Mind Palaces and Minefields: Still Hanging From the Cross, 365 Days Later

What you are about to hear is not just a return episode. It is a checkpoint. A record. A raw reflection on what it means to step back from the machine, hear yourself think again, and come back to find the signal still moving across borders without permission.

In this episode, Momba returns after a quiet stretch of choosing health, water, books, rest, and real life over constant visibility and digital "connection." What unfolds is a deeper meditation on empire, digital disobedience, the feed as a weapon, the Jesus contradiction, global convergence and division, engineered apathy, decolonization, community, and the real-life Hunger Games people keep pretending are fiction.

While she was offline, the map kept stretching. Senegal. Ecuador. Nigeria. Brazil. Vietnam. Cameroon. Russia. Argentina. New countries, new ears, new movement without forcing, chasing, or promoting. What does it mean when a raw, unfiltered message cuts across borders, systems, languages, and places where being awake to power carries real weight? What does it mean when people in different districts of empire still recognize the same signal? 

This episode continues the thread of Still Hanging From the Cross: The Ressurection They Preach But Refuse to Practice, written and published on her blog, My Mind Palace, on Easter Sunday last year,  and pushes it further. Less reflection for reflection’s sake, more diagnosis. More record. More cultural autopsy in real time. From the tightening grip of authoritarianism to the laundering of violence through policy, faith, media, white supremacy, and tech, this episode  reveals the growing urgency to document, connect, and tell the truth while we still can.

If this episode reaches you, share it. Help the BLAKK signal travel by using the tags below:

#DigitalDisobedience #MRUPodcast #ListenToYoMomba #BlakkMomba #TruthTeller #BeyondBorders #SharedHumanity #CulturalAutopsies #ReadToResist 

Episode Companion Reading: Stop Staring at the Face and Study the Machine on Digital Disobedience

Books: www.blakkmombabooks.com and Amazon

Guest application, books, and direct links: in the sh

Transcript

A Warning Before You Listen

SPEAKER_00 0:24

Hello, kings and queens. Welcome back to Mamba Round and Filter Podcast. It's your girl, Black Mamba. If you are a first-time listener, welcome. Pull up a chair. You found this at the right time. And if you've been rocking with me, you already know I have been gone for a minute. And you probably also know that when I go quiet, it is never without reason. I don't move inorganically. I never have. Everything I do, I do with purpose, including the silence. But I'll get into that in a minute. First, I want to get you prepared for what you are about to hear. I'm not gonna ease you into this one. This episode is not background noise. It's not something you have listened to while you're doing something else. What you are about to hear is a checkpoint, a real-time document of the world as it actually is right now. Not the curated version, not the state media package version, and not the version people reach for, like a security blanket so they can sleep at night without choking on the truth of it. This is a global message. It speaks to America, yes, but it speaks past America too. Because Empire doesn't stop at borders, and neither does what I have to say about it. I need you to come with your mind open, not comfortable, open. Some of what you're about to hear may stretch you. Let it. That pull you'll feel is not a reason to tap out. That feeling is exactly the point. If you're ready to think clearly, sit with hard things, and hear the truth spoken plainly without dressing it up or softening it for you, then you are exactly who this rabbit hole is for. So if you're ready, take a deep breath. Sit back and relax. I'll see you on the other side. For the past few weeks, almost a month now, I haven't really been online like that. I've been writing every day, but I haven't been sharing, haven't been posting anything of substance, haven't been feeding the machine just to stay visible. Where I have been, though, is in the water. Literally. Because if water can shape mountains, I know it can shape me. And I made a decision that I would rather be exhausted, in pain, and getting stronger than exhausted, in pain, and unhealthy. So I rearranged my priorities. Outside of being in the pool, I've been making time for reading physical books at least two per week. Voice noting, journaling, reorganizing my space, letting my mind breathe, letting my thoughts sound like my thoughts again and not like the algorithms. I even started gaming again, streaming a little on Twitch after not touching the Xbox in almost a year, just because I felt like it. Just because I needed something simple that wasn't tied to audience, output, engagement, or visibility. And that matters more than people probably realize. Because stepping back like that resets your mind. It lets you hear yourself again. It lets you think without being shaped by millions of voices all fighting to colonize your attention. It reminds you that you are not a brand. Or at least I'm not. I have never moved in organically online. I have a real life with real issues, real responsibilities, and very real pain. Everything I do, I do with purpose. I've been going hard for three years now with voice acting, podcasting, publishing books, Clural, creating merge, building digital content, sketching out ideas, building worlds, language, tools, things that can outlive me. And I refuse to let this era convince me that if I'm not constantly active, constantly visible, constantly feeding the machine something, then I'm somehow not relevant. That is the difference between people who create from the heart and people who create for the algorithm. Folks can argue all day that you can do both, and maybe some can't. But I know what happens when the machine starts setting your pace and dictating your motion. You lose something important. Your why. The reason you began this journey in the first place. You start mistaking output for purpose, visibility for value, and motion for meaning. So I stepped back on purpose. Being offline was self-therapy for me. It was a reset. It cleared my mind in a way that made me see sharper, think clearer. And now, after sitting still, it feels like the right time to tap back in. Not because I owe the internet anything or feel this burning need to post, but because what has been building in me is not merely thoughts. These reflections are breadcrumbs, something for those who come after me to follow, so they won't have to navigate this hellscape blind. It was movement that brought me back to the mic today. Senegal, Vietnam, North and South, then Russia, again too, of all places. Argentina popped up, Chile checked in, then overnight, Cape Town, the Western Cape, Indonesia, Cameroon, Panama, Uruguay, Mexico, Colombia, new locations on the map while I was quiet. While I wasn't chasing, wasn't forcing, wasn't even creating anything. Even while I was preparing this podcast, shit, while I was in sleep mode, mind dreaming, updating, new eyes and ears in new countries are constantly popping up and finding the work. The black signal is active. These are not a cluster of countries you can explain away. It's not one audience, it's not one language, one system, or one way of moving through the world. And it forced me to see the pattern more clearly. This isn't clustering in predictable ways. It's not staying inside the same language loops or political comfort zones. It's cutting across systems that don't usually overlap, moving through regions that don't typically move together. Quiet, person to person, no push behind it, no machine, just something organizing itself without asking for permission. I really sat with that and felt what it actually means. This podcast is reaching people in places where being awake to this kind of stuff carries a real heavy weight, where information is molded and shaped, where narratives are managed, where what you say and how you say it has always mattered because it can get you deleted or imprisoned, exiled, excommunicated. People don't just stumble into conversations about power, systems, identity, love, transformation, resistance in those places. If they're listening, it's intentional. And if they are reading my work, the stacks, the books, the poetry, that's clearly on purpose. My website, Amazon author page clearly states what this work is and is not about. There is no room for doubt on that point. And maybe that's why seeing these new countries hit me in the way that they did, because they reminded me the empire may stretch across maps and languages, flags and borders, but so does recognition, so does patterns, grief. People across completely different districts, different realities, are still recognizing the same frequency when they hear it. Not because they share the same or similar culture, politics, language, or religion, but because they share the same feeling of living inside something they didn't build and