Lord, I pray I’m incorrect, please let my words be wrong.

This is gonna be a long read, but … Hear me out.

But first, a disclaimer. You might not like what I have to say and that’s OK. It is (at least for now) a free country and you’re allowed to disagree with me. A second disclaimer: everything I say could be wrong. In fact, I hope I’m wrong. If I am, feel free to rub it in my face later. Final note: my opinions here aren’t formed from watching too much CNN or MSNBC. I’ve heard that argument so frequently, I startded unfriending people who use it because it’s a cop-out straw man argument from someone whose position is too weak to support itself. Besides, I don’t watch any 24 hour news channels. I’ve formed these opinions from a combination of sources: a lifetime of studying history, reading project 2025, watching the president’s speeches, a list of the president’s campaign promises, historical footage, and court records.

It is my belief Trump has a plan and it has been wildly successful. I know a lot of my liberal friends will not agree with me but it’s true. He might (allegedly) have dementia. He might (allegedly) have an Adderall addiction. He probably is (allegedly) an sociopathic narcissist and a pathological liar. He has a history is saying the stupidest statements in human history. But even with all of that, he’s not as much of a dunce as he appears. He has a plan and putting it into action. So far it’s working.

Now to piss off my conservative friends: none of those successful plans are good. He doesn’t have a plan to save the economy. He doesn’t have plans to bring down the cost of groceries, gas, or health care. He doesn’t have a plan to protect Social Security, Medicare, or Medicaid. He doesn’t have a plan to bring an end to wars in Ukraine or Gaza. He has a plan to achieve his one and only goal: to become the supreme American authoritarian and follow in the footsteps of his heroes: Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong-un, Recep Erdoğan, and Mohammed bin Salman.

Don’t get mad at me for claiming the president wants to be more than president. I’m not accusing him of anything other than what he’s said about himself. When he terminated Manhattan’s congestion pricing in February, Trump himself declared “New York is saved. Long live the king.” In true trumpist fashion, most of his words were typed in ALL CAPS. In December of 2023, Sean Hannity gave a softball interview question hoping to dispel worries about Trump’s increasingly fascist and violent rhetoric. Hannity asked “You’re not going to be a dictator, are you?” Trump could have said no and move on. Instead he said, “No, other than day one.” Obviously this was meant to rile his critics - get them freaking out over his plans to be a dictator for a day. I’ll accept that he spoke in jest, but the best jokes are grounded in a sliver of truth. Heartsong wanted a dictatorship for more than a day, but had to remove the barriers first. That’s been his plan all along and we’re about a week and a half away from the fruition of his work.

Before I explain myself, we need to come to an agreement on one thing. Everyone does everything for a reason. The choices we make, the business we support, the places we travel, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, all of it is done for a reason. We might act out of familial or professional obligations. We might be influenced by our upbringing, our social circles, our religion, our heritage, our traumas, our mental health, or some conglomeration of all the above. The reason I do things are different than yours. Sometimes we agree in our reasoning but sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we understand opposing reasons but not always. Still, there’s always a reason we do what we do. This is true in elections; there is a reason I voted the way I did and a reason you voted the way you did and a reason those who didn’t vote abstained.

Last time I checked, Donald Trump was human. This means he is subject to the rule that everything is done for a reason. Everything he’s ever done had a purpose behind it. From dodging a draft, taking his daddy’s money, discriminating against black tenants, taking out a full page ad in the newspaper calling for the death penalty against five innocent teenagers, bankrupting casinos, cheating on all of his wives, running fraudulent charities and colleges, committing sexual assault and tax evasion, to the blatant corruption of his current administration - he’s had a reason for all of it. It is imperative we ask ourselves “Why’d he do that?”

Let’s jump in the wayback machine to last summer. In July, he spoke at a Christian event when he said the following: “Christians, get out and vote, just this time. You won't have to do it anymore. Four more years, you know what, it will be fixed, it will be fine, you won't have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians. I love you Christians. I'm not a Christian. I love you, get out, you gotta get out and vote. In four years, you don't have to vote again, we'll have it fixed so good you're not going to have to vote.” Why would he say that? Why would Trump tell any audience they would never have to vote again?

More recently, why did he pardon those involved with January 6th attack on the Capitol? He could have pardoned them at the end of his first term but didn’t. He waited until day one of his second term. Why? Why would someone who voraciously campaigned on being the “law and order” candidate grant freedom to violent offenders who assaulted police and violated the law with reckless disorder? Then he granted freedom to the Tate brothers, a pair of notorious influencers who’ve been globetrotting to avoid criminal charges from a long list of accusations of sexual assault, rape, and human trafficking. Why?

Trump made efforts to maintain his promise of deporting every undocumented immigrant in the US but his administration has taken it further. The ICE raids have swept up business owners, military veterans, legal immigrants, and protected refugees. Why though? Why is the Trump administration revoking green cards and student visas without cause or warning? Why are they denying legal residents and citizens due process? Why is ICE acting without warrants and defying court orders? Why did he try so hard to end birth right citizenship? Why did he question the citizenship of Native Americans?

Why is he obsessed with tariffs? Why is he threatening our allies? Why does he want to annex Canada, Greenland, and Panama - with military force if necessary?

Allow me to answer some of those questions … hypothetically of course.

Trump wants to be the King of America - not in the sense like the UK has a king. He wants absolute control over the United States from the Arctic Sea to the Panama Canal. He wants power over his people the way Xi Jinping rules over China or Putin dominates Russia. He wants his every whim to be granted without question or challenge. He wants all Americans to kneel to his authority - not just his MAGA faithful. The only obstacle in his path to glory is the rule of law in checks and balances.

Much of what he wants to do (or is already doing) violates the constitution. Right now, the Supreme Court and the Legislative Sessions have the power to stop Trump. Whether they do or don’t is irrelevant because the power exists even if unused. If life continues as it is right now, Republicans are facing devastating midterm losses in 2026. With both houses flipped to favor Democrats the odds of impeachment, removal from office, and criminal prosecution becomes more likely. If Trump is to get what he wants, he has to fulfill the promise he made last summer: vote for him and you’ll never have to vote again.

While much of what the Trump administration has done in the last two and a half months has been illegal, there are two ways Trump could serve a third term (which he’s already expressed intent to do) and install himself as king. First, get a constitutional amendment ratified. It’s not impossible but highly unlikely as it would require a proposal from 2/3rds of both houses of Congress (where Republicans hold the slimmest majorities) followed by the approval of 38 states. In case you don’t want to do the math, I already did it for you - there are too many blue states to make this a realistic option. The second legal method would become available if Trump suspends all future elections. This avenue is only possible if he declares martial law.

Wait, hold up - I hear you saying. He’ll never do that. Really though? On January 20th, a review on the southern border was one of the plethora of day one executive orders Trump signed. This order asked two secretaries (Defense and Homeland Security) to review activity along the Mexican border and make a report with recommendations for the president due April 20th. The executive order also asked them to determine if the president should invoke the Insurrection Act of 1807.

On the surface, I support this. The president should request his advisors and cabinet to monitor hot button issues and expect them to deliver sound advice. Rational leaders would then analyze the situation and see the Mexican border had less activity during Biden’s administration than Trump’s first term, got even slower since Trump got back into office, and is calmer now than it has been in a decade. They would learn that most illegal aliens are those who entered the US legally then over stayed or violated the terms of their visas like Elon Musk. They’d discover most fentanyl crossing the border is smuggled by white US citizens. Their recommendations to the president should reflect those realities.

However, the two individuals assigned these tasks are not rational leaders. They are Pete the raging alcoholic with anger issues Hegseth and Kristi puppy killer Noem. They’ve been too busy violating the Espionage Act and leaking confidential war plans on Signal to actually look at issues along the border. Whatever suggestion they make for Trump on 4/20, I would be willing to bet they’ll recommend he invoke the Insurrection Act of 1807 which will direct the use of the military to secure the border.

Now, before you accuse me of jumping the shark with my prediction of martial law. I am smart enough to know the Insurrection Act and declaration of martial law are two different actions. While both involve the military, each can be and usually are used separately. You’re probably also wondering what the slew of pardons, mass deportations, and levied tariffs have to do with either insurrection or martial law. Slow down, I’m getting there.

