Perfect Understanding Is a Myth — and That's Okay
One of the dumbest lines in modern music, in my opinion, comes from that song: “Please don’t let me be misunderstood.”
Like… my dude. If that’s your life goal? Buckle up for disappointment. Because perfect understanding is a fantasy—an emotional Bigfoot. Everybody claims they want it, nobody’s ever caught it.
Let’s break this down: Do you fully understand yourself? Like, really. Can you explain who you are—your values, instincts, fears, contradictions—in a way that another person could grasp without distorting it through their own lens?
I can’t. And I try for a living.
I’m misunderstood constantly. People come to my videos or my posts and say, “Oh, you’re obsessed with Trump.”
Nah. I’m worried about Trump. I talk about him the same way you talk about a lunatic running down the street with a gas can and a book of matches. I’m not obsessed—I’m alert.
He’s the monkey in the middle of the living room with a machine gun. Ignoring him doesn’t make the bullets less real.
But let’s get something straight: I’m not riding for Democrats either. I’m not waving blue flags. I’m not simping for Joe Biden or fawning over Pelosi. I know full well that most people in positions of power are sociopaths who couldn’t care less if I starved in a ditch tomorrow.
That’s why I scrutinize power. That’s why I criticize people on both sides. Not because I’m indecisive—but because I’m awake.
In the military, I was trained to be a systems analyst. Our nickname was “The Water Walkers.” Our job was to understand how systems are supposed to work, spot where they’re breaking, and help suggest fixes. And our golden rule?
Never guess when you can find out.
Because guessing in the wrong place doesn’t just keep the system broken—it makes it worse.
We should treat political thinking the same way. And that’s where Socrates comes in.
To escape conditioning, Socrates often challenged his peers to answer three questions:
What do you know?
How do you know what you know?
Why should you care about it?
Those three questions are powerful. They strip away ego, challenge assumptions, and drag us back from the edge of belief-based chaos.
Most of us skip them entirely. We don’t want clarity. We want comfort. That’s why people keep falling into the same traps over and over—blaming “the other side” for everything, while the people who look like them rob them blind in broad daylight.
What’s wild is how many people claim to be independent thinkers… but all end up parroting the same slogans. “I’m just asking questions!” while repeating what they heard on the nightly grift stream. “Do your own research!” means reading memes and skipping the sources. It’s not independent thought if your conclusion is always the same five talking points.
If 50 people arrive at the same complex opinion without debate? My default assumption is: They’re probably all wrong.
Groupthink in a trench coat is still groupthink.
Let me give you an example. Some folks were so disappointed in how Democrats handled the Israel-Gaza situation that they sat out the election. I get it. I do. But what changed? Did the situation improve by withdrawing participation?
Nope.
Now you’ve got Trump posting AI-generated videos celebrating a casino being built on the literal ruins of Gaza. This is the political future that apathy opens the door to. These are the ghouls waiting at the gates when we decide we’re too pure to vote.
So yeah, I don’t care about being misunderstood. I’m not trying to be the hero of your narrative. I’m trying to disrupt the feedback loop that tells you to stay comfy in your worldview. Because that comfort? That smug certainty? It’s how you get duped.
I’m not left or right. I’m against complacency. I’m against default settings. I’m against the mindless team sports culture of politics where everyone’s just picking a side and shouting insults while the billionaires run off with the stadium.
If you want to resist the machine, start with your own mind. Ask what you know. Ask how you know it. Ask why it matters.
Because ignorance is forgivable.
Unexamined certainty is how empires fall.