an act of “white supremacy!”

***

It didn’t happen by accident.

Mass migration, like war... requires a lot of conspiring… like the devaluing of the currency in your pocket, or multi-billion dollar fraud schemes...

Like American racial division in the 21^st century… it’s not a natural occurrence. People are working—behind the scenes—to create it.

Like war... mass migration is very useful for the rulers; serving as a duel-pronged attack on their greatest enemy (us): divide the people—make them poorer.

Like German clockwork... they know every time they mass migrate: they dis-empower the population being mass migrated upon... and empower themselves.

***

This column stands on history: Minnesota used to be awesome! A state created by (and still full of) good, devoted, extra-white liberals… ones who genuinely believed in goodwill and humanitarian values... I wish I could transport you back in time to understand how nice and carefree it felt... just a few decades ago... it was beautiful place... we had a transparent and accountable local government, stable and progressive public institutions... women and children felt safe walking downtown… and for the most part... there was enough to go around.

Not that long ago… we lived as a shining example in the North that liberal values could thrive and were worth pursuing.

But today, I regret to report... we’ve forgotten that good ol’ liberal Minnesota feeling… our ancestors have now been successfully erased from our memory… and sadly... young Minnesotans can’t fathom what peace in unity feels like...

Worse yet, today... we can’t remember how liberal prosperity is created.

***

I don’t blame the Somali refugee (though they played their part) for making us forget.

***

Google, “why did Somalis go to Minnesota?” and the algorithm feeds you an N.P.R. article explaining, “The Somali refugees who settled in Minneapolis and St. Paul were attracted by the fact that Minnesota was known for martisoor, which translates to “hospitality” in Somali.”

This is corporate newspeak for, “the state of Minnesota - and the Federal government – has been giving away free money to one specific nationality of people... so the Somalis went there to get it.”

If we were sitting in an impoverished, war-torn country and our cousin called from overseas to say, “Cousin, it’s crazy! Just come here... they’re so generous and gullible… so scared of being called racist… they’ll just give you money!” we’d come too.

N.P.R. continues explaining my homeland, “the state’s “liberal attitude and social behavior” mirrored the immigrants’ own values.”

In now decades of cohabitation... Minnesotans and Somalians have found virtually no examples of shared values… and other than colluding with the MN Democratic party... we’ve found very few reasons to come together.

***

Explain to a white liberal why it’s important to set “healthy personal boundaries” and they’ll nod along in agreement... but start to mention healthy boundaries around a community and their face will go sour… they bristle… and you’ll start to feel the word “racist!” compulsively forming on their lips.

When I sit down with my white liberal friends, and I listen, none of them are actually for open borders. They all agree we can’t maintain a stable welfare state (the reason we pay taxes), wherein there’s enough to take care of everyone, while letting the whole world come in to suck off it.

When you press them… they agree we should reject, within our borders, cultural practices like female genital mutilation (an evil 99% of Somali-born women are subjected to)… even when it feels icky to point out who’s doing it… We should stand together against this patriarchal act of brutality.

But the moment I mention even one word about enforcement—about protection—of the healthy boundaries any peaceful community requires, the word “racist!” again starts forming on their lips.

Like a good, white liberal… they’ll eat their sausage... while denouncing how it’s made.

Borders are Fascistic... they’ve been educated... so they’re assured.

They’re good White Liberals… a bit too eager to fight for any people except their own.

***

His mom called him “Barry,” I call him “the bomber,” Barack Obama deported millions of non-US citizens during his eight-year reign as P.O.T.U.S... he built cages, and kept children in them... many without due process...

In his extra-suave, nonchalant way... Good ol’ Barry... like a bomb with a smile... sent all those violators of our immigration law back where they came from.

Barry also, for some reason, killed Muammar Gaddafi… and roughly a million Libyans.

Before our first half-black president had him executed, Gaddafi declared, “I am the wall... if I go... Africans will invade Europe.”

