My Dedication to Ozzy Osbourne

Today is a sad day for the metal world and for me as a metal fan. I was hit with four messages on Facebook “Ozzy died.” It wasn’t surprising. What’s surprising is that he lived this long, but still it’s left a hole. There are three bands/musicians that turned me onto metal and those are Metallica, Pantera, and Ozzy Osbourne. Their music and Ozzy himself made me feel less like a misfit. I felt that I belonged somewhere.

My first concert ever was Ozzfest 2002. I begged and begged my mom to let me go with friend, my girlfriend at the time, and my girlfriend’s dad. We finally compromised when she said, “You can go, but you have to go to church first.”

Southern Baptist upbringing, remember?

I was blown away. All the bands, the entire metal community. I felt welcome. I felt like I had a place in the world. I felt at home. I got in the mosh pit without even thinking about it. I just felt the urge to truly experience my first ever concert by doing everything concerts have to offer … except the booze and the drugs because I was still a 15-year-old Southern Baptist boy.

When Ozzy finally took the stage that night, I was in awe. One of my metal heroes, the godfather of heavy metal. We connected that night. I didn’t want the night to end. Nothing else mattered in that moment. I felt like I was at peace with all the other people there. I had found my place in the world. As someone who was always “the weird kid” in school I felt like I finally belonged. No one was judging me. No one was making fun of me. We were all outcasts and misfits, but we were outcasts and misfits together and Ozzy had brought us together. I felt a community.

I’m sad that I never got to see Black Sabbath live, but I can say that I at least got to see Ozzy live which is sad for future metalheads because they don’t know what it’ll be like to not have the godfather of metal to be there for them when they feel the world is against them, but they’ll find their own place with another band at some point in time. I’m just happy I got to experience the original and nothing can take that away from me.

Rest in power, Ozzy. You’ll be missed.

Overthinking, Pandora’s Box, and the Mercy We Don’t Deserve

By someone who’s tired of dodging landmines in family group chats.

I posted a photo on Snapchat the other day—Bertrand Russell’s The History of Western Philosophy. I didn’t think much of it. Just one of those small, nerdy flexes you throw into the void. But then my aunt replied:

“I didn’t know there was such a thing, but I guess everything has some sort of philosophy.”

Okay, fair. Not everyone grew up reading Plato or spiraling into existential dread during sophomore year. I responded:

“Western civilization’s been overthinking everything for like 2,500 years. They had to write it down eventually. Even things like math and science have deep philosophical roots.”

Her response? “Some things are just overthought, and need to be left alone I think. Just my opinion.”

That’s when I felt it: that itch to argue. To start listing how “overthinking” gave us medicine, civil rights, space exploration, critical thinking, and the ability to ask whether the status quo even should be left alone.

But instead, I replied calmly:

“Sometimes overthinking is how we uncover the stuff hiding under the surface.”

She came back with:

“That could be really bad and in the long run not helpful. Kinda like Pandora’s box. But I understand some things need to be known.” I went full myth nerd:

“Yeah, opening Pandora’s box definitely unleashed chaos—but also hope was in there too. Can’t forget that part.”

Then came the turn I knew was coming:

“Yep, you are right on that. And mercy, which we don’t deserve.”

Ah. There it was. The theological twist. The Southern Baptist worldview shining through. Mercy as something we’re lucky to get, not something we’re entitled to. A cosmic handout, not a human right.

And that’s where I bit my tongue. Because yeah, I could’ve said that if mercy is real, it shouldn’t be conditional. Or that maybe people don’t deserve suffering either. Or maybe we do deserve mercy because we’re born into a broken system we didn’t ask for and spend our lives trying to make sense of it.

But I didn’t say any of that. I kept the peace. Not because I agreed, but because sometimes family isn’t where the fight lives.

Still, it stuck with me. The way generations talk past each other. The way questioning becomes “overthinking,” and curiosity becomes a threat to tradition. The way a simple book post turns into a theological minefield.

So here I am. Overthinking it, of course.

Just like the philosophers taught me to.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s where hope still lives.

Waiting for the End

I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t sign up for this whole “life” thing. I just opened my eyes one day and the clock started ticking. Expectations piled on. Rules I never agreed to. A world I didn’t create.

By now, I’m 38. No spouse. No kids. I still live with my mom. That fact alone makes me feel like I’m not a “real adult,” even though I pay attention to the world, think deeply, and try to be a good person. But none of that matters, right? Not in a world where adulthood is measured by mortgages and marriage licenses.

