Communication: Talk, Talk, Talk

The mood swings: I started to notice them a couple of days before it’s time for my shot of testosterone. I get moody, aggressive even, not physical, but I can explode.  Currently I’m on 50mg every two weeks – that’s not a lot, but they start you low and you work your way up – and I’ve been going to the doctor more in a month then I have in my lifetime. I’ve also become more sensitive since starting the testosterone. For someone who did not learn how to handle emotions as a kid, this is quite a sight. However, since I did attend therapy for my trauma, something I recommend to everyone who has ever experienced any kind of trauma whether it be physical, mental, or both. Get help. Don’t hold it in. I can speak from experience bottling it up will only lead you down a very bad path, to the dark side (star wars references will happen with me). So, therapy helped me with processing my emotions and using coping skills. One of those skills was writing it out (oh, the irony).

Finding a support system and having the right person to talk to are key. The main person in my support system (but not the only) is my wife. She is my partner and my best friend. I am sure that this transition is not easy on her – I started my physical transition almost three years into our marriage. But, she has known since the beginning that I am a man and when I was ready to start the journey, to simply let her know. Communication is also key. Communication with your other half is crucial, it doesn’t matter the subject just talk to each other and always be honest with both your partner and yourself.

I tell my wife everything: the physical changes I’m going through, even when I’m feeling moody. Things are changing for both of us so, it’s vital for us to make sure the other knows what is going on.

Communication has never been my strength. I am reliable, loyal, will work to the bone for you. But, communicating what is going on in my head, not so much. The part I struggled (ok, still struggle with a little bit) is that it feels like there are a million voices in my head talking all at once. Sounds crazy? Well it is but, it isn’t. Everyone has those little voices in their head. It’s called your conscience. Your personality traits are there too. If you’ve seen the movie “Inside Out” then you know what I’m talking about. Let me just say that movie hit personality theory out of the ball park. Everything was completely accurate and on point. Excuse the nerd in me, I did minor in psychology after all and I gushed when I saw that movie and actually recalled what I learned. Who says you forget everything when you graduate? Not this guy.

 

~Jay Barnette~

Original Content From: https://thepadiwanjourney.blogspot.com

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Blue Is For Boys, Pink Is For Girls

When a baby is born a boy, they give him a blue hat. The baby shower’s covered in blue. Dreams of him playing sports dance in the parents head. But, what happens if that same boy grows up to be a ballet dancer? Does that mean he’s gay? Feminine? Maybe he’s just really talented and, what do you know, maybe even heterosexual/straight.

Gender stereotypes

Gender stereotypes, I’ve been fighting against them as early as I can remember. I recall getting horribly upset that I couldn’t join the Boy Scouts with my brother, or play peewee football with him. The Boy Scouts were way cooler than the Girl Scouts, who as far as my eight year old mind could comprehend sold cookies and we were called brownies: LAME, (well to me anyway, I’m sure there are plenty of ladies out there who enjoyed girl scouts).

Why is it that as a kid I had to take Home Education, aka “Home Ec.,” while the boys in my class got to take shop? How cool would it have been if I got to play with power tools and learn about cars? My dad was pretty cool and let me play with a power sander when I helped repaint the entire house, or put drywall up in the basement. I was in heaven when we worked on the house together. I really felt close to him, like this is where I belong.

I remember growing up trying so hard to fit in with the other girls. Trying to like the things they liked. I wanted to belong, to have friends. Try as I might I didn’t fit in, except with the drama geeks.

Ah, drama club, the safety zone for all the freaks, geeks, and misfits of high school – the only place I was never bullied. I think that all of us were just trying to survive high school so when the time came we could strike out on our own. I always found a way to avoid gender, to avoid being identified as I am, a female. I never really dated boys because I had no interest. I didn’t have interest in anyone really, just getting out of Rhode Island.

Get out I did. I joined the Army. A decision I will never regret, it really did save my life – and yes, try to destroy me at the same time. I am who I am today because of my experiences in the past, both good and bad. One good thing I have to give the Army credit for is that I was always treated like one of the boys. The military distinguishes gender only on two occasions: sleeping arrangements, sorry, no co-ed going on here, and the physical fitness test: females had a lower standard on the push-ups and the run. Females, after all, are built to make babies and yes, men are stronger in the upper-body area; however, I never do anything the easy way, so I set out to blow the fitness test out of the water. By the end of basic I could do 100 push-ups in a minute, maxed on my sit-ups, and finished my run with two minutes to spare.

