• blog

    End.

    A chapter has ended in my life and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Nervous? Slightly, but that’s because I saw the murky light at the end of the corporate middle-management tunnel and there was a wheelbarrow half-full of money glowing in stink flies. “All you have to do to get that money is shake the Devil’s calloused claw and sign on the dotted line; in blood, of course. Oh, and … just the tip, that’s all. Promise.” Nothing is free. There’s a trade-off for everything. It’s ignorant of the peasant to think he could impress the King enough to befriend him and even more sloppy to think his new friend…

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    There’s a War Going On(line) No Prolife is Safe From

    Hunter S. Thompson feared the worst on January 20th, 2005. He countlessly warned against the re-election of the baby orangutan for president, George W. Bush Jr., as it would clearly mark the end of days. A societal breakdown at free-falling speeds. The end of hope. Bang. I dealt with the letdown by beginning a politically-charged blog surging with accusatory allegations, cocaine fueled conspiracy’s and the cursory language of a man who drank himself into a tormenting psychosis. I became consumed. Obsessed. Thousands of words a night. Unfiltered, rarely edited free-thought. Kerouac’s alcoholic spirit stuttered my sentences longer than a rock tossed towards a stage at an Antifa disruption. Outlandish allegation…

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