Let’s start with deporting people that shouldn’t be deported. Trump knows he’s breaking the law. Marco Rubio knows these deportations are illegal. The courts have repeatedly ruled against them. None of that matters because they’re just testing the waters. Reopening Guantanamo Bay and paying El Salvador to house deportees in one of the most violent prisons on earth isn’t a matter of controlling immigration. Sure, they’re blaming Latinx people because they need a scapegoat but the reality is they’re testing the waters. They’re trying to see what they can do without consequence or accountability. They’re exploring how easy it is to make people disappear. It’s immigrants for now but it will not stop there.

Next up are the pardons. Not all of them were violent offenders but many of them were and still are. While the Secretary of Defense has no moral compass, the rank and file service members and military officers do. If military members refuse to follow unlawful orders, Trump will need his own private and loyal army willing to do whatever he wants. No better place to find one than in the 3%ers, the Proud Boys, and the Oathkeepers - the three militias at the center of the J6 riot. And since they’ve all been pardoned they’ll be the most loyal soldiers available.

Finally, the terror of tariffs. Economists, mathematicians, historians, political analysts, high school civics students, and anyone who watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off know tariffs are paid by the importers who pass that cost on to consumers. Trump’s will he/won’t he dance with Canadian and Mexican tariffs started chipping away at the stock market. His “liberation day” blanket tariffs lobbied onto every nation (except Russia) crumbled the markets which have been in downward spiral ever since. Major manufacturers announced factory closures and massive layoffs. Prices on everything are about to get really expensive and will skyrocket if nothing changes.

Trump had to know this would happen. If he didn’t, Howard Lutnick (Secretary of Commerce) should have known. Marco Rubio (Secretary of State) should have. Countless other advisors should have. With all that knowledge worldwide tariffs would tank the economy, such a move is intentional. He knew his economic plan would harm American citizens and he did it anyway. He knew it would irritate his base and energize his detractors - this is the reason he did it. This is his strategy.

Anti-Trump protests are nothing new. They were a constant presence during the 2016 campaign and a feature of his first term. They continued as he resumed office, increasing in both size and frequency. Trump needs this - more protests, more protesters. After the Insurrection Act of 1807 is invoked on the southern border, it’ll be easy to expand it to include major cities where protests have been biggest. However, what he needs most still hasn’t happened. So far, the 50501 and hands off protests have been peaceful. The Insurrection Act won’t be enough to quell the protests, Trump needs violence. As soon as the protests turn to riots, Trump will finally be able to enact martial law.

Unfortunately for Trump, the people protesting him are committed to peaceful opposition. This is where his militias come into play. He doesn’t need all of them, just a few here and a few there. As the size of protests expand, a handful of militant plants will be able to blend in with ease. They commit heinous acts - vandalism, assault, terrorism … and pandemonium ensues. Once the violence starts, martial law becomes the rule of the land. Dissent is criminalized and people begin disappearing. Normal law-abiding citizens will be arrested, hoods over their head, sent to foreign prisons or domestic labor camps without due process. Then finally, Trump can suspend all future elections and reign like a tyrant.

The crises aren’t a side effect of Trump’s politics. They are the purpose of his policies. Create chaos. Spark violence. Takeover. With political critics and opposition removed or silenced, he can fulfill the promise he made last summer: you’ll never have to vote again.

I could be wrong. I hope and pray that I’m wrong. For the safety of my friends and family, I would be giddy if I was wrong. But if I’m right? Well, I could be one of the law-abiding citizens who get disappeared.

The Tolerance Paradox

It’s an accusation I’ve heard several times, almost always from conservative people when they’re called out for bigoted statements or behavior. Perhaps I’ve heard this statement more than most people because I’ve thrust myself into peculiar social circles. Yet it remains ready on the lips of the alt-right and self proclaimed white nationalists.

Boogie men (and women) lurk in the shadows and around every corner for these people. Their beliefs in superiority influence their thoughts and actions. It is their perception of liberals tolerating the things they hate which makes their protest ever more believable. In their minds, tolerance is the main tenet of liberalism. Therefore, any criticism of their beliefs from a liberal person is a display of intolerance out of step with the assumed progressive ethos.

I make no claim to being the representation of everything liberal. Some might call me a zealot but I aim to be more pragmatic in my approach of my personal politic. My bend to progressivism is rooted more in religious imperative than social preference. Considering the region where I live and the leanings of my family, it would have been easier for me to have remained a conservative, resting in the comfort of religious right spaces. Instead, I entered the narrow gate at a terrible cost of ridicule, isolation, slander, and abandonment.

Take my perspective for what it is: an observation. I speak for myself and actual validity among others from the left end of the political spectrum will vary.

The word “tolerant” is a bit misleading. Sure, I know many progressives who pride themselves for their tolerance of minorities whether it’s based on race, religion, or sexuality. But even for then, tolerance isn’t their true intention. They strive for acceptance. They accept queer folks, immigrants, people of color, Muslims, migrant workers, and any other marginalized community. They see the value and beauty in these underrepresented populations and tell them, “You’re welcome here.”

Those harboring bigoted ideals see this loving tolerance from progressive individuals and assume “If they tolerate that person and their deviant ways, they must tolerate me too.” Then they spout off something offensive and cry victimhood because their terrible perspectives weren’t tolerated.

Pure tolerance creates a paradox. It is impossible to be tolerant of all people in all situations because showing tolerance to some automatically treats another with intolerance. Sometimes it’s necessary to pick a side; choosing tolerance for one defaults to oppressing the other.

I’ll start with a completely neutral example. Nobody watches a boxing match and says “I hope they both win.” Such a declaration is absurd. Someone has to lose. It’s OK if you don’t know who to cheer for but you can’t expect two people to repeatedly punch each other and both walk away winners.

What if you have an islamaphobic person spreading anti-Muslim rhetoric? If I chose to tolerate their voice, I would be intolerant of Islamic people. And by default, tolerating the Islam faith means I’m intolerant of anyone who hates Muslims. I can’t play both sides.

This idea that our every thought (no matter how vile) must be tolerated flourishes on social media. We get caught up in the intoxication of reactions and replies. It feeds our dopamine addictions and fuels our selfish needs for admiration. The moment anyone responds critically or expresses disgust, our brains instantly feel discomfort. We have a biological need to explain anything that doesn’t fit the pattern of our preconceptions. One objection to our lesser id breaks away from the solidarity we crave so we rationalize it as someone being intolerant of our values. Someone utters “you probably shouldn’t say that” is met with “respect my freedom of speech.”

There’s irony when intolerant people demand tolerance.

Let’s be real though, I am not a tolerant person. I’m not tolerant of people who brand my disabled friends as lazy. I’m not tolerant of people who promote Russian propaganda. I’m not tolerant of people who describe everything they don’t like as woke. I’m not tolerant of gay jokes. I’m not tolerant of incels. I’m not tolerant of clergy who abuse women and children under the guise of godly authority. I’m not tolerant of people who think drag queens are more dangerous than automatic weapons. I’m not tolerant of book banners. I’m not tolerant of anyone who believes vaccines cause autism.

I am accepting though. I accept my queer friends and family members as wonderful people who were fearfully and wonderfully made. I also accept a homophobic individual’s rights to hate the LGBTQ community. I will not tolerate their bigotry though. I accept women’s place as equal and deserving contributors to all levels of culture. I also accept a misogynist’s grasp on patriarchy. I will not tolerate their arrogance though. Damn the man. I accept the diversity and strength of my non-white friends, celebrating their color and their cultures. I also accept a racist’s predisposition toward racism. I will not tolerate their prejudice though.

A chasm exists between tolerance and acceptance. You can’t tolerate everything but you can accept all things. Acceptance is possible for the people you love as well as the people you loathe. You can accept viewpoints conflicting with your beliefs. You can accept the practice of any religion, any gender identity, any education level, any political party, any national origin, and still not agree with them. It’s called being a decent human being. But I guess that’s considered “woke” these days.

The Best Advice I Ever Received

A corporate trainer was one of the first grown-up jobs I ever had. The type of work that felt more like a career than a paycheck, weeks filled with meetings and important interactions. I spent four and a half years of my mid-twenties in this position, met a lot of great people, took opportunities for business travel, and networked with colleagues who were predominantly my elders. By the time I transitioned into a new role with the company, I was burnt out. As much as I loved the job, it was clear I could not continue.

