Silhouette of a man standing before towering stacks of burning books, engulfed in flames and smoke. The image evokes themes o

“They Don’t Want You Thinking. They Want You Consuming.”

They sedate your mind, mock your manhood, and sell you sedation disguised as freedom. This isn’t a post. It’s a fire alarm.

WAKE-UP CALLS

Jeffrey Jowske

5/8/20252 min read

Dark, gothic-style city skyline shrouded in smoke and shadows, with faint glowing embers floating through the air. The atmosp
Silhouette of a man standing before towering stacks of burning books, engulfed in flames and smoke. The image evokes themes o
Silhouette of a man standing before towering stacks of burning books, engulfed in flames and smoke. The image evokes themes o

🔥 They Don’t Want You Thinking. They Want You to consume.

Let’s stop pretending.

You’re not “free.”
You’re manageable.

From the moment you wake up, a thousand voices go to war for control of your attention, your energy, and your beliefs. Not to set you free — but to chain you with better packaging.

You think you’re choosing.
You’re reacting.
You think you're informed.
You’re fed.
And every time you stop questioning, they tighten the leash.

They don’t want you thinking.
They want you sedated. Distracted. Pacified.
A soft-skinned, opinion-regurgitating NPC.
Tagged, tracked, and trained to obey.

They neutered your fire with shame.
They medicated your rage with a diagnosis.
They told you “discipline is toxic” and “masculinity is fragile.”
Then they sold you convenience and porn and called it liberation.

The real virus isn’t misinformation — it’s compliance.

They don’t care if you speak. They care if you mean it.
They don’t censor lies. They censor threats.
And the greatest threat to their system is a man who sees the game and refuses to play it.

So they keep you entertained.
Scrolling.
Dooming.
Consuming.

They don’t want you hungry for truth — they want you bloated with dopamine.

You feel it, don’t you? That quiet war. That tightening vice. That buried instinct clawing to the surface — the one that says: This isn’t right. This isn’t real. This isn’t me.

Good.

That’s your soul trying to wake the hell up.

Because you weren’t made for comfort.
You were made for war — spiritual, mental, cultural.
You were made to build what they cannot, and destroy what they won’t admit exists.

This blog is a breach.
A jagged hole in the simulation where real words, real thoughts, and real men bleed through.
No filters. No algorithms. No leash.

This is The Rant Fee.
And I pay it in blood, truth, and fire.

If it burns, it’s because it’s real.
If it offends, it’s because it’s true.

Welcome to the war they don’t want you to notice.