are still expected to survive. We all may have different histories, different pressures, live in different districts, but the same machine is chewing through all of us, just in different accents. That matters to me because it means that this is bigger than one nation's collapse, bigger than one election cycle or one man's posts, bigger than one comment section or one holiday where people put on beautiful church clothes and call death holy. It means that the map, the game board, is already reshaping itself under our feet. And whatever comes next is not just America's problem. Empire touches all of us. It means that this is not just reach. This is the beginning of movement. And if the black signal is already traveling those lines, then my responsibility is not to chase it, it is to meet it wherever it is going with greater clarity, greater precision, a greater urgency. The movement combined with everything I was watching the world do while I was on this quiet hiatus is what pulled me back to something I had already written. Because when the signal is traveling and the thing you warned about is still unfolding, you stop calling it a reflection and start calling it a record. Real-time documentation. I'm not surprised that the map is stretching anymore. I already sat with that when the 33rd country was added back in early March. I wrote and published about how it felt, the significance of the number 33 in my life, over on my Substack. But a month later, what catches me off guard is the fact that I can step back, go quiet, not push or feed the machine anything of deep substance at all, and still wake up to movement. Movement that don't make any type of sense. And it hit me differently this time because of where my mind already was before I was even aware of the new additions. I was up late this past Easter night, sitting with the state of the world, not just America, but the world, as it actually is. Not the curated version, not the faux news, I mean Fox News network version. I'm talking power tightening, lines in the sand being drawn, people being sorted into sides whether they realize it or not. I'm talking the quiet but constant conditioning that teaches us to measure each other by race, by borders, by zip codes, passports, language, religion, complexion, by proximity to power. Who matters more? Who matters less? Who gets protected? Who gets discarded? Who gets called civilized? Who gets called terrorist? It is the same structure everywhere in the world. Just dress differently depending on where you land. And no matter where we landed, there is nowhere you can go and not see a spectrum of proximity to empire. We exist in districts, whether we call them that or not, division is constantly reinforced over and over amongst people until they start believing that shit is natural. Nothing about this shit is natural. It's man-made. Man you factured of real life hunger games. And yet, within manufactured realities, the message of digital disobedience is still sneaking its way through. Not adjusted, not watered down, or overseasoned into something palatable, depending on where it lands. Just plain, raw, unfiltered human language, a ghost in the machine, something about true relevance, about value, about what it means to exist inside Empire's game without losing yourself to it. That's why this is not a reflection for reflection's sake. This is a checkpoint. This is me coming back to something already new in my spirit, already forecasted, hell, already published, and looking at how much of it has been confirmed in less than a year. I wrote Still Hanging from the Cross exactly 365 days ago, calling out the hypocrisy, the violence, the contradiction between what people claim to believe and how they actually move around, not through, that belief. I didn't write it like a devotional. I didn't write it trying to sound like a clever Sunday sermon. I wrote it like a cultural surgeon standing over a diseased body with a cavity open, naming what stinks, what's infected, necrotic, and what this country keeps trying to febreze instead of treat. What I was naming then didn't slow down. It didn't get corrected. It evolved, metastasized. It was me saying plain that people will cry over the cross and still defend the systems doing the hanging. It was me naming the contradiction between the Jesus people proclaim and the power they protect. And coming back to it now, what strikes me is not how dramatic and raw it sounded then. It is how little of it was misplaced. In less than a year, I've watched systems tighten, narratives shift, control expand, and people adjust to it in real time. What once felt extreme now feels normal. What should disturb people barely registers anymore. And if so, not for long. And at the same time, the language of God, country, love, and righteousness is louder than ever, sitting right on top of all of it. That's not a simple contradiction anymore. That's purposeful alignment. And it's the bridge into what comes next. A year later, what today says about that piece is ugly. The language of faith got louder. The practice of mercy, love, and truth got thinner. So the piece lands differently now because it no longer reads like a warning. It reads like pattern recognition. What I wrote then was not some, as one commenter stated, an emotional overreaction to a comment section. It was observation under spiritual pressure, a cross section, an autopsy in real time. What time has only done since then is remove the illusion that it was a moment. It was never a moment. It was a design pattern exposed. What I can't understand is how people keep acting like this is unfamiliar. Like we haven't seen this pattern before. Like history doesn't have receives. Rape, pillage, murder, loot, kill, steal, destroy. What about this is unfamiliar? At what point do we stop pretending that we don't recognize the behavior that built every empire we claim to study like it's safely buried in his story? When in reality, it is replicating itself in real time, right in front of our eyes. Every time DJ Hydra's heads pop out, people act confused, like it just appeared out of nowhere. It didn't. It is the same song playing again. Empire doesn't invent fresh behavior tracks, it updates the programming, remixes the branding, hides in new systems, and made easier for people to swallow without gagging. But swallowing is not the end of it. What gets digested and absorbed becomes a normal weekly meal. People start to believe it is just the way things are, that this is just the way life goes. What becomes normal gets inherited. They pass it to their children like a family recipe. Empire does not just update its behavior, it updates the people who carry it forward without ever knowing they became the host. That is how they not only survive one generation, but reproduce inside the next one without ever having to announce itself again. And all while this is happening, people are still locked into this cycle of arguing Trump as if he is the center of gravity, as if this begins and ends with him. Trump ain't the story. Trump is the face, the distraction, a decoy. The pattern is the story. None of these pundits and so-called Congress folks are calling out plainly. They are complicit. Look at how they ensure that everyone stays emotionally locked on to Trump. Like he is the whole disease by himself, while JD Vance is standing right there getting propped up and positioned in real time, like the next serious face of that same disease, the next viable vessel people are supposed to get comfortable with. That man ain't better than Trump. He is worse in the way a quieter knife is worse. He is what comes after people have been worn down enough to mistake smoothness for sanity. Trump is the appetite with no table manners. Vance is the same appetite taught how to sit straight, lower its voice, and call itself serious. Trump gives the public the scream, Vance gives it the script. Trump breaks things in public, Vance is the face they put forward after the breaking. When they want people to see how much more disciplined, intelligent, and competent he is next to Trump. Trump gives the country the tantrum, but Vance gives it the suit, the posture, the cleaner delivery system for the same white nationalist agenda. They don't even match in personality or disposition. One doesn't have to wonder what the draw to work with each other is. It's transparent. It's classic seed planting and mind control, really. They are priming the public to get us used to the idea. The pattern is clear. And when I say pattern, I mean exactly that. Pattern. I mean the alignments, the ideological overlaps, the way certain authoritarian governance styles are being mirrored, admired, and normalized. We have a shadow government openly aligning themselves with leadership models that have already demonstrated how to consolidate power while maintaining the appearance of democracy, how to manipulate democratic language and use it to destroy democracy. Meanwhile, they have efficiently obliterated every alliance we have ever had in the world. They have isolated us on purpose. I mean the