(while Barry was bombing, he imported roughly half the Somalis now living in Minnesota)

Fast-forward… Joe Biden, along with his “Border Czar” Kamala Harris, opened our borders to tens of millions of non-citizens in just four years.

Then the Orange Man, with his mandate from the people, created and deployed a masked goon squad, (operating way outside their constitutional bounds) to clean up Barry, sleepy Joe, and Kamala’s mess.

In response, foreign Antifa-like goons deploy to Minneapolis.

Do you think any of the above happens by accident?

***

We the People, Americans, as a matter of duty, should unite against the tyranny of the United States federal government… we should resist war in our name and top-down use of force…

Masked goon squads should not exist in a free country.

Resistance to centralized power is what birthed us… our ancestors came here because they wished to breathe free… to live unmolested by the king’s goons... our bloodline came here to become Americans... to be blessed and protected by constitutionally promised human rights.

We should unite! We should stand in solidarity against the violation of our birthrights.

But we won’t unite under the banner of protecting those who’ve violated our healthy boundaries... this cause will only sow more division... and thus give more power to the rulers.

***

Last month we were all outraged about the scale and brazen nature of Somali daycare fraud... this month we’re all losing our minds because two non-Minnesotans were killed for intentionally interfering with Trump’s new goon squad.

(Not justified, but choices were made.)

Like pallets of bricks delivered to Minneapolis during the Black Lives Matter riots... like the inevitable rape and murder following ten million uninvited, undocumented strangers coming into your country… like all the Johnny Somali and White Liberal idiocy… it’s all rage bait… all a divisive, demoralizing psy-op...

So trust your loving uncle: it’s better to ignore the current thing trying to steal your attention from all the screens… it’s better to care more about what’s in front of you.

***

Somalis gonna Somali, Goon squads gonna goon... and white liberals will probably always be naive and sort of annoying.

Turn off your screen, let the static clear... consider all the injustice and murder and suicide in the world... and how They’re trying to force us to care about on only a minuscule part of it… you’ll have an easier time taking a breath, looking around, and realizing everything’s going to be okay.

Flush the internet from our head... we see we’re not that bad.

***

I wish to be done writing about my new Somali neighbors (my new American brothers and sisters), but we have more talking to do.

If we’re going to live together, and find a new shared peace, as neighbors, we have to do more than scowl at each other from a distance.

I don’t reject you. I don’t hate you… but I do ask you respect the culture – my culture – that you were welcomed into.

***

Come back next week while I try to play peacemaker… to explain to Muslim men about subjugating women… how in Minnesota, like in Wakanda, “We don’t do that here.”

Until then, please remember to be good to yourself, be good to each other – don’t live in fear – and I love you.

I will be one of the last to remember a Minnesota before the forces of mass migration and involuntary multiculturalism were forced into my homeland.

One of the last to remember how unified and safe we felt…

***

In case you’ve been successfully unplugged and blissfully ignorant (good for you) these last couple months, the 100,000 strong Somali refugee community in Minnesota, growing bigger and more influential for three decades now, has been causing quite a national stir… the long and short of it is this:

Since the beginning, members of the Somali refugee community have been committing wide-spread, outrageous and conspicuous fraud across multiple public agencies; they’ve now successfully plundered untold billions of tax dollars from our generous and ill-regulated welfare state.

The whole time the state Democratic machine, especially Governor Tim Walz, Mayor Jacob Frey, and Rep. Ilhan Ohmar (none born in MN), has at best known about it and looked the other way, or at worst facilitated it. Convicted fraudsters have donated to all their campaigns. Our current Attorney General, Keith Ellison (our first Black and Muslim AG), was caught on record conspiring to cover up this fraud.

The internet algorithm, through the voice of a young Youtuber named Nick Shirley, recently made everyone aware of it… making all our local journalists and leaders look like a real bunch of lazy, derelict assholes.

Accordingly, the Somali-American population is feeling a lot of heat right now.