During this time, I played supervisor and coach to groups of brand new employees roughly every month and a half. Turnover rate at the company was high enough to ensure we were always hiring which meant there was a constant need for me to do my job. Two big issues contributed to my burnout: the people we hired and the time I was given.

During this new hire class, I had to teach grown adults ranging from fresh out of high school kids to elderly folks approaching retirement who had never used a computer. It was my responsibility to educate this mishmash swath of humanity about the products to sell, bills to read, systems to use, and etiquette of customer interaction. My biggest challenge was half of the people in my classes didn’t want to be there, they just needed a job.

Originally, these classes lasted six weeks, five in the classroom and one in production where they would shadow tenured employees. In an effort to save money, the duration of these courses were trimmed from six weeks, to five, then eventually to four. Also due to budget constraints, the eight hour long class time was cut down to six hours and forty-five minutes. What began with two hundred hours to instill as much skill and knowledge as I could into my students had to be compacted into one hundred one hours and fifteen minutes. I had to create an accelerated course to cover the same curriculum. Speed runs are a fun challenge with video games but tortuous with employment.

One class was my tipping point, the beginning of my end.

I had three weeks to teach soft skills for sales and customer service, demonstrate a dozen different computer systems, and discuss all of the details of five different products. The fifth one was my favorite because it was the one with which I was most familiar. It was also the most complicated for anyone without experience. We spent two whole days (a Thursday and Friday) talking about the fifth product and practicing how to order it. Then they had a weekend off and returned on Monday to start working with a mentor in production.

The fourth week of class was not entirely spent shadowing qualified employees. At the end of every day, we would regroup and discuss any questions they had from what they observed and address any knowledge gaps.

They also had smoke breaks which is where everything fell apart. If you’ve ever worked in a call center, you probably know the designated smoking areas are places for gossip and venting. The more time you spend in the smoking section, the more likely you are to hear someone complaining. Doesn’t matter if you’ve worked there for ten years or ten days. There was one call center I worked it in Sioux Falls (I won’t mention Citibank by name) where this phenomenon was so prevalent, employees referred to the smoking area as the “bitch deck.”

Trainees tend to gather in a circle while taking their cigarette breaks, even during the final week of on-the-job training. That first Monday contained a plethora of lament. I’m not a smoker so I only learned of how this conversation transpired after the fact from people who were involved. It went something like this …

Person 1: “It’s so stressful. I feel like I forgot everything Nic taught us.”
Person 2: “I took a call about product five and couldn’t remember anything about it.”
Person 3: “It’s almost like we didn’t talk about it during training.”
Person 4: “Yeah, I don’t remember Nic saying anything about product five.”

Now, this is all normal stuff. When you spend three weeks taking in large quantities of information, you’re not going to remember everything. That’s why I did the regroup sessions at the end of the day. Also, some people are nervous talking on the phone and being the expert customers expect. It could have all been handled and resolved except the last person in the above conversation started a mutiny. As soon as they said I never covered the fifth product, everyone else joined in claiming “I don’t remember Nic teaching it either” and “yeah, he didn’t talk about product five at all.”

Unfortunately for me, one of the supervisors happened to be outside smoking at the same time. She was standing apart from the group but close enough to hear the conversation. Since product number five was a huge source of revenue, she panicked. Instead of coming to me and asking what happened, she went straight to my boss and let him know I skipped a section of the curriculum. Then he, without confirming what did or didn’t happen with me, scheduled a day for that supervisor to come teach a section of curriculum I already spent two days teaching.

I was also put on a performance plan to correct my error despite the fact I made no error. My boss’s argument was “You said you taught it but she says you didn’t and she’s a supervisor so I have to take her word over yours.” A few months later, I was forced out of the learning and development team.

Not everyone in the class lost their minds. A few level headed participants expressed frustration losing a day in production to review something that had already been taught. One of them was roughly fifteen years older than me, an old school metal head all grown up and gentrified. He was a military veteran who liked guns but loved his kids more. He had a scathing sense of humor yet took his responsibilities seriously. I’ve never been adept at hiding my emotions and he recognized the grief I was feeling in the moment. He pulled me aside to give me a pep talk.

After listening to my tale of woe, how a few smokers looking for something to whine about made me look bad and placed my job at risk, he told me something I haven’t forgotten.

“You can’t make a rock do back flips.”

My job was to teach classes of adults to jump through hoops necessary to sell and perform customer service in an environment where customers might not want to do one and is unhappy with the other. The individuals causing my trouble were a bunch of rocks. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how well other people from the same class performed, those rocks were never going to do back flips.

Nearly two decades have passed since that conversation. I wasn’t happy to end my time as a trainer but in hindsight it was the best thing for me. Like I said, I was burnt out. I was tired of trying to teach people who didn’t want to be taught. I was tired of cramming content into an inadequate time frame. I was tired of trying to make rocks do back flips.

I changed departments and continued working for the same company. I remained there far longer than I should have. Things worked out and I’m happy doing what I do now. Still, rocks abound. Rocks are everywhere these days.

There’s a Bible verse my dad quoted a lot when I was growing up. It’s from the prophet Isaiah when God tells the people “Come let us reason together.” The God my dad taught me about is one who gave us brains, fully intending us to use them. Dad passed on the idea of a God who wanted us to study and learn about everything from the microscopic structure of the cells inside our bodies to the cosmic sights in the furthest reaches of our universe. I fell in love with a God who wanted me to appreciate the details, to navigate discourse with logic, and communicate with reason. Knowledge was sacred. Its pursuit was holy.

Looking back, I realize I was raised in a dichotomy. While my father imprinted God’s desire for us to reason together, I was also raised in the heyday of the satanic panic. I made my transition from high school into adulthood as purity culture began to flourish in evangelical churches. These two eras were not defined by truth and sound reasoning; rather they were born of innuendo and fear. Unfortunately, sex and witchcraft weren’t the only demons lurking around the corners of Christian imaginations: science was treated like the devil itself. I remember a youth leader letting me know biology teachers were going to teach me fancy stories of evolution with malicious intent and it was OK for me to pretend I believed them so I could pass their class safe with the real truth that evolution was a hoax. The wholesale distrust in public education we see today were seeds planted decades ago.

It should be no surprise our collective ability to reason together is sorely lacking, not just in evangelicalism but among the general public. This is what happens when society elevates ignorance as a virtue. For a while, I foolishly thought I could bring people to enlightenment with reason. I figured facts, evidence, and logic would convince others to see the flaws in their own understanding. I was wrong.

The older I get the more it becomes evident you can’t reason with the unreasonable. While I still crave the God who called us to reason together, I’m confronted with the sage advice I was given seventeenish years ago: you can’t make a rock do back flips. And there are a lot of rocks out there.

An open letter to the victims of Californian fires

In November 2017, my wife and I bought a farm. Nearly seven acres in the rural scrub between Spokane and the Idaho border. We quickly found ourselves to be a blue dot in a red corner of a blue state. But it was home, and it was good. We did everything we could to make it our own little slice of paradise.

A year later, the first flames sparked on Boeing property near the Simi Valley. It quickly erupted into the Woosley Fire, ravaging the city of Malibu and surrounding hills. It completely destroyed over 1600 homes and killed three people. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only blaze terrifying Californians that month. Two other wildfires began the same day: Hill Fire 15 miles to the west of Woosley and the Camp Fire near Chico. The Northern Cali fire was deadlier, ending 85 lives. It destroyed 18,000 structures and displaced 50,000 people.

Our tale of homesteading bliss and collected Californian disasters might appear both emotionally and geographically unrelated. However, these contrasting events are not completely divergent.

Come January 2019, home sales in our area increased. Over the next few months, real estate prices in the Spokane area continued the upward trend. Before long, complaints arose from locals priced out of buying a home. Annie and I considered ourselves lucky to purchase when we did - a year before the spike. We were still confused though. Sale prices exceeded actual property value. It defied logic which unsettled my analytical autistic brain.

At a holiday party late that year, a family member (who happened to be a realtor) provided an explanation. Californians who lost their homes in the wildfires were bringing their insurance settlements northward. They flooded the inland northwest with enough money to make cash purchases, often offering tens of thousands of dollars more than the seller’s asking price. If there was a bidding war, the Cali expats were going to win. Some of them could buy two houses in Spokane with the amount of money they got from insurance.

