Oh, America — you bloated carnival of endless breadsticks and bottomless salads, where the Olive Garden stands as the high altar of our corporate-induced coma. Unlimited carbs to numb the soul while the suits upstairs carve up the real feast behind a door you didn’t even know was there. We’re huddled in these chain-restaurant booths, watching the farewell tour of the American dream play out on muted TVs, whispering like it’s already over — like revolution is just a bumper sticker someone peeled off years ago. But here’s the thing nobody wants to say out loud: it’s not over. It’s not even close. And you, sitting up there in your ivory tower with your tailored suits and your offshore accounts — you can’t keep this thing fractured forever. Doesn’t matter if you’re a bleeding-heart progressive in a hemp jacket or a hardened conservative with calluses on your hands and conviction in your chest — we’re all sitting at the same table. The only question is whether we figure that out before the check comes, or after. Because if we don’t burn this rigged house down together, there won’t be a house left to fight over. So here’s how this ends — we stop playing their game, we burn the board, and we make damn sure there’s no second act for people like them.
Going to lay down some treats for your hair and this is a nice short post, but it is a multi-part one and I don't know how many parts I'll have, but I do know when you get to the bottom part 2 is there. I'm planning a revolution, this isn't the New England's ladies tea (i swear no misogynist Vibes just some Jersey language I can't quite get out of my system… well stop crying and get back to the f****** article god damn it.)
You can go right to part two when you're done listening to/reading this one.
For more on how corporate greed is fueling economic rage, read this insightful piece: American Greed: The Dark Money Behind the Green Transition.
WE’RE NOT BROKEN — WE’RE BEING PLAYED
Oh, America — you beautiful, bloated beast of a nation, staggering through the neon haze of your own bullshit dreams like a junkie chasing the dragon of democracy. Before you go pointing fingers at the redneck next door or the soy-latte liberal across the street, or hell, even that conspiracy-spouting uncle who’s turned Thanksgiving into a goddamn battlefield — open your eyes. This stink’s been here the whole time.
This great divide ripping through our collective gut? It ain’t organic. It’s a precision-engineered con job, assembled in the smoke-filled backrooms by the same slick-suited vampires in politics and big business who rake in the cash every single time you swallow their poison pill and pick a team instead of picking up a pitchfork. They’re laughing all the way to the offshore bank, watching us tear each other apart over crumbs while they feast on the whole damn pie.
Picture this — you fed-up sons and daughters of liberty from every stripe. Lefties with your rainbow flags. Right-wingers clutching your Bibles and your bolt-actions. Marching shoulder to shoulder on the Capitol steps, channeling the ghosts of those wig-wearing rebels who flipped off a king and meant every word. One voice thundering through those marble halls: This is your last goddamn chance, you pencil-pushing parasites. Get off your asses, rebuild the trust you’ve pissed away, and start serving the people who pay your bloated salaries — or we dust off every legal lever in the toolbox and yank this country back to its roots.
Dive deeper into political twins and division: The Unlikely Twins of American Politics from my own Substack.
THE CON IN PLAIN SIGHT
Back when our ragtag band of revolutionaries scratched out the Declaration, they laid it bare: We’re all equals in this mad experiment, gifted with rights no king or corporation can snatch away — life, liberty, and that elusive pursuit of whatever the hell makes you happy. But here’s the jagged pill nobody wants to swallow: those rights have been hijacked. Twisted and reworked by a slimy syndicate of bent politicians, corporate kingpins, and faceless fat cats who treat our sacred system like their private slot machine — pulling the lever, pocketing the jackpot, and leaving us to fight over the loose change. Meanwhile, we’ve been dazzled and divided by an endless barrage of culture-war fireworks — abortion this, guns that, pronouns the other — while the real crooks pick our pockets clean.
And here’s how they do it. They gerrymander districts into grotesque abstract art — carving up maps like deranged cartographers rigging the board before the first pawn even moves. They flood elections with dark money until the voice of the average person doesn’t get drowned out — it gets entombed. Billions in shadowy cash turning democracy into an auction where the highest bidder always wins. And they siphon off trillions through perpetual wars and corporate bailouts, feeding the military-industrial beast while our bridges crumble and our schools starve — all in the name of “national security” that protects nothing but the bottom line.
This ain’t about left duking it out with right like some eternal cage match. It’s us — the everyday grinders, the dreamers, the doers — versus the incestuous elite who’ve turned the halls of power into their personal piggy bank.
