The Aftermath of State Sanctioned Intimidation

Your society can label me for speaking loudly about liberty and justice, but even your cage won't silence me--you just handed me a captive audience. 

Mental health dominates conversations these days, with everyone acknowledging the critical importance of well-being and the myriad factors that contribute to our collective struggles. Despite all the dialogue, it feels like we've missed the mark. If you think things are getting better, I have to wonder what you're really looking at. We talk about mental health in the abstract but rarely address the raw, unfiltered experiences of those living through trauma. And while trauma knows many faces, I can't speak to anyone else's experience. I can only give you mine—and that's probably why I had to go through this recent experience.

Right now, I could probably be labeled for many things depending on which government-funded agency you asked. No matter what labels make up the story of my past to others, I really want to address the things that have brought me to this state of mentality where I stand against corruption and for freedom—at any cost. After all, money is all they want, right?

Even as I write this, my heart feels like it's caught in a vice grip, crushed under the weight of every beat. A lump hangs in my throat, seemingly trying to suffocate me; the weird shot of emotionally-pained heart and unshed tears build up; my hands tremble uncontrollably; a light drizzle of sweat expands over my on-fire body as it attempts to lose control in an all-out panic. If I can keep it together, great! I'll make another day. But if I'm unsuccessful in minimizing my anxiety and stress, it's a war with myself I don't even want to describe.

But here's the thing—I’m not alone. This is the reality of countless individuals for many reasons, but all point to some form of PTSD. We’ve reserved this term largely for former military—whose indescribable experiences have left them more than battle-scarred—but the truth is trauma is derived from all stages of life and experiences we’d never consider. It's as if the whole world were walking on eggshells and didn’t even know it.

We’re conditioned to believe that state-funded medical care is a solution, but all it does is give corrupt governments a bigger hand in violating people, leveraging their authority to assign crippling labels that discredit and silence individuals. They don’t want us to have purpose—they want us pliable, controlled, and broken. Cognitive dissonance ought to fall under mental disorders, but then someone would have to acknowledge that we’ve built our world on a show of contradictions designed to replace the ancient sense of purpose—the stuff that made conquerors like Caesar formidable foes. Those who can’t be convoluted by overreaching governments are targeted by other means—drugs, alcohol, poverty—demands of the state meant to infringe upon their rights and manipulate them into submission.

Dusphemeo: A War on the Non-compliants

We’re not far from 1984. The Brave New World that threatens us preys on the weaknesses of mental health because now they’ve found another way to silence individuals—labels of disaccreditation and questionable states of mental being. Obviously, people like me who stand for constitutional freedoms are not mentally right. We're still fueled by purpose and mission. Whether you believe in it or not, this isn’t just my fight—it’s ours.

Government overreach disguised as protection and care has left me (and countless others) scarred in ways that words cannot convey in such a way that you will truly feel what I'm going through unless you've experienced it yourself.

Perhaps that's why this happened. I write so much about the experiences of others, that I may have become numb to the pains of my own past—considering others have experienced far worse than me. However, my PTSD isn’t just from a single event—it’s the result of a lifetime of interactions with a system that sees individuals like me as threats rather than citizens, a system that was designed to manipulate us into compliance.

When I say a lifetime, I truly mean since the young age of as far back as I can remember. Not only from those involving my dad but at 10 when a friend of mine built a fort in the only lot that had trees in south Florida. We had a campfire that was highly offensive to a passer-by who claimed to be a cop only after he chased us through the woods and then by car into a parking lot and started grabbing my friend and me--the story of my life encounters being simply that my 'accomplices' couldn't run fast enough. Such as that time when the neighbor kid and I decided to skip school and instead walked to Toys-R-us to buy marbles with our lunch money. Toys-R-Us was still closed at the time, and we were instead accosted by mall security who promptly called the police who took us to school. I don't know what punishment my rich neighbor kid paid, but I was grounded for '2 months' (which truly only lasted until my parents were tired of me in the house--not long).

From 11 to 18 years, I think I was relatively behaved and wrapped up in school and sports. Then I got my first car. I loved driving, and I loved driving fast. I probably got this (queue daddy's girl syndrome and eye-roll) from my dad. He used to take me for motorcycle rides when I was really young. I still carry a scar from his bike's muffler. 