It made sense. Relocate to a state with similar cultures, geographically close, with climates less wet than Portland or Seattle. Process of elimination made Spokane an ideal destination for their new hometown.

It took a full two years for the skyrocketing market to hit the top and another two for actual values to catch up with listing prices. During the pandemic, a national article was released by a major media outlet detailing the ten most over inflated real estate markets in America and the Spokane area was plopped right in the middle of the listicle.

The collective disasters of the Camp, Hill, and Woosley fires were unfathomable tragedies for the state of California but they were not isolated events. The fallout caused financial burdens upon uninvolved populations in regions outside their state.

Now, a little more than six years later, history is beginning to repeat itself as multiple fires rage around Los Angeles, including the Sunset fire in the Hollywood Hills. Much like Hollywood blockbusters, the sequel is worse than the original. There are five separate fires ablaze in the area with at least 180 thousand residents under evacuation orders and 1.5 million people without power. Two of these wildfires are already the most destructive in LA’s history and they’re not yet contained. Five deaths have officially been reported with thousands of structures destroyed, a number sure to grow before this horrible saga is over.

Image courtesy of KTLA

I don’t want to make light of the harrowing ordeal consuming the greater Los Angeles region. The heartbreak, loss, and fear are all valid as these Americans are living through an apocalyptic nightmare. I know because Spokane experiences a wildfire season every year. Even if the flames are not dancing on our doorsteps, winds bring the smoke into our neighborhoods, slowly choking out the outdoor activities and entertainment which make the unbearableness of the inland PNW more bearable.

The devastation also hits close on a personal level. Several family members on my wife’s side live in Medical Lake - the site of 2023’s Gray Fire. We are intimately aware of the fear and pain of a wildfire’s invasive touch.

If history truly is repeating, the people of Spokane should prepare to meet some new neighbors. A lot of new neighbors. I hope not though. Not because of an anti-Californian bias which is common around here. Not because we’re already struggling with the logistics of population growth even though we are. I hope for something different this go around because our nation is in crisis. Californians might not be the heroes we deserve but they could be the heroes we need.

We can laugh as a way to cope with tragedy but there is nothing funny about the massive and destructive force of nature in its cruelest moments. In lieu of jokes, I offer a proposal.

Take that fire insurance settlement and move to a red state. Hear me out.

States like Oklahoma, West Virginia, Indiana, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Kentucky are among the cheapest places to buy a house in America and they’re all red states. They also have some of the worst education systems compared to other states. They are most in need of improvement. A little insurance money can go a long ways in states like these.

Move there. Property is cheap. Buy a home and work remotely. Buy two or three homes and turn them into rental properties for ongoing income. As soon as you’ve met residency requirements, run for political office: school board, library board, city council, county commission. Or be entrepreneurial; start a small biz and join the town’s business association or Kiwanis club. Become a foster parent or sponsor a refugee family. Volunteer with a local chapter of PFLAG, Color of Change, or Citizenship Coalition. Donate to homeless shelters and organizations that help women escape domestic violence.

Whatever it is, where ever you go, use your money, time, and votes to make that place a little better. Transform your new hometown into a safer place for immigrants, people of color, and the LGBTQ community. Build grassroots foundations to create something even bigger and better, something blue wavyish. And maybe, just maybe, people like you are the ones who save us all from MAGA. Perhaps you would be the ones to actually make America great again.

I’m happy to share Spokane with you but you should spread the love a little. If all else fails, Spokane will still be here. Please though … try a red state first.

The Thing I Fear

For as long as I can remember, I was warned the Democrat candidate for president is the Antichrist. The earliest I remember hearing this is when Michael Dukakis won that label during his campaign against George HW Bush. Four years later, Bill Clinton was the new Antichrist, a claim I heard over and over for the next eight years. Through studying history, I’ve learned this phenomenon isn’t exclusive to my lifetime. John F Kennedy was also a target of Antichrist conspiracies. The same accusation was later levied against Al Gore then John Kerry.

By 2008, things changed. Discussions about the Antichrist running for president were no longer restrained to gossip in church hallways - it spread on the internet. Meme culture and Photoshop transformed Barack Obama into more than a rumored Antichrist into a visual representation of the satanic beast. Evangelical ministers were preaching warnings of Obama’s Antichristishness and posting videos of their sermons to YouTube. The unholy nature of Barack was a topic of conversation everywhere on social media, chat rooms, and message boards. Someone even published a book about it.

Internet amplified the religious fear mongering. It plagued Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden. You can even buy yard signs that say “Biden & his crime family are the Antichrist.” It’s now being applied to Kamala Harris – most recently demonstrated by David Rem at Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally last weekend.

It’s not true. None of it is. Sure some of these people have done things that conflict with Christ’s teachings or defy evangelical morals, but these people were not and are not THE Antichrist. So why did this happen? Why has the name Antichrist been bestowed upon every Democrat presidential candidate of modern times? Simple. One word: control.

This employment of fear has been ingrained in evangelical culture for longer than I’ve been alive. My dad told me stories of apocalyptic preaching and doomsday prophesies at revival services from his youth. I grew up with the threat of hell looming over me every time I dared question Sunday school lessons or denominational doctrine. I was raised in a constant state of terror, instilled with a belief dancing, uttering a curse word, watching an R rated movie, or a single sip of alcohol would topple me into a downward descent into eternal condemnation. This fear was used to control my behavior, programming me to dress a certain way, to talk like they talk, act according to expectations. Cloneliness is next to Godliness, right?

Fear arouses our fight or flight responses. It’s supposed to be a survival instinct, compelling us to act in times of danger so we might live to fight or flight another day. Do you know what happens when your formative years are spent in a in a constant state of agitated fear? Your psyche gets stuck in constant readiness to flee or do battle, your amygdala hyperactive in waiting for peril. Paranoia consumes you. Every criticism feels like a personal attack. You see boogie men around every corner. Any diversity of thought is a threat. Suddenly it makes sense any politician who doesn’t align with your moral compass becomes the antichrist and voting for them would be a one way ticket to the bowels of hell.

This perpetual horror isn’t healthy. It’s not good for our souls. It’s not good for our mental health. It’s not good for our spiritual communities, our workplaces, or our government offices. Fear is, as Frank Herbert wrote in Dune, the mind-killer and the little-death that brings total obliteration.

This year’s election feels different than times past. It seems as if everyone is scared – not just evangelicals. Liberals believe Donald Trump is a wannabe dictator intent on overthrowing the US government so he can rule like his friends Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, Kim Jong Un, and Mohammed bin Salman. Conservatives believe Kamala Harris is a demon and the Antichrist hellbent on sacrificing newborns, forcing children to get gender reassignment surgeries at school, replacing white people with illegal immigrants, and murdering Christians en masse.

The anxiety is palpable. Everywhere I go, I hear people expressing their fears about next week’s results. These worries range from understandable to absurd yet it seems everyone is afraid of something.

I still believe in a God who is love and that perfect love drives out fear. Yet I must admit I’m a little scared. Try as I might to do as the Bible teaches and cast my worries at the feet of my savior, I can’t escape the stressful and unanswerable questions of what will happen once all the votes are counted.

To clarify: I’m not afraid of history repeating itself. Records have shown humanity (collectively speaking) is not adept at learning from our mistakes. Dooming ourselves to failure is practically inevitable so this doesn’t scare me.

I am not worried a second Trump term will bring about the end of America. Empires rise and empires fall. If it doesn’t happen now, it will eventually.

I’m not worried Trump will blame a potential loss on cheating or fraud. He did it four years ago and he’s already laying the groundwork to do it again. Why be scared of something that is guaranteed to transpire? Likewise, I expect a repeat of the January 6th attacks if Trump loses. I know this so I’m not afraid.

Trump has said he’s going to use the full force of law enforcement to target his rivals and critics. Since I’ve often criticized Trump, that means I could be arrested and imprisoned as a dissident if he wins but even that doesn’t scare me. I know that if Trump is elected, he will follow the plans of Project 2025, a document that marginalizes people I love and threatens their safety and yet that isn’t the source of my alarm.

I don’t fear my religion being imperiled if Harris wins because I know she has no plans to threaten it. Even if she did, I know God’s got my back. I have faith no weapon formed against me will prosper.