fact that JD Vance was in Hungary, supporting Victor or Bond, and people still want to talk like that ain't signaling alignment. Men with that level of ambition, they don't stand next to authoritarian models by accident. They study them, they admire them, they rehearse next to them. He doesn't have to out Trump Trump. He only has to inherit the Opening and make that same hunger sound disciplined, moral, and inevitable. That is how a country gets turned out while people are still arguing over the man instead of the machinery. I mean Project 2025. I mean the Heritage Foundation. I mean white Christian nationalism in Turning Point USA. I mean the open grooming of an authoritarian future under the language of reform, restoration, family, faith, and national protection. I mean mass firings across institutions that are not just transitions, but a reshaping. I mean increasingly radical military rhetoric that should stop people cold and doesn't. I mean Pete Hagseth and others dressing militarism, force expansion, domination, and overwhelming violence in Christian language, and too many people hearing nothing when they should be hearing warning bells. I mean Amazon distribution warehouse-like mega prisons, detention expansion, which is, if we're being honest, is just slavery 3.0 with cleaner language in the policy. I mean the quiet normalization of an Orwellian future where surveillance is sold as safety, tracking is sold as convenience, population management is sold as order, and where disappearances get translated into procedure. Meanwhile, folks keep acting like this shit is still just politics as usual when it's not. Nobody has to keep pretending these pieces don't fit. Project 2025 fits, the Heritage Foundation fits, Christian nationalism fits, the grooming fits, the white nationalist agenda fits, the thirst for a country that is whiter, crueler, richer, more obedient, more openly hierarchical, pedophilic, more openly sanctified by power, all of it fits. That's why I've never believed this was about one man. It never is. People stay focused on the faces, the personalities, the distractions, the reality TV-like performances. And in doing so, they miss the game mass's next move on the board. Presidents are the face people point at and argue about while everything else moves behind them. That's always how this works. Because power has never lived in one man. It lives in networks, in alignment, in long-term positioning for people with investments and outcomes most of the public will never fully see. And that does not expire when a presidency does. That is where the real movement is. That's where the threat sits. So when I look at Trump, I'm not just looking at him as an individual. I'm looking at what is being built around him, what is being normalized through him. What doors are being opened that don't close when he's gone? Because they do not close. They remain, they widen and get inherited. That is why this is bigger than him. Because once something becomes acceptable, once it has been repeated enough, defended enough, mainstreamed enough, it never goes back to where it was before. It becomes part of the acceptable range of what people will tolerate. If you are paying attention beyond surface level reactions and headlines, you start to see that none of this is isolated. It's not random. And it most definitely is not accidental. The pattern is obvious. Can you not see it? The firings are not just firings. The statements are not just statements. The visits are not just visits. The alignments are not just optics. They are all signals and they are overt. They're happening in a pattern that points in a direction that people seem either unable or unwilling to sit with long enough to fully understand. Because doing so, that will require acknowledging that this shit is bigger than politics as usual, bigger than left versus right, than borders, then religion, race, and that's uncomfortable for people because it forces them to confront the possibility that something structural is shifting their carefully crafted reality, that they are being encouraged and incentivized to stay focused on the distractions, on the face, but they cannot seem to turn away. What did Al Pacino say in Scarface? You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your fucking finger and say, that's the bad guy. So what that makes you good? You're not good. You just know how to hide, how to lie. Man, the bamboozle. We keep pointing our finger at the bad guy, triggered every day by what they do and say new. That we can't see the forest for the trees, dopamine fiends, algorithmic tunnel vision on lock, empire got parental controls that got minds controlled, souls on sleep mode. The programming is that deep. It makes me weep. You have rhetoric escalating in a way that is conditioning people to hear increasingly extreme positions without reacting to them with the urgency they deserve, because the feed flips to something new within minutes. We keep reacting to individual incidents, individual headlines, individual outbursts, posts, and not the positioning, not the design, the script. We are still trapped in the moment by design. That is how our minds, through technology, have been trained to work now. We are reactive where empire is strategic. They don't call it an outrage economy for no reason. That's why people keep missing the fact that there are multiple fronts moving at once. Domestic shifts, global alignment, narrative control, institutional restructuring, economic extraction, public ritual, global military escalation, mental fragmentation. This isn't chaos, it's convergence, multiple pressure points moving at once, pulling in one direction while pushing in another, tightening internally while positioning externally, shaping narratives while restructuring the world. And because it doesn't announce itself as one singular event, people keep processing it like isolated moments instead of moving parts of the same hand. It is a series of moves that only make sense when you step back far enough to see the chess board and connect those dots instead of reacting to each individual piece as it moves. Empire works hard to ensure that everything is being processed as separate incidents, as if none of it relates to anything. And it does. It all does. What should unsettle you is not just what's happening, but how easily and quickly it all happened without sustained resistance, without deep questioning, without people recognizing that once something has been stretched and normalized, once it has been said enough, defended enough, and ignored enough times, it never goes back to where it was before. And that shift does not reverse simply because people decide later they don't like where it led. That's why I keep saying that everything we have witnessed was never about Trump. Because focusing on him alone is how you miss what is actually being constructed. And if you are only reacting to him, you are already behind what is moving through him, around him, and beyond him. And that is where the real danger sits. Not in one person, but in the infrastructure and systems that remains when the person is long gone. I'm not saying this from a place of certainty about outcomes. I'm saying it from a place of paying attention because Hydra is moving across multiple fronts at the same time. And whether people choose to see it or not doesn't slow it down, doesn't interrupt it, it doesn't stop it from unfolding exactly as it is being set in motion. There's a big difference between probabilities and eventualities. Everything happens for a reason. Everything. So when Trump posts that a whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again, and then wraps regime change in the language of possibility and renewal. I'm not looking at that like another wild ass post from a man who likes attention and sounding like a strong man. I am looking at rhetoric doing what rhetoric does at this level. It prepares the ground, fertilizes the mind, it stretches the public ear and makes genocide sound like vision, domination sound like salvation, it makes destruction sound like moral necessity. And with everything else that has been normalized around here, everything this shadow government has already done with impunity, you would have to be willfully asleep, not to understand how dangerous that is. This ain't an internet capping problem. This is a war crimes problem. This is a genocide problem. This is a power-drunk evil empire problem. This is what happens when a racist state learns it can say and do anything and still find language, media, theology, institutions, and deep pockets willing to launder it clean. It has been following that blueprint from its inception. And here we go, tapping into a fight somebody else started. Why? It appears because Trump and them is gang-gang like that? I forgot. He got agents like Nicki Minaj on his staff, vouching for him, reinforcing the infection. The machinery knows exactly what it's doing when it deploys the distractions it chooses. Nicki Minaj hanging with Trump, aligning with Erica Kirk, performing proximity to power while