To the Ones Who Still Care (Even When It Hurts)
Keeping compassion alive in a collapsing world.
You’re one of the ones who looks.
While others are mesmerized by the spectacle, you have the courage to turn over the rocks. You sift through the endless documentation of our decline—the executive orders, the corporate filings, the NGO reports. And under every rock, you find what you expected to find.
A viper, coiled and ready to strike.
Your first instinct, the noble instinct of every patriot, is to scream. ‘Viper! Viper! I’ve found another one! We must warn the people!’
So you do. You post, you write, you broadcast. You build a catalog of the enemy’s crimes, a library of their venom. And for a while, it feels like you’re making a difference. But then a strange exhaustion sets in. A feeling of futility. Each viper you expose is immediately replaced by two more. The warnings become part of the background noise, the very anxiety you sought to alleviate.
You begin to wonder if you’re just adding to the chaos. You feel yourself burning out.
If this feels familiar, understand this: This burnout is not a personal failing. It is the intended outcome of the enemy’s strategy.
The 'Financial Nexus' and its 'Corporate State' do not fear your warnings. They welcome them. They have engineered a system—a Prison of the Great Distraction—that is designed to absorb your outrage and exhaust your will to fight. They want you trapped in an endless loop of discovering threats and issuing warnings, a cycle that produces maximum anxiety for you and zero consequences for them. They want you to become a prophet of doom, because prophets are lonely, tired, and eventually, they are ignored.
They want you to burn out. We must not give them the satisfaction.
To survive and win, we must adopt a new strategy. We must shift our focus from the viper to the ground on which it stands. We must stop being mere catalogers of snakes and become architects of a viper-proof world.
This requires a radical redefinition of what it means to “fight.”
It does not mean ignoring the vipers. It means making the ground on which we stand inhospitable to them. The antidote to despair is not more outrage; it is tangible, calibrated, and winnable action.
Here is the first step. It is the first rung on a ladder that leads out of the prison of helplessness.
Stop mapping the enemy and start mapping your allies.
For one week, suspend the exhausting work of turning over their rocks. Instead, undertake a new mission: create a map of your local “Producer’s Republic.”
Your objective is to identify every local business, farmer, craftsman, and service provider in your immediate area that is independent of the 'Financial Nexus'.
Who is the local farmer you could buy produce from instead of the corporate grocery chain?
Who is the local butcher who isn’t owned by a Brazilian conglomerate?
Who is the independent auto mechanic, the family-owned diner, the community credit union?
This is not a retreat from the fight. It is a strategic shift to a new front. Every dollar you and your community redirect from a corporate “Viceroy” to a local producer is a bullet fired in the economic war. Cataloging vipers creates anxiety. Cataloging allies creates a plan. Warning people about the enemy is draining. Buying from a neighbor is grounding.
Once you have this map, share it. Make it the most valuable piece of intelligence you have ever produced. You are not just exposing a problem; you are building the solution. You are forging the Phalanx, one transaction at a time.
The work of turning over rocks is important, but it is only reconnaissance. The soldier who only ever spots the enemy but never builds a fortification or strengthens his own lines is a soldier who is destined to lose.
Let the enemy’s vipers starve in the shadows. We will be too busy in the sun, building a world where they have no place to hide.
That is how you fight without burning out. That is how you win.
JOIN THE REBELLION
Every dispatch, every new weapon we add to the arsenal, is hammered out in the stolen hours between shifts on the front lines of this quiet war.
A paid subscription isn’t charity—it’s an act of resistance. It buys back my time from the wage cage and converts it into ammunition for the cause we share.
To those already in the ranks: your support is the reason this fight still has a pulse. You are the foundation beneath the uprising.
For those who would rather fire a single, decisive shot into the War Chest, you can do it here:
https://buymeacoffee.com/commonsenserebel
Every contribution fuels the forge—each one a spark that keeps the rebellion burning.
I totally agree Ethan. Ninety per cent of what I spend money on as a senior, apart from housing, is recycled or comes in the form of services from a local mechanic, independent medical provider, independent grocers,butchers, delis, plant nursery, etc and much fruit grows wild (lemons, limes, mulberries, figs) and I preserve it and give it to my neighbours. I do buy from a big hardware chain though because they bought out everyone else, alas. The thing is all these small family businesses get to know their customers and vice versa. There’s condolences when the matriarch dies and congratulations for weddings and new babies. Sit down for a coffee outside my deli and the owner will remember I like macchiato. I live in Australia and don’t have ICE beating people up in the neighbourhood, but there are still lonely people and homeless people when there do not need to be. I hope people will do as you suggest and find allies in their communities and maybe also create community gardens and help out in shelters and food banks. I think many places in the US may be in for a cold and hungry winter, so dealing with it together is the way to go. And you can share the info about the vipers too and support your judiciary. All the best with it.
🌏❤️🌎
Great idea