Only one thing scares me and it has been gnawing at me ever since the MSG rally this weekend. I listened to the vile remarks of various speakers. Their words filled with hatred, racism, misogyny, and homophobia. When people say “Trump country” this is the kind of environment accompanying such claim. If Trump wins, I am terrified of what it says about my Christian siblings, my friends, and my biological family. Why? Because if Trump wins, it will be the evangelical vote that carries him to victory.

If Trump wins it means evangelicals love their golden calf more than their savior. If Trump wins it means Christians who supported and continue to support him believe his dishonesty, bigotry, jingoism, criminal convictions, fraudulent activity, and predatory behaviors are copacetic. If Trump wins it means the Christian moral standards are meaningless. If Trump wins it means the ends justify the results – that Christians are perfectly accepting of sin for a season as long as they are able to maintain their grasp on the reins of power.

In the Bible, Amos prophesied to the Israelites during an era similar to what the American church faces now: wealth and prosperity flourished, yet morality was fading fast. The poor were being exploited, the courts were corrupt, government leaders were evil, injustice was widespread, and vulnerable communities were oppressed.

Amos was the prophet of social justice. He condemned dishonest business practices, unfair wages, religious hypocrisy, and unethical treatment of others. He encouraged people to care for the less fortunate members of society and he demanded opposition to injustice, oppression, and exploitation of all forms. It is Amos who said “Let justice roll like a river, righteousness like a never failing stream.”

Jesus preached similar commands, most famously when he divulged the greatest commandment: to love God and love others. Jesus also commended those who fed and clothed the needy, provided hospitality to strangers, cared for the sick, and visited those in prison. He said “whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” He condemned anyone who withheld service and support for those in need or imprisoned.

Elsewhere, the Bible instructs its readers to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. It repeatedly instructs care for orphans, widows, and refugees. A thoughtful and diligent analysis of biblical teachings would reveal aid for underprivileged and marginalized people to be a primary focus of Christian faith. It would show an impetus to place the needs of the least of these above your own.

A Trumpian victory would demonstrate a modern church who places their own needs above the weak and needy. It would spotlight a church which perpetuates the cycles of injustice, exploitation, corruption, and oppression. It would expose a religious lust for power defiant of God’s commands. It would be an evangelical middle finger held high in the face of people Jesus commanded us to love.

This terrifies me.

As we wrap up the election season, I have an important question for my fellow Christians: who benefits from your vote? I’m not talking about the candidates, it’s obvious the person you vote for benefits if they’re the winner. Rather, who benefits from electing that person? If the people who benefit from your vote are people who look like you or people who share your beliefs, you’re misunderstanding the call of Christ to care for the least of these.

For me, I’m done believing the Democrat candidates are the Antichrist. I’m done falling for the cheap lies and fear mongering of those who are scared of losing power. If I take my faith seriously (which I do) I will follow the self-sacrificial call of Jesus and cast a vote that benefits those who have been persecuted and marginalized.

This is the path of Amos. Damn the man.

Grounding

Something interesting happened at San Diego Comic-Con. The cast of Fantastic Four: First Steps graced the stage as a part of Marvel’s big presentation. That’s normal though. Nothing spectacular in what Marvel doing what they have been doing for more than a decade. The most intriguing moment is what transpired while they were on stage. During the F4 segment, actor Pedro Pascal had a moment of panic and reached out to touch the arm of co-star Vanessa Kirby. Understanding what was happening, she took hold of him and the two continued hand in hand.

To the inexperienced eye, this might seem like an innocent gesture, perhaps even romantic. After all, they do portray a married couple in Fantastic Four. It wouldn’t be the first time an onscreen couple developed a real life relationship. However, those of us who battle anxiety, depression, PTSD, and/or autism witnessed something familiar. We recognized the change in Pascal’s demeanor. We watched as one moment he was smiling and totally fine then a second later he most definitely was not fine. His look of panic has also flashed in our eyes. Sometimes for obvious reasons but often without cause. As we’ve struggled with mental health, we have faced occasions where our amygdala short circuited and triggered our fight or flight instincts. One second we’re OK then the next we need something to bring us back to earth.

Pedro Pascal has been open about his mental health struggles. He’s admitted anxiety being a part of his psyche since he was a child. In press interviews and red carpet events, you’ll often see him with his left hand over his chest, a coping mechanism he’s learned to keep himself centered. In extreme moments of panic, he needs to hold someone else. Not inappropriate touching condemned by HR offices everywhere, but a steady and platonic grasp - like holding the hand of a colleague. Vanessa Kirby understood the assignment and allowed Pascal to ground himself through her.

Unfortunately, the trollish side of the internet is mocking the situation. Some are claiming Pascal’s experiences with anxiety are fantastical inventions of his imagination. Others are saying it’s a sign of weakness. Meanwhile, I’m over in my corner of the universe with nothing but respect for Kirby and Pascal. One human in crisis expressing their vulnerability, and another human reciprocating their need with kindness. I have never wanted to be friends with Pedro Pascal more than I do now.

If the toxic half of the internet could shut up for a few minutes, there’s a couple lessons we could learn from Pascal’s interaction on the Comic-Con stage.

First: depression, anxiety, and trauma do not discriminate. It can strike anyone from any socio-economic class. It doesn’t care about your politics, your race, your gender, or your religion. No amount of success, wealth, fame, or acclaim can protect you from mental illness. It strikes rich and poor. It affects beautiful people as much as the ugly dudes. It weighs on the hearts and minds of CEOs and janitors. It is a curse upon the righteous and the unrighteous. And here’s the weird one - even happy people can struggle with depression. I know, because I am one of those happy depressed folks.

Pedro Pascal has a career many actors envy. He’s been the lead actor in celebrated franchises for Star Wars, DC, Marvel, Kingsman, Game of Thrones, and The Last of Us. He’s won a Screen Actor’s Guild Award, two MTV Movie & TV Awards, and a People’s Choice Award. He’s been nominated for Golden Globes, Emmys, Teen Choice Awards, and more. He’s universally loved and respected by those who work with him. He’s made enough money to retire comfortably. Yet despite all his successes, accolades, admiration, and popularity he still battles anxiety.

The other moral of Pascal’s time at Comic-Con is the importance of grounding. Electricians know grounding as a safety method of connecting a powered system to the earth. The therapeutic definition is much the same, but instead of electrical components it connects humans to the terrain. Grounding grounds us. In the simplest sense, grounding is nothing more than touching soil. Walking barefoot through grass or along a sandy beach, wading into a lake or river, lying down in a field or meadow.

One of my favorite podcasts shared a story from a listener who overcame a phobia by grabbing a handful of dirt and allowing it to fall through her fingers every time she had a fear induced panic attack. I have a therapist friend who advocates taking your shoes off outside at least once a day to improve your mood. I’ve even discovered an odd calmness after running my fingers through needles on boughs of pine, fir, cedar, and spruce trees. Psychologists and patients in treatment have praised the use of grounding to treat a wide variety of both mental and physical conditions: depression, anxiety, PTSD, insomnia, hypertension, and chronic pain. It’s not a cure for anything, but it’s an excellent boost when in distress. Kind of like a shot of espresso for a sleepy driver in the middle of a road trip.

Another form of grounding is human contact. My dad preaches the benefits of a good hug. As for Pedro Pascal, finding balance is as simple as holding someone else’s hand. There are times when the feel of the earth isn’t available, no forest or beach or lawn near enough to touch. In those moments, what you need most is the gentle kindness of someone else’s grasp.

It is my hope if you ever find yourself in a time of suffering you have someone like Vanessa Kirby near you, a person understanding and willing to hold your hand to steady your nerves and anxieties. I pray I never reject the needs of a fellow human when their emotional state necessitates a stable platonic touch.

Bless the Artist

In the process of deconstruction, my relationship with the Bible changed. It evolved out of necessity. While some people deconstruct to get away from God, I deconstructed to follow God. I had to figure out how I could still take the Bible seriously when the loudest Christians around me (including many who taught me biblical lessons when I was a child) were not living the way scripture says they should.

