Fletcher ChristianAliens, Angels, and Asshattery: The Grand Face-Off
Sometimes I’d rather listen to four hours of “Mustang Sally” than another douche canoe “expert” pontificate about Jesus or UFOs or whatever new cosmic asshole theory is trending. But here’s the thing: I actually like Billy Carson. Yeah, that guy, with his pseudo-academic babble about ancient aliens and cryptic texts. Part of me cringed at the obvious bullshit, but part of me was like, “Fuck it, I’d rather explore Atlantis with a delusional dreamer than hear one more sermon from a Bible schola...
Fletcher ChristianSign My Bomb
The shadows of drones loom large over distant lands, from those shadows my voice rises from the echoes of a past life. As a former evangelical Christian and a veteran of the "War on Terror," my perspective on these issues cuts through the haze with a sharp, personal acuity. The scars of war and faith color my view, painting a stark picture of the dissonance between the morals preached and the horrors we see executed. Are we really so numb, so utterly disconnected, that the signing of bombs—an...
Fletcher ChristianThe Power of Emergence: Revolutionizing Governance
Alright, let’s break this down. Think about how your body works. You don’t sit there and micromanage every cell, telling it what to do. Those cells just do their thing, communicating in this incredible syncopated soliloquy of life. Now, apply that to society and governance. We’ve got this mess of laws and regulations, like warehouses full of shitty toilet paper, and it’s choking us. Instead of more laws and regulations, we need to cut through the red tape, hateful rhetoric, and political bull...
A multifaceted artist, entrepreneur, and combat veteran, blends his BA in Communications and MA in Theology with a profound purpose.
Fletcher ChristianAliens, Angels, and Asshattery: The Grand Face-Off
Sometimes I’d rather listen to four hours of “Mustang Sally” than another douche canoe “expert” pontificate about Jesus or UFOs or whatever new cosmic asshole theory is trending. But here’s the thing: I actually like Billy Carson. Yeah, that guy, with his pseudo-academic babble about ancient aliens and cryptic texts. Part of me cringed at the obvious bullshit, but part of me was like, “Fuck it, I’d rather explore Atlantis with a delusional dreamer than hear one more sermon from a Bible schola...
Fletcher ChristianSign My Bomb
The shadows of drones loom large over distant lands, from those shadows my voice rises from the echoes of a past life. As a former evangelical Christian and a veteran of the "War on Terror," my perspective on these issues cuts through the haze with a sharp, personal acuity. The scars of war and faith color my view, painting a stark picture of the dissonance between the morals preached and the horrors we see executed. Are we really so numb, so utterly disconnected, that the signing of bombs—an...
Fletcher ChristianThe Power of Emergence: Revolutionizing Governance
Alright, let’s break this down. Think about how your body works. You don’t sit there and micromanage every cell, telling it what to do. Those cells just do their thing, communicating in this incredible syncopated soliloquy of life. Now, apply that to society and governance. We’ve got this mess of laws and regulations, like warehouses full of shitty toilet paper, and it’s choking us. Instead of more laws and regulations, we need to cut through the red tape, hateful rhetoric, and political bull...
A multifaceted artist, entrepreneur, and combat veteran, blends his BA in Communications and MA in Theology with a profound purpose.
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I can’t wrap my head around it. An old soul choosing to incarnate into this chaos, only to have its light extinguished before it even had a chance to glow. I pace the room, trying to step outside the rage boiling within me, trying to make sense of the senseless. But how do you rationalize the irrational? How do you fix problems woven into the very fabric of our humanity?
I reach for the dab rig and inhale deeply, letting the vapor fill my lungs—a fleeting escape from a reality too harsh to face head-on. The haze doesn’t clear my mind, but it slows the whirlwind of thoughts just enough. As the world blurs at the edges, a question surfaces: Maybe the infant didn’t come here for this. Maybe I did.
That infant soul didn’t come here for this—we didn’t come here for this. Yet here we are, tangled in a web of our own apathy and disconnection. I want to scream, to shake the world by its shoulders and demand change. But instead, I sit down and write, hoping words can be the spark that ignites the transformation we’ve all been waiting for.
It’s a long shot, but maybe—just maybe—we can start to mend the fractures that divide us. We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to that child. Humanity, it’s time to wake up. Time to be better.
I can’t wrap my head around it. An old soul choosing to incarnate into this chaos, only to have its light extinguished before it even had a chance to glow. I pace the room, trying to step outside the rage boiling within me, trying to make sense of the senseless. But how do you rationalize the irrational? How do you fix problems woven into the very fabric of our humanity?
I reach for the dab rig and inhale deeply, letting the vapor fill my lungs—a fleeting escape from a reality too harsh to face head-on. The haze doesn’t clear my mind, but it slows the whirlwind of thoughts just enough. As the world blurs at the edges, a question surfaces: Maybe the infant didn’t come here for this. Maybe I did.
That infant soul didn’t come here for this—we didn’t come here for this. Yet here we are, tangled in a web of our own apathy and disconnection. I want to scream, to shake the world by its shoulders and demand change. But instead, I sit down and write, hoping words can be the spark that ignites the transformation we’ve all been waiting for.
It’s a long shot, but maybe—just maybe—we can start to mend the fractures that divide us. We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to that child. Humanity, it’s time to wake up. Time to be better.
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