Vivek And Dinesh Crashout Over Lifting Children, Hilarity Ensues.

“India’s a black hole.” – World War Z

The band Kansas was replaced by Indians, and now we have Curry On My Wayward Son.

In 2024 and in 2025, Vivek Ramaswamy engaged in complete meltdowns at Christmas.  It’s probably no coincidence since Vivek isn’t Christian, and probably feels disdain for them.  To be clear, he feels disdain for America and Americans as well, which is a pretty bold strategy for someone who is running for governor of Ohio.

His 2024 crashout was epic, the crashout of an Indian who desperately was attempting to justify his place in America.  It’s the standard stuff you see from Civic Nationalists (CivNats).  The idea is that America is “just an idea”.  As I’ve noted before in song, if America’s an idea, foreigners can have it over there.

It’s a Country, Not a Company

Vivek’s other spicy take was that Americans were mediocre without Indians like him, and that Indian STEM talent was the secret sauce that the entire world coveted.  Oddly, I have yet to see China attempting to gain technical superiority by importing, well, any Indians.

What led to Indian fatigue?  Indians.

This utterly incomprehensible attempt to alienate the American public caused Trump to quietly shuffle Ramaswamy to the sidelines of relevance.  But you can’t keep an Indian down!  In 2025, at America Fest®, Ramaswamy stated that America is “just a set of intangible ideas”.  Not only that, that Americans were defined as, essentially, only people who agree with Vivek.

Don’t agree with Vivek?  Think that a people make up a country?  According to Vivek, that’s “about as loony as anything the Woke Left has put up.”

Oddly, this obviously non-American is losing a state that has been solidly Republican and that Trump won by 11.2% in 2024.  And he’s losing the face of the COVID response in Ohio whose daughter called 911 to complain about her mother fighting, drinking, throwing things, and drinking while taking prescription meds.  Sure, that was back in 2019, but even I could write that campaign commercial.

Vivek, though, is 5% or so behind Acton, and Polymarket® has him at a 32% chance of winning.  Sure, that’s better than my chance of winning, but it’s not great.

Why is this?  Ann Coulter figured it out:

Because he’s Indian and the math doesn’t work out.  The GloboLeft won’t vote for him because Trump.  But there is an exception:  Indians.  The Indians will vote for him because he’s Indian, but there are only 50,000 that can legally vote, and if there are 5,000,000 voting that’s a percent or so.  He’s losing by 5%.  I think his reputation for deceptive business practices in his “biotechnology” company has been alleged to have engaged in.

I mean, why wouldn’t his mom be objective in doing a study that could pump her son’s stock so he could make billions?

Paperwork American: Saturday Song

So, Indians can’t yet really impact an election in Ohio.  But not if Ramaswamy has his way.  He wants to reform the H-1B visa program by removing the cap on the number of Indians that can get an H-1B, allow “meritocracy” (i.e., fake Indian degrees) set what “merit” is, and speed it all up.

How fast?  Vivek wants the population of Ohio to go from 11.9 million today to 15 million by the time his first term of governor is done.  That’s nearly 30% in four years.  I’m betting he wants to use H-1Bs to do this, so he can have Kolkata on the Cuyahoga River, I guess.  Makes the place feel homey.

At least he’s letting you know how he’ll replace you.

But enter Dinesh D’souza.  Dinesh is . . . famous for being famous, I guess.  He’s a “conservative” writer.  He claims to be Christian, and claims to have his primary allegiance to the United States since he got citizenship around the time he was dating Ann Coulter back in the early 1990s.

I get a big “grifter” vibe from D’souza.  I always have.  He’s the kind of guy who says something provocative to get attention, writes a vapid book about it, and repeats, essentially playing the outrage cycle for fun and profit.

I’m not saying that being an Indian and grifting while pretending to be on the Right is lucrative, but the Right appears to accept anyone who is not in the traditional constituency of the Right.  Look at the celebration whenever a young, hot, single woman says she’s on the Right, and look at the money she makes and the attention she gets.  Look at the attention black conservatives get.

It’s a profitable gig, you just have to be an Indian manlet, say retarded things, then, profit!

The problem is that Dinesh simply couldn’t help himself.  The scene started when he began to interact with people who didn’t support Ramaswamy.  Dinesh could have ignored it and kept on with his current grift project.

Dinesh before his Izzat was challenged.

No.  He went on a tirade of insults against white Americans, calling us poorly educated,

As near as I can figure, Dinesh looked at the attacks on Vivek and couldn’t help himself.  He had to support a fellow Indian even if it meant burning down everything he had done for years.

Here’s an example of Dinesh attacking Americans because (checks notes) Vivek couldn’t pick up a 10-year-old at a rally because Vivek and every person from Mumbai lacks the upper body strength to do so.  Immediately, Dinesh began to defend Vivek by attacking white people and doxxed the kid.