her community watches? That ain't a coincidence. That's targeting. That is calculated distraction aimed directly at black women, the most politically active, most vocal, most organized demographic in this country. Keep us fighting each other, keep us debating her instead of the policies. Keep us emotionally activated in the wrong direction. Keep us in the comment sections instead of the streets. And the fucked up part, she's an immigrant herself. I mean, the very policies being normalized under this shadow government she's co-signing for would have processed her differently under different circumstances. But nobody said the distraction has to make sense. It just has to work. And it does because we let it. Apathy on demand. Once you really sit with what empire sounds like, you start hearing the same beat everywhere all the time. Black writers like Jill Scott Heron was not just talking about the moon. Tupac Shakur was not just rapping about war. They were both naming the same country from different corners of time, the same set of priorities, the same sickness of a nation that can always find endless money for war, conquest, tech advancement, military flexing, and national vanity. But somehow, never enough for people to live. Whitey on the moon was never just a clever line, it was a receipt. A man looking at a country reaching for the stars while people down here were still broke, hungry, sick, neglected, and told to make peace with it. Ox saying they got money for war, but not to feed the poor is the same wound in a different decade. Fast forward to today, and the loop reveals itself again. That's why the space race and the AI race belong in the same sentence. That's why Artemis belongs in the same sentence as war, extraction, Congo, Mali, Sedan, Kobold, Data Centers, and every place where human bodies are still being fed into the machine so somebody else can call it progress. Whitey wouldn't be on the moon without them. Whitey would not be building AI without them either. Put the rocket next to the miner. Put the cleaner language of the future next to the body paying for it. Put the fantasy of advancement next to the labor, the blood, the stripped land, the poison water, the small hands, the disposable lives underneath it. And tell me that's not the same old Empire in a fresher fit. Language was always the first technology, and it always comes before action. Always. Empire never jumps straight into extreme measures without first shifting what people are willing to hear without reacting. They test the line, they move the line, they keep moving it until what should sound extreme start sounding strategic or justified, necessary, inevitable. We are dealing with the original weapon, the original instrument, the original code. That's why the language matters so much. That's why I don't believe in, I didn't mean it that way. When people show you what rises first in them, the word reveals, the word creates, the word destroys. The word is how empire blesses itself, how governments propagandize, how systems surveil and shape in numbers. Words are action under construction. After all, that's just the way life goes, right? Right. People don't ask why because they don't want to ask how. And they do not want to ask how because they already know the answer, with stain every miracle they think proves civilization. Empire will cross every moral line available for what it thinks it needs to stay alive, and then turn around and call the violence progress. Every new century, the same blood is in the blueprint, slavery to immigration, Jim Crow to Project 2025, the space race to the AI race, war then, war now, extraction then, extraction now, the same hunger, the same need to build glory on top of somebody else's suffering, and then act offended when somebody points at the bodies underneath the shine. Century after century, time after time, and that laundering does not stop at rhetoric. It runs all the way down into policy, into systems, into the bodies it processes and discards. When I widen the frame past the language, what I see underneath, it is the same machine it has always been. I see immigrants caged, neglected, dying in custody, processed as policy instead of moral rupture. I see detention treated like administration, as if changing the language changes the reality. I see the same machine that once required black bodies as visible economic fuel adapting itself to new targets, new methods, new justifications. South Americans, Somalians, Haitians, Koreans, anyone considered other. Detention is profit. Processing is profit. Deportation is profit. Surveillance is profit. Data is profit, war is profit. Human suffering remains profitable as long as it's structured correctly, wrapped in official language, and, of course, taxable. That's why calling it policy doesn't make me gag less. Policy can still be violence. Legal language can still be dehumanization. Mega prisons aren't separate from slavery. Ice is not separate from slave patrols. Population control is not separate from empire. Healthcare systems, CDC directives, insurance denials, the price of food, the bankrupting of farmers through tariffs, rare earth mineral extraction, data centers, land grabs, energy crisis, climate crisis, the soft genocide that happens with pen and paper and spreadsheet and code. All of it belongs to the same body of Hydra. What they need white hoods for when they have legal language. They don't need angry mobs when they have systems. They don't need to say the taboo part out loud when the outcomes keep repeating itself with surgical precision. What's understood never needed to be said. You will know them by their fruit. That's from Matthew chapter 7, verse 16 through 20. But none of that machinery runs without cover. It needs people not to see it clearly, not to hold on to it long enough to name it, not to connect the dots before the next distraction drops. That is where the feed comes in. That is also why the tech chess piece becomes impossible for me to ignore. Because none of this feels accidental anymore. It would be easier to believe people are simply distracted or tired or overwhelmed. But this feels managed. This past Easter, I watched people post about Jesus, love, and resurrection, and then within hours, they were right back in the same dopamine loop, scrolling, consuming, laughing, arguing, distracted, moved on. It's like whatever truth should have sat in their chest long enough to disturb their spirit gets wiped clean and replaced with the next thing before it has time to settle and activate critical thoughts that last longer than 0.5 seconds. That doesn't feel human to me. That feels shaped, manipulated. You can see it in how fast everything moves, how nothing sticks, how outrage rarely turns into measurable action. Suffering becomes content, how reality gets flattened into something you can easily scroll past. Empire learned that if you can control what people see, how long they see it, and what replaces it before they even have time to process it, then they don't have to force people into anything. They can guide them, keep them occupied, stimulated. They keep people from ever sitting still long enough to think or feel deeply enough to respond, to change, to act. That's why technology is the focus of my next book in the Coded for Extinction series, The Digital Antichrist, a cultural autopsy of synthetically engineered Messiah, modern tech feels less like a tool and more like an environment. People don't just simply use it anymore. They live inside of it. And if that environment is constantly feeding fragments instead of full pictures, reactions instead of reflection, emotion without context, urgency without direction, then of course people start looking like they don't care. But maybe it's deeper than that. Maybe people are purposefully being conditioned not to care in any sustained way. Maybe they literally cannot hold on to anything long enough to let it change them. Because apathy is the new hottest drug and the addiction is everywhere. And if that's true, then the danger isn't just in what's happening. It is in the widening gap between what is happening and what people are able to perceive about what is happening. That gap feels like the real threat because by the time something should fully land, attention has already been redirected. The conditions required for deep thought, moral weighing, and sustained resistance are being eroded in real time. A slow, assisted suicide. Empire has always needed people too fragmented to resist. This ain't a modern problem. This is the oldest requirement in the playbook. The feed might be new, the algorithm is new, the technology is new, but the psychology underneath it ain't nothing new about it. Since Bacon's rebellion in 1676, Empire understood something crucial. If you insulate poor European people through privilege, hierarchy, race, religion, patriarchy, proximity, and false superiority, they will look at everyone else instead of the self-proclaimed elite. If you keep the people measuring each other instead of the system, they'll never see empire clearly in any