X and the dying West

Pretty soon this portal to the world we call X is going to be nothing but a conduit to evil, and just too awful to look at.

When the effectiveness of being here, being informed, becomes outweighed by what is presented and promoted, no decent person will linger for long.

X has peaked. It has vastly declined from its former usefulness to the average user. We will see over the next 6 months if the new metrics in monetization create any positive change, but something tells me that is wishful thinking; the who’s who will still be empowered and given priority; the secret combinations and orgs will still manipulate and thrive; the grifters and cons will only get worse as X gains more global users.

The value of a global square is only available when trust is the rule. The way X seems to be approaching this issue of a general low-trust population of global users is to balance the scales of influence against the average user, tipping the scales to the same old guard of selected representatives of the greater society.

Where this system fails is with the off-X systems of secret orgs and associations that enable new accounts of highly political influence and agendas to gain immediate mass followings via natural trends and word of mouth off X. 10k previously unassociated legit accounts following a new anon “leaks” account within days of its creation, that doesn’t get flagged as platform manipulation by Grok, is absurd. 100% organic movement, yet obvious manipulation for political means.

This stinks of insider manipulation at X, or a gross failure in how and who X prioritizes on the platform.

I understand that X is unavoidably a tool for social and political agendas. I don’t pretend it is anything but. Still, X needs to decide if it is a global app or an American one. It cannot be both. Choosing the wrong one drowns out the entire Western world and leads down a path of chaos in the real world, and on X.

The experiment of globalization has failed everywhere else. The data is clear on almost every front. Why X would be any different isn’t in the cards.

If the future of X is just to be a circus for heads of state and billionaires to entertain themselves by snubbing the serfs and fomenting divisions among them, like cage-fighting wild animals—well, that is a bleak future indeed. We are nearly there.

The change is implied, but I’ll spell it out. Americans should be boosted. Americans with verified accounts should all be seen by the world, and we should viciously edify one another. We are the holdouts of the Western world—the world of reason and law, of order and of Christ. We are a minority in the world that X risks losing the voice of by allowing the globe to shout down and drown out.

X will continue to grow. It is a powerful tool that the world wants control of. They must not be allowed to have it. The Western voice must not be allowed to be silenced or hounded into hiding by thugs, political cowards and terrorists, by anti-Western states, or the billions of louder voices seeking viral fame by outdoing the previous awful passing fad or obsession. Sensationalism must be thwarted. Common sense and decency should be the rule here—not trends or what’s fashionable to the greater world.

Only the ideals of the Western world have within them the light that will soon be so rare anywhere in the world that to see it will be shocking; basic common ideals like “don’t murder” are being lost to the world because the Western world is being overwhelmed by animalistic humans who have no such sense of the value of human life.

A mother strangling her three young children is the tip of this ideologically lost iceberg of what’s coming. Soon, such things will bring no outrage or discomfort to the world at all. It will simply be a matter of fact of the course of life. Only the Western ideals and those of Judeo-Christian heritage will stand against such things—and we will be deemed wild by the world for holding such views as “don’t murder.”

X must choose to be the voice of the Western ideals.

Time to leave social media

When I was younger I could spend 6-10 hours a day on a computer easily.

In that time I wrote and recorded music, I built an RPG in a game making software—and wrote MIDI music loops for it, I wrote a blog that reached people all over the earth, I managed FB groups and pages that reached thousands of people, and yes, there was also lots of porn. . . 

Yet, I wrote stories, I painted landscapes, I sketched home designs and all sorts of ideas on everything, I played guitar, I performed on stage, did extra work in film, cycled 10-20 miles almost daily, I often played pool in stretches of 6-10 hours every night, I met new people, I read books, I went to college, I worked.

Now, I can easily spend 10 hours a day on my phone and produce next to nothing— and I am not even looking at porn. Shitposting on X, doom scrolling, checking emails, clearing notifications. I don't even play games. I don't watch videos.

Sure, some of it is because I am older. Time is more selective, more demanding for any given thing. I have a child that needs care. . . Blah, blah, blah. That's not really it though— and it's not that I am any less creative than my younger self, or less energized (tired sure, but when you're actually ADHD there is never a shortage of energy— just drive.)

Social media today consumes so much mental energy. It's a literal drug.

I have more time today than I did over the decade of my 30s, yet produce almost nothing; not for me, not for others. To top it off, I am in better health than I was in my 30s as well. Yet, lazier. Then, I worked. Now, I X. [And babysit.]