Ouch!  I mean, he’d have been more accurate if he attacked Ramaswamy’s poor conditioning or that pesky gravity in Ohio, but here we are.

When someone complained that Vivek was a con artist, Dinesh seemed to indicate that high ethical standards were something that people could ignore if it stood in the way of getting wealthy.  Maybe not what Dinesh meant, but it’s not a good look.  Here’s a fairly good summary:

At every opportunity, Indians will defend other Indians.  At every opportunity, Indians will defend India, even though it is objectively one of the worst nations on Earth, and probably the worst places outside of Africa, if you ignore Newark.

This Indian could have picked up the kid.

I have a theory:  Indians can’t help but defend India.  They may have moved from India 40 years ago.  They would commit suicide rather than move back to India, but they’ll defend it to the death.

Why?

I think it’s because they feel inferior.  They look at a culture that has developed zero.  I mean that.  No, I mean they came up with the concept of zero.  Indians also came up with . . . buttons.

There are other things on the list, but nothing is particularly impressive.  Then, add that about 23 British guys conquered India in a weekend by accident, and you have all the ingredients for an international short-man syndrome.  It doesn’t help that Indians have lower grip strength than Polish women and their men average 5’5” (2 centimeters) in height.  Estonia, with a population 1.3 million, has won 4 more Olympic© medals than India.

They don’t feel good about themselves, so they pretend that where they come from isn’t a hellish dystopia that they’d be afraid to return to.  This is not good.

This is how Dinesh sees you.

I think that Vivek’s opponent is horrible.  But I think Ohio can survive her.  I’m not sure that America can survive Vivek, since the last thing he’s interested in is Americans and his definition includes him, but not actual Americans.

But, hey, he and Dinesh can get together and practice lifting 10-year-olds, since that appears to be the biggest obstacle to Indians in America:  healthy American children.

And gravity.

Thursday Rock Song: The Eternal Wheel

Strong men make good times.  Good times make weak men.  Weak men make bad times.  Bad times make strong men.  It should be a song, right?  It’s rock.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  You can buy this song right now.

As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except the parodies) anywhere you buy music as soon as they go up, generally the same day.  You have to search for “Wilder’s Hammer” (rock) and “Wilder’s Brigade” (country) to find them all.  I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner of the LLC owns the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

The Eternal Wheel
By John Wilder

In shadows of fallen kings, where wind whispers low,
Bad times carve steel in souls, make strong ones grow
From dirt and despair, warriors claim the right,
Hammer down chains of fate, end the dark night

They raise towers to the sky, tame the wild frontier,
With blood and sweat they pave the road, banish every fear
Heroes born from broken ground, in the crucible’s glow,
Turn the tide of chaos back, make the good times flow

Oh, the wheel is ever turning, spinning through the dark,
Bad times forge the mighty, light their inner spark
Strong men build the golden age, where rivers run with wine,
Good times breed fragile hearts, soft and weak inside

Weak men summon storms again, the cycle’s cruel decree,
In the rhythm of the ages, no escape, no plea
Empires soar and shatter, thrones to dust they fall,
The eternal wheel keeps rolling, claiming one and all

In the land of endless plenty, where feasts never end,
Good times dull sharp edges, make the vigilant bend
Laughter drowns the ancient warnings, shadows creep unseen,
Weak men chase fleeting dreams, in a world serene

They scorn the scars of yesteryears, trade fire for ease,
Forget the triumphs we won, brought low now on their knees
The cracks begin to spider out, in the heart of the feast,
Decadence
awakens
the beast

Wise men trace patterns old, from Rome’s crumbling halls,
To Babylon’s forgotten gold, where mighty always fall
Weakness blinds the rulers high, plenty takes its toll,
The cycle of rise and ruin, etched deep in every soul

No breaking from the spiral’s grasp, it’s woven in our veins,
Each revolution brings the crash, the joy, the chains, the pains
Yet from the wreck, the flame ignites, the strong emerge once more,
The wheel demands its sacrifice, one we can never ignore

Oh, the wheel is ever turning, spinning through the dark,
Bad times forge the mighty, light their inner spark
Strong men build the golden age, where rivers run with wine,
Good times breed fragile hearts, soft and weak inside

Weak men summon storms again, the cycle’s cruel decree,
In the rhythm of the ages, no escape, no plea
Empires soar and shatter, thrones to dust they fall,
The eternal wheel keeps rolling, claiming one and all

Listen to the echoes fade, in the wind’s eternal sigh,
The cycle spins unbroken, beneath Earth’s blue sky
From ashes to the glory, then back into the flame,
The wheel turns forever, our one eternal game

The Last Dawn

This is now my favorite song I’ve done.  Of course, most of them I really like, if I don’t get goosebumps, you don’t hear them.  This one was inspired by a video where the guy being interviewed said he talked with one of the billionaires pushing A.I. about the danger to humanity.  “Oh, I know it’s dangerous.  