I look around and feel alien. Tired. Like I missed a train everyone else caught, or maybe I was never invited to the station. People around me post pictures of weddings, kids, vacations, “success.” I sit with the weight of just surviving, and sometimes even that feels impossible.

The truth? I’m tired. Bone-deep tired. I’ve had days where I didn’t want to wake up. Days where I felt like checking out would be easier than dragging myself through one more empty cycle of eat-sleep-repeat. I’ve thought, “what’s the point?” more times than I can count.

I didn’t ask for life. But life was handed to me like a debt I didn’t incur, and now I’m supposed to be grateful just for enduring it.

Still… Somewhere in the middle of all that noise, I told someone how I felt. And I wasn’t met with judgment. I wasn’t told to “cheer up” or “get over it.” I was just heard. And sometimes, that’s enough to get through another day. So maybe this blog isn’t a rallying cry or a solution. Maybe it’s just a flare shot into the dark for anyone else who feels this way. You’re not alone. You’re not a failure. And you don’t have to carry this on your own. I don’t know what comes next. I’m still here, and for now, that’s enough.

Ten Albums that Shaped My Inner Apocalypse

Music isn’t just background noise. It’s scaffolding for survival, especially when the world feels like it’s rotting from the inside out. These ten albums didn’t just soundtrack my life; they rewired the way I experience rage, grief, absurdity, and beauty. They remind me that chaos can be crafted, and pain can be poetic. Here they are, in no particular order, because the human psyche isn’t linear and neither is this list.

Tom Waits – Rain Dogs

The sound of a broken-down carnival running on whiskey and cigarette ash. Waits turns gutter poetry into gospel. Rain Dogs is a celebration of the unwanted — junkies, drunks, and dreamers — and it feels like a lullaby for a world in freefall. Every barked lyric and percussive clang is a reminder that beauty can grow in the cracks.

Rage Against the Machine – Rage Against the Machine

This album is a pipe bomb with guitar strings. Rage didn’t ask for change, they demanded it. Backed by riffs that hit like police batons and lyrics that make the politicians sweat. It’s the soundtrack to smashing glass, flipping tables, and refusing to sit quietly in a burning house.

Tool – Ænima

This is what a spiritual crisis sounds like when it’s fed through distortion pedals. This album is part meditation, part meltdown. It dares you to grow your shadow self and laugh as L.A. sinks into the ocean. For anyone who’s stared too long at the void and found it blinking back with sarcasm … this album understands.

Tool – Lateralus

Where Ænima screams, Lateralus ascends. It’s less a rock album and more a sacred geometry ritual. You don’t listen to it — you enter it. This is the sound of evolving through pain, or spiraling upward while dragging your doubt behind you like a corpse made of clay and ego.

Metallica – Master of Puppets

This is thrash metal perfection: raw, relentless, and razor-sharp. It isn’t just heavy; it’s controlled chaos, like a surgical strike on the soul. Every riff is a warning shot, every lyric a grim prophecy about addiction, war, and control. Still undefeated.

Primus – Pork Soda

Unhinged, grotesque, and funky. Pork Soda is what happens when circus clowns do too much meth and pick up instruments. Les Claypool turns absurdity into an art form, and this album is the musical equivalent of wearing a gas mask to a dinner party. It’s genius wrapped in psychosis.

Alice In Chains – Dirt

This album doesn’t just talk about pain, it becomes pain. It is heroin withdrawal set to power chords. Layne Staley’s voice feels like a man clawing out of his own grave, and somehow making it sound beautiful. It’s one of the most brutally honest records about addiction ever made.

Pantera – Vulgar Display of Power

This isn’t music, it’s a punch to the chest. Pantera strips away pretense and goes straight for the jugular. It’s rage, distilled. It’s the kind of album you throw on when words fail and you need to feel like you could take on the entire system with your bare fists.

Prince – Purple Rain

I know this seems out of place, but if I did a top 20 then you’d have a lot of stuff you wouldn’t expect: Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Stevie Nicks, etc. I mean, even the apocalypse needs sex and style. Prince doesn’t just perform, he bleeds charisma. This album is lush, emotional, and impossibly cool. It’s the beautiful foil to all the pain and grit in the rest of the list. It’s proof that vulnerability can be just as revolutionary as rage.

