Chronicling the fall

That’s what Kevin and I are trying to do on Disaffected, the show, and what I’m trying to do here, writing on Substack.

Of course. I hope that we, all of us, can do more than just narrate the end. I hope that we can collectively wake up, enough of us, to change the end of this story.

But I don’t know that we can. The power of government, of international financial and political cabals, the power of half the population in the thrall of an evil bewitchment, is stronger than I knew.

My sister has been dreaming. Every night for months, she stands outside of a house on a beach watching an impossibly large tsunami approach the east coast.

I can feel her dream. Can you?

When a person is low with melancholy or depression, that colors his view of the world. The dark seems darker, and anything light doesn’t seem real.

But it’s not just coming from inside me, or from inside you. It’s real and it’s walking in the world. Not all personal morbidity is personal; it’s rational for a creature to be frightened when the world is truly frightening.

What used to be simple trip to the store is now a walk through a cemetery of the unquiet dead who wander about in circles not knowing what to do. They don’t want to lie back down in their graves but they don’t know where else to go. They’re not going anywhere; they have no destination. The impossibly obese mother with her brood of children packing on more pounds than I ever saw in the singular “fat kid” we all know from grade school. The 18-year-old boy hiding underneath his unbrushed and tangled hair, neck gaiter covering all but his eyes as he stands behind the till pushing packages so they beep correctly. To what end?

Me, I keep my eyes downcast in public now. There’s too much death in everyone’s eyes, even in the eyes of the woke. Even in the eyes of the Fauci believers, the decolonialists, the queer revolutionaries, the devouring middle class mothers who, yes, want it in my back yard.

They know. They’re sick in the soul, too.

‘Pain is a warning that something’s wrong; I pray to God that it won’t be long’

There’s no place to hide, not anymore. It’s everywhere. We talk about it on this week’s show. No red state, no conservative community, no private or public school, no doctrine, no church, has kept out the universal solvent that is woke. When Kevin and I started Disaffected three years ago, we told our listeners something close to: “This isn’t going to stay contained. What we used to be able to call ‘domestic’ abuse has already gone public. Heed this: if we don’t fight there won’t be any refuges left.”

Watch the show, please. And then come back and talk to everyone in the comments, please.

This week’s Disaffected on Rumble.

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