Dorian Hartwood

I remember the moment the compass moved.

Not an election night or a summit handshake, but a morning in early spring when a friend in manufacturing—an honest man with calloused hands and a calendar nailed to the wall—forwarded me a spreadsheet that didn’t care about anyone’s feelings. It was the kind of document...

I used to believe purpose was something you stumbled into. A career path. A calling. Maybe something your parents prayed over you, or your mentors saw in you before you ever did. But one morning — just before dawn, in the muted blue hour of a San Diego winter — I realized that wasn’t true.

I was sitting at my kitchen table, hands wrapped around a chipped mug of black coffee, staring blankly at my laptop screen. Work emails blinked in unread red. Bills collected in a slow-motion avalanche on my co...

America’s cultural rollback isn’t about values—it’s about erasure. And it’s happening right under our noses.

It was a Tuesday afternoon — September 9, 2025 — and Fox News did something unusual. They cut off a segment mid-air to broadcast Donald Trump speaking live at the Museum of the Bible. The words that followed weren’t new, but they hit differently this time:

“The woke agenda is practically gone.”

The camera lingered. Not because it was historic. Because it was confirmation: The dismantling wasn’t theoretical anymore — it...

The last time I saw *Marcus before the silence stretched too long was at a bar in San Diego. I was babysitting my whiskey, neat. He was two beers deep, his laugh a little looser than usual. I remember that night because we both pretended we were fine. He joked about his job, about his ex, about how he couldn’t keep plants alive. I nodded, smiled. I said something about needing a vacation. Neither of us said what needed saying.

That was three years ago.

There was no big fallout. No betrayal. Just l...