My parents and their insurance carrier were probably pretty happy once I went about on my own, as those early years behind the wheel would be laced with multiple speeding violations and responses from police officers that would include everything from professionalism, dad lectures, police simply yelling and demeaning me for being a poor human being for driving fast, and even outright sexually violating me. The latter is why I was more than happy to leave Tallahassee. Maybe one day I'll grow the balls to tell that story, but right now it still cripples me to think I was ever so vulnerable and defenseless. 

These were hardly the last of interactions, just the early ones. I was the member of the family that took Dad up on not-really-a-challenge, but proving you could get more than one speeding ticket in a day. At any point, anyone could easily believe I'm the problem, but speed does not mean reckless--it just means faster than the number they put on a sign on the side of the road. I'm not the asshole zipping in between lanes, or the jerk cruising in the left lane under the speed limit preventing others from passing. Like many other laws that have come into existence under the umbrella of "for your safety," many traffic offenses are a means of extorting citizens, pushing control, and extending overreach of the state into our private lives to justify further execution of violations against our rights. 

Case in point matters with my parents that would ultimately end my utter hope for believing in our justice system and instill an understanding that if I wanted justice, I would have to get it on my own. 'Heroes' and henchmen walk a thin line and, at the end of the day, they sit at the same table to break bread together and make deals. They allow innocent people to become the victims of horrible crimes just to 'get their guy.' To make matters worse, the real 'bad guy' isn't even made to suffer for their crime. Instead, they get a slap on the wrist and are put back into the world to attempt murder on other innocent people who get in the way of their agenda--a real-life sin-city.

These encounters didn’t just leave physical scars; they rewired my brain. Every day is a battle between who I was before and the person I’ve had to become to survive. Trust is a word that no longer holds meaning for me. I see the world through a lens of suspicion, always bracing for the next attack, the next betrayal by those in power. It's exhausting, and the constant state of alertness drains the life out of even the most mundane tasks.

I wasn’t born with this fear. It was carefully curated through years of unfriendly encounters with the police, judges, and other figures in life that we're told to trust. Starting from an early age, each incident, each harsh word, and each moment of intimidation has added another layer to the anxiety I carry with me every day. Now, I can’t even relax in my own home. Even my daughter who witnessed the event has her own traumas she's now dealing with.

I hadn't been graced with custody of my daughter for the larger portion of my almost 10-years-ago divorce--despite multiple requests by multiple counties to investigate child neglect among other concerns. However, upon her coming to live with me in 2022, we were accosted with the demand for legal documents as a means to keep her out of school. Then after being kicked out of school for behavioral and paperwork reasons, the school's social worker had DFCS show up at my home to inspect what was in my fridge and question my kids on whether or not I was an abusive parent to them. Where did all of this come from when not a single thought was shed about their safety when I brought to light evidence of concern? 

In the two years of her living with me, my daughter has experienced events in which a call to the police as part of doing the right thing only turned into dismay at the lack of give-a-fuck by two counties of police. 

Now, my daughter, who witnessed police carry out their orders, and then read the report of events, now carries her own scars. I see the fear in her eyes when she hears the sound of a siren, or when a stranger knocks on the door. It breaks my heart to know that my fight has become her burden. Her childhood--meant to be filled with innocence and joy--is now tainted with a fear she should never have known.

Whenever a car’s reflection shines across my room, I’m jolted with panic, wondering what agency has pulled into my drive now? Who's coming for me now? My dogs bark, and my heart races because, whether it's a jogger up the sidewalk or six police cars pulling into the drive, their defense mode is triggered in the fashion of a bark that says whatever it is, it's unwanted.

Getting into my car just to get groceries is no longer about getting my adult chores done—it feels almost criminal and calculated in risk. I have to plan my route around cameras throughout the town because who knows if this will be another day a camera triggers an assault by heavily armed officers, ready to kidnap me under the guise of the law? The vulnerability of feeling like all I can do is take what they give me and succumb to their demands or be subjected to the flames of their accusations is a crushing weight. The idea that they win before the battle even begins is defeating. Corruption has brought this about. Nothing less.

This is not just my reality; it's the light version of everyday life for individuals targeted for pursuing a purpose that doesn't align with the Brave New World. My purpose is to expose the system designed to keep us in line, to keep us fearful, to keep us quiet. Fear won’t silence me. I'll walk into these flames alone, but I welcome you to join a witch.