***

So I ask, dear open-minded reader, to imagine a kind and beautiful Somali soul. They do live, and I’ve met them.

Their community as a whole may have benefited, but remember the conspirators were only a small fraction.

That said, a Somali is an individual, capable of manifesting any form of virtue or vice.

Somalian is a culture... a culture that I and other Minnesotans have now had a lot of “lived experience” being subject to.

Any honest Minnesotan, unless they’re running for political office, or are a compulsively self-hating white liberal (a formidable population in and around Minneapolis), will tell you it hasn’t been pleasant.

***

The first time my life was interrupted by Somalian culture was in 2004... working a graveyard security shift at an apartment building on the West Bank, and (as most who’ve worked nights will tell you) it sucked. My only slice of grace was sneaking over to Bobby and Steve’s 24-hour gas station, where they would make me a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant on their open grill.

One especially hungry night, I took my break, placed my order and was waiting… very much looking forward to my little 4 AM treat… then, it sounded like of some kind of emergency…. there I am, quietly waiting for my breakfast sandwich, suddenly shocked by the volume and cracking shrillness from behind... a Somali man screaming at the top of his lungs.

And I do mean at the very top of his lungs – this man was roaring. Slamming his first against the table of the grill, aggressively yelling and wildly gesturing at the staff... Screaming only in Somali... and it all sounded like cursing.

With my security outfit on, I almost felt obliged to intervene.

What inspired our new guest to have such a violent outburst? What was his reason to holler so aggressively throughout historic Bobby and Steve’s?

He saw my bacon cooking on the community grill... and according to this man’s interpretation of his Islamic faith, this was worthy of such an all-consuming temper tantrum that Bobby and Steve were forced to shut down all commerce… everything stalled until the Somali man’s hissy fit was over and the grill could be cleaned to prepare his food...

So, quite dumbfounded and still hungry, I went back to work without my breakfast sandwich.

***

I tell you this story to demonstrate a singular, negative consequence of jamming two sets of very different peoples into the same living space.

Also, to exhibit the general attitude of the recently arrived Somali refugee in Minnesota.

I’ve never been to Somalia but based on the temperament and behaviors of the recent arrivals, I can only assume it is a harsh and unforgiving place.

If you take a Minnesotan to a quiet space, where they’re sure no one is recording them, they’ll tell you their own stories of how our Somalian guests have not fit in very well with our culture of Minnesota Nice.

When they can be honest (and abandon their ingrained cultural passivity and deference) they’ll tell you their experience with Somalian culture has been defined by rudeness, disrespect, entitlement, and open hostility.

These traits are multiplied by their absolute indifference and unwillingness to assimilate.

Honestly, after traveling to 45 countries, I can’t imagine a less congruent culture to be invaded by, or a less gracious guest than one born from Somalian culture.

***

So that’s the truth that could never be spoken. The honest truth is that for the native born Minnesotan, there’s been overwhelmingly negative consequences for opening our doors to Somalian culture. If there is a positive (I’m open to suggestions), I have not seen it.

Minnesotans have had their mostly safe, mostly Scandinavian/Germanic, and previously prospering community fractured. And through this entire slow, destructive build up, if we uttered a word of concern we were paralyzed by accusations of racism.

No one ever asked us for our consent. No one ever consulted us about the future consequences of forcing this massive Somalian wedge into our community.

***

So here we are, today, our welfare state pilfered by the refugees we let in… wondering what the hell happened and how our leaders allowed this hostile community to get so big and commit such historic fraud…

Come back next week when I explain that even though I do not like Somalian culture, I refuse to hate the Somali individual… and how this crisis is the result of a decades long conspiracy… and why it’s wrong to blame the Somalis - who are merely pawns in a much bigger game.

Until then, please remember to be good to yourself, be good to each other – don’t live in fear - and I love you.

I was a scribe for Jesus Christ -

my hand ablaze by the fire of the Holy Spirit…

              ***

In this dream, I was all-consumed by the passion

of Him... there was nothing

but the way Christ moved me... and my un-

questioning devotion... to whatever

he wished me to say.