Explore more on corporate coups: The Corporate Coup in Real Time.
WE USED TO KNOW BETTER
America’s got a history of clawing its way back from the brink. We know how to do this. We’ve done it before — and the people who stole that ability from us did it deliberately.
Take Pearl Harbor. December 7th, 1941. A Sunday morning. Japanese planes come screaming out of the sky before 8 AM and 2,403 Americans are dead before the smoke clears. The weapons are locked up. The generals are on the golf course. Half the men are still on liberty, hungover, crawling back into their bunks when the bombs start bouncing them off the floor. Nobody’s in charge. Nobody’s ready. It’s supposed to be over before it starts.
Except one man didn’t wait for orders.
My grandfather — Edward Thomas Smith — a kid from Paterson, New Jersey, barely twenty-two years old, stationed at Schofield Barracks. He’d been out the night before. Dragged himself back into his bunk just in time for the first bomb to shake him to the floor. And while most men stood there in stunned disbelief trying to figure out if they were dreaming — Ed took stock. He organized a group of soldiers. Broke into the weapons locker. Passed the rifles out. Got his men up on the roof of the barracks and opened fire on the incoming planes. His group is believed to have shot down at least one Japanese aircraft from the first wave. For what he did that morning, Ed Smith was awarded the Bronze Star.
It’s all documented. The book Our Father’s War lays it out. The enlistment card. The service record. The Bronze Star. A man from Jersey, with no authority and no orders, decided the country needed defending — and he did it himself, one broken lock at a time.
That’s the bloodline I come from. That’s the DNA in this fight. And here’s what I need you to understand — Ed Smith wasn’t shooting at the enemy because someone told him to. He was shooting back because he was American. Because when the bombs started falling, something in him said: not on my watch. And now it’s my turn. Not with a rifle on a rooftop. With words on a page. Passing out the weapons the same way he did — to anyone willing to pick them up. Because the enemy isn’t flying planes over Pearl Harbor anymore. The enemy is sitting in a boardroom in a tailored suit, and the bombs they’re dropping don’t make a sound — they just quietly gut the country from the inside out.
Read more WWII veteran stories: Memories of a Latino WWII Veteran.
A nation fractured by depression and isolationism snapped into lockstep after that attack. Factories roared to life. Folks from every walk — farm boys, city slickers, immigrants fresh off the boat — stormed beaches together, clawed victory from the jaws of hell, and birthed a postwar boom that minted a middle class on the anvil of unions, fair wages, and collective grit. That era pulled everyone up. Not just the suits at the top.
Then came September 11, 2001. 2,977 innocents vaporized in a haze of jet fuel and hatred. The country welded itself into one unbreakable alloy of sorrow and fury. For a moment — just a moment — we were one people again. United. Pissed off at the right enemy.
And that’s exactly when they slipped the knife in.
Endless quagmires in Iraq and Afghanistan that vacuumed up $4 to $6 trillion from the public till. Defense contractors fattened their wallets while Joe Taxpayer got stuck with the tab and a generation of scarred vets got handed a thank-you card and a parking spot. The surplus we’d built? Torched. The groundwork for the 2008 financial meltdown — the one that turned Main Street into a ghost town — laid quietly, deliberately, while the flags were still waving.
And it never stopped. A $700 billion bailout funneled straight to the banks that blew up the economy in the first place. Let that sink in. The same institutions that lit the fuse got handed the fire extinguisher — and the keys to the building. Citizens United blew the dam wide open. Lobbying hit $4.44 billion in 2024. 65% of Americans are now one missed paycheck away from the abyss — while behemoths like Walmart, Amazon, and Google squash competition, dodge taxes like seasoned card sharps, and hollow out the middle class with an efficiency that would make a termite colony look lazy.
This ain’t free-market capitalism. This is a slow-motion slaughter by avarice — a system rigged so the rich feast on the bones of the rest while the rest fight over who gets to lick the plate.
For a deep dive into monopoly capital: Monopoly Capital goes to War.
SO HERE’S WHAT WE DO
We’ve dozed through this nightmare long enough. And this isn’t a roadmap that comes wrapped in a velvet glove. It comes with an iron fist wearing one.
First — we mobilize. Build webs of grassroots firebrands — independent thinkers unbound by party leashes — who rally neighbors, audit the books, and demand citizen oversight panels that shine floodlights into every dark corner of governance. No more backroom deals. Everything under the sun.