Georgia on a Witchhunt? Shocking Gwinnett Arrest Proves Georgia Targeting Moms

Hall Co. Buford, GA -- July 29, 2024. I have never been one to be kept in line. So when the sobering reminder that we must always be on guard showed up at my door on this Monday night--4-6 Gwinnett county police cruisers (no lights-no sirens) and a state patrol car parked in my driveway)--I didn't exactly show up ready for the foreshadowed fight ahead. Quite frankly, I left the gun in the nightstand, and my phone/camera on the kitchen table.  

A lot has changed for this writer since I last picked up the pen against the brutality of the police state. I divorced my then-husband,  rode the roller coaster of custody battles and dealt with DFCS (Dept of Family & Children), public schools, and courts for a variety of reasons -- but the most obvious and apparent of them being simply that I'm a good person. Georgia doesn't think so and has gone to great lengths with the employ of all the agencies at their disposal to try and prove it. Unfortunately, each time, they end up with egg on their face. They will again, but this is just the beginning of that chapter. 

Age and Wisdom be Damned! If Karma Doesn't Punch You in the Face, Know I Want to!

As a mother of three, my first and foremost duty is to protect my children from harm or peril. Most mothers understand this intense maternal instinct—an unspoken, relentless drive that compels us to shield our families from harm, no matter the sacrifice. It's a force that unites and empowers us all and can be used to keep us in line.

As a witch, the first dedication to my charge is to be a custodian of balance and harmony, using my knowledge and abilities to protect, heal, and promote positive energy. That may include rituals, spells, and other gestures of power and energy that some would consider ineffective--and we can debate that another time. 

In my thirty years as a practicing witch, embracing the wisdom and strength that come with this path can be rewarding and uplifting; but it can also be challenging. The label of "witch" carries the weight of misunderstanding and prejudice. Despite the love and protection I offer my family, society sometimes sees me through a lens tainted by ancient fears and modern ignorance. That's fine. To each their own. 

However, this is where the challenge comes in, because although I am recognized for my commitment to my path, I am constantly under fire, as if the forces that be want to test my dedication. Of course, as any logical person would do, the scale of response will generally take over to ensure confrontations are minimized to more necessary times. Like a bee protective of its stinger, I know what picking up the battle sword means for my well-being.

Unfortunately, it also lends to the misinterpretation of what exact measures I might take to defend my person, my beliefs, and my family. Let me be clear. I live in a stand-your-ground state, and when prompted by necessity, I will stand my ground. 

Single-mom-hood aside, the natural condition of any woman pushed to the edge by a society that has forgotten the true meaning of justice is one I couldn't think anyone would want to FAFO about. But queue Gwinnett County Police--it's not the first time they have been the subject matter of my content, and by the looks of it, this will not be the last.  

Echoes of the Past? The Matrix Says Corruption 

Flashback to fall 2016. I got a speeding ticket in Gwinnett County and was subjected to going to court about it. The judge must've had a vendetta against Caucasians, cops, speeders, or all of the above because he very biasedly accused the police of profiling an African American kid who was charged with some random traffic offense and additionally blasting "Fuck the police" through his stereo system. That kid was made to feel like a hero of the day, as the judge promised to get him wrapped up quickly. 

After emptying the courtroom of other victims of the state, I was finally called to stand. There was no mercy extended, no suggestion that the police were profiling me. No, in fact, I was instantly accused of being a negligent person who travels at triple digits everywhere I have to go and the judge had 'something for me' indicating a punishment so severe it begged for an explanation, but never got one. I paid a hefty fine, was "sentenced" to pick up trash on the side of the road for community service, and was required to attend driving school. I complied. I did everything they demanded and walked the paperwork right up the clerk windows for handoff once completed. Case closed, right? Wrong. Let's get back to Monday night, 2024. 

Do you remember that scene from The Matrix when Neo sees the deja vu of the cat, and everyone instantly knows something about the Matrix has been changed? Turns out there was a traitor among the heroes, and that's kind of how this was.

It had already been a long day. I'm a single mom working six jobs and I'm heading to the local grocery store at 6:17p.m. I have an easily triggered spite for driving in traffic, so I take some backroads that go by a prison. I would also take this road home to avoid the traffic trying to turn left onto the highway I live on from the typical, people-filled road. Little did I know, this simple act would trigger a series of events straight out of an Orwellian nightmare.