Christ was alive – in Me!

And lord, Heavens-to-Besty... do I wish

I remembered,

what I wrote down.

I wish I could tell you

how good, and right

it feels.

           ***

Instead, I can only hope...

you have this dream,

too.

the reaction is not the reward.

Fame is not the reward.

Accolades, once ingested,

are the enemy of good art.

***

You’ll do better – for the sake of your creation -

to reject their invitation

to the after party.

You’ll do better to die in obscurity – creating honestly -

than to live as a servant to dishonest masters, such as

fat-headed art snobs, or the faithless taste of the mob.

***

Young artist, please remember:

the reward – for you and audience –

is to be a vessel - a worthy avatar

            for it

to break through.

The Agony

and

the Ecstasy.

***

All else is Crackerjacks –

and unworthy.

“Cracker-ass cracker.”

You’re a black person I don’t like,

what should I call you?

Self-proclaimed God - one Charlemagne...

         Here me now!

You are a sellout - a real bitch-ass. I am realer than you.

If realness means blackness -

I am blacker than you. If we ever got

into the ring together,

you couldn’t hold

my jock strap...

(even if your bosses hopped you up...

on baby’s blood

and adrenochrome)

False God... Here me now -

you may be rich, and famous - but...

you’re a real racist

and misogynistic

piece of shit!

             (Breath...)

Okay, sorry, my brew - so you sold out - and you’re racist...

So what? You’re still my brother.

No matter what kind of MK Ultra spells

you’re under - you’re still

pumping red (though corrupted) blood

in your veins, and thus worthy

of your redemption arc... wherein the real

God (not you!) could still work

through... I promise Charlemagne,

even though you’re a black dick...

there’s still hope for you.

My brother - in Christ and red blood - I do have love for you...

I want to talk to you... but it’s just... I need to hear you say,

there’s nothing wrong with the way I was born.

Sound anti-racist enough, for you, my black brother?

          Can we talk as equals?

Or do you want to keep doing your bitch-ass work...

your bosses pay you to do - and distract us - in order

to stroke division?

I’m here... my black equal...

whenever you’re ready,

to talk as brothers.

           and below...

North/South/East/West...

it comes for us... and

it wants to eat our breath.

It wants to reclaim us... to

suck all that is alive

from us...

Death hampers our every holy inhalation...

It wants - in every moment - our submission.

More than anything... it seeks to suppress our

desire for easy, peaceful breathing in... and

breathing out... Death hates when we are calm...

it wants us worried about it - and how it’ll eat

our flesh... in the end.

(one way or another)

Death comes...

And when you think about it...

What better whip

could we ask for?

I get it... I don’t like others preaching at me, either… what do they know, anyway?

           Not more than me!

But here I am, writing… which in itself suggests I have some knowledge – some kind of wisdom – that needs to be imparted onto you.

Here I am… writing… and why’s it so damn hard not to be preachy?

Why do I want to scream that God loves you!!?

Why do I want to grab you by your ears, kiss you firmly, and whisper…

“You’re more than a helpless bag of meat and bones…

moved by deterministic forces… you are more, than some

embittered nerd’s perception of ‘scientific’ reality.”

Why do I want to make love to you - without force?

         I want you to want it.

I want your heart full… and free from the pull

of seven deadly sins… I want you empowered,

for not fitting in… to a space…

     that nobody...

fits into.

        I want, I want, I want…

And I know it’s wrong,

to dump my wants onto you…

I know no one wants to hear

some young prick…

philosophizing...

But here I am, writing... and knowing

I can’t tell you

anything.

When you dig to find extreme pain, and

emotional and psychological discomfort...

keep digging... Dig until you hit bottom...

then pick up your precious gem -

         (self-understanding)

and walk out of your hole stronger

than before you started digging.

***

If there’s a chance to let Love grow... keep growing.

