Chu The Cud

Ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is bliss—

in the face of reality, pharmaceuticals drifting through our drinking water.

Someone else’s antibiotics coursing silently through our veins.

Our filtration’s a facade as much as our Food and Drug Administration, never enough money to keep the poison out.

When “government by the people” no longer means by the people.

When malice wears a suit and tie, and the hands that sign the laws are greased by B Corporations, serving shareholders, not citizens.

The propaganda machine hums, mainstream media, feeding Pavlov’s dogs with pixelated pellets of panic and pacification.

Minuscule supplements of “truth”arranged to rewire what little free thought remains.

Ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is bliss—

as our smartphones become our brains. We cannot function without them anymore.

They are our gods, our crutches, our digital dopamine dealers. Endless foolishness to drown the anxiety of real life, until one day we wake up staring at a screen, and asking, “Where am I? And how did I get here?

We sell our time, for pennies just to pay the creditors, to cover the payments on things we never needed. Chained to the highest interest that robs us of dignity, slaving away, day after day for crumbs and two weeks of so called freedom that cost us our entire year’s savings for mouse ears.

Ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is bliss—

when you sacrifice years, of time, energy and money, perfecting yourself through hard work, studying and getting experience, only to be passed over for not checking the right boxes on the sacred DEI scale.

Merit silenced. Excellence ignored. Ignorance rewarded.

Our Military Industrial Complex contracts wars, to sell bombs, ships, planes, and destroy lives for blood money.

Sometimes the brightest.

Sometimes the best.

All while whispering “population control” with a smile from behind the curtain, out of our control.

Ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is bliss—

when the same corrupt people release a virus into the world to spark a pandemic, and then to sell the cure back to the people who paid for its creation in the first place.

Billions to Big Pharma, funneled by the government, which is really just us, without a voice left at the table and left out of the decisions.

Policymakers line their pockets with gold, while the public gets free french fries in exchange for compliance.

Bankers grin.

Global elites toast.

And we? Just specks of sand on the beach of life, washed over again and again and stepped on daily.

Ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is bliss.

c 2024 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

“The loudest voices in the temple are not always the holiest. Sometimes, truth walks barefoot while virtue rides in a limousine.”

In every age, the powerful have sought to appear righteous. In ours, that performance often comes wrapped in tweets, speeches, and statements from people whose lives are far removed from the consequences they lament.

There’s a strange contradiction playing out on our screens. Millionaires in designer clothes standing on stages or in front of perfectly arranged bookshelves, solemnly warning us that democracy is hanging by a thread, or that their rights, as the most privileged among us, are under siege.

What do we call this phenomenon?

Performative activism. 

This is the era of performative activism, a moral theater in which celebrity voices echo with urgency, but rarely with depth. It’s not activism rooted in sacrifice or lived experience. It’s not the quiet, uncomfortable work of change. It is activism as performance: curated, branded, and delivered for applause.

These statements often emerge not from hardship, but from press tours. And somehow, the people saying them rarely seem to live by the policies they champion.

True activism isn’t glamorous. It’s gritty. It involves sacrifice, often in silence. It looks a lot more like the unknown woman showing up to her local school board meeting or volunteering at a shelter, people who act without cameras rolling.

So the next time someone from behind the gates of Malibu tells the rest of us what justice looks like, maybe it’s okay to ask:

Is this really about the cause, or just another performance?

Celebrity hollow activism. No real skin in the game. Rehearsed, disconnected, virtue-signaling with a twist of self-promotion and conveniently timed with publicity, dressed up as moral clarity not reality. 

c 2024 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

It seems to me that many people no longer understand what negotiation truly means.

They’ve been screaming “their truth” for so long, they’ve mistaken volume for value, believing compromise is betrayal and that listening is weakness.

But negotiation isn’t about domination or submission. It’s the art of finding ground, common or otherwise, between conviction and consideration.

Somewhere along the way, the goal stopped being resolution and became validation.

And that’s not a negotiation. That’s a tantrum.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

Why labor at the quarry of limitation,

Where the uninitiated worship the stone,

Yet know not the Cornerstone?

Break the chains wrought in ignorance,

Erect within thyself a Temple not made with hands.

Radiate Light through upright conduct and quiet influence,

Though the profane veil may obscure the Truth.

Observe with the Square,

Dissect with the Compass,

And from each degree of experience,

Draw forth the hidden Word.

Know this, my Brother:

Darkness dwelleth only without,

It cannot extinguish the Light

That burneth in the East of every soul.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

The Oscars don’t always make sense. 

An actor might win Best Male/Female Lead, but their performance wasn’t created in a vacuum. 

There was a director shaping every scene, a writer crafting every line, a cinematographer framing each shot, an editor helping choosing the best takes, and a crew making the whole vision possible. 

The award goes to one face, but it’s really the result of many.

Not to mention the other performers alongside the ‘Best Actor’ who help elevate the performance.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

I don’t understand all these blue pill ads, on social media, billboards, movie trailers, TV screens. They’re plastered everywhere. I’m almost 60 and have no issue in that department.