Marilyn Manson – Antichrist Superstar

Theatrical, terrifying, and somehow prophetic, this album is a descent into self-destruction as performance art. Manson weaponized his alienation and made it impossible to ignore. It’s a grotesque mirror held up to American culture and the reflection is still disturbingly accurate.

Honorable mention: Nine Inch Nails – The Fragile

If Nine Inch Nails’ album The Downward Spiral is the collapse, The Fragile is what comes after: the slow, surgical dissection of what’s left. It’s sprawling, brutal, and achingly gorgeous — a wasteland cathedral built from shattered circuits and whispered regrets. Trent Reznor doesn’t just scream here; he broods, builds, and breaks in ways that feel devastatingly human.

These albums are more than sound. They’re survival strategies. They taught me that pain isn’t just something to endure; it’s something to sculpt, amplify, and scream through a wall of noise. If the world insists on being ugly, at least let the soundtrack be brilliant.

Capitalism, Trafficking, and the Billionaire Boys’ Club

In the shadowy corners of modern capitalism lies a truth many don’t want to face: human trafficking isn’t just a crime of desperation. It’s also a crime of wealth and power. It’s not only happening in alleys and war zones. It’s happening in penthouses, on private islands, and behind the locked doors of luxury jets. And when we pull at that thread, names like Jeffrey Epstein—and yes, Donald Trump—start to unravel the fabric.

Capitalism promises meritocracy. But what it delivers, time and again, is a system that rewards exploitation. When money becomes the ultimate measure of success, people become commodities. Labor, bodies, even children; bought, sold, and traded in a global marketplace where the rich operate above the law.

Jeffrey Epstein didn’t build a trafficking empire alone. He had help—explicit and implicit—from financiers, politicians, royalty, media moguls, and intelligence networks. He lived in the belly of capitalist power, not outside of it. His crimes weren’t an aberration, they were a symptom.

And then there’s Donald Trump, who once said Epstein “likes beautiful women as much as I do, many of them on the younger side.” Trump and Epstein were photographed together, partied together, and allegedly shared access to the same circles of underage girls. One woman, Jane Doe, filed a lawsuit in 2016 alleging Trump raped her at one of Epstein’s parties when she was 13. The case was dropped—quietly, mysteriously—just before the election. And we’re supposed to believe justice was served?

Wealth doesn’t just buy yachts and elections. It buys silence. It buys immunity. And capitalism ensures that those with the most money can bend the system to their will. Epstein’s private island was protected by layers of wealth and influence. The girls he trafficked? Disposable. Their voices were dismissed until it was too late, and even now, most of the men involved walk free.

Capitalism thrives on hierarchy: of class, gender, race, and power. And at the top of that pyramid are men like Trump and Epstein, who use their wealth to shield themselves from consequences while feeding off the bodies of the powerless. It’s not a glitch in the system. It is the system.

Until we start connecting these dots—not just as scandals, but as structural realities—we’ll keep asking the wrong questions. The real issue isn’t just “Who knew?” or “Why wasn’t Epstein stopped sooner?” It’s: What kind of economic and political system makes men like this inevitable?

If we want a world where children aren’t trafficked for billionaires’ pleasure, we need more than accountability. We need a new system entirely.

The Absurd Resistance: A Manifesto for the Broken, the Burning, and the Brave

We begin with a scream, not a sermon.

This world is absurd. A meat grinder dressed up in hashtags and mortgages. The powerful drink from golden chalices forged from your stolen hours. And yet, they smile. They tell you to smile.

We won’t.

We are the inheritors of Camus’ defiance, Cioran’s despair, and Schopenhauer’s doom. We have read the contract called “life” and chosen to laugh, weep, or set it on fire depending on the day.

We believe:

In truth so ugly it loops back into beauty.

In jokes that kill fascism and punch gods in the mouth.

In community, not coercion.

In mutual aid over mass delusion.

In death being certain, but dignity optional.

We reject:

The capitalist cult of progress.

The myth of meritocracy.

The domestication of rebellion.

The narcotic of false hope.

The lie that life is a gift when it’s often just a receipt.

Like Bill Hicks, we know it’s just a ride, but we’re the type to grab the wheel and steer it into a bank.

Like Doug Stanhope, we toast to the end while telling the truth nobody paid to hear.

Like Che Guevara, we are willing to fight. Not because we believe victory is guaranteed, but because surrender is spiritual suicide.

Like Malcolm X, we reject peace without justice, and kindness without teeth.

Like Kropotkin, we believe in solidarity. Not because it’s idealistic, but because it’s the only antidote to the poison of power.