Then — we escalate. Channel the thunder of civil rights marches, anti-war sit-ins, and labor strikes. Massive, disciplined waves of bodies in the streets. Boycotts that starve the beasts. Work stoppages that grind the machine to a halt until the suits feel the squeeze where it counts — in their wallets.
And while we’re at it — we fix the machinery. Smash gerrymandering. Gut Citizens United. Force corporations to pay their fair share with no loopholes and no offshore hideaways. Ban the revolving door between lobbyists and the lawmakers they own. Reroute those liberated billions into infrastructure that builds bridges instead of bombs and education that equips kids for tomorrow instead of yesterday’s wars.
But none of that works — not a single piece of it — unless we do the hardest thing first. We stop treating each other like the enemy.
Lefties — your enemy isn’t the guy across the aisle. It’s the guy in the penthouse pulling both your strings. Right-wingers — you can’t fight for freedom and draw a line around someone else’s. Everyone — park the policy squabbles until we’ve fumigated the system. Fix the foundation before you argue over the furniture. A house with a rotting frame doesn’t care what color you painted the kitchen.
And if the entrenched elite dig in their heels after all of that? That’s why the Second Amendment’s etched in stone — not as a call to chaos, but a sober, cold-eyed reminder that a disciplined citizenry stands ready to safeguard freedom when every other avenue has been exhausted. Peace is the priority. Always. But don’t mistake our patience for weakness. Don’t mistake our restraint for surrender.
We’ve bled rivers for this land — from the shackles of slavery to the Trail of Tears, from revolutionary muskets to civil war bayonets, from world war trenches to modern battlefields. Don’t let that legacy rot under the boot of greed. Honor it by showing up.
Learn about rebuilding blueprints: The Blueprint Democrats Ignored — and Why It Might Be America’s Last Chance to Rebuild.
THE FINAL SALVO
For a solid quarter-century, these institutional leeches have gambled on our burnout. On our smartphone stupors. On our knee-jerk tribal tantrums. They figured we’d be too busy clawing at each other’s throats to spot the grand larceny unfolding right under the klieg lights.
Big mistake, assholes.
The zombie shuffle’s over. The reckoning isn’t coming.
It’s here.
We see you. We know what you did. And there is nowhere left to run.
Your con’s collapsed. Your sleight-of-hand is exposed. The curtain’s been pulled back and there’s nothing behind it but greed and cowardice and a long, ugly trail of broken promises.
We’re the American people — alert, pissed off, and done with your games.
History doesn’t forget. It doesn’t forgive. And it sure as hell doesn’t make room for lame-ass alibis.
It’ll etch in stone how a people you dismissed as dupes finally rose up, clasped hands across every divide you spent decades manufacturing, and snatched back the republic you thought you’d pocketed forever.
So, to the powers that be: Your grift is toast. We’re not storming the gates someday. We’re storming them now. Wide-eyed, wired, and ready —
Game over, you hacks.
If this lit a fire under your ass, don’t just nod along. Don’t just scroll past. Spread the word. Subscribe for more unfiltered truth. Let’s build this — one uncomfortable revelation at a time.
Oh yeah or you can go right to part two and understand step one if you actually think of this country is in need of a revolution. And keep in mind that this word is going to be stiff and so if you can afford it, support my cause. Every single dollar will go towards boosting the posts to get them out to as many people as possible and that's it. Promise I won't so much to buy a coffee. Doesn't make me anti-coffee or communist. It makes me real.
Rxan Smith
I don’t do hot takes — I do obvious systemic truths months before others catch on. If you’re tired of echo chambers and late outrage, you’re in the right place.
uncomfortablerxansmith@gmail.com
YouTube: https://youtube.com/@RealRxanSmith
X (Twitter): https://x.com/rxannsmith
Instagram: https://instagram.com/rxansmith
Facebook: https://facebook.com/Ryan.X.Smith
Buy Me a Coffee: https://buymeacoffee.com/rxansmith
PayPal: https://paypal.me/phireballsports
More reading on greed as a threat: Is Greed the Biggest Threat to America & Democracy?
Check out this WWII story: HEROES AND HEROINES.
Subscribe to Rxan Smith Uncomfortable on Substack for more articles on American unity, political reform, and exposing corporate greed. Follow on YouTube for videos that challenge the status quo and drive real growth.