How could I believe in the Jesus of the gospel when so many Christian influencers portrayed him to be a gun-toting, power-hungry, hate-filled, bro-dude wearing a red hat? How could I follow the texts so many of my elders claimed to be the exact voice of God when those same leaders actively defied the instructions contained in those supposedly sacred words? How could I embrace Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth when much of the religious right wants to use it as a weapon to harm and control people I love?

This was not an easy exercise. It wasn’t (as celebrity pastor once Matt Chandler called it) a sexy thing to do. Deconstruction is often lonely and terrifying. It is painful and difficult. You lose friends, confuse family, and get ridiculed by the church faithful. In the end, you hope to find truth and freedom but those elements come with a cost. It changes you.

I won’t bore you with the step by step details of how I arrived at my renewed fondness for scripture. Instead, I’ll share the end result because it is (in my opinion) more stunning than anything I was taught in childhood Sunday School.

When I began this journey, I already knew the Bible was a collection of books: stories, poems, letters, records, and law written by at least 40 different authors over a time span of fifteen centuries. I understood every author wrote these books for a specific historical audience for a very distinct reason. It would be foolish to believe we (modern peoples) were the target demographic for these biblical writers. To better understand scripture, you must discover why the stories were originally told.

As I researched a way to answer this question of why, I began to see a pattern, an ongoing theme. Yes, it’s about Jesus. And yeah, it’s about how all these individual authors related to God. But there’s more. My faith was revived when I realized the Bible – start to finish – is a story of creation.

Most church folk will tell you the creation story is the first chapter of Genesis but it stops there. That can’t be it though. As you read the Bible (all of it and not just the parts that make you feel good) God is constantly doing something different. God is relentlessly creative. Sure it starts with creating something from nothing – the heavens and earth, the times of day, birds and fish, all of the animal kingdom, and people created in God’s image. After resting on the seventh day, God had more to accomplish. God wanted to make all things new.

The word “new” appears 280 times in the Bible (NIV translation), and you see this newness everywhere. When Adam and Eve left the garden, they were given new instructions separate from the rules of Eden. After the flood, God did something peculiar – a divine assurance was made, something not done by any other gods worshiped by humans. When God called Abraham, there was a promise a new nation would come from Abraham’s descendants. When the Israelites left Egypt, they were given new laws and new territory. God installed new leadership, new judges, new kings, and new prophets to lead the new nation into a new way of existing. The prophet Isaiah quoted God as saying “behold I am doing a new thing … making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” When Jesus came, God established a new covenant. Jesus regularly spoke about new things. He told the crowds “You’ve been taught to do this, but I tell you something new and better.” He demonstrated a new way of living. At the end of his life, Jesus told his followers to change their focus from the nation of Israel to all nations. Peter was given visions which convinced him to break old laws and traditions in favor of something new. Paul was given a new name and a new profession. In his letter to the church in Corinth, he said we are made new creations in Christ. He told the Galatians church old traditions didn’t matter - what mattered is the new creation. The author of Hebrews detailed a new way of doing religion, a way we could approach God directly, making the old rituals of the high priest obsolete. And the book of Revelation foretold of a new heaven and a new earth.

This is beautiful to me. If God is real, then God is a creative God. If God is real, then God makes all things new. This is something I can believe in. This is something worth living for.

In the gospels, Jesus told his followers “If you believe in me, you’ll do the work I’m doing - and you’ll do even greater things.” To believe in Jesus, who Christians claim is God in human flesh, to follow him we will do what he did. To follow the footsteps of someone who taught new things and new ways, we must do the same. Jesus gave his followers instructions to continue God’s work of creation. Creating something new is perhaps the most holy thing a Christian can do.

So God bless the artist, the sculptor, the painter, the doodler. God bless the storyteller, the novelist, the raconteur, the poet, the bard. God bless the singer of songs, the vocalist, the rapper. God bless the musician, the instrumentalist, the producer. God bless the rhythm maker, the drummer, the beat boxer. God bless the photographer, the videographer, the audio engineer. God bless the crafter, the woodworker, the jewelry maker. God bless the actor, the actress, the costume designer, the director. God bless the artist.

Now ...

For the Love of Ghosts

As soon as Independence Day passes, Halloween becomes the next big holiday. Summer is the start of the spooky season. Granted, retailers call this back-to-school time, but depending on who you talk to …

Regardless of what dates you accept as the official beginning of the spooky season, I believe horror is something to be enjoyed year round. Winter, spring, summer, and fall (perhaps especially the autumn) scary tales are a gift for all seasons. Time and time again, good humans confront evil in forms of beasts and monsters and terrible people.

Horror has a diverse population or villainous characters. There are the slashers: Freddy, Jason, Leatherface, Chucky, and Michael Myers. Universal introduced us to the classics: Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Wolf Man, the Mummy, the Invisible Man, and Creature from the Black Lagoon. There are countless stories about zombies, demonic possessions, serial killers, alien invasions, and ghosts.

For most of my adult life, I thought zombie fiction was my favorite sub-genre of horror. Yet, looking at my favorite scary books and movies, they tend to be ghost stories.

The Shining, The Ring, Stir of Echoes, The Haunting of Hill House, Mexican Gothic, The Frighteners, The Sixth Sense, The Canterville Ghost, The Fall of the House of Usher, and … well, it’s a long list. There’s something about ghost stories captivating our attention. They haunt us long after the final page or closing credits. They tug our heartstrings and trigger our fight/flight responses. They thrill us, terrify us, fill us with wonder, and remind us our residency in this world is only temporary.

When it comes to tales of hauntings, there is a familiar trope most of these stories follow. A spirit of the recently deceased lingers after a tragic death. Their presence frightens any new tenants in their domain until a person of either high intelligence or spiritual sensitivity moves in and seeks to understand the specter of the abode. From there they find the remains of the dearly departed to either solve the mystery of who killed them or provide a proper burial. This story arc has existed for as long as pop culture has regurgitated ghost stories. But where did it come from?

Have y’all heard of Pliney the Younger? He was a first century Roman historian, politician, philosopher, and student of his uncle, Pliney the Elder. When the Elder died attempting to rescue a friend from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, his will deeded his entire estate to the Younger who dedicated his life and wealth to the Roman Empire. This Younger Pliney was born high into the Roman aristocracy, influential in both military and civilian circles. He was a prolific writer and orator often addressing emperors, governors, and other noble figures.

In his large collection of epistles, Young Pliney wrote two letters about the Mount Vesuvius tragedy with such great detail and accuracy, they’re still respected by modern volcanologists. While serving as a judge presiding over cases prosecuting suspected Christians, Pliney wrote to the emperor because he’d never investigated the new religion and wanted clear instruction. Their correspondence is some of the earliest extrabiblical accounts of Christianity. He wrote letters explaining Roman administrative processes and his daily life, giving modern peoples a firsthand account of what it was like to live in first century Rome.

Among all of the important historical texts composed by Pliney the Younger, he also wrote the earliest surviving ghost story. Per Pliney’s accounts, he was disturbed by a rouge spirit in one of his villas while he was busy writing. He chose to ignore the ghoul but it kept returning, creeping closer. Rather than dismiss it, abandon the villa, consort with a medium, or seek help from an oracle, Pliney employed his intelligence to investigate. He followed the apparition and discovered a body. Once the philosopher provided the corpse a Roman burial, the ghost was gone - never to return.

We have been following this format for 2000 years. Horror writers are finding new ways to tell the same story and through all ingenuity, we’re maintaining a tradition stretching back thousands of years. We remix haunted tales to create something that is fresh and ancient at the same time.

The notes app on my phone gets a lot of usage. Any time I get an idea for a blog post, short story, novel, or a video I want to make for TikTok, I write a note. For books, some of those thoughts jotted down in digital form are just a notion - a vague “what if?” question that is the basis for all of my book ideas. Others have a very loose outline. A few have character names attached, descriptions of settings, plot points, or more detailed outlines. There’s another note that compiles a list of every book idea I have brewing with the title, genre, and brief synopsis. With 42 titles in that list, I have more plans for books than I have years left to live. Throughout this inventory are ideas for ghost stories.

One is about a single dad confronted with the literal ghosts of his regrets, like Dicken’s Christmas Carol meets Thirteen Ghosts. In another, a ghost falls in love with the living person who bought the house she haunts. There’s an idea about the ghost of a serial killer who possesses the body of a snowman. Or a pair of haunted drumsticks received as a white elephant gift. Then one about a despondent dude taking a cross country road trip with the ghost of his best friend. More proposals exist but you get the point. My special blend of neurodivergence never ceases to generate new ideas. It’s my autistic super power.