I get home, get groceries put away, and I'm about 5 minutes and a dog walk away from calling it a day when my otherwise quiet evening was shattered by the pounding of fists at my front door. I'm not expecting company and anyone I would expect knows to come to the back door (I have a silly phobia of front door interactions due to the facing the highway, so when the lock broke in the locked position years ago, I never bothered fixing it). A glance out the window showed five Gwinnett County Police cars, a Georgia State Patrol car,  and 3-4 cops surrounding my house. I'm immediately thinking: What the fuck is this? These fuckers are either lost or looking for a fight tonight.

Becoming Public Enemy Number One.

As noted earlier, I did not grab proper protection when I met them outside the backdoor. That's as much as I can equate to trying to keep my cool because I was not nice from the start when they questioned who I was. As many fights as I've picked and uncomfortable stops I've endured, this was by far the most excessive show of force directed at me that I've ever experienced. To say it was a bit overwhelming is an understatement. After a short squabble with Officer NSync about names, he tells me the whole unit is there to arrest me. 

Nope. I'm already triggered. More cops are swarming in and surrounding me. Those are not words you want to use around me, especially when I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that there is NO reason for Gwinnett to have a warrant for my arrest. In the most convoluted cop-jargon-filled way possible, the officer explains that my car tag was scanned on a FLOCK camera, and I popped up for a warrant. I take a seat on the stoup while I feel the clench in my chest, thoughts flood in every direction, and I have no clue what the heck the cop is going on about. A warrant? For what? Illegally scanned my tags? Why is Gwinnett in Hall County? Where's Hall County Sheriff on this? When did I go to Gwinnett today?

With four police in front of me, they tell me my 2016 speeding ticket that I had long put behind me wasn't satisfying enough on their end. They lost proof that I completed driving school. 8 years ago. Of course, they'll not confess they lost anything and it's my problem to deal with, now... eight years later, with not so much as a mailed letter from the county in all those years to say "hey, we don't have this." Is it any coincidence that I did a mass cleaning of documents and computer files at the beginning of this year due to storage capacity and verifying that all my stately contracts were fulfilled? When you get this far down their rabbit hole, you'd be surprised what you'll believe when it just lines up.

Everything I Need to Know About Police, I Learned From Police

Cops are the lowest forms of criminals on earth. They do everything criminals do, but they get away with it because there's an entire system built on extorting citizens that backs up these henchmen. There's only one truth about police, and that is: if their lips are moving, you can bet your ass you're being lied to. 

No warrant was shown. Officer Pedo-looking-motherfucker looking like he stepped right out of the 80s with his mustache and gut hanging over is to the side making threats about my need to cooperate, while Office Latin-Leguizamo is on the phone, "confirming" the warrant. "If it's confirmed, you're going to jail," he says as if he's doing me a favor for double-checking, or something? Where is a black cop to fill out this DEI convention?!

 I told them exactly what I thought about their overreach of authority, especially over a piece of paper from eight years ago. They didn't like my attitude. Surprise. And whatever authority was around at that hour of the evening signing off on warrants apparently didn't either and decided I was going to jail, or that's what Officer Latin-Leguizamo promised as he hung up his cellular device. 

The supposed confirmation came through, but I know it's beyond bullshit, and I'm counting the ways in my head when they moved to arrest me. The law states I have a right to stand my ground and defend myself against wrongful arrest. I'm outnumbered in this pickle, though, and these guys can simply go fuck themselves in my mind if they're not going to listen to why they're wrong. I get up and turn to go back inside. They charge at me, taze me in the back, and tackle me down, now inside the doorway over my home. Yes, you read that right. They tased me over a piece of paper from 8 years ago. I presume my adrenaline is up because I only feel a pinch. 

As we're all on the ground, and me possibly sitting on other cops in my doorway (I really don't recall because I became fixated on one of them), I hear my daughter and dogs behind us in the kitchen. Compliance is not an option at this point. The matrix just changed to give these agents the upper hand. One of the officers has me by the forearm, and that's the only one I'm focused on. 'Get out of my house, don't scare my dogs, I'll comply.' He doesn't get up. Cops don't like being told what to do, go figure. I make it clear he's a threat to my dogs (one is a protective pitbull). I tell my daughter to take the dogs to her room and lock the door and I can't see her, but I presume she has the dogs by the collar. 