Yes, pain is a more reliable teacher, but love

is something better... Love is a chance -

not for learning, but for moving closer

             to our creator...

Love is reunion.... Love is here to remind us,

      why we’re here.

***

If you can learn to love a flower’s bloom,

grass growing, a child’s balloon,

if you can learn to love simply,

you’ll survive better...

under a lonely moon.

***

If you can learn to love being alone...

you’ll live better... marching to your own tune...

If you can learn to love your neighbor

as much as the way mold grows... you’ll be

                 better

in your unavoidable

    hour of ruin.

***

If you can learn to love your hardship, as much

as the flower’s bloom - a crowded party as much

as an empty room – you’ll find what the Buhhdist’s

call Zen, and what Christian’s call Christ’s love,

and no matter what you choose to do with your life,

               it’ll be worth doing...

***

Life is nothing... but a cascade of lost moments to choose from -

               a parade of Angelic opportunities...

and when the Spirit offers some wind behind your sails...

accept it... when your soul is faced with compromise...

reject it... and after sinking your teeth in

if it doesn’t taste true - spit it out.

***

Keep going...

In love and pain...

until you quiet the liar in your head.

Keep going... until it all makes sense...

For the love of all that is good and holy...

             keep going!

     A young Charlie learned…

His wife and young daughters, forever understanding

            how the screw is turned.

Like so many ambitious ones before him... a young man learned:

             once you make a deal with the Devil -

                  no matter how rich, famous, or powerful you become -

                                   you’re already dead.

Dishonest masters dispose of you,

the moment you become inconvenient.

          A young Charlie learned...

And he reminds me of so many other bright, young

            up-and-comers…

             children’s flesh.

Bombs that go ZOOM, across the sky…

        Boom... they go... and it is

mostly the innocent who die.

Kaboom! They die - because we build the bombs...

Mother’s cry - because their sons and daughters,

don’t deserve the execution we provide.

             They die...

because our government forces us

               (at gunpoint) 
        to pay for it.

We build the bombs -

        you and me -

to make mass murder.

Mother’s cry, because

      we don’t care.

          We build the bombs,

and what a bunch of cowards…

             We the People are... 
         for not doing anything

                  about it.

You were told Israel brought down those towers.

You were told that corporate media is pure propaganda.

You were told war is wrong - it doesn’t happen by accident.

You were told the government is not on our side.

You were told. You were told... you were told!

Ah... there, that feels better.

***

And as good as it feels for truth to be prevailing... it feels almost as good to tell you now... because you were such a dick (a hostile boner, in fact) - when I told you the first time.

You were so sure of yourself... cocksure - 100% convinced I could be dismissed as a “kook” and/or a “conspiracy theorists.”

You had the moral high ground... you thought you were the rationale one - firmly within the margins of common sense – and smugly above the fringe.

***

Today, the understanding I sought for is becoming common knowledge... now, these words are cliché... and only a captured fool (or a paid agent) uses their voice to defend our institutions of power.

Here, today, in this two-hundred-twenty-fifth year of our lord... anyone cheerleading the status quo is a corpse...their voices echoes of what’s already past.

And gratefully, a lot of old friends (and even some family) are thanking me today, for being “such a prick about it” when upsetting them back then – some are even apologizing.

They can’t believe it – now - they couldn’t see it before...

“It’s so obvious...”

***

You were told about COVID.

About government white coats (which liars call “scientists”) sponsoring poisonous vaccines, and drugs, and foods, and cleaning products, and beverages.

You were told, pointing up, “Dem clouds ain’t real.”

Mass migration is orchestrated to destroy prospering, unified cultures.

Black lives only matter when they’re sacrificed to stoke division.

You were told interrupting a child’s puberty might lead them to shoot up a school.

You were warned about “Jewish space lasers” and unnatural disasters.

          They do this on purpose.

THIS WHOLE TIME...

You were told.

***

Now, I’m telling you, again - They are trying to kill us...