At this point it's about habits. X is a bad habit. Laziness is a bad habit.

The internet has changed the way we interact with it as well. It is mostly accessed through apps, accounts, logins. All of them socialized. All of them subjected to algorithms devised by social media, designed to waste your time and sell you services to access the internet by one set of terms or another. X is no different.

The death of practical creativity is being driven by these platforms' algorithms. They trade you a promise of access for your time, and it's far from a straight across deal.

20 years ago I spent the same amount of time glued to my PC screen as I spend now on my phone, yet was able to access what I wanted/needed when I wanted/needed it. That allowed me to be productive mentally in all other aspects of my life.

Today we are trained to fail, trained to not succeed, trained to be frustrated, trained to have endless meaningless tasks (notifications), trained out of the creative process, trained not to wonder, trained not to desire by lack of satiation, trained by socialized, algorithmized interfaces that we must login to, opt out of, keep up with the ever-changing terms of, and keep updated accounts to maintain the promise of access through, even though that promise is never fulfilled and never guaranteed, even when monetized.

Enough already. I want my time back.

I want my mind back.

If we don't take back the creative process from these apps, from their algorithms, soon we will be nothing more than a hive mind; checking into the consensus for confirmation of who we are and what we do, instead of deciding it for ourselves. We will be drones— disposable, thoughtless, forgotten when gone or absent, meaningless when present. Not even a numbered cog in the machine that serves AI.

Ask yourself what do you physically produce? What does your time get you that is real? Because if it's online it isn't yours, and it isn't real.

Feeling like Wyatt Earp

Wyatt Earp was born mid 1800s and died 1929.

His entire life was horse and cariage, steam trains- old west stuff.

He saw flight go from novelty to commercial. He saw machinery take over every aspect of human life. He saw the invention of automobiles, electric power, radios, tv. He saw them become common place (tv being the exception- but he saw it coming.)

He saw the great war machine erase an entire generation of young men. He saw the rise of feminism, national socialism, progressivism.

He saw the national parks initiative. The paving of roads and building of dams.

They were all firsts. New ideas that transformed the world he knew and lived through into something futuristic and completely foreign to everything he knew.

My father was born in 1950. In his lifetime he has seen the world Wyatt Earp left behind change into yet another foreign future to his generation.

Automobiles are now high tech space aged earth bound vessels- some even driving themsevles now totally autonomous. His generation went to the moon and back again, only to be called cranks by their grandchildren. "Did that really happen though?"

He lived through political coups and assassinations, the cold war, the space race.

He saw the highways expand into the vast freeway systems we see today.

He saw poverty virtually dissapear in America, only to be strategically applied to politically undesirables.

He saw the genocide of abortion erase more generations than all wars of his life combined- a father of seven, he saw America shift to a negative birth rate.

He saw computers go from filling entire floors of a high rise to fitting on your desktop, and in your hand.

He saw the commercialization of everything- the expansion of everything to sheer abundance. . . and the then outsourcing of that abundance- the outsourcing of America, the factories his father worked closed down- entire industries rise and fall. Now AI. . .

He'll die in a world as foreign to him as his was to that Old West Marshall. 

He will likely see space flight become somewhat accessible to the average person, as flight was in 1929.

He might see AI revolutionalize industries and change the human/work dynamic in ways unimaginable to him.

He might see the utter collapse of the western world and free markets and the rise of Islam in America. The end of freedom.

I was born in 1981. The world I grew up in is already gone.

I wonder. . . As Wyatt Earp saw the world change, was there hope for humanity in his eyes when he died? I think so.

Here I am feeling like Wyatt Earp living in a world I barely recognise, knowing this future is going to be even more foreign to me- envious of my father who might can see it with some hope, as he will not have to live much longer through it.

I am envious of Wyatt Earp dying when he did, before WWII in the opulence of the roaring 20s, before the crash, the poverty, the Nazis. . . Before the horrors he was probably too hopeful to see coming.

I am envious of his world. How I would rather have been born in 1881 rather than 1981- even if to die in the great war with so many noble men. . . Just a little younger than I am now. Envious of their legacies.

Maybe we all feel a little like the aging Wyatt Earp, reminiscing of the good ol' days, the glory days. . . The '80s the '90s. . . The past, ours or some one elses shot we missed out on. 

Was it really like that? I myself wonder sometimes- even though I saw it. We all have to face the future with the past behind us and answer "yes, give or take a lie or two." and move onward into that unknown just as our fathers did, no matter how long we have in it. This is our time. Only ours.

