Disability & Medical Marijuana Advocacy

I've mentioned this multiple times throughout this platform in both my intoxicated state, while using THC-A derivatives for sacred introspection, and in my sober state of mind that most folks get to see when I'm out among the general public. My advocacy voice isn't going away anytime soon. While I am among the disabled in this Republican-led politically and religiously conservative state of Nebraska, I am not the only one willing to advocate in this manner. Like the snake head of the Hydra, you cut one voice down, and two more take its place. We're not going away, either.

After a disability hearing I attended, in which my physical and mental limitations were tested, I've come to the realization—after hearing speculation from multiple sources via social media—that the grand design of this current administration may be aiming at one major conclusion: to eliminate me as one of the disabled, cutting my chances at living with even moderate representation of existence. What they didn't anticipate is my ability to recognize patterns in speech, behavior, and whether hidden motives are at play. This is not an attack. This is a bold statement to clarify that I'm absolutely not going anywhere anytime soon.

There's an aspect of my ancestry that begs the question: when will you, the government, stop manipulating the lives of the disabled—the ones you seem to feel are unworthy of your time? You have a sitting President with obvious health issues making light of the disabled—reportedly saying, “Let them die.” I say reportedly as I have yet to see tangible proof the sitting president said those exact words. Still, the pattern of mocking and disrespect toward people with disabilities is visible in the broader conduct and the stories circulating across news and social media.

I’m done standing idly by while this narrative spreads. This is a call for scrutiny, accountability, and organized resistance—peaceful, firm, and organized—until life, liberty, and freedoms are actually protected for people like me.

Questions Worth Asking

Where is your integrity, America? When did you decide that flattering the powerful—especially when they openly disrespect the vulnerable—counts as higher “virtue” than the values you claim to hold? We are not a Christian Nation and we are not a Satanic one. We are a nation under judgement, and it’s time to treat that judgement as real instead of performing devotion while harming people behind closed doors.

I know the price of speaking plainly. I'd rather live as a free person—alongside my wife and adult children—than accept comfort built on subservience to a tyrannical system. The tyranny and judgement aren’t distant prophecy. It’s here now, and we’re out of excuses.

I walked away from Evangelical and Fundamentalist Christianity. Not because my faith was weak, but because it was strong enough to listen—strong enough to finally center my wife’s questions and her lived experience, after enduring pastors who dismissed her concerns from the pulpit and ignored serious wrongdoing in the private sphere. I will not back down. This America that exists now has nothing to offer me that I’m willing to surrender myself to.

You could give me wealth, security, and influence; I still wouldn’t want it at the cost of human dignity.

I've sat among the broken, the veterans, and the mentally and physically sick while surviving homelessness. I’ll state this boldly: I would rather sit with the truly broken and honest than hobnob with the elite and the fake. I know who is real. I know who Jesus chose to show mercy to. I’ll walk hand in hand with the broken through the pearly gates before I accept a mansion built on indifference.

Give me poverty among the honest over comfort among the performative. They work for what’s theirs and share what they can with those who cannot work—because compassion brings the harmony that shallow “fake Christianity” refuses to practice.

I'm not bitter. I'm pissed the fuck off—and I’m not apologizing for that clarity. I understand what Job endured when he lost everything that made life meaningful. I've been there.

My Finnish ancestry calls to me in moments like this through stories of people who endured, had everything taken away, and still rose above their circumstances. Not through manipulation, but through outlasting pressure until the warrior spirit inside comes forward—patient, disciplined, and determined.

Watch the movie Sisu and its sequel, Sisu: Road to Revenge, back to back. That’s the spirit you’re witnessing in this minister: endurance with purpose, not chaos.

Oh, one more thing: while homeless in Omaha, I got the opportunity to be mentored by someone this government claimed was a highly dangerous man. What he taught me about pattern recognition and staying aware of my surroundings has made me sharper—and it has also taught me that strength without self-control is not strength at all. One word of advice: don’t test patience with cruelty. If you treat people like disposable property, you will meet organized resistance.

Oh, by the way, my disability is not what you think it is. It's an asset that will reveal the harm of anyone who believes I’m harmless or manageable. This is not posturing or bragging. It's the cold, hard reality of what you, dear reader, are facing through this minister.

I'm not anti-government or anti-religion. I'm anti-bullying on both fronts, and I won’t take kindly to being manipulated, dismissed, or erased. I’ve seen where this story ends—when people refuse to organize—and I’m choosing a different ending: peaceful, firm resistance.