real or critical way. That has always been the trick. The rich keep getting richer. The 1% keeps controlling the world, controlling us, and still people will keep swallowing it with a Kool-Aid smile. Look at how we edit ourselves online, soften what we really think, trim our rage, crop our grief. We present the version of ourselves that can survive the feed, the standards of community. Meanwhile, the people who mean us harm, they don't just find each other online and vent. They organize and mobilize. They plan and create vision boards. They build policy, pipelines, consensus. They move offline. That's the difference. The war for our freedom, our minds, our lives, our children's future is not going to be fought online. Online is where information gets scattered, distorted, fabricated, throttled, boosted, buried, and fed back to us through algorithms that train people to push buttons and chase virility instead of transformation. Everybody wants to go viral. Almost nobody wants to take what they claim to believe back into their communities, churches, schools, neighborhoods, and homes where something actually has to be risked, sacrificed. Social media activism doesn't mean shit if it doesn't have real world impact. People laugh at MAGA and call it a cult, but the fact remains that they're organized, they mobilized, they planned, built, they put themselves in power. And what did the collective who claim to oppose them do? They couldn't even agree on how to boycott Target without actively working against each other. A multifaceted empire requires a multifaceted response. There are a million ways to say or do the same thing. And how one person says it or does it may reach an ear that dismisses the exact same message from somebody else? But too often, we waste our energy obsessing over the people who cannot hear it, will not hear it, or don't want to hear it or see it, instead of focusing on those who can. We keep asking, why won't they see? What can we say to make them believe, make them understand? What more can we do? And all the while, competition eats through movements that were supposed to awaken, protect, and build collectively. The many layers of suppression, of colonized code, of imperial conditioning are so deep, you can peel them back forever and still not reach the full design. Part of the problem is that we can't see past ourselves, our bubbles, our struggle, our ego, our need to be the one who says it best, first, loudest, or most completely. We cannot see that each of us may hold a key to somebody else's enlightenment, and that the goal should be to awaken as many eyes as we can and accept that it will not be everybody, that if you wake up only one mind, that that in itself is a gift that will keep on giving, leaving ripple effects that pay it forward. We have to be okay with the idea that we may never see or be aware of the fruit of our labor. Understand that decolonization isn't some buzzword to me. It is the closest thing to a cheat code we have. It's not the whole answer, but the door to one, because once a colonized mind can recognize another colonized mind, it can start recognizing their common struggle, even amongst different geographies, time zones, frequencies, languages, and caste systems. That is where the real solidarity starts. Not in aesthetics, not in empty consensus, not in trying to make everybody hear the message exactly the way you hear it. That's also why I don't dismiss what's happening with the podcast as merely nice growth. Russia, Ecuador, Vietnam. These countries didn't show up because I gained the feed correctly. They showed up because the same structure is pressing on different people in different places all over the world, and the same signal is slipping through. That matters. It means the work is not territorial. It means empire's reach has created its own opposite condition, a counterinfection. People across the map are living inside something they didn't build and are still expected to survive. And when the message names that plainly, it travels without a passport, without permission. Shared human truths that don't belong to one group or one experience, but live in all of us, regardless of where we are or how we got there. Exhaustion, confusion, survival, awakening, resistance, the undercurrent that hums beneath all of us, whether we have the language for it or not. And the cruelest irony of all of that is not who the signal is reaching, is who it isn't, or maybe more precisely, who is hearing it and choosing not to be changed by it. The people two pews over, the ones with the loudest resurrection language and the least resurrection practice, the ones with the crosses on their walls and the scripture in their bios who still can't seem to receive it. Coming back to still hanging from the cross now, that's part of what makes the resurrection conversation feel so damn dishonest. People will shout, he is risen, and still defend the machinery that keeps other people buried and then look shocked when you call it what it is, plainly. A year later proves this was never about misunderstanding. It's about alignment. People are not confused about harm or right and wrong. They are aligned with what benefits them. That's why empathy disappears on cue. That's why context only matters when it protects them. That's why grace gets rationed out depending on who's on the screen and what race they are. You don't accidentally build a culture that reacts faster with condemnation than curiosity when the subject is black or brown. That right there is conditioning, inheritance, design. What I cut open last Easter was not racism as an abstract idea. It was appetite, and an appetite for punishment, an appetite for hierarchy, for reducing melanated life, flattening it, devouring it, and then calling that justice, concern, caution, or just asking questions. And what a year later calcifies is that the appetite didn't disappear. It got hungrier, greedier, more comfortable eating naked in public. That's what changed. Not the disease, the confidence of it, the shamelessness. What I was looking at through that comment section was never just people being ugly online. It was exposure, a moment where people spoke without needing to perform decency. And what surfaced was instinct shaped long before that post ever existed. The speed of judgment, the certainty without information, the comfort in reducing someone to a label or a meme instead of recognizing a human being. None of that comes from nowhere, and none of it disappears because the calendar flips. And then there's the Jesus contradiction sitting right in the middle of all this for the people who claim to believe in him. That part turns my stomach sour. Not just the resurrection posts and pastel captions, declarations of faith, the public rituals, Sunday outfits, or the aesthetic of goodness, but the excuses, the allowances, the tolerances, the irrational rationalizations, the endless ways people who claim Christ keep finding ways to act ignorant online, excuse cruelty and baptize empire in the language of righteousness. I'm watching people who say they follow a crucified Christ lay hands on war, frame state violence like prophecy and treat mass suffering like a necessary step towards divine fulfillment. I'm watching people who claim they are Christian make peace with corruption, cages, surveillance, militarism, greed, cruelty, and disposal, and still talk like God is pleased with what they are protecting. That's not faith to me. That's spiritual decay. That's a mind deteriorating in real time while still insisting it's righteous. And I keep coming back to the same plain thing. If the core of those red words in the Bible is to, and I quote, love God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and to quote, love your neighbor as yourself, then it's not actually complicated to measure. The evidence should be in how people treat other human beings, period. So when I look around and I see how easily people are dismissed, dehumanized, ignored, justified away, or flattened into disposable categories, data points, metrics. I don't have to wonder what kind of love is operating. It's not agape. I know that. The absence of it tells its own story, his story. And that's what makes still hanging from the cross land differently now. It no longer reads only as metaphor. It reads like a verdict on a country that loves resurrection language, but resists repentance, who wants morality without sacrifice, innocence without confession, power without accountability. Too many people want Easter without exhumation, celebration without confession, salvation without surrender. Too much of American Christianity still looks more interested in hierarchy than healing, more interested in who gets controlled than who gets restored. The truth is still hanging there. The cruelties, the appetites, the lies, the whole diseased body of a nation that wants resurrection language without repentance. And if people cannot see it, it is not because it's hidden. Trump, Vance, MAGA, they all saying the quiet part so loud now that you have to want sleep more than