Like Chomsky, we speak plainly and punch upward.

Like Ligotti, we write horror because we live in it. And like Stephen King, we turn the grotesque into gospel.

There is no exit. There is only refusal. Refusal to comply. Refusal to pretend. Refusal to become the product.

We are absurd. We are aware. We are armed with wit, rage, and community.

We will not “build a better world.” We will undermine the one they’ve built. In the ruins, maybe something human can finally grow. So laugh. Fight. Write. Feed people. Burn things. And when they ask what the hell you think you’re doing, tell them:

“I’m just imagining Sisyphus happy … and loading the next rock into a trebuchet.”

Revolution: What Can Be Done?

The other day I asked a communist friend of mine what needed to be done in this day and age, especially in this day and age. She didn’t hesitate.

“We need to form revolutionary cells. Militant, and armed. We need to combine these cells with mutual aid groups and cadres to act as the vanguard. Re-education and promoting independent political action outside of the established bourgeois parties and a focus on anti-imperialism are essential to our movement’s success.

That’s a lot to drop in one breath.

But beneath the revolutionary jargon is something real: the blunt recognition that voting isn’t saving us, capitalism is devouring everything, and the time for passive outrage is long past.

Let’s break this down–not to dismiss it, but to figure out what, if anything, we can actually do.

“Militant and Armed Revolutionary Cells”

This isn’t Reddit larping. She’s talking about small decentralized groups trained in organizing–and possibly armed in self-defense–read to protect their communities and resist oppression. Think Black Panthers, not TikTok tankies.

But here’s the catch:

America isn’t ripe for revolution. Not yet. And we’re up against the most bloated, surveilled, militarized empire in history.

So while “armed cells” sounds bold, it’s also a neon sign flashing “federal indictment.” Strategy matters. So does survival. We can’t fight for a future if we’re locked up before we build anything.

Mutual Aid + Cadres as Vanguard

This part is gold. Mutual aid isn’t charity–it’s infrastructure. It’s food banks when the state fails, rent support when capitalism crushes, first aid when cops won’t help. When you pair that with politically trained organizers (cadres), you start building a base that can actually resist–not just survive.

This isn’t the sexy part of revolution. It’s slow, often invisible. But it works

Re-education

Not brainwashing. Just unlearning the shit we’ve absorbed living under capitalism

That billionaires deserve to rule.
That America is a force for good.
That our only power lies in voting every four years and complaining online the rest of the time.

Re-education means study groups. Memes. Teach-ins. Dismantling propaganda with actual history (I recommend Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, which I will be reviewing once I finish.) Turning alienation into understanding and understanding into action.

Independent Political Action

Translation: Stop begging Democrats to save us.

This isn’t about throwing elections to the fascists. It’s about building real alternatives. Tenant unions. Worker co-ops. Local campaigns that aren’t bankrolled by the same people gutting your town.

We can’t beat capitalism by playing its game. We need to flip the board.

Anti-Imperialism

This one gets ignored the most.

You can’t fight for justice at home and ignore what your country does abroad. Every bomb dropped, every coup backed, every sanction enforced–it’s part of the same system. Anti-imperialism is not a side quest. It’s the heart of the fight.

So … now what?

You don’t have to be ready to go full Che Guevara in a balaclava. Most people aren’t. But if you feel the rot of this system in your gut, you are ready to do something.

Start local. Start small.

Join or start a mutual aid group.
Host a study group.
Disrupt your comfort zone.
Organize outside of parties that profit off your despair.
Connect with people who want more than reform.
Learn security culture–because if shit gets serious, you’ll need it.

And keep asking: What am I willing to risk? What am I willing to build?

Revolution isn’t a mood. It’s a movement. And movements need more than slogans.

They need people willing to do the work even the unsexy parts.

Even the dangerous ones.

Grind Till You Break: America’s Obsession with Hustle

America loves a good grind. We praise it, post about it, glorify it. If you’re not exhausted, caffeinated, and juggling three side hustles, are you even trying? But let’s be real: grind culture isn’t noble. It’s not empowering. It’s a trap. And America fell headfirst into it.

Here’s why the U.S. can’t stop romanticizing burnout:

1. We inherited a guilt-based work ethic

It starts with the Protestant work ethic, an old idea that hard work is a sign of moral virtue and maybe even diving approval. This mindset bled into American capitalism, turning labor into a moral obligation.

If you’re not working, you’re failing. If you’re resting, you’re suspect.