So, why am I yammering on about gender? Because for a lot of transgendered people we notice early on that something is not quite right with the biology we’re given. I tried, I really tried, to be what I was born to be…literally and physically. It led me down a dark path of depression and suicidal ideation. I felt alone and misunderstood. Take a look around, you probably know someone struggling right now. The best thing to happen to me was finding a support system. If you know someone struggling, or are struggling, you’re not alone. Reach out to that person; don’t judge them based on anything. We are all human, no matter our race, ethnicity, religion, sex, gender identity. We all deserve to feel comfortable in our own skin.

 

~Jay Barnette~

Original Content From: https://thepadiwanjourney.blogspot.com

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Twenty Three Days Ago

JBA1Twenty three days ago my life started. Twenty three days ago I finally started my journey to my authentic, true self. You’re sitting there wondering what the hell I’m talking about. For years, I have been keeping a secret. Some of those closest to me have known this secret for the most part, but not my family and not even some friends. Maybe I’ve been hiding it out of fear: fear of judgement, fear of loss, FEAR. Fear can be comfortable; it may seem to be easy to just fake it. Fake it till you make it right? I “tried” to be what society wanted me to be, what my family wanted me to be: a heterosexual female who would marry a man and have kids one day. I have never felt so awkward and miserable during than that time.

Coming into my sexuality – you know, when puberty hits and that love map you developed as a little kid starts to take effect – was a nightmare.  First off, I was an extremely late bloomer. All of my friends were already becoming women, whatever that meant. I thought it was hell on earth. I didn’t want my feminine features. I was quite content with my “tomboy like” attributes. I liked getting dirty, playing sports… I enjoyed all the things that a female shouldn’t enjoy. I should have been into boys, make-up, and dresses. WHY? Because I was born female and my biology should dictate how I live?

I was one confused kid… Then I set out on my own path, a path away from the eyes of my family and friends in school. I discovered that I was gay, be it a very masculine lesbian, but I hated the term “butch”. I hated labels period. I figured I can be as masculine as I wanted to be, I was in the Army after all and treated like just another one of the guys. I never really thought about my sexual identity at that time, I was busy doing soldier stuff – you know kicking ass, taking names, yeah right. I was serving my country and although I was in the closet I was proud to be a soldier.

About two and half years into my service, my world, my perfect naïve world, came to a crashing halt. I was sexually assaulted. I was in such denial that the reality of the situation didn’t hit me till three weeks later when I found out I was pregnant. I was horrified at the thought. How could this happen? I don’t remember drinking; come to think of it I don’t remember much of anything from that night. How could I have consented to sex with a man, I was GAY? I didn’t report the assault. Again, fear creeped in. I was scared that I’d be discharged. See, the only way I could prove sexual assault was to say I didn’t consent because I’m not heterosexual. If there were any date rape drugs, they were long gone. The only evidence I had that ANYTHING happened was the pregnancy. I made the difficult decision to have an abortion. Yes, that nasty word no one likes to talk about. To this day I think back and I still would have made that decision.

JBA1 2

Even as a lesbian I still didn’t feel whole. I knew something was missing. But, what? Why am I telling you all of this, you ask? Well, my sexual identity story starts back as early as childhood and I think it’s important for people to see that I’m human too. I have thoughts and feelings like anyone else. So twenty three days ago I finally did it. I started on the path to becoming who I have always been. How do I know this? Ever feel like you have this feeling in the back of your head and you’re not sure what it is, and maybe it takes some time to get to that thought? My experiences make me who I am today. If you have read this far you may have guessed already, but to put it out there in laments terms, twenty three days ago I had my first shot of testosterone and, yes, I am a transgendered male. Let that sink in for a min….. With that said I’m not asking for you to like it or accept it. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. Know that I am here and always will be. I have decided to come out because I want to make a difference in the transgendered community. Why should we have to hide? Why should we be scared of who we are? I love who I am. It took me a while to get here to this thought process, but I’m here. I will be starting a blog and or YouTube channel once I figure all that technology out. I want to document my journey so that those who feel like I did have someone they can go to for questions, answers, and support. Whether you’re transgendered, or not, I am here to support you.

 

~Jay Barnette~

Original Content From: https://thepadiwanjourney.blogspot.com

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What Are We Going To Do?