Reflections of a 45 year old

When I was a kid, and all through my teens, my dream life was to serve in the military– do something cool like Rangers or MP– and then work for the FBI or some other federal law enforcement.

None of that happened.

I tried to join the army a couple times, once during Bush's presidency and once during Obama's.I formally submitted papers only once with a recruiter in the early 2000s. I was rejected. I filed an appeal with the Pentagon and never got a response.

I talk with a recruiter again before I aged out, but the consensus was it wasn't gonna happen.In that time I learned and worked my trade. I genuinely don't know if it was for better or worse. Having that plan fall apart made my life fall apart.

The Army was always a safe choice, a sure thing. For me it wasn't just a sure thing, it was a chosen path since I was like 5 years old. I had no contingency for rejection.

I grew up mostly off the grid, outside the school systems. I may have finished k- 3rd grade, but after that it was a couple weeks in 4th grade and then I never saw the inside of a school til I was 20 or so. I wasn't prepared for life in the modern world at all, but I never worried too much about that because I was smarter than the average uneducated joe, and the Army took just about everyone– or so I believed.

At 20 my folks divorced while I was away for a summer visiting my brothers. I became stuck in a new place. I worked at a call center and began making life plans. I should have signed up then and there, but then 911 happened. I talked with recruiters, but I didn't want to be canon fodder, so I waited. I got my GED and went to college.

ROTC wasn't available to me because I had no highschool. I would watch those guys and gals with envy as they seemed to be always running in a group around campas. I loved running too, so it kinda irked me even more.

I wasn't a great student. I'd get bored half way through a semester and my grades would tank. As much as I liked college, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing. I was so far behind in generals anyway, that it seemed pointless to pursue a degree or career through academics. After two semesters I quit rather than take out a forever loan.That's when I tried to join the Army. Everything was fine, looked good but for one little question. 

My recruiter stopped me and told me (very carefully) not to answer it honestly. He spoke between the lines in a way, but I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to omit this detail.

The issue was a simple one. When my parents divorced, shortly after while living with my mother, at her behest I went to a psychiatrist.

The Army didn't care why or what determination the psychiatrist made. It was an automatic disqualifying event. That was policy. But to omit that information constitutes a lie, and lying on the form is also a disqualifying event and a felony.

Against my recruiter's advice, I submitted the forms as honestly answered and was rejected. An appeal was filed, letters of recommendation by the psychiatrist and others included. No answer was ever received.

That derailed my life. I became depressed, withdrew from the world, my standard american flag t-shirt and jeans wardrobe became whatever slop hand-me-downs I received. I didn't care about anything anymore for a long time.

People who knew me in this time probably remember a disheveled melancholy persona, with holes in his clothes and shoes taped together. It's true. I just wore things till they literally fell off me, or until some one made me throw it out. I wore what was convenient and available, often showing up to work or social events in pajama bottoms and a dress shirt– usually because I had no pants, but still wanted to look nicer than wearing stained and torn t-shirts everywhere. I couldn't help my shoes– duct tape kept them going long after their retire date. Shoes are expensive.

The end of this period of my life coincided with a suicide attempt. It was out of that I came to terms with being here.

A friend at the time who had personal experience on the matter summed it up perfectly when upon seeing me for the first time out of the hospital said "well what now, huh." It was exactly how I felt. He knew.

It was that same friend that got me in my trade a year or so earlier. He was a mentor that I am forever in debt to.

That was ~16 years ago. Back then I could have never imagined my life today.

Then, I desperately loved in hopes some one would return the passion. No one did, not really. I never dated anyone as desperate as myself.

Then I never thought I'd have a child, something I was still surprised about in recent years, both wanting and having a son.

Back then I never could imagine wanting to build a shop and business doing that trade I begrudgingly learned out of lack of anything else before me.

Back then I was still in the shadow of the person the world rejected and wouldn't let me become. I was angry and bitter, but didn't see it for years. Looking back I can't blame all the people who steered clear or didn't. . . (everyone but the Pentagon, those people can burn in hell for the life they denied me.)

Anyway, the point is that things do work out. I am happy today. I have it pretty good with new challenges I that couldn't even be on my radar a 16 or 20 years ago. It is what it is. 

Coming into my 40s (45 this year) considering the hand I started with, I think I'm still coming out on top– sure, I didn't get lucky, I didn't hit four aces on the draw. . . You can't win every hand. It's staying in the game that matters.

Fast forward to August 2025

Am I really in business?