2. Capitalism depends on it

Grind culture keeps capitalism humming. The more you internalize the need to hustle, the less you question why wages suck, why healthcare is tied to your job, or why billionaires exist at all. Tired people don’t start revolutions, they start GoFundMes.

3. The American Dream is a rigged game

The myth goes like this: if you work hard enough, you’ll “make it.” So if you’re poor? You must not be grinding hard enough.

That’s how America blames individuals for systemic failure. It’s not the economy that’s broken, you just didn’t want it badly enough. Spoiler: the Dream mostly works for people who were already halfway there.

4. Individualism turned toxic

America doesn’t just glorify self-reliance, it weaponizes it.

We’re told to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, even if we don’t have boots. Asking for help is weakness. Solidarity is socialism. Suffering becomes a badge of honor. So people burn out to prove they’re strong. Or worse … worthy.

5. Corporate propaganda fuels it

Workplaces love to “celebrate” hustle just enough to avoid paying for it. Overtime? That’s loyalty. Burnout? That’s dedication. Here’s a pizza party and a LinkedIn post, now get back to it. Meanwhile, the CEO makes more in a day than you will this year.

6. There’s no net below us

In most rich countries, healthcare is a right. In America, it’s a benefit–one you only get is you’re grinding hard enough at the right kind of job.

With no real safety net, people don’t grind to get ahead. They grind to avoid collapse. It’s fear dressed up as ambition.

7. Work becomes identity

Especially for men, but increasingly for everyone, work isn’t just what we do, it’s who we are. our value gets tied to productivity. Our self-worth depends on output.

Stop hustling, and suddenly you’re not broke … you’re nobody.

Bottom line:

Grind culture isn’t about freedom or fulfillment. It’s a coping mechanism for living in a system that doesn’t care if you collapse. The hustle is real, but so is the exploitation.

We don’t need more hustle. We need healthcare. We need time. We need solidarity.

TL;DR

America treats exhaustion like a status symbol, work like religion, and billionaires like gods.

Rest is rebellion.

And maybe … so is saying “no.”

“Can’t be king of the world unless you’re a slave to the grind.” -Skid Row

July 4th Ain’t Nothin to be Proud About

I stole this from an email I receive by Islamic Socialist. You can follow them on Substack and BlueSky. This is my July 4th post.

“Every year, either out of ignorance or arrogance, on the 4th of July, millions of Americans go out in this country that many of them can barely afford to survive under, to celebrate independence as a nation birthed & maintained on blood.

“Very negative picture, yes, I know. It upsets you, good. You and the many like you refuse to do the necessary independent study of just how much of the US’s history is marked by active wars, genocides, systemic rape, slaughter of its own people for demanding better conditions, overthrowing sovereign nations for geopolitical power, influencing fascism in other parts of the world because of our brutality, and much, much more. I don’t hate you, at least I don’t hate the ones who never learned the truth because they was never presented the ability to. I hate those who arrogantly defend the illusion that the empire taught them to defend. I hate those who refuse to study independently and put all their trust into the liars of empire, unwilling to have a critical thought of their own, independent from the influence of the state. I hate, boldly and firmly, robotic “people” who care none for critical thinking, no independence of their brain. I hate those who, in their enslavement, act like sell outs and turncoats to protect a system that has never given them a damn thing except pocket change and a lie to protect while they stood by and watched slaughter, rape & theft of others outside their lands. Hell, sometimes even inside their lands.

“I hate cowards, I hate robotic people. You can quote me on it – if you refuse to challenge the narratives of the US, if you refuse to think for yourself without the mainstream telling you whats allowed to be thought about, or the mainstream telling you whats true, if you accept the hateful narratives from the West against people you’ve never met or struggled alongside, if you refuse to listen to opposing sides because their evidence challenges your comfortable lie – then I mean it when I say I hate you, you coward, you robot. Centrists, neo-liberals, wealthy conservatives, workers of weapons manufacturers, and the other cowards and robots who uphold the evil empire – to hell with all of you. Your maintenance of the evil empire, once it falls, because it will, will gain you a punishment worse than The Hague.

“Your celebrations are an empty, hollow show of arrogance.

“‘But we are celebrating our independence!’ Independence for what? A nation who fought over a 3% tax where we are now taxed by several brackets, none of which under 10%, and some over 30%? Independence on a land that was already occupied that we raped and slaughtered to steal so we have our living space? Theft, mind you, that didn’t stop even to this day where we continue to steal reservation lands as natives are targeted and randomly trafficked or killed? Independence for who, because the only ones who have been doing great in this country are the wealthiest bloodlines and the business owners of this country?