What are we going to do when the car breaks down again? How will we make the commute that’s literally shaving time off our life expectancies? Will we be able to pay for the gas? Will we have to choose between food and rent that month?

What are we going to do when we’re sick? How will we make up those hours? Will we be able to fill our prescriptions? Will we have enough money to not die?

What are we going to do when they raise rent and energy costs again? How will we pay off our college loans? Will we ever be able to retire? Will we live to see that age?

What are we going to do when the next storm comes? How will we replace our food when we lose power in the summer again? Will we be able stay warm when the power goes out in winter? Will anyone be coming for us after a disaster?

What are we going to when we can’t pay? How will we survive? Will we ever be able to thrive? What are we going to do?

~D.T. Kukulkan~

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Traitors And Illegitimate Judges

flagnrBrett Kavanagh, an overtly partisan and hostile man who lied under oath and misrepresented evidence, a man who threatened revenge against his political enemies, a man with the belligerent and overly emotional temperament of an abuser playing the victim, after a Kangaroo Court investigation and against the wishes of the people, has been confirmed as a Supreme Court Justice.

Senate Republicans are traitors, the Supreme Court now has two illegitimate picks from an illegitimate administration. And because of them we are moving ever closer towards what looks like civil war. The pleas from these men and their supporters for civility, respect for the rule of law, are hollow and hypocritical only meant to reframe the political narrative as they break the rules and expect everyone else to follow them.

The legislative branch, specifically Republicans, have been chipping away at our institutions and their legitimacy for decades while dismantling unions, the education system, the democratic process via gerrymandering and dark money, and instating a for-profit school-to-prison pipeline, letting everything else crumble and pretending we don’t live in a police state.

This means all laws passed by the votes of these traitors, all Supreme Court decisions determined by Gorsuch and Kavanagh, all appointees and executive orders and signed legislation by the so called “president,” are all illegitimate. With every action they push us all further into poverty, strip people of their rights and dignity, perpetuate modern slavery and the police state, whilst taking every last cent and poisoning every stream.

We must vote, but that is the bare minimum of engagement. Call them at their office and at their homes, show them out of your places of business, ostracize and cast them out at every turn and do not apologize for any of it. So called “Judge” Brett said his nomination was an orchestrated political hit and had been through hell, show them all what hell and orchestrated political hits really look like.

~D.T. Kukulkan~

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The Great Game

Remember when Tyrion told Daenerys: “You’re part of the great game now. And the great game is terrifying.” He could have said that to almost anyone of us today. If you take a stand, if you demand your voice be heard, particularly if you have criticisms of the alt-right, or of this fascist regime, in this age of instant connectivity you may be harassed online, or harassed in person; sent death threats, or put on a “dangerous persons” list posted in forums to be physically targeted for harm.

And all of this occurs with the encouragement, praise and approval of the President on Twitter. Don’t get me wrong, people on the Left harass people on the Right too – just the President is usually far less encouraging towards them on Twitter to say the least.

Protests and rallies regularly have bursts of violence and occasionally churning into riots before they end. People have already been brutalized and murdered. And now as an illegitimate president gets a second illegitimate Supreme Court nomination, a woman and her family have been forced essentially into exile when she isn’t testifying after sustained harassment, threats, and having her email hacked in an attempt to forge a recantation. Dr. Christine Blasey Ford said in her opening statement to Congress that she was terrified, but believes it to be her patriotic duty to present facts for consideration during the nomination process of a possible Supreme Court Justice and that is truly brave. She is now one of four women publicly accusing “Judge” Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault, or sexual misconduct.

Riots met with deadly force, murder, subversive plots, arrests without due process, all accompanied with a ruler acting like a spoiled child while survivors of abuse -particularly women- rise up to challenge the established patriarchy and those who exploit people for their own obscene profit in true feudal lord fashion… that’s, not the fictional Seven Kingdoms, or even medieval Europe, that’s the United States today.

The “Great Game” of politics is a war (“by different means” can be debated) with very real consequences. Circumstances are more frightening and increasingly so for everyone, especially “minorities*.” They’re murdered in their cars and homes by “officers of the law” and the victims are targets of posthumous smear campaigns. They’re being rounded up and sent to detention centers, they’re children stolen, and citizenship being subject to expanding redefinitions – as if citizenship had prevented American citizens from being railroaded and deported before.

So if you’re terrified too, and understandably, remember that’s the only time a person can be brave and hopefully you’ll never have to, but if you find yourself in a situation requiring a choice then choose to be like Dr. Ford.

