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Profile Information

Gender: Male
Hometown: VA
Home country: USA
Current location: VA
Member since: 2003 before July 6th
Number of posts: 55,364

About Me

I'm still living... Twitter: @glitchy_ashburn

Journal Archives

MEANWHILE, in Los Angeles...


What the hell kind of pagan godlessness is this?


Needless to say, the cops still managed to bring him in alive


How the HELL did nobody think of this simple brilliance before?


I give up...

Yeah, keep on telling me these are people we should waste time trying to "reach"...


Don't forget -- We can't call them 'racist' lest their feels get hurt:


When white kids go full Nazi it's somehow OUR fault, because reasons

What Happened After My 13-Year-Old Son Joined the Alt-Right

When my son Sam,* who was then 14, asked me to take him to the Mother of All Rallies on the Mall in September 2017, I said no. The pro-Trump event was billed as a demonstration to preserve “traditional American culture,” and white supremacists were expected to show up in force. Not only was this not how I wanted to spend a Saturday—like almost everyone I knew, I’d been devastated by the 2016 election results—but I had serious concerns about safety. At Charlottesville’s Unite the Right rally only a month earlier, a neo-Nazi had killed counterprotester Heather Heyer. I couldn’t shake off the shock of her violent murder, or of watching men with tiki torches shout racist slogans across the University of Virginia grounds. Police there were unable to protect citizens; I couldn’t reasonably expect this gathering in DC to be any different.

Sam knew exactly how I would react to his request. He’d anticipated my automatic veto and readied reasons in favor of attending—not as a participant, he stressed, but as an observer. I can still see him standing in front of me, the longing apparent in his big brown eyes. His favorite school subject was history, he reminded me, and he hungered to witness a genuinely significant event firsthand. As he would tell me later: “I wanted to be part of something big.”

The rally was just a half-hour Metro ride from our home in Washington’s outer suburbs—so he could make the trip alone, he assured me, flashing the transit app on his phone.

His case was well thought out, his explanations admirable. In fact, they were perfectly (too perfectly?) reverse-engineered to match my own values. I’d always preached to him the importance of seeing things for yourself before making a decision, of talking to people individually to understand what motivated them.

Still, I suspected I was being had.


How "Romeo and Juliet" *should* have ended:


MEANWHILE, in Colorado...


Very interesting question...

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