“What is the point of your pride, because you was born in America? People was born under Nazi Germany, should they be proud of Nazi Germany? ‘Oh that’s an unfair equivalent and deeply offensive’ WE KILLED 12 MILLION NATIVES! WE ENSLAVED ALMOST 11 MILLION PEOPLE! Hell, poverty alone, based on a 2019 study, kills over 180k a year – in America, the richest nation apparently, while China uplifts 800 million of it’s people out of poverty in 40 years. ‘Unfair equivalent’ did you not see the source earlier about how we influenced Hitler with our brutality? If you believe that some people outside the US, especially the third world, deserve to suffer for your comfort, or that they aren’t as important as you – you’re no different than a Nazi. Your cowardice and robotic minded behavior makes you no different from the Nazi civilians who silently accepted slaughter and invasion of lands for the lie of supremacy. If Hitler was alive today he’d say America continued the vision while cosplaying as a liberal democracy – because of course it has, liberalism is the left-wing of fascism.

“Your arrogance is unlimited, there is no logical reason to be proud in the US as a government or a nation. Being proud of your local community, being proud of your background or contributions to art or food and the like, being proud of your cultural roots, these are more rational than being proud to be associated with this government.

“July 4th is nothing but an expression of American arrogance and pride in an illusion built and maintained off bloodshed, theft, and destruction.

“And no, I won’t ‘if you don’t like it, leave’ – because to quote Paul Robeson ‘my people died to build this country and I am going to stay here and have a part of it just like you.‘ I will stay and fight because while arrogant cowards who protect evil, like you who say such vile expressions, want to protect this bastard government of killers and thieves, people like me will make sure their tyranny is opposed every step until it stops.”

The Big Beautiful Bill Is a Big Ugly Disaster

And you should be pissed.

They called it the One Big Beautiful Bill. The name sounds like something cooked up by a real estate scammer with a spray tan and a God complex. And that’s exactly what it is: a bloated Frankenstein bill straight from Trump’s second-term fever dream, cobbled together by House Republicans and passed with the slimmest possible margin. And now it’s headed to Trump’s desk for a July 4th signing ceremony drenched in flag-waving, billionaire bootlicking, and straight-up cruelty.

What’s in this monstrosity?

Let’s start with the headline:

Twelve million people are projected to lose their healthcare.

That’s not hyperbole. That’s the Congressional Budget Office’s estimate. The bill guts Medicaid, imposes work requirements, and kicks immigrants off public healthcare programs. Because in the America envisioned by this bill, if you’re not white, wealthy, or working yourself into the grave, you don’t deserve care. You deserve punishment.

And while they were at it, they slashed $185 billion from food assistance. So now we get to watch people try to feed their kids on zero-hour contracts while GOP lawmakers brag about “fiscal responsibility” over cocktails with lobbyists.

Meanwhile, the rich got another tax cut. Permanent this time. Tips and overtime income? Tax-exempt now—but don’t get it twisted, that’s not for you. That’s bait. The real prize is hundreds of billions in tax breaks for corporations, fossil fuel giants, and the donor class. This bill adds $3.4 trillion to the deficit, and you can already hear the vultures circling Social Security and Medicare as the next “cost-saving” target.

Oh, and they militarized the border.

The bill throws over $150 billion at ICE, CBP, and border wall construction. It funds surveillance, detention, and deportation at a scale we haven’t seen before. They’re not just building walls—they’re building infrastructure for a permanent deportation machine. If you think that won’t grow, expand, and eventually turn inward, you haven’t been paying attention.

Climate crisis? Never heard of her.

Clean energy incentives? Gutted. Fossil fuel subsidies? Expanded. If you’re under 40 and plan on breathing air in the next couple decades, this bill is a declaration of war.

—

This isn’t governance. It’s class warfare.

They’re engineering a future where the rich get richer, the poor get punished, and the middle class is slowly boiled like frogs. And they’re doing it with fireworks, flags, and a phony populist smile.

Don’t let the branding fool you. This bill is a moral abomination.

If people don’t fight this tooth and nail—with legislation, with lawsuits, with mass mobilization—they’ll be complicit in letting this country slide further into oligarchy.

And if you’re still sitting on the sidelines? Get off the damn bench. The fight isn’t coming. It’s here.