 

Minorities*: everyone who isn’t a straight, white male which isn’t a minority demographic.

 

~D.T. Kukulkan~

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#MeToo And Men

Personally, I’ve always valued reason and truth, even if it hurt, and as a result have always tried to reflect on the nature and motives of my actions. As a man, the #MeToo Movement has given me a lot to reflect on to say the least.

When I first began reading articles and accounts from women about rape culture and toxic masculinity I’ll admit to feeling a little defensive at times, but that happens when you’re confronted with new information, or perspectives, that challenge your established worldview and the perception of your own actions.

This defensiveness, a natural psychological response, differed from the response I feel when reading information that challenges my worldview, but is outrageously and demonstrably false. This was the mild defensiveness brought about by valid points, solid arguments, and a lot of very depressing numbers that you’d rather not have to incorporate into your existing perception of the world, but you have to because facts.

Also though, my physical build is rather feminine; I’d rather talk about sci-fi, or philosophy than about the game; I prefer wine to beer, or shots; and have never really been a “typical” guy, so it wasn’t very difficult for me to accept what I’d read and hence only the mild defensiveness. However, it seems that in part, the reason some men react so virulently is because it challenges a core part of their identity and they’ve never know anything else other than what we now call toxic masculinity.

Often, I’ll read an account of sexual assault and the perpetrator doesn’t remember, or didn’t realize they’d done anything wrong.  Not men like Brock Turner, or Brett Kavanagh, but men that are ashamed when they learn the impact of their actions. I believe for many men that’s because they think rape is something that only happens in dark alleys and that that’s really the only kind of sexual assault. Kirstin Gillibrand, a Senator I generally like and usually agree with said “I think when we start having to talk about the differences between sexual assault and sexual harassment and unwanted groping you are having the wrong conversation. You need to draw a line in the sand and say none of it is O.K. None of it is acceptable.” I agree with the second half of her statement, but not the first. It’s an important conversation we need to have because a lot of men have no idea their behavior is inappropriate, they’re just doing what our culture has told them to do since they were born. If they were lucky they didn’t have abstinence only sex-ed, but even so those classes don’t always cover consent, let alone how verbal consent isn’t really consent if it’s coerced, or if there’s some other power dynamic in play and things like that. Ignorance isn’t an excuse, but if we don’t have the conversations we need to have it certainly won’t get any better.

If you’re reading this, or other feminist related articles and find yourself becoming defensive try to work past it and continue reading, listen. If you’re becoming defensive because you recognize some behaviors as sexual harassment, assault, or rape then the best advice I can give is apologize without the expectation of forgiveness, earnestly change, and teach your sons better.

 

~D.T. Kukulkan~

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A Humble Kingdom In The Void

For some time now I’ve considered and been intending to write daily journal entries, not just as a written collection of memories for posterity’s sake, but for my writing’s sake: the desire to be a writer, or more accurately a published author, remains as one of the few points of consistency  in my life albeit with waxing and waning intensity. Furtherly, writing itself has always managed to help me collect and organize my thoughts in a more cohesive way than internal dialogue alone. And since it’s something I have the ability to do well, at least compared to my ability to do math, it’s one of the small things I can do to try and influence the world, hopefully for the better.

Recently I’ve been thinking about the stories of our lives; the stories that we tell ourselves about who we are versus what we can measure to be “the truth.” For instance, we know that as humans we have flawed psychological reasoning: cognitive dissonance; confirmation bias; inaccurate heuristics; errors in, and the pliability of, memories; selective memory, and literally dozens of others. Along with fallacious logic, optical illusions, and the fact we can only observe 4%-5% of what actually exists -and even most of that is empty space- we can’t say we know much of anything with certainty. Some of our flaws are psychological self-defense mechanisms, meaning that, in some ways, we’re essentially hardwired to interpret reality incorrectly. These stories about ourselves are likely just as incorrect, but does that matter? And is it even healthy to undermine those stories in the name of “truth?”

While self-reflection is important and at times can be devastating yet necessary, a constant barrage of self-criticism and existential dread of the void and meaninglessness of being a bunch of cognitively deficient, naked apes that still figuratively and occasionally literally fling their shit at each other while drifting through cosmic infinity can be just as devastating, if not more so. Besides, the fact that nothing inherently has meaning of grand significance means we decide what has importance. So if at all possible, focus on your story and becoming a better character, focus more on creating meaning rather than finding it.