If they bury my body tonight, know full well which side of history I’m on. This also applies to those in Nebraska's leadership who think the disabled are disposable. We're not. We've only just begun to fight—through lawful action, public accountability, and coordinated community pressure.

Nebraska, I’m addressing leadership directly—US Senator Pete Ricketts and Governor Jim Pillen—because the people of this state have overwhelmingly voted for Medical Marijuana legalization, and you owe Nebraskans more than delays, distractions, and carefully worded political posturing.

I’m calling it what it looks like: political messaging that tries to hide behind tax incentives and influence while other industries maintain their power. From where I stand, the decision-making has the shape of deference to alcohol interests and big-pharma representation, not the expressed will of the voters—especially not the needs of the disabled and the poorest Nebraskans who will feel the consequences first.

I reached out to Governor Pillen repeatedly, including offering to work on his hog farm—willing to do the labor, willing to show up, willing to put effort into contributing rather than just criticizing. I was ignored. That tells me what matters inside that office. Leadership that won’t engage a Nebraska voter who is asking to work, not perform—leadership that treats people as background noise—doesn’t deserve patience.

A Nebraskan’s Challenge to Leadership

So here is my challenge, and it is firm: respect the vote. Don’t substitute donor-friendly talking points for policy that protects Nebraskans. If you oppose Medical Marijuana legalization despite the voters’ clear preference, then defend that opposition openly with reasoning that holds up under public scrutiny—especially for people who are disabled, sick, and left waiting.

My outsider’s perspective isn’t just personal frustration; it’s shaped by ancestry and lived history. My Finnish roots carry stories of endurance under Communist government pressure when part of Finland was annexed by the former USSR. I’ve seen how power behaves when it believes it can outlast accountability. My family’s military life taught me discipline and consequences. And political experiences shared through one of my great-grandfathers reinforced a simple standard: ethics isn’t something you declare—it’s something you practice when it costs you.

I also observed what I view as unethical floor conduct from Senator Ricketts, and it turned me away from supporting him for the future. I don’t accept “results” as a substitute for integrity. When leadership’s choices begin excluding the poorest and most disabled, I recognize the pattern and I name it.

I’m ready and willing to learn what it takes to make a stand—publicly, ethically, and effectively. My rooted principle is the Golden Rule, taught through Christ: treat people the way you want to be treated, and never justify harm to others as a means to an end. My commitment is resistance with restraint—lawful, organized, and persistent—until Nebraskans are treated like the decision-makers they are.

If leadership refuses to respect the vote, then I will escalate pressure the right way: by organizing with other Nebraskans, showing up to make my voice heard, demanding transparent answers, and using every lawful avenue to ensure policy reflects the will of the people.

Call to Action: Discipline, Discourse, and Nonviolence

Here is what I’m asking Americans to do—clearly, calmly, and together. We will practice civil public discourse first: show up, speak plainly, demand answers, organize with neighbors, and hold leadership to the promises made to the people. No rage masquerading as righteousness. No intimidation. No chaos.

If leadership continues to ignore the vote and dismiss disabled Americans, then our next step is disciplined civil disobedience—organized, lawful in intent, and nonviolent in execution—designed to draw attention to injustice, not to harm people. We will refuse to be baited. We will keep our hands clean and our message sharp.

The exception is this: if someone uses aggression to harm a protestor while nonviolence is being practiced, then self-defense becomes a last-resort necessity—limited to stopping the immediate threat, not escalating it. That is not a license to lash out. It is a boundary: we do not choose violence; we only respond to violent harm in the smallest way required to protect life, liberty, and home.

Outside those narrow conditions, violence is condemned. Because any turn toward harm invites consequences—legal, social, and personal—that most people will not be prepared to carry. The goal is not to prove a temper. The goal is to win change without losing our humanity.

Think of it like chess for thoughts: plan the move, anticipate the response, protect your position, and don’t sacrifice your future for a moment of impulse. Let diplomacy do its work until it’s truly exhausted. Let witnesses, records, coalitions, and community pressure do their part. If the board still isn’t moving, escalate pressure—peacefully and strategically—without surrendering restraint.

So here’s the standard: speak truth, organize persistently, resist manipulation, and practice nonviolence as the default strategy. When we stand, we stand with discipline—until all Americans are treated as the decision-makers we are.