the truth not to hear it. A man can openly talk about wiping out a civilization, drag Jesus into the frame, throw himself against the Pope, let AI images and fake holiness orbit around him, and still have people act like none of those things belong together. They belong together too well. The bloodlust, the prophecy language, the messiah delusion, the white Christian nationalist froth, the public testing of what people will hear and still accept, all of it is moving in one direction. They are not hiding what they want. They want domination blessed. They want violence baptized so that this country can cut back into something wider, richer, more obedient, more openly ruled by racial hierarchy and called righteous for it. And maybe that is the ugliest year-later truth of all. Not that people failed to understand the truth, but that many understood it just fine and chose themselves anyway. They want the poetry of redemption without the labor of repair, the comfort of moral language without the burden of moral action. They want to be seen as good while remaining loyal to systems that grind other people into dust. That was true when I wrote it. It's even more blatant now. Control, violence, domination, all cross-dressing as concern, as order, as family values. And still, we choose willing ignorance. That's also why they clone Tyrone keeps echoing in me. People laughed, because it was clever, funny, and true in the way art sometimes gets away with being true. But we are living in a time where sedation isn't accidental, pacification isn't accidental, division, competition, the endless fruity loop is not accidental. And if we keep treating this like some distant possible concern instead of a direct threat to our own ability to think, gather, organize, love, and resist, then we are helping pass along the very programming that was meant to keep us unfit from day one, mentally, spiritually, physically, financially, everily. The battlefield has always been in the mind. That's why the mind is so sick on this timeline. That's why mental health is not some side issue. It's one of the central crises. You can look around and see people being programmed to crash out and burn inside the life that is being built for them, especially the children. That's not random either. If people are mentally fractured, spiritually exhausted, emotionally dysregulated, economically strained, chemically sedated, algorithmically manipulated, familial, and socially isolated. They're easier to manage, easier to sort, easier to keep from thinking too far ahead, to keep trapped in reaction, easier to keep dancing while DJ Hydra remixes the track. We can make new dances trend on TikTok in a weekend, but we can't seem to create the kind of shiv that changes the beat enough to interrupt Empire's rhythm. So we keep dancing. And our feet, they don't just get stepped on, they get stomped on by the same dance partner from ancient times. Same evil. New boots. That's what makes me think about my children in a way that doesn't allow me to relax. They aren't growing up in some distant future version of this. They're growing up inside this exact moment, a flashpoint in time, a world where literacy is dropping past the sixth grade. Attention is shortened, family is fractured, emotional intelligence is optional. Trust is thin. Empathy is conditional. Community is weak. And everything is filtered through algorithms that decide who and what matters. A world where people look awake but move more like they're sleepwalking. Some willingly because it's easier. Some scared to step outside of what they have been fed. Some so deeply lost in the sauce, they no longer know what's happening to them. And they don't even care. And I am supposed to believe that three more years of this doesn't matter. Three more years of systems tightening, of narratives reshaping, people numbing out, of children growing up inside this environment will not matter. That once Trump is out of office, that our world will magically reset. Who believes that? And I cannot talk about any of this, honestly, without talking about what it does to me as a single black woman raising girls inside a world under all of the politics, public religion, and national decay. Not in theory, in body, in nerves, in the conversations we have to have earlier than any child should need them. In the things I have to prepare them for that no parent should have to name. In the weight of knowing that the world being built around them is not being built with them in mind, that their bodies, their minds, their futures are already being calculated inside systems that see them as either useful or disposable. And I refuse. I refuse to go out quietly about that. I refuse to go numb to say fuck it and yell YOLO because numbing out is a luxury I don't have when their lives are at stake. The realization that the job Falls to me, that the preparing and holding and protecting, bracing, all of that will solely be mine. That cross is still mine to carry alone. Not because I chose isolation and wanted to carry everything by myself, but because too many people don't have the same hunger for truth, the same hunger for change, or the same willingness to stay with anything long enough to build it. I have to live with the private ache of knowing that with all the crazy, terrifying shit happening in the world right now, I don't have people I can truly count on. No king I can count on. No real protection or covering. No real community outside of social media. Everybody wants to be seen and heard. Everybody wants visibility, leverage, access, status, names, rooms, followers, optics, proof that they are connected to something important so that they themselves can feel important. Very few people want to sit down and do the unglamorous work of actually becoming trustworthy, actually building something, actually staying when there's no spotlight on it. Too much of what passes for connection these days is about status, proximity, visibility, who knows who, who can do what for whom, and who can be seen next to the right people. That ain't community. That's ambition wearing a social mask, networking with better camouflage. And when you're trying to build with like minds, real minds, people who can hold weight, who can think beyond themselves, see the world they're in, and still commit to changing something about it. That shallow, transactional energy wears the soul down. It leaves you caring more than you should. It leaves you trying to mother, protect, think, create, warn, document, and stay spiritually, emotionally, and mentally intact all at once. That wears on me. Trying to find like minds, trying to build with like minds, trying to connect with people who say they care, and then watching how quickly the energy changes and the follow-through dies once the work starts asking something real from them. That shit does something to your spirit after a while. It makes you feel the soul ache of living on a timeline where people talk liberation all day and still move like everything is transactional. And I hate that more than anything. I really do, because that's not how this is supposed to be. We were never built to do this life shit alone. We were built for connection, shared burden, collective memory, for love that actually holds, for community, for something divine and connected and whole. And if I'm being completely and utterly honest, there are days when I feel the pull to stop caring, to stop pushing, to stop being digitally disobedient. Not because I'm bitter and stop believing in the work, but because pushing against a rising tide by yourself is not sustainable. I need help, real help, not applause, not surface agreement, not another person telling me I'm dope, I'm right, and then disappearing back into their own little dopamine loop. I mean people on the level, people who can speak clearly, think clearly, feel clearly, and want to share the world they know and see and survive inside of wherever they are on this map, in whatever district of Empire's Hunger Games they wake up in every day. The map stretching proves I'm not speaking into the void. I know that now. I have proof of that now. But proof of reach doesn't erase the reality of labor. It doesn't erase the fact that I need help. I don't want to do this alone. And I say that knowing what community is supposed to feel like for the collective, knowing what it was built for, not the transactional version or the visibility chasing version on social media, the real one, the kind that holds weight, shares burden, carries memory, the kind that has been fractured in us, between us, and rebuilding it is not optional because survival is not just individual, it's communal, spiritual, cultural. There is no other like us on this planet, which is exactly why the fracture hurts the way that it does. We are our ancestors' greatest dream, and we just we just keep dreaming. Nothing comes to a dreamer but a dream, and yet we still haven't dreamed a new vision that comes to fruition. Perception is reality, and this one bites. Africa ain't our home in the way people casually say it and