To pretty good effect, I’ve been trying this myself. So what’s my story?  Turns out I was destined to become a king! My story starts when I was born. As the sun burned it’s last day in Cancer and into Leo – the most regal of the Zodiac signs- my parents merely picked a name they liked, unaware of its origin, or the meaning of my surname, yet interestingly enough, my name (not my pseudonym) can be translated as “Little God of Justice” which is a remarkable coincidence and certainly sounds kingly. On occasion, I also survived circumstances that not everyone does. And there are of course people and actions that, had any one of them been different, would likely led me somewhere else entirely. I don’t know if I’d call all that fate, but I know many people who absolutely would.

I also began asking myself “What would a king do?” and not the kind of entitled, spoiled, let-them-eat-cake sort of king. They would get things done, they’d make time for self-care, if writing existed as one of their goals then they would write, and they would actively engage their plans for bettering the future.

Next, I did what any aspiring king would do and began recruiting people to my cause and though we’re limited in number and scope, in a short amount of time we’ve built a total of four garden beds at two locations for the Royal Multi-location Urban Farming Cooperative which has been a rewarding experience by itself: starting everything from seeds, gathering the wood and actually constructing the raised beds. We also have a constitution, a modest treasury, and long term goals with plans for achieving them.

We don’t have a castle, dragons, or gold and perhaps we may never reach our long term goals, but we’re staying active; we’re building an alternative to the mythical American Dream, a multi-location intentional community; we’re creating fond memories with good people and enjoying fresh produce which is likely more than we’d have done otherwise, it certainly is for me.  We’re creating light in the darkness and that’s not bad thing.

 

~Justonius Rex~

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The World Can Be Better Than This: Part II – The Future

Fortunately for the powers that be, one of the most effective methods for tearing down their old world and casting it into dust of history is building our new one. It’s also the most important. Anger, even justified, may spark a movement, but it cannot sustain a revolution; it cannot build a better world and it cannot give us any hope for the future.

What would this future look like? How would we even go about getting there?

Given the unique and absurd nature of the world and especially our country at present and given that we are essentially living in a hybrid oligarchical-feudal-capitalist-fascist police state it may be the best time to try something that sounds kind of crazy – and given the circumstances of our political climate and the incipient mass extinction we literally have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

So, I’m building a Kingdom! It sounds like a joke, but so did Donald Trump being president.

We’ll have a humble start, but big things have small beginnings.

Already we have written a constitution and it begins with a declaration rights instead of tacking them on the end because any nation, or self-governing society, is not a business where the bottom line is about profit, the bottom line is about the wellbeing of its people.

We have a modest treasury which helped finance the construction of the Royal Multi-Locational Urban Farming Cooperative.

We’re creating a small forge and gathering aluminum cans to cast into artwork.

We can search craigslist curb-alerts and drive around on trash day to collect supplies ranging from pallets and scrap wood for building future garden beds, or other projects to furniture we can sell at a yard sale. We’ll get free materials, free products to sell, and be reducing waste.

I personally enjoy creating art and writing. As such I’ve created websites, an Etsy, and Facebook pages for both my art and writing. Writing has the dual purposes of potentially providing revenue and at the same time generating awareness whatever we deem worthy of attention. I’m also contributing a percentage of my earnings towards our Royal Treasury to fund various projects including investing in the small businesses of others.

We have expeditions and quests to plan, monuments to build, festivals and feasts to celebrate, political calls and writing campaigns to do, businesses to expand, survival skills to learn, and history to make!

Our long term goal is to save enough money to purchase a sizeable amount of land and create a fully sustainable intentional community. People have already done similar things in other places and academics are finally saying local cooperative living is the future: they’re economical, they’re essentially self-sustaining, they can help fight climate change and even be beneficial for the local ecology.

Ideally we’ll have a community where we produce food in our back yards and larger permaculture forests; where all our electricity and energy needs are provided by solar panels, or perhaps shingles and windows by then; where there’s a well-equipped school that caters to different intelligences and learning styles; where the cost of medical needs are taken care of already by everyone’s shared contribution; where water isn’t tainted with lead and soil is rich, and a community where we can live a life we don’t need a vacation from.