But younger men seem to be buying into this trend. Why?

Maybe it’s the toxic food, laced with synthetic estrogen. Maybe it’s the classrooms, where kids are taught to pick their gender like it’s a game. Maybe it’s the cellphones that are rewiring their brains.

Or maybe it’s the broader culture, this narrative that masculinity is a problem to be solved.

The media, mostly left-leaning, woke, and curated by a blend of corporate interests, white liberal women, and identity hires, pushes a worldview where traditional masculinity is the enemy. The goal? Eliminate the so-called patriarchal society.

But let’s take a moment. That “patriarchal society” and all its conveniences were created mostly by men.

Infrastructure, houses, universities and manufacturing where all the life’s little modern conveniences come from. Trains, planes, automobiles, and motorcycles, the list is endless.

And many of these incredible men, were also sacrificed in part, by war. The sacrifice of over a million young men killed or crippled in World War II. Their absence during war pushed women into the workforce out of necessity, not rebellion.

And it didn’t stop there. In Korea, over 150,000 more of our young men were killed or wounded supporting the South, so we buy Kias, plastics, semiconductors and the like. 

Then came Vietnam, a war we didn’t create, but inherited by bailing out the French.

That war scarred hundreds of thousands more young American men, disproportionately poor whites and black, sent off under the same president signing civil rights legislation.

Hypocrisy wrapped in patriotism.

By 1970, women made up 38% of the workforce. It wasn’t an attack on men, it was survival. Due to war many men didn’t come back and if they did couldn’t cope in society anymore. 

But over time, cultural movements twisted that survival into ideology. 

An ideology that men weren’t needed and women could do it better.  A philosophy without legs. 

That’s when the resentment toward straight men, the seeds of modern wokeness, started to grow.

Now? Women dominate higher education. College enrollment has tilted in their favor by over 1.5 million since the late 1970s. Women are on par with men in the media, when they were only 10–15% of that industry in the 1950s.

And yet, somehow, men are the problem?

Meanwhile, social media has enabled a generation to profit off sexual performance, scantily clad, suggestive, sometimes explicit, and then demand not to be looked at unless you pay for the privilege. It’s a cultural contradiction, and men are walking on eggshells through it.

But this isn’t a call to war, it’s a call to strength with respect.

To the men who love women, but don’t want to be one.

To the providers, the protectors, the lovers, the builders.

To the gentlemen who still open doors and carry burdens, not because they’re told to, but because it’s in their blood.

We don’t need to scream. We need to lead, by example.

We don’t need to dominate. We need to stand firm, with backbone and grace.

Let’s not surrender our masculinity to appease a loud minority of self-righteous voices. Let’s reclaim it, not as bullies, but as men of purpose.

Because we can support women with integrity, love and without surrendering who we are.

And we don’t need anyone’s permission to be men.

I’m a man

And I love it. 

And frozen eggs have no guarantee. 

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

Who to believe, what to believe, how to believe,

not to believe.

The bully pulpit echoing repetitively

fabricated warfare

creating puppets and parrots

parading lockstep in sync toward a unified goal.

Censoring and disparaging the dissenting voices of the so called experts and leaders.

Misinformation, laced with religion and politics

preaching the perfect 

politics of God

while common sense is gagged

keepers of truth, 

for the so-called common good.

The owners of the microphones

crowning themselves all knowing

preach the loudest narratives 

of shared delusions

to manufacture unity 

feeding the dissenters 

to the machine 

leaving them lifeless. 

Cognitive hijacking 

through a barrage of

poetry’s deceitful verse

intoxicating propaganda 

to the unconscious 

lulling them into complacency

of the agenda

Because ignorance is bliss

when consciousness becomes incomprehensible

and truths unleash uncompromising uncomfortable realities.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

The powerful flicker

of a candle’s flame

a dance

or avoidance.

Illuminating  

untouchable

unable

to retract its smoldering. 

Remnant 

enveloping

from the liquid stickiness 

sinking into the sky

revealing its anchor 

near its end

before the moment 

that last flash of smoke 

intertwines

nevertheless 

without a trace.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

It looks like this is goodbye

I’ll try not to cry. 

I knew this day would come

didn’t think it was today. 

Unprepared for the predictable. 

One more day

was yesterday 

but I didn’t know.

It was repetition begotten 

transforming into memories 

of what was

and time wasted.

Now it’s time to sink and cry 

as memories

of a sunset

reposed

and

life goes on

and the puzzle 

has one less piece.

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved

Violence begets violence

riding restlessly on the breeze

with another opportunity to strike

once more

without oppression of the provocateur

having outgrown its catalyst

and leaving a chaos of resentment 

transcending flesh of time

with an echo waging future sparks

that bridges opportunities of

reflection of evolving

and transformation

dissolving its loop furthermore. 

c 2025 Chu The Cud

All Rights Reserved