We sit there still on the floor inside my doorway--A/C freely cooling the outer world like I'm made of money and these kids were born in a barn. I repeat to the cop to not scare my dogs, and that I'll comply if we go back outside--him saying things like "don't resist" although there's absolutely no resistance. We're all literally there trying to figure out how to maneuver out of this position without losing our hand of advantage. There's none for me with four cops grappling me. 

We get up and I'm pushed outside while they cuff me too tightly. They have no clue about dealing with someone who has anxiety and panic attacks, but I'm trying at this point to keep my mental together. It's pissing off Officer Latin-Leguizamo that I won't just sit on his hood. I want to pummel every one of them for their ignorance and lies and the jeopardy it was putting me in. For the past crimes carried out under the umbrella of protection police walk with--the blue code of justice. And what was my crime? Whose vendetta was this really? 

No female officer present. No Miranda rights read. No Hall County Sheriff presence. No warrant present--because no warrant ever existed. 

EMS came and checked me over despite my refusal. A protocol because the officer shot me in the back with a taser. I guess I should be grateful he pulled the non-lethal weapon considering the stories I have covered. Another officer also caught taser. Literally, he caught it in the finger. Karma, if you ask me, and I hope he had to write a long report. 

I was put into the backseat of a cruiser and carted off to Gwinnett County Jail.

But Wait! There's More!

It was going to be a long night, and it would begin with the quietest car ride to jail.  And not to breeze over the facilities and friends I made, but my cash bond was set for $400. Yep, cash bond. More paper for them to lose. My parents, bless them, arrived with cash at 2:15 AM to bail me out. But because the police found me "a bit mouthy" on arrival, they made my parents wait over two hours before releasing me. I made sure everyone was aware of the reason I was locked up. I wanted that to stew in their minds about how they locked up a single mother over a certificate of completion for driving school from 8 years ago. The wheels were spinning in some of them, but the point was not making it through. They took my money and released me around 4:20a.m.  

The next day is hell after having been up for 30 hours straight. We realize I never received any details about my court date, so we call Gwinnett to find out more. "Renee" informs me that I didn't pay a bond at all, I actually paid a fee, and there is no court date.  What fuckery is this? Now it's just a fine?! After a thorough reflection of eight years of police interaction (more than a dozen stops for random infractions from speeding to the pink lights that can't be on my car), including multiple background checks, involvement with another county search and rescue team where my background and discovery for any warrants was conducted; AND an investigation by DFCS, there's no way a warrant on my record went undiscovered for 8 years. It outright didn't exist before Monday night, and the police didn't just decide after 8 years to come knock on my door about it. I have been living at this address the entire time. It's not like they couldn't have come before 8 years. I had driven up the local road many times before, and never had a FLOCK camera pop my tag. 

Contacting a lawyer was enlightening as one of them told me the warrant was still open. I could be arrested again at any time for the SAME unreal warrant. He provided the information for contacting the Clerk of Courts who further tried to milk me for more money by suggesting I could go back to driving school, or come down and talk to the judge (drive through the gauntlet of Gwinnett for round 2? I'm good, thanks!). I also contacted the school I attended who informed me that they don't keep records past five years. So to add fuel to this fire, the county falsified a warrant to come after me for a crime that THEY had no way of proving against me. I guess they also forgot that the burden of proof is on them, and I have two witnesses who can testify to my having completed the sentencing issued by our racial judge. 

This brings us to day 2 of the ticking clock in which Gwinnett and Hall County have left to respond to my open records request. I am, stressed beyond explanation. Anxious. Terrified to leave my house. My likeness can be tracked on cameras across the state. My car tag could be scanned by cameras and cops for no reason, and I could be kidnapped by the police and extorted all over again. 

Legally, I could fight back--to the death. As a mom, though, my first duty is to protect my family. And that means complying with these henchmen, even when I know they're wrong despite my right to stand my ground in the State of Georgia. This is also the reality of living in a surveillance state--a brewing war between real good and evil. Where your every move can be tracked, and a simple trip to the store can turn into a nightmare and lifelong trauma. This is the future, folks. This is Big Brother right at our doorstep. This mother witch knows that the fight against such insidious evil requires both mystical and practical action. I stand ready to challenge the system, to confront injustice with not only the power of my will but also the strength of my voice and unwavering resolve. 

Are you ready for this? For your sake, I hope all your past tickets are in order. 

More to come as this story develops.