These stories sing to me. Tales of the ghosts that haunt us - real or imagined, campfire stories or literary classics, big budget blockbusters or obscure indie flicks - I’m inspired by ghostly fables. Even though I don’t believe ghosts are real I find threads of hope in their legends, the ability to express grief, the power to overcome fear, and a shared lamentation with all humanity.

What is it about these spooky yarns? Why are they so powerful? How to they elicit such strong emotional responses of terror with the comforting sense of solidarity? On a recent episode of Lore, podcast host Aaron Mahnke explained:

There is no better reasoning. Ghosts are dangerous ideas. They are a cancer. They are unfortunate news delivered by doctors and politicians. If we can put our ghosts to rest, perhaps we can also defeat ill intent or survive chemotherapy. By exorcising malevolent spirits, maybe we can expel malicious tyrants and cure malignant disease.

Wedding Professionals

This is me and my friend Syafiq. Both of us are DJs. He’s a dance instructor and choreographer who’s just started officially working as a day-of coordinator. I’m a licensed minister. Naturally, our skill sets place us in the same universe. If you ask my teenage daughter, she’ll tell you Syafiq and I have the same vibe.

selfie courtesy Syafiq Fuller

We live in the world of weddings. If you’re getting married and need an officiant? We got you covered. Need a DJ for the reception? That’s us. Need someone to teach you to dance so you look like you know what you’re doing during your first dance? Syafiq is your man. Want help writing custom wedding vows? I can do that. Need someone to keep everything moving and organized? We’re available for hire. Taking it a step further - we both take pictures during our gigs which we give our clients for free as an added little bonus.

There’s something about the public display of love and commitment that fuels us and the music we play heals us. We love celebrating love. And that’s what we do at Fuller Entertainment. (Shameless plug: you should follow us on Facebook and Instagram.) If you or someone dependent on you is getting married, we’d love to hear from you.

It’s more than a wedding thing though. We are also available to play music for school dances, corporate events, private parties, religious celebrations, family reunions, bars, and coffee shops. As for the ministry side of things, if you want someone to officiate a comic book or ren faire themed wedding I’d be happy to help. Because I’m a geek and us nerds deserve love too.

And it’s still more than that. The real reason I’m writing this is because Syafiq is a great dude. He’s was the best man at my wedding and is one of the best men I’ve ever known. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be a DJ. Working with him over the years, I’ve learned a lot about his heart and what makes him tick. The compassion he possesses bleeds into everything he does. His goal as a DJ has also become my goal - to lift up and encourage others. We look for clients who ooze positivity. When we recommend photographers, stylists, and caterers, we suggest people who also believe in hope and promote humanity’s better nature. We aim to work with clients, venues, and other vendors with a spirit of collaboration. When a gig is over, we want to be able to tell everyone involved we look forward to working with them again - and be sincere in that statement.

This world is ugly and bitter enough as it is. Neither of us wants to contribute to the proliferation of selfishness and greed rampant in our culture. It might be the harder path to take but we would rather be a light in the darkness. This ideal has been hardwired into Syafiq’s fiber ever since the day I met him. He’s an amazing friend and I’m honored to share his business adventures.

For real though, we’d love to be the DJ and/or minister at your next event.

Stolen

The veneration of soldiers as heroes is an honor reserved for military members who served - especially those who sacrificed their lives, health, safety, and sanity.

To be clear, I’ve never been a soldier. I’ve never served in any branch of the military. The Army recruiting office I visited as a 17 year old told me I was too underweight to join - which is funny now considering how chunky I’ve become as an adult. Regardless, the experiences of our armed forces is something I’ll never fully understand no matter how many stories I hear from people who actually served in combat. I can read history books, play Call of Duty, or watch war movies and none of it will compare to the horrors real soldiers endured.

The greatest insult to our veterans is the way this nation treats them. Our government is eager to send our soldiers off to war but hesitant to help those soldiers when they return home physically, emotionally, and mentally broken. War is hell, or so I’ve been told. But a greater hell awaits when the fighting is over and these warriors are abandoned to civilian life with missing limbs, bullet wounds, damaged hearing, traumatic brain injuries, and PTSD. They’re expected to figure it out alone in a country with shortages of mental health professionals and understaffed VA hospitals. We broke them then refuse to fix them. They need our help and we’ve turned a blind eye to their needs. That, in my opinion, is a bigger middle finger to our military personnel than any anti-war protest.

And for years I thought this is the worst we could do to those who served in the armed forces. I was wrong.

Then a draft dodging con-artist wormed his way into the presidency and championed himself as the only true hero the military needed while maligning POWs, families of soldiers killed in combat, and anyone wounded in the line of duty. Trump claimed avoiding STDs was his Vietnam. The man made repeated attempts to make it harder for veterans to qualify for benefits and tried to gut the Veteran Affairs Department budget every year he was in office. The VA staff shrank under Trump’s administration as 50,000 vacancies went unfilled creating severe staffing shortages and closures of clinics meant to help our veterans. When 100 soldiers reported concussion symptoms after an Iranian air strike, the former president brushed it off as mere headaches and said they were not significant injuries. He routinely skipped traditional visits to military ceremonies and battlefield memorials to play golf instead of honoring America’s fallen warriors. His Memorial Day and Veterans Day posts of social media were (and continue to be) abhorrent attacks against his perceived enemies while ignoring the real sacrifices made by our true military heroes.

Somehow this asshole who called our soldiers losers and suckers is lauded as the biggest supporter of the US military. How? Because this is the most insulting thing I could imagine.

This is stolen valor. Someone got confused because he never served. Donald was granted deferments thanks to a combination of his rich daddy’s money and a fake claim of bone spurs. His disdain for American soldiers is thoroughly documented. His face should never be associated with any form of military action.

It is my desire no one ever photoshops my face onto the body of a real soldier or prompts an AI generated image of me in military uniform. I hope no one conflates my respect for members of our military as my membership within their ranks. I’m just a civilian and that is all I’ll ever be. No matter how heroic I might someday become or the capacity to which I may contribute to the betterment of society, I will never be a soldier. I will never understand what it’s like to walk in their combat boots. I will never experience their commitment and sacrifice. If you want to celebrate a soldier, celebrate them - not me.

While we’re here, regardless of your feelings of the military and war, our veterans need and deserve support. There are ample opportunities for you to use your time and resources to help those in your community by reaching out to your local American Legion or VA.

Everything Counts

Depeche Mode has been around for nearly as long as I have. I say nearly because their debut album was released in 1981, so I have a couple years on them.

Despite them being huge in the 80s, I didn’t get into them until I was in high school. I became a fan somewhere between “Songs of Faith and Devotion” in ‘93 and my senior year when “Ultra” was released. I became obsessed. I collected their entire back catalog and sought out all of the remixes I could find. I started collecting cover versions of their music - everything from Johnny Cash’s “Personal Jesus” to The Cure’s “World in My Eyes” to Anberlin’s “Enjoy the Silence.” Veruca Salt has version of “Somebody” both devastating and hauntingly beautiful.

I’m still a fan of Depeche Mode, just not quite as obsessive as I used to be. They released Memento Mori last year and it’s a brilliant album but I still only listened to it once and haven’t gone back. They’ll always be a band I respect and admire but they’ll never appeal to me like they did through the mid to late 90s. That said, one of my favorite songs of theirs remains a single recorded over 40 years ago: “Everything Counts.”

This song popped in my head this morning. It’s been years since I last listened to it - or even thought about it. Then while waiting on a colleague to show up this morning, the words popped into my head. “Everything counts in large amounts,” the refrain repeating in my internal jukebox.

“The grabbing hands grab all they can

All for themselves after all

It’s a competitive world

Everything counts in large amounts

Everything counts in large amounts

Everything counts in large amounts”

Where did this song on my mind come from? The last music I listened to was Matt Osowski’s background beats on the Hood Politics podcast. And the last actual songs I intentionally listened to was a Jelly Roll tune my wife sent me last night and Chance the Rapper’s new track I stumbled into while falling into a YouTube hole. Beyond that, I’ve been playing a lot of Jay-Z, a far cry from DM’s synthy new wave dance pop. So why are the voices in my head suddenly vibing to Everything Counts?

