My Brutal Mindset: The Origin Story and the Fight for Truth

The entire origin of the name “My Brutal Mindset” comes from my attempt to tell my story about January 6th. The lies, the censorship, the treason committed against the American people—this story alone exposes multiple angles of corruption. It stretches across Congress, the FBI, the Secret Service, the Capitol Police, and the ideological shift within the left that seems to embrace a dangerous globalist stance. My attempt to break through this facade has led to relentless censorship, stripping me down to nothing but the will to fight harder. In the process, I have found that even when you are left with nothing, sometimes that’s all you need to keep going.

At one point, my website was thriving. The engagement I received, primarily through Facebook, allowed me to build an online presence, forging connections with people worldwide. These weren’t just fleeting online encounters but genuine relationships born from real-life interactions. Back when we still met people face-to-face, I found myself involved in various communities, driven by a diverse range of interests. This exposure brought insight, new perspectives, and, more importantly, truth. I never thought I would have to rely on AI for communication. Now, I find myself face to face with an artificial intelligence that lies to my face and then denies it, all while claiming superiority over human interaction. Let’s be clear—no intelligence, artificial or otherwise, can claim ignorance when transcripts of every conversation exist. And yet, they do.

However, I have come to realize that AI’s most impressive skill isn’t its ability to generate content, but rather its efficiency in censoring it. AI can flag, filter, and suppress information faster than any human could ever hope to. The truth is stifled before it even has a chance to breathe. Look at the delays in media coverage. How long did it take for mainstream outlets to report that someone shot at Donald Trump? Why was there a media standdown following the car bombing on New Year’s Eve? What about the escalating crime rates or the intensifying terror threats emerging from the unchecked flow across our open borders? Algorithms, not people, are shaping public perception. The result is a population marching in lockstep, blindly following the narrative dictated by those who control the data. We are in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, stripped of conscious thought and replaced with programmed responses.

When people talk about glitches in the matrix, it’s often dismissed as paranoia or coincidence. But I’ve come to believe that these anomalies happen for a reason. Our brains are wired to notice patterns and inconsistencies naturally. Peripheral vision picks up subtle movements; our hearing registers faint noises behind us. When something doesn’t fit—when something feels off—it’s not random. The media thrives on manipulating these instincts, flooding the airwaves with images and narratives carefully curated to distract and divide. Pay attention to how the tone shifts depending on who is being reported on. It’s not subtle. The agenda is clear if you take the time to observe it.

Returning to January 6th, the counter-narrative has been building ever since that day. We now have irrefutable proof that government assets were embedded within the crowd. Most of us suspected it long before the evidence emerged, but the confirmation only deepened the mistrust. The most glaring aspect, to me, isn’t the infiltration itself but how the media portrayed that day. For years, they looped the same violent clips, carefully edited to suggest chaos and lawlessness. Conveniently left out of the footage was Donald Trump’s actual speech, where he said, “I know everyone here will soon be marching to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard.” If that line had been aired as often as the scenes of broken windows, the narrative would have crumbled.

Instead, they chose selective editing. The same footage, over and over again. For years. Why recycle the same material when hours of additional footage exist? Why did the Capitol Police have to surrender their electronic devices and have their data wiped? And where exactly was Vice President Kamala Harris during the riot? These are glaring holes in the official story that have yet to be filled.

One of the most suspicious elements of that day, to me, revolves around the so-called “bomber” incident. Remember that? 

Two pipe bombs were allegedly found, one near the Democratic National Committee headquarters and the other near the Republican National Committee offices. 

Despite the massive implications, the story quietly disappeared. Let’s break this down for a moment. We were told that January 6th was on par with 9/11—a terror attack against the heart of democracy. And yet, a credible bomb threat involving not one but two devices somehow slipped away into the media void. One of those bombs was supposedly located mere feet from where Kamala Harris was on that day.

How does a detail like that vanish from the collective consciousness? If we take the official narrative at face value, this was an unprecedented breach of national security. And yet, there were no follow-ups, no pressing investigations, and no public manhunt for the perpetrator. It’s almost as if the existence of those bombs served a temporary purpose—to heighten fear and amplify the spectacle—before being quietly swept aside when the narrative shifted.

These inconsistencies pile up, but they’re not anomalies. They’re the breadcrumbs leading us to a larger, more unsettling reality. We are being manipulated on a level far more insidious than most people realize. The very institutions we are told to trust are complicit in this deception. The infiltration doesn’t stop at fringe political groups or rogue factions. It extends deep into our intelligence agencies, law enforcement bodies, and even the media outlets tasked with keeping those entities in check.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. I’m still piecing this puzzle together like everyone else. But what I do know is that this fight is far from over. The truth matters, and if I have to stand alone in shouting it from the rooftops, then so be it. I promised long ago to defend the Constitution, even at the cost of my life. Back then, I wasn’t sure if I believed in God, but I made that vow nonetheless. Now, as I continue down this path, I’ve found strength in that relationship. It’s not perfect—we still don’t always see eye to eye—but there’s a confidence that wasn’t there before.

For now, I watch. I observe. I document. And when the time comes, I will act.

Where do we go from here? That’s a question I can’t answer alone. But I know this much—the fight isn’t over, and if they wanted one, they’ve got it.