The Corporate Boot Has Always Had Blood on It

Corporations have always used and abused West Virginia, treating the people of this state as nothing more than disposable collateral damage.

Just look back at the Paint Creek / Cabin Creek strike in 1913. Coal operators, along with local law enforcement, didn’t just evict striking West Virginia miners from their homes, they sent a custom built machine gun armored train called the “Bull Moose Special” to riddle their tent colony with bullets during the night.

They murdered Cesco Estep while he tried to shield his pregnant wife and children. And they did this all because miners dared to demand dignity instead of deadly working conditions and fake company money.

And, and usual, corporations walked away without consequences, just like they always do. History proves they will literally machine gun sleeping children to protect their bottom line.

To make matters even more infuriating, the coal miners were tried and convicted while the powers that be merely “investigated” the coal companies and local law enforcement without any type of justice being served.

The corporate boot has always had blood on it. And West Virginians continue to pay the price.

West Virginia Isn’t Poor. It’s Been Impoverished.

West Virginia has shipped out everything. Our coal, gas, timber, and even our young people. Yet we remain one of the nation’s poorest states. This isn’t due to lack of hard work, but because the wealth we generate never stays here at home.

Billionaires fly in for photo-ops, talk about “saving” West Virginia, and then leave with the profits. We aren’t partners in our own destiny. We’re just props in a rich person’s business plan.

West Virginia has powered America for over 160 years. We deserve properly funded schools, thriving towns, and an independent economy.

West Virginia isn’t inherently poor. It has been impoverished. Until our wealth remains in our communities, this cycle will continue.

My Soul Cat is Gone

In the early morning hours of November 1st, 2025, my world shifted forever. My soul cat, my sweet baby boy Widget, lost his brave battle with GI lymphoma, just two weeks after his diagnosis.

Everything happened so fast that it still feels like a blur. Two weeks isn’t enough time to process, let alone prepare for, a loss of this magnitude. One day you’re navigating a frightening new medical reality, and the next you are facing a quiet house and a devastatingly empty space in your heart.

I cannot keep writing about it. My life is darker and I want to burn this whole damn world down.