~Justonius Rex~

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The World Can Be Better Than This: Part I

A few years ago one of our family dogs got sick. Her name was Sugar, she was a Bijon Frize, she could steal and drink your coffee without spilling it, and she was one of my best friends. We took her to the vet and after some tests found out she needed to have surgery. She was an older dog when she got sick, but could have lived for a few more years after getting better. Unfortunately after the surgery she didn’t stay better for very long. She had gotten some kind of infection that wasn’t going away with regular antibiotics. The vet couldn’t be sure what it was without more tests. My mother spent a small fortune on that surgery and these tests, which weren’t even guaranteed to find the answer, were also expensive as would have been further treatment. It wasn’t long after her surgery she got real sick again, she wouldn’t eat, or drink, she couldn’t get off the bed.  So we took her for her last car ride. And there we were with a dead dog and getting even fewer groceries. I think that was the first time I ever saw my mom cry.

There’s also my grandmother, Dorothy. I used to think we were never that close, but I’ve come to realize I had merely come to know some of my other relatives better and kind of took her for granted. I mean she’d helped take care of us, especially when we were younger; I remember her at all the birthdays and cookouts and I remember she loved to take us out to eat when she came to visit, nothing fancy, usually just the food court at the mall, or something like that. She had always mixed up people’s names, my mom and her siblings confirm as much and I can also recall her driving not exactly being the best, so it was no surprise when she mixed up names and had more difficulty driving.  But eventually she started saying she could see these dogs in the wooded area outside her apartment complex. No one else could see them and no could find anything in the woods, maybe a weird rock, or a wayward hoodie, that could look like a dog. They shortly became ghost dogs and demon dogs trying to get into her apartment. As terrifying as demon dogs must have been, she took the advice of her kids and upon seeing the dogs again to tell them they’re not real and to go away and it worked. When she started a fire while cooking, no one wanted to put her in a home, but it became increasingly difficult and expensive to deliver her microwavable and prepared foods.

She’s now been to a few. The first one was terrible: they could not keep track of any paper work, or financial information; it smelled like urine on her entire floor because they kept soiled laundry in basket in a hallway closet; they kept several residents requiring more intense physical care on the same floor ill-equipped to care for those residents; my grandmother’s clothes and belonging would routinely go missing; and when she was moved and my mom and aunt went to pick up her what remained of her clothes and belongings they found them in plastic trash bags in a shed outside. And almost everything was ruined because mice nested inside. The one she’s at now is better, but it’s far from an ideal environment for anyone. She looks like a ghost, pale and gaunt. You can’t really have a conversation with her; she doesn’t make sense and can’t hear well enough even when the staff hasn’t lost the hearing aids, or dentures for that matter. She does not know what day it is, she didn’t recognize one of my cousins, and she didn’t recognize me the last time I saw her.

I also have friends who have lost parents to preventable illnesses, friends who stand to be homeless because of inherited debt and I struggle to fathom how they go about their lives in a state other than constant stress and sorrow.

So much of this suffering was preventable, so much of it could have been mollified, and so many lives could have been lived more fully before their inevitable conclusions. It could have been different because we live in a post scarcity world – although you wouldn’t know it by looking around. There is enough food, water, shelter, medicines, for literally everyone and yet somehow it all becomes more expensive and harder to get.

For generations now, politicians and bankers have parasitically drained the wealth from people and nations while exploiting natural resources into such ruin that the species itself may face oblivion. As we face that oblivion now, they will hold on with tightening chains to keep together their crumbling world at our expense until we have nothing left to expend. There are no other choices than for all of us to die in their decaying world, or we can build and live in our new one.

So think of your families and loved ones remember while we work ourselves to an early grave to keep the lights going and food on the table, never really being more than broken leg away from out of the job and out on the streets there are ill-made men sitting on luxury super yachts and drinking champagne worth more than what we make in month. While we break the bank for gas, insurance, and car maintenance they have a collection sitting in a private garage.  And while we bury our dead they shit in golden toilets that they paid for with the profits from our hard work, and the hard work of our parents and grandparents. The anger and outrage here does not stem from petty jealousy, but from injustice so wide spread it’s considered the natural and immutable order of the world. It is not natural, nor is it immutable; it is an obscenity against nature and goodness itself.

Chains of debt are more efficient than iron shackles could ever be: keeping us dependent on preforming tasks and selling our time to rich men to make them richer.  And if we ever want justice, if we even want to just survive the sixth mass extinction, then with urgency and agency we must begin building our new world and tearing down their old one.

~Justonius Rex~

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