When Using Your Powers for Good, Expect Government Delays

Many of us are quite familiar with the story of Bundy Ranch-in which the Bundy family’s property was raided and became a pivotal peg in America’s timeline.  As sensational as that moment was and continues to be for the American people, it was not the first time a citizen has been attacked by the sitting administration in an attempt to sabotage progress, and it won’t be the last time.

A former founder and CEO of alternative Energy Manufacturing, found himself in a similar standoff with ABC agencies. However, the “war tactics” were slightly different, and did not result in the support of militias nationwide coming to his defense. Though, much of the battle has been carried out in courtrooms, it cost one Man his company and good name, and cost the country thousands of jobs with better pay.

It is unfortunate that we live in a time where the mere mention of a nuclear anything is taboo and met with such aggressive resistance. Enshrouded in a mass of misinformation, and aided by many organizations to dispel truth; the nuclear industry is thwarted by misled “environmentalists” across the globe.

In my own researching, it has been discovered that there are humanitarians among the industry.  In light of the vile portrayals of owners and builders of these power plants, this writer has learned there’s actually hearts in them that beat solely to do good in this world.  That’s the kind of person Don Gillipsie was when he initiated his plans, and it’s who he continues to be to this day.

With over 40 years’ experience in nuclear engineering, Mr. Gillipsie sought to use his power for good, literally. Partnered with Allies across the world, they worked to create a massive nuclear desalinization plant to produce fresh water. Imagine the impact of creating the largest device known to man to create more fresh water in areas where water is a commodity.  Not only that, think of the thousands of jobs necessary to keep such a plant in operation. 

That’s not all Don did, either—by far. When even the state of Idaho saw the benefits and potential for homing a power plant, Mr. Gillipsie was the man bringing viable plans and a wealth of knowledge to the town of Grand View.   Unfortunately, the liberal minded terror drivers—fearing nuclear everything—began launching unfounded claims against the company and the man behind its establishment. Despite having investors and funding to cover 100% ofthe $3.5 billion project, anti–nuclear opponents of the Snake River Alliance, did everything they could to not only prevent the takeoff of the plant, but to destroy the credibility of the man behind it.  When that didn’t work, anti-nukers found new hope for destroying Mr. Gillispie's dreams by calling in their new BFFs--the SEC.

Although the previous attack by members of the Snake River Alliance was based on false opinions, the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) took the reins.  Using all the powers at their disposal, investigations were launched in cooperation with the FBI and IRS against Mr. Gillipsie and his investors.

Regardless of having never produced a shred of evidence to support their claims, you would be surprised what having your home busted into by feds will do to dissuade investors. They didn’t stop with just raiding just Mr. Gillipsie’s home either. Bound and determined to find something that would support their allegations, the feds raided the homes of other investors as well.

As one would think Don Gillipsie was involved in some serious criminal business.  So what were the allegations?  Well, in an effort to destroy the establishment of a power plant in Idaho, hundreds of anonymous claims were made against Alternate Energy Holdings, Inc. for fraud.  Basically, because the company was publicly traded, the easiest way to chase away investors and ruin the potential future efforts led anti-nukers to file false complaints suggesting the company’s leaders were pumping and dumping stock. Though, the ABC agencies involved have yet to the find or provide any evidence supporting those complaints, the SEC has been held up Mr. Gillipsie and construction of the plant in court delays. 

In an effort to save the company and investors further harm, Mr. Gillipsie has since stepped down from his position as CEO of Alternate Energy Holdings, Inc.  However, if you think that was enough to deter the SEC from continuing their attacks, you are far from familiar with the SEC and this administration.

Being the well-intended man he is, Don Gillipsie has a massive support team in his corner.  From the investors who were brought into the mess and even raided by the FBI, to your average run of the mill folks and independent journalists, who understand what Don is trying to do (make the world a better place); Mr. Gillipsie has not been short of people that believe in him and his goals.

Unfortunately, Divine America is still awaiting a response from the SEC, the FBI, and the courts involved for their side. Rest assured, as soon as we get their side it will be presented. However, you can probably tell that this is just another attempt to perish the progression of our country under the misguided efforts of those in power.  As the administration continues pushing their “environmental” agenda, we see more and more land being seized, coal plants being shut down, and goodhearted companies destroyed.  If you haven’t realized yet why there is this attack, it’s time to start being more aware. 

We will continue to follow this story and bring you all the details that prove how the SEC is attacking Don in an effort to generate funding for their own energy agendas. Further, we will delve into the future of energy production and discover the true plans of this administration for this country.