Nothing makes sense in our system, unless you wish to depopulate.

***

Any future I told you so’s will be the consequence of the same thing: you trusted the government, and/or the corporate media (or moving forward - manufactured, algorithm-approved “influencers” and/or impassioned YouTube idealogues denouncing the possibility of peace) and just like when you believed in them back then - it’s only a matter of time... before I tell you, I told you so, again.

***

Until then, please remember... be good to yourself, be good to each other – don’t live in fear – and I love you.

But I cannot write about the Jews in 2025 without first condemning the atrocity being executed in their name.

As I write this - Israel is starving children to death... young, sickened IDF soldiers are routinely putting kid’s heads in their sights, pulling the trigger, and then laughing about it.

They are murdering journalists who expose them.

They bomb churches, mosques, and hospitals.

The pure evil of the state of Israel - marching on every day in their effort to exterminate the Palestinian people - cannot be over-stated, and I believe will go down in history at least half-as-bad as the Nazi’s and Mao and America combined...

As hard as they try, they can’t censor it completely... they can’t gaslight us into not believing our own eyes.

It’s documented history - right now, we are witnessing (and Americans paying for) a slow-motion genocide.

***

None of my three friends - all Jewish by blood, by way of their mother – are religious.

None are Zionists... or feel beholden by the brutality prescribed in the Old Testament – their “Torah.”

None relate to me, as a “Goy.”

(They feel more American, than Jewish.)

We all agree a lot of Talmudic “wisdom” is toxic, supremacist insanity.

“If you dine with a ‘goy’ (non-Jew) it is the same as dining with a dog.” - Tosapoth, Jebamoth 94b

***

I understand, I’m American...

I don’t want to be held responsible for the mass-murder campaign known as the “Global War on Terror.”

My tax dollars are not meant to create bombs to be dropped on innocent men, women, and children on the other side of the world.

As a follower of the example of Jesus Christ, I can’t support it!

The government is doing it - not me... and if I had the power - I’d stop it!

Right?

My Jewish friends...

?

***

It is my duty to report, in my limited but somewhat regular exposure to American Jewry - and especially in my 13 days traveling the length of the Holy land (from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem to Elad) - many, many of my Jewish friends (a majority?) seem to think murdering Goy children is okay.

(It’s not just a Jewish thing... many Christian Zionists sponsor infanticide, too.)

Accordingly, this column will refer to my Jewish friends who condemn ethnic cleansing and murder in the name of Zionism – ones who reject the idea of being superior or chosen – as the “good Jews.”

Ones who think they’re chosen to colonize and kill the Goy – to steal their land and (because their chosen by God) to reign supreme over all - will be referred to as “bad Jews.”

(Christian Zionists will be referred to as bad Christians.)

With these distinctions we can use more precise language. For example, since there are good Jews in my life who I love - and I offer everyone a chance to be more than their label – it is inaccurate to say I am an “antisemite.” In opposing the genocide enforced - and cheered on - by a lot of bad Jews, it’s more accurate to say I am an anti-supremacist.

Israeli Zionism is a fundamentally supremacist movement, so I am an anti-Israeli Zionism.

**

I understand - I’m American - especially culpable for my military service...

I followed orders... and when I deployed, I was willing.

I know what it means to be brainwashed by my government and my culture – what it feels like to believe in a big, bloody lie... then how painful and self-shattering it is to realize it... to be almost broken... used and injured for evil’s sake by cowards in positions of power.

So, I cannot hate the young IDF soldier... or the traumatized adult that lives on.

To all my Israeli/American veteran friends, I’m sorry for what they made you do.

I know many of you can’t hear me, but I love you.

(even the bad Jews)

I believe you are more than a killer.

I believe in redemption.

***

I understand... I’m American... it’s easy to feel supreme when your people are winning.

If my people were so overrepresented (only 20 million – 0.2% worldwide) in all sectors of power – if we had successfully usurped American democracy, and the media, and the banks, and the military might of history’s greatest empire... I’d probably think there was something special about the way I was born, too.

