About Me

You know that scene in Forrest Gump where he’s been running across the country for years, and then one day, he just stops? Turns around, looks at everyone following him, and says, “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now.”

That’s where I’m at.

I’ve spent my life chasing everything—military, corporate gigs, politics, bartending, stand-up, improv. I worked on Nuclear ICBM weapon systems in the United States Air Force, spent a decade in casino surveillance (watching drunks try to convince themselves the house doesn’t always win), and took more comedy and writing classes than anyone should willingly pay for. I bounced from Las Vegas to Los Angeles to Chicago, grinding through improv at Second City, iO, and Groundlings, performing stand-up, and realizing the comedy scene is just high school with drink minimums.

I always wanted to be a writer, but I never let myself fully commit. Then I finished my first book, and something clicked. It was like breaking a dam—suddenly, I knew this is what I need to do. Now, does that mean I’m making a full-time living off of it? Absolutely not. I’m still doing other things to keep the lights on because bills exist, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m finally moving in the right direction.

What I Write About

Right now, I write about the absurdity of life—politics, power, society, and the way we’re all just lizard-brain creatures scrambling up the hierarchy of needs like it’s a damn obstacle course. My first book, Golden Weakness, Platinum Failures, explored how elites manipulate weakness to stay untouchable. My next book, Gangland Democracy (working title), is a deep dive into how modern politics functions more like organized crime than public service.

But beyond politics, I just want to be a vocal opponent to life’s insanity—because none of this makes sense, and we should at least be allowed to laugh about it.

Maybe comedy and writing hit me because my dad tried it when I was six, dragging me along to his showcases and open mics because babysitters weren’t in the budget. Or maybe it was later, when I realized the best way to expose the insanity of the world is to make people laugh at it.

I don’t know where this road leads, but I do know this—I’m done running. This is what I want to do. Hopefully, this is what I’m meant to do. Because honestly? I’m tired, boss.

And if you’ve made it this far, you probably are too. So let’s call out the absurdity together.