tell us to go back to. America, it ain't our home either. Not in the way citizenship is supposed to mean. That we need each other to survive, to secure our baby's survival. Our struggle is universally real. We are all on a spectrum of it. We feel different pressure points, but it's the same machine. We all have different accents, but the architecture is the same. So I'm gonna say this plainly now. If you are listening to this from wherever you are in the world, and you know what it feels like to live inside a version of this, to navigate your own district of control, extraction, suppression, fear, corruption, censorship, berature, propaganda, digital manipulation, surveillance, or slow collapse. Reach out. Anonymous or not. Signal chat, whatever works. Information blackouts are not science fiction anymore, people. Manufactured narratives are not conspiracy either. We cannot trust media at all. We can't trust the state's news or its pundits. We for damn sure can't trust social media, period. Too much can be bent, buried, throttled, cleaned up, deep faked, repackaged, or just disappeared, all by design. That is exactly why people need to start documenting, connecting, and sharing truth with each other directly while we still can. I'm not only talking to people across oceans or in another hemisphere. I'm talking to people across counties, cities, towns, neighborhoods, churches, classrooms, workplaces, and prisons of the mind. Connect. Share what you know, share what you see, share what your district looks like, share what the pressure feels like where you are. Now look, I'm not looking for cultural experts. I need living witnesses, and we need lenses into the struggle we cannot see. Because in 2026, with all this money, technology, data, and with all this breach, the fact that we still have an evolved humanity tells me that the program itself is corrupt, deeply corrupt. The code is compromised. And I can't excise that corruption on my own. Nobody can. That's why community matters. That's why decolonization matters, why unity matters, why our individual testimonies matters. And overall, that is especially why documentation matters. If you don't have documentation, you ain't got much of anything when the gaslighting starts, when the facts get scrubbed, and when the narrative gets reengineered and people start acting like what happened never happened, or happened differently, or was justified or just for your own good. Receipts matter. Records matter. Memory matters. The mind is the battlefield, yes, but memory is one of its last clean weapons. If we're serious about not going numb, extinct, then we have to build ways of holding truth together that doesn't disappear every time an app changes hands, an algorithm changes the rules, or a platform collapses, or if a government decides the wrong people have been talking too freely. I am not exempt from that call. Everything I just asked of you, I'm asking of myself first. That ain't separate from what I create. It is exactly what I create. The pen is my witness. This podcast is my documentation and my voice, my voice is the record. I don't have all the answers. I don't have some grand blueprint of how to undo centuries of programming, hierarchy, theft, propaganda, and spiritual decay. There's no takeaway or some gentle little place to set all this down and call it closure for you. Because nothing feels resolved. It feels like Hydra is still moving, still building and digging in while people go about their lives like nothing is off. What I have is what I keep coming back to over and over and over again is decolonization. Because if the battlefield is in the mind, then that's where the war has to be named first. Not everybody is gonna hear it. Not everybody is gonna care. Not everybody's going to wake up. I know that. I don't speak or write under some childish illusion that the right tone of voice or paragraph is gonna save a nation, determined to romanticize its own sickness. I have years of paying attention. I have documentation, receipts, and a long ass memory. I have a body of writing and recordings, reflections that keep proving to me over and over that the smoke was never an illusion. And the people calling it exaggeration were either too comfortable to care, too invested to tell the truth, or just too far gone to recognize what rot smells like when it's breathing right in their face. That right there stands out to me. Not just the loud and overt hostility, it's the quiet compliance. The people who know exactly what they're smelling, but choose not to disrupt it because disruption would cost them something. Social comfort, professional standing, access, relationships, their self-image. That silence ain't passive. It's functional. It keeps everything in place just so, like a girdle, while allowing people to maintain the illusion of innocence. That's not innocence. That right there is what you call insulation. This is why I'm done pouring energy into people committed to comfort, committed to image, to calling poison normal, because it hasn't reached their throats yet. I'm more interested in the people who can still hear something true when it hits them. The people who still feel truth. The people who know something is wrong, even if they don't have the language for it yet. The people who are not trying to go viral but are trying to get free. People who understand that we don't need more content. We need more clarity, community, courage, and a willingness to stop staring at the face while the board changes under our feet. We cannot stay at the level of online reaction, grief, or little outbursts of outrage that disappear the moment the next distraction loads. The people building this future, they ain't just posting. They're planning, writing policy, grooming successors, remixing the track. They're fighting for the shape of the world, the shape of memory and truth, for the shape of what people will one day call normal if enough of us keep swallowing this shit with a dead face and a shrug. You won't see them on Facebook fighting for likes or on Substack or YouTube hustling for subscribers. They're fighting for power, for the new terms of reality, for our minds, our lives, our children. They're fighting for who gets to belong and who gets processed, discarded, studied, experimented, police, tracked, detained, jailed, disappeared, erased, and called collateral on the way to somebody else's version of order. That's why the Easter framing hits the way it does for me today. Because if resurrection means anything, if Passover means anything, if the words people keep using actually means what they say it means, then don't you think something in this world should reflect that by now? But it doesn't. Instead, what I see is something else being lifted back up, reanimated, the same systems, the same patterns, the same evil disregard for human life, shape shifting into cleaner language and dripping in both scripture. This doesn't feel like people failing at what they believe. It feels like people aligning with something else entirely while still using the same Bible as cover. What's rising ain't deliverance. It's evil and better ring lighting. And it reveals nothing new. Nothing but the devil and new code, dressing control and designer threads. Next time, I want you to look at their eyes, and maybe you too will see the deadness, flatness, the artificiality within them, the absence of any recognizable humanity, not joy, not grief or tenderness, warmth, not even believable rage half the time. Just arrogance, entitlement, appetite, vacancy. They give Pod people energy from the Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock energy. Their whole vibe feels spiritually diseased and not just merely politically corrupt. It makes me feel like we're truly living in an upside-down, inside out, wacky Wednesday groundhogs day type of engineer reality. And everyone around you is dancing to a beat that you can't get in tune with. So, no, I'm not going to restructure or soften what I originally said last year. I'm standing on it harder. If anything, a year later, I read it and think I was still being generous. Because what time has clarified for me is that people don't just tolerate these evil contradictions. Many of them depend on them. They need the language of goodness to sit comfortably next to systems of harm. They need both. One feeds the image, the other feeds reality. And maybe that is the ugliest year later truth of all. Not that people failed to see the new devils, but that they seen them just fine and still chose themselves anyway. They want the comfort of moral language without the burden of moral action. Better the devil you know, they say. Still hanging from the cross was not me being triggered. It was me naming the wound while people were still pretending the blood was AI generated. 