(Firstly, yes. But sometimes it feels like I’m just pretending—like it’s just another image in my mind that doesn’t match up to reality.)

When we decided to move to a new state and start over, it seemed like the perfect time to go into business for ourselves.

We had a plan. We had the money. All we needed to do was do it. Or so we thought.

I have the skills required and found within myself that drive I hadn’t seen in over a decade. I was all-in. My wife was all-in. And we had a good backup plan, with a timetable to take away all the stress. Or so we thought.

Life is funny. God is funny. As soon as you make a decision—a good one—that’s when life starts to push you, to stretch you. It’s as if to say, “You’ve got it all figured out, do you? We’ll see about that.”

So, the challenges began coming our way on day one.

(Now, before you get to thinking this is a downer… Well, it is if you let it be. That is the point. As you’ll note from the title, Am I really in business?, the answer depends on what you (I, in this case) decide. Read on.)

I won’t list the challenges in full. I couldn’t if I tried. Instead, I’ll paint a picture that I hope will have meaning for both the established and seasoned entrepreneur as well as the first-time business folks (like me) who have never done this before and don’t come from a business background.

At the time of this life change, my wife and I were in our early 40s:

My wife, having been the career-minded breadwinner in our relationship, the one with education and a solid work ethic driven by having type 1 diabetes since she was eight years old, knows how to survive the corporate world because she has had to, in order to have health insurance and a comfortable wage—enough for the house, the picket fence, and so on.

And then there’s me, an emotionally burned-out Asperger’s case who has basically lived by the grace of others all my life. I never minded it before, though. I had been working in my trade in a small way for roughly 15 years, and though I know the work inside and out, how much I know about the business is still a mystery being uncovered and learned.

Neither of us had ever owned or run a business before. Working for others is always easier than taking on all the risk yourself. It’s a good gig if you aren’t driven to something more—which was the case for me most of my life.

Neither of us went to business school. I myself never attended K-12 regularly and ended up getting my GED at 23 so I could take classes at community college. At first, I pursued an associate’s degree in psychology, but after realizing the number of years’ worth of general education credits I’d have to catch up on, I decided college was better spent on other personal interests.

I spent my twenties working part-time and taking a variety of classes on theater, writing, health, and anything that struck me as fun whenever I could. I tried to maximize my learning with speed reading, but my dyslexia and ADD proved too much to overcome at the time.

Eventually, I settled into a job working as a line cook at a pool hall, where I ended my five or so years there as a manager in title only (right before the place closed down due to mismanagement). Luckily, it was through that pool hall that I met the artists who mentored me as a framer and taught me the trade I now hinge my life on.

My wife was on an upward career path shortly after we began dating. She made better money than me, and it just never made sense to do anything other than support her career opportunities as they came up. It was a minimal-risk, big-reward trajectory most of the time—but as things eventually began not paying off and demanding more, we found ourselves wanting a new dynamic.

In 2024, our little dog passed away. That winter, my wife’s corporate life ground to a somewhat shocking halt, and she took a new job with a pay cut. She liked the job and settled in fine, but that little dog left a hole in our lives. Sometime after his death, we decided to sell the house and seek out a new start.

I was done working part-time, and my health was failing. I did not handle the loss well. We sold ASAP, packed up our remaining elderly dog, and hit the road. Truth be told, I just couldn’t live there anymore—we had this peach tree… Turbo (R.I.P.) loved that tree. I had to cut it down the year before because he had taken to eating the pits.

We closed on our new property on October 2 that same year. Sight unseen.

The challenges:

The car broke down mid-trip. Dropped 10k on a replacement in the middle of nowhere. A trailer burned up on the return trip and had to be abandoned on the road. The house looked good in pictures but needed immediate work—another 6k, plus a lot of effort spent remodeling (this wasn’t hired out). A variety of other expenses and time spent riding out heavy rain over the winter months… rural living stuff. Oh, and the best derailment of all: a welcome surprise baby on the way. (There goes the budget.)

Still having health and back problems, losing my helper for physical labor just pushed everything back. Before we knew it, it was spring, and we still had no shop.

My wife was able to take her job remote, so that helped—but they fired her a month before the baby was due (another massive dent in the budget, which was barely enough to get through the summer months). And for the kicker? Within a month of my wife getting fired, our 16-year-old pup took ill and had to be put down.

It’s been quite a roller coaster. And I haven’t even gone over the business side of it all. (Perhaps that’s another post.)