If you assume I spent way too much time pondering the answer to this question, you’re correct. I’m the type of person who believes everything happens for a reason. Even if that reason is bad. Even if that reason is my own stupidity. I am a big believer in cause and effect. The rules of physics enforce it. Newton’s third law demands for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. But there was no corporeal inciting incident. I haven’t played Depeche Mode at a DJ gig or while chilling at home. There’s been no recent radio airplay or Spotify listens. I cannot conceive a literal physical cause where “Everything Counts” is the tangible reaction.

That leaves the metaphysical. Whatever it is you want to call it - God, the universe, gut level instincts … I’m compelled to believe that divine source plumbed the darkest recesses of my musical obsessions to make me pay attention. There are a lot of grabbing hands in my life grabbing all they can. That’s just a natural side effect of parenting teenagers - they will always take more than you allow. But it’s more than just my kids being kids.

The second verse is aptly relevant to the complex and sprawling narrative of this current phase in my life. In it, Dave Gahan sings “Picture it now, see just how, the lies and deceit gained a little more power.”

If that ain’t the damn truth. I’ve been watching (and suffering the effects) of a person who has been steadily gaining power through a web of lies and deceit. It’s been soul crushing to observe, especially when every attempt I’ve made to challenge or expose it has only solidified their amassing power. For years I’ve felt powerless against this dishonest and abusive force.

But everything counts, right?

I don’t really believe in karma but if there was ever a time to hope for it, it’s now. And in large amounts. When I was a kid, I was frequently taught the verse from the Bible that says it’s God’s role to avenge and the Lord will repay. These days, a different piece of scripture is my heart’s cry, “let justice flow like a river, and let goodness flow like a never-ending stream.” Because justice counts in large amounts. As Francis Bacon once said “to delay justice is injustice.” Martin Luther King Jr paraphrased the same concept, “justice too long delayed is justice denied.” Over the last couple years, I’ve held an unfortunate front row seat to recurring perversion of justice. But tides are slowly turning.

Perhaps this is the reason I got Depeche Mode stuck on intracranial replay. Because grabbing hands grab what they can. Everything counts in large amounts. Karma counts in large amounts. Justice counts in large amounts.

Or maybe I just need to listen to more Depeche Mode.

Civil War

When I worked as a corporate trainer, I was taught to use a four quadrant model of facilitation. It graded the effectiveness of a class by measuring how well students know, comprehend, enjoy, and recall class content. We used paper tests and hands-on exams to quantify the first two quadrants, opinion surveys for the third, and the final quadrant was determined by how well the employees performed in production after graduating training.

The Q4 model is just a simplified version of Bloom’s Taxonomy. This teaching structure (created by Benjamin S Bloom in the 60s) divided a student’s retention into six categories: knowledge, comprehension, application, analysis, synthesis, and evaluation.

Click to enlarge

I learned about Bloom’s Taxonomy in second grade. Was it the primary teaching method in the Marysville school district? Nope. They clung to the pattern of teacher led presentations and rote memorization. I was a special kid though. In second grade, my parents subjected me to IQ testing to figure out what was wrong with me. Apparently, my defect was being really smart. For all I knew, people asked me questions and I answered them. The result placed me in the top five percent of all students my age. As a reward, I got to leave my class one day a week to attend Enhanced Learning.

In enhanced learning, we studied topics not taught in any normal elementary school curriculum, like bridge engineering and Greek mythology. One other feature setting Enhanced Learning apart from typical grade school classes: it used Bloom’s Taxonomy. For every year long study, we had to demonstrate that we knew the topic and comprehended it. The we had to apply what we learned, analyze it, and synthesize it into our own remixed creation. Finally, at the end of the year, the teacher submitted us to evaluation - not just her own testing but also to the judgment of our peers as we had to evaluate each other.

The first topic our class studied during my tenure was all about American geography. We learned about the Highway system, the fifty states, and the national parks. We had a race on paper where our team’s “car” could move across a giant map every time we completed specific tasks. In addition, we had to calculate traveling times between destinations - all in the era before Google Maps existed. I created a board game about Mt Rainier for the synthesis section of our class, foreshadowing the love of mountains I discovered as a teenager. My game was the final solo project my classmates judged for evaluation.

The other solo project in class came during the analysis section. Our teacher took a pair of scissors to a map of the United States, slicing America into puzzle pieces. Each of us students were given a section of map and instructed “it’s a new country.” Ms Wilson told us the USA broke apart and these bits distributed between us became independent nations. There was no rhyme or reason to the shapes. She didn’t cut lines based on cultural, regional, or ideological divisions. Her obligation was to split the American map into a number of sections equal to the amount of kids in the class.

Once we had our individual maps, we had to research - analyze - the area to know what jobs existed in our borders. We compiled lists of industries done there: forestry, agriculture, tourism, manufacturing, etc. We added up the populations of the metropolitan areas to estimate how many people lived in our nations. We determined which city would become the capital. My country contained parts of Northern California, western Nevada, and Eastern Oregon. This project helped feed my lifelong obsession with maps. I loved it.

There was another lesson I learned during this analysis project, even if unintentional: the United States of America wasn’t permanent. This land of ours was something different before we got here and it could just as easily become something different again. Our borders could change. Our neighbors could change. Our anthems could change. Despite not having any frame of reference for military conflict (it was the mid 80’s before the first Gulf War) this was the first time the idea of a civil war formed in my brain.

These are not normal concepts for a seven year old to ponder but I wasn’t a normal kid.

Then I got older and school classes taught us about the real Civil War. I realized if it happened once, it could happen again. Then I got older and saw the news about the bombing that destroyed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. I learned the culprit and his co-conspirator were American citizens and military veterans. I realized if Americans could attack America, it could happen again. Then I got older and studied political science and statistics and saw the accelerating political divisions steering this nation. I realized if it could happen in government, it could happen with the wider populace. Then I got older and watched the rise of the Tea Party and the alt right, the endless mass shootings, the proliferation of conspiracy theories and hate groups, and the riots intending to overthrow our government. I realized we are on the brink of another civil war.

I am saddened to see how many of my fellow Americans, including many who have worked their way into elected positions, have embraced ignorance as a virtue. I am heartbroken so many adhere to the doctrine declaring anyone who disagrees with you to be an enemy.

I’m not a prophet. I’m not psychic. I’m not a fortune teller. I don’t know what the future holds. What I do know is our existence is fragile. I know the freedoms and luxuries we enjoy could vanish at any moment. I know the same thing I’ve known since second grade: the United States of America isn’t permanent.

This is the perspective I carried with me into the theater this week when I finally got a chance to watch Alex Garland’s Civil War. The movie follows a small group of journalists trying to capture photos of the front line and secure an interview with the president before the opposition forces conquer Washington DC.

Image courtesy of A24

The movie doesn’t explain why the separatists seceded or how the civil war started. It doesn’t identify the politics of either side of the war. It doesn’t even ask the audience to pick a side. The heroes are the journalists - incredible performances from Kirsten Dunst, Wagner Moura, Cailee Spaeny, and Stephen McKinley Henderson. You see the conflict through their eyes and camera lenses. You feel their fear and their grief.


In one scene, Moura’s character screams in anguish (although his audio is muted) and for that moment, the filmmakers tell you everything you need to know about civil wars - real or cinematic: everyone thinks they’re fighting for the right side. No matter who wins, there are no winners.

Image courtesy of A24

Civil War gave me a lot of feelings. As a father, as a writer who married a photographer, as a minister, as a pacifist observing the genocidal war between Israel and Palestine, as an American who hates seeing what is happening in my real-life country, as a storyteller, as a cinephile … Civil War was an emotional ride. It’s also the first time I’ve cried in the theater since the death of Tony Stark. It’s a difficult movie to watch but a master-class presentation in scriptwriting, acting, and cinematography. Considering our current political climate, it’s also probably one of the most important movies released in the last few years.

The movie also brought me back to the seven year old kid I once was, realizing for the first time that the unifying bonds of our nation are fragile. Alex Garland provided most realistic demonstration of the facts I’ve known for twenty some odd years. It’s happened before, it could easily happen again. If we can’t learn from the mistakes of our past, Civil War might not just be a movie; it could be a warning of things to come.