365 days later, the wound is still open. The body is still on the table, still breathing, still rotting, still being dressed up every holiday like it's alive and well. The machinery is still running the original code that keeps the body in suspended animation. And every year, people gather around it, not to treat it, heal it, or wake it up, but to celebrate that it hasn't been declared dead. People are still calling the resurrection of evil by every other name but its own. That's what will not leave me. That is what keeps pressing on me. The cruelty, the lie, the whole diseased body of a nation that wants resurrection language without repentance, morality without sacrifice, innocence without confession, and power without accountability. The body is still hanging there, still exposed, still asking the same question it asked then. Just louder now. What exactly is rising here? And who is willing to admit what it actually is? And if people still can't see it, it's not because it's hidden. It's because too many have already decided what they're willing to live with, willing to excuse, what they are willing to scroll past, call God while the house burns. I'm not asking you to have all the answers. I'm asking you to stop pretending you don't have any. Stop performing. Community. Stop curating your outrage. Stop waiting for somebody else to say it louder or say it first or say it in a way that's easier for you to share. You already know what this is. The only question left is what are you gonna do while the smoke thickens? The ceiling starts to cave in and the exit sign is no longer visible. Think about that. Well, kings and queens, here we are. We made it back to the other side. I wanna sit here with you for just a moment before I let you go because what you just heard deserves more than a quick sign-off. But first, let me say thank you. Thank you for your time, your energy, your listening ear. Thank you for finding enough value and relevance in this work to come back again and again and again. I don't take any of this lightly. I'm truly humbled by it. While I was putting this together, the world kept moving. The war with the Pope escalated, people in position of power started quoting fake Bible verses, quote from movies, not scripture, and rapping genocidal language in the name of God, like it was always supposed to sound that way. The rhetoric got louder, the killing got more brazen, and everywhere I looked, it was business as usual. People scrolling, people performing outrage, and then moving on. It was sheeple everywhere. And yet, 47 countries are listening. Let that land. 47 countries found the black signal. People in places where speaking this kind of truth carries real weight, real risk, real consequence. Tapping in multiple times across different borders, different languages, different realities. Going global wasn't something I intended. When I started this creative journey, but I knew from day one that the movement for digital disobedience needed to reach the nations, that humanity is not separate from this fight. And like I mentioned earlier, I'd be lying if I say that didn't feel heavy at times. Doing this resistance work, thinking deep like this, seeing what I see, it can feel isolating, dangerous. But at the same time, it reminds me why connection matters as much as I keep saying it does. Because this isn't something we're meant to carry along. We are living inside a flashpoint. This is not normal times. This isn't politics as usual. What's being built right now, the language, the systems, the alignments, the slow normalization of things that should stop us cold. This is the moment where minds either wake up or get managed, where we either choose clarity or get swallowed by the machine. And the through line of everything that I said today comes back to the same three things: decolonization, connection, unity. Not as buzzwords, but as survival strategy, as the actual work. But we have to be willing to do it, really do it, not just share it, not just thumbs up, nod at it, do it. I don't pretend to have the power to change the world, but I know I trust and I believe that I have the power to change my world. And in doing that, change the world around me and mine. And that is enough. That has to be enough. This was never a hobby for me. This is not merely content. This is a catalog, a catalog of tools and weapons built specifically to help those who come after me navigate this game mass' chessboard. Especially my babies. This is a lonely road. When the illusions fully disappear and survival of the fittest begins in earnest, I want to know I sharpened my blades while I still had time. That I used digital ink to make you think that I did not waste the window. And I want to connect, for real, with any and every, wherever in the world you are calling in from. Teach me something I don't know. Tell me, show me how the game board moves where you call home. I feel it in my bones that that kind of direct human exchange is one of the ways we change the narrative, by starting to see ourselves in each other's struggle. In the collective, after everything our people have been through since the beginning of time, I cannot see us going out like this. Not like this. I refuse. I can only pray that you listening to my voice right now will choose to refuse too. It's never too late to wake up, never too late to decolonize, to purge empire from your system until it's too late. I need my people awake. That's my whole assignment. All of it. Every episode, every book, every word is a call to awareness. Now, before I go, the King's Unchanged season is coming back, and I know that I'm gonna have to fold this into what's coming because this isn't separate from the work. It is the work. The conversations have been sitting safely on standby, and I love and appreciate every king who shared space with me to tell their truth. Fellas, your patience as I transition through life and follow my internal compass doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Too often in this work, people lack empathy. Life be life in. But when the spirit tells you to move, you better move. I've been moving in more ways than one. I don't have to tell you, especially if you are creative, how quickly priorities can change when the world starts closing in and the thing you thought you were making gets interrupted by the thing you were actually being called to say and do. Everything I have been led to create has been unavoidable in that way. It catches up to me until I stop trying to separate the assignment from the art. So don't count me out, fellas. The next episode will feature a brother by the name of Brandon Moore, author, veteran, father, community leader. I won't keep going. All heroes don't wear capes, but if this king did, he would have one for every day of the week. And since so much time has passed, the brothers who already recorded with me will have the opportunity to come back for a part two to speak on everything that has happened, been witnessed, or changed from then to now, where they are, how they're navigating this current environment. I promise that it's gonna be intimate, dope, and right on time. The perfect time, really. So, the podcast is coming back consistently, fingers crossed, and is coming back with more clarity, more urgency, and zero patience for pretending. There are too many things happening at once for me to keep acting like the work can stay in one lane. It can't, not anymore. Also, my next book in the Coded for Extinction series is coming. The Digital Antichrist, a cultural autopsy of synthetically fabricated messiah. I know. The timing says everything. I am bringing the tech conversation home in a way that is real, accessible, and impossible to ignore. I forget sometimes that I have an entire podcast and the dopest audience. I never promote myself the way I should, but I only hope that reinforces why I do what I do. It has never been about anything but community. It has always been about you. But this is my platform, so I am entitled, right? Anyway, be on the lookout for that. For those of you who want to go deeper, the companion piece to this episode is up now on my substack, Digital Disobedience. It's long form reading. Go over there after and sit with it. Read to resist. You can also catch the inspiration for this episode still hanging from the cross republished over there as well. And if you're on social media, engage with me. I engage back, real talk. This isn't a one-way broadcast. It never has been. You can follow me and subscribe across all digital and social media platforms, but you will not find me on TikTok, X, or, and I mean this, Truth Social. Shit, I am Truth Social. If you want to stay connected, everything you need books, links, the guest application. You can find everything linked directly in the show notes or on my bio site, which is like a Linktree, but better. And lastly, please, please share this podcast. Tell somebody. Send it to the person who needs to hear it. Help digital disobedience spread across the map. Every new city, every new country that taps in. I feel it. I'm honored by it. I don't take a single ear for granted. For real. Thank you again for going on this ride with me. Until next time, kings and queens, you know what to do. Be good. Stay safe. Stay healthy. And don't forget to drink your water. Water is life. I love y'all. Peace.