This podcast isn’t just another report—it’s an instructive journey. If you're looking for the latest adrenaline hit from alt-news, there are plenty of fast-growing outlets on Substack for that. But this article takes a different route: part commentary, part personal chronicle of a system in decline—or at least, that’s how it appears to me. I’ll share snapshots from my experiences with schools, companies, and government agencies to offer a bird’s-eye view of the good, the bad, and the outright dysfunctional. Because yes—things can go from bad to worse, and sometimes straight into legendary disaster. Let’s get into it.
We’ll start close to the beginning. I’ll skip my early schooling—you can read about that in my VPG Series and how it connects to a matrix-like reality I stumbled into like a lucid dream. Instead, let’s rewind to junior college. That’s where many of us begin life after high school. For me, it actually began a little earlier—with a program called the Regional Occupational Program (R.O.P.).
R.O.P. itself wasn’t bad. The classes and instructors were solid. The companies I interned at, though? A different story. They saw interns like me as free labor—no job offers, just experience and a handshake on the way out. I studied graphics and printing, learned the ins and outs of design software, typography, and ad layout. Then I was sent to Alpha Graphics in Costa Mesa to operate a printing press—unpaid, of course. The guy who trained me was only a few years older, and overall, the experience was fine. The real issue? No follow-up. Once the internship ended, I was on my own. So, I shifted gears and headed to junior college.
At first, junior college was a breath of fresh air. No roll call. Show up or don’t—it was up to you. We were treated like adults. That didn’t last long. The system began to shift quickly, ushering in new ideologies and cultural norms. I had to leave school for a while to earn a living, eventually landing a job as a technical writer after slogging through low-paying labor gigs. When I returned to college, I was in a new city, a stranger with no connections from my past. I worked to make new ones—and I did—but something had changed. The vibe was off. People seemed disengaged from both school and life.
In my Philosophy: Critical Thinking class, I was grouped with two young women and another young man. I introduced myself. Silence. The young man gave me a brief nod. The women? Nothing. They reminded me of a charmless version of Xena and Gabrielle—maybe not sisters by blood, but certainly locked into some kind of shared, closed-off mindset.
The assignment was simple: identify a global problem and brainstorm solutions. No one spoke. So, I offered something to break the ice: “Since we haven’t landed on a topic yet, maybe we can each share a few ideas?” Silence. Then I tried again: “What about the energy crisis? Why are we still dependent on fossil fuels?”
Finally, the older woman spoke—without looking at me. “We are going to do our report on why men rape women,” she said flatly.
Her delivery wasn’t just abrupt—it was aggressive. There was no collaboration, no acknowledgment of my input. I asked to switch groups, citing how dysfunctional and uncomfortable the situation was. The professor refused. I left the room, trailed by one of the women whose posture radiated scorn. I managed to escape with a bad back and a heavy load of overpriced textbooks.
What happened next was surreal. The parking lot was packed with students... fighting. Shoving. Brawling. Some appeared to be gang members. Later, when I landed a gig at a small software company, the lead developer—a Black engineer I respected—warned me, “Be careful going to that college. They’ll get you.”
And he wasn’t wrong. Things only got weirder. I confided in my English composition instructor about what I had experienced. To my surprise, he didn’t dismiss it—he understood. But he also said he couldn’t speak out. Too risky. He mentioned that many of the staff had been hired through personal connections, and that most of them were far-left idealogues. At the time, I didn’t care about politics. But what I sensed unfolding felt more spiritual than political.
Beyond academia, I’ve experienced similar dysfunction in business and government. Delayed payments, ignored letters, robotic customer service—everywhere I turned, indifference reigned. When I wrote to the Franchise Tax Board about fees I had already paid, they hit me with even more penalties. Add to that a case of identity theft from over a decade ago, and my patience with these institutions wore thin. I know great people still exist in these sectors, but the apathy is systemic.
This isn’t normal. We both know it.
So, the real question becomes—What now?
Tune into the podcast and join me on a journey not just away from the madness, but toward higher consciousness and real personal power. Let’s chart a path forward—together.
KEEP THE MAGICK HIGH!™
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