Then again... if were Jewish - feeling proud about my extremely disproportionate representation inside these mechanisms of power... (if I were an honest Jew) I’d have to feel some guilt about the way my people were spreading their influence... I’d have to wonder about war... and if I was born into some kind a crazy, genocidal cult.

I’d have to wonder if my parents, my Rabbis, and my culture were somehow sick.

***

It forces a question: can one be a devout Jew, and still a good person?

Can one walk around thinking they are chosen, and still treat the unchosen in a decent, Godly way?

As an anti-supremacist, I have to say no.

No - they cannot.

Again, it’s not just a Jewish thing... a supremacist Muslim, Christian, Atheist, or Hindu is just as foul, and incapable of treating the other as fully human.

Jewish or otherwise, it is only the true supremacist - one fully convinced of their chosen-by-God-ness - who is capable of committing genocide.

In its final form: if one’s belief structure puts them and their people above others who are not like them - they are wrong, and dangerous; and I’m opposed to them.

***

Please, dear reader, return to the image of the good Jew – the ones you meet on the street, who feel just like you – the ones without power, or - like Americans - a say in what’s done in their name...

Keep in mind the 20% of Israeli Jews, over two million, who just put their flesh on the line and flooded the streets of Israel in protest of this genocide.

Keep in mind we all have a chance to overcome our supremacist conditioning – and treat others as equals.

Please leave this column without hating... and give good and bad Jews a chance to be human.

***

All this said, we have a serious problem with a lot of bad Jews and bad Christians in positions of power... turns out giving them all the money and all the guns is bad for everyone (except them) – including good Jews and Christians.

Turns out, we’ve got a big problem with “Judeo-Christian” values becoming an excuse for murderous supremacy.

I’m American... I understand: in every meaningful way, I am ruled by bad Jews – and killer Zionists – democratically represented by their bad Christian servants.

Presently my congressman is a former Navy Seal, a really bad Christian, who voted last year to violate my sacred right to freedom of speech. Derick Van Orden, with a vast bi-partisan majority in the house, voted to restrict my free expression and wishes to criminalize criticism of Jews and Zionism.

Again, weeks ago, along with 422 out of 428 Democrat and Republican members of congress, the distinguished gentleman from Wisconsin voted “No” to stop funding bombs built for Israel to genocide Palestinians.

***

Good Jews, good Christians – good Americans - don’t want war.

Still war continues... murder in our name happens every day... because a small number of bad Jews, serviced by bad Christians, control Washington D.C.

“Housing shortages” and predatory lending continues because this same small number control Wall Street.

Main Street ain’t what it used to be... because they ruined it... because it’s no longer in their interest for us to prosper.

Mass media demoralization - mass illegal migration – the devaluing of our labor… it all happens so young people can’t afford homes... the price of groceries and mandatory insurance keeps going up... because this small group – so heavily invested in usury and their supremacy - has an interest in us all being poor.

All this... because of tiny group of bad Jews and bad Christians (arguably reptilian satanists) hold all the power... a tiny, evil handful controlling the American empire... making life miserable the whole world over.

***

In closing: Goodbye Jew. I love you.

Many thanks to all the good Jews out there... ones who walk and defy their conditioning – thanks for outgrowing your pigeonhole.

Like a white man who can dance, or a black guy who’s a strong swimmer... an Asian who’s an excellent parallel parker... or a Muslim man who doesn’t think he’s meant to rule over women... it’s refreshing to meet you - thank you, good Jews - and all who’ve transcended their stereotype – I love you.

To the bad Jews, I still love you... but please leave me alone – don’t censor me - or try to steal my home; kindly recognize you have no dominion over me... a free American, and a follower of Jesus Christ’s example - a flesh-in-blood child of God… like you.

***

Please come back next week... I don’t know what I’ll say... but until then: remember to be good to yourself, be good to each other – don’t live in fear - and I love you.