A few weeks after we settled here (early December), a small kitten emerged out of the rain. He had followed home one of our cats that we brought as kittens from Utah (unable to rehome before we left). He was starving and instantly took to me and one of the other cats.

I prayed, “Lord, what am I supposed to do with this?” Not realizing (how could I?) what this little cat signified for our new life here. The answer came back plain as day: “Love him.” I sighed and agreed.

The cat quickly took to fighting a stray and got chased up a tree.

I climbed the tree to save him.

The cat got in a fight with a wild thing and had bites taken out of his side.

I took him to the vet and had him patched up, fixed, and vaccinated.

He sleeps in our bed, gets fleas, and brings critters inside at night… But he’s the best cat ever. Totally worth it.

So, am I in business?

I’m still sorting out suppliers, still looking for clients, worrying that sales won’t be enough—that orders will get behind. I still have tools the shop needs, can’t afford to hire the help I need, and have production issues that need to be ironed out and finalized…

F#@k yeah, I’m in business! All that other stuff… That was just the first year. We made a five-year plan.

Refocusing of Talents

After giving me my blessing the Patriarch said something along the lines of what he felt a part of the message meant: that I am indeed supposed to be sharing my experiences and that I have a lot to say that can be of help to multitudes (specifically the youth.)

To that end I am refocusing what I do online and what I write about. 

My writing has always been erratic and without focus– you should see the state of my novel– but now I think I have been given a focus that will be useful. I'm still figuring out exactly what that looks like, but the start of it is just to keep speaking up.

I wrote a letter to the youth a few years back. I've written on spiritual and mental traps I've fallen into. I've written on dispair and mental illness. My latest work I am seaking help to finish is on how to be a man– not a modern man or cliché of the image of a man, but simple truths I've discovered are traits of manhood I aspire to embody– things I've discovered through example of others to be the godly traits of men.

I sent it to some one on a whim– a desparate attempt to have it picked up by some one who might run with it. I know now that I am supposed to finish it. (Still, I really hope that person reads it and reaches out, because I have no idea how to do this.)

Anyway, more to come on this account and substack. I'll never paywall important things for money. I'll always try to be available for replies. I really just want people to know there is hope, God loves you personally, there is a path for you to him. If I can help anyone find their way I will be extremely pleased in that I was of use to the Lord's purpose. 

That's all for now. 

The cost of salvation?

Lot of people out there thinking Jesus requires only lipservice and a changed heart.

Remember that rich guy who didn't give up his riches?

Jesus requires everything. Salvation requires everything.

That means all your efforts, time, resources, thoughts; past, present, future.

Noodle that out. The rich man wasn't "saved" was he. Did he live his life out in wealth and then before he died give all his money away? Did that save him?

Perhaps.

But when Christ called him he denied the Lord. He refused him for the sake of the kingdoms of the world. An entire life then spent in that sin; how many souls might he have influenced had he followed when asked? What is his price of repentance?

Christ requires works. He required it of his Apostles. He required it of almost all he blessed with miracles. He requires it of you.

Peter, "the rock" was charged with building his church.

James & John required to leave their nets and follow him.

The blind man required to wash before his sight restored.

The rich man...

The Israelites passsover

Lot & his family, Samson, David, Moses, Joseph, all had blessing given or taken from them because of actions they chose to take in the name of the Lord or against his name.

Abraham!

Yet, people today say "I am saved" because they confess His name to absolve their sins, yet give nothing of their lives to him in return- or worse, think doing so is of some charity of their heart to the Lord and not required by him.

Yes, Christ died for all; to have the oportunity to embrace the ever lasting. He did not give you grace. It comes with a bargain- a price beyond the reasons He died on the cross. Jesus paid the Father. You must pay the Christ, and what he asks is everything in his name.

The ENTIRE Bible tells this narrative over and over. And there are countless promises recorded in it of God's covenanted gifts to any who will simply do the work.

The idea that Jesus died so therefore "you're good" is a bastardized teaching of the fallen church of the dark ages, when the words of God's prophets were kept secret  by "holy" men who interpreted them for the masses. It is the longest lasting lie perpetrated by the very forces who murdered the Holy Prophets  who walk as Apostles with Christ.

Sorry gang, but works ARE  required. It is a lazy mind that thinks otherwise. The scriptures are full of examples of God requiring works before glory & grace. It isn't a given by the cross.

What is given by the cross is a much deeper doctrine than salvation alone. Yes, it is crucial to it but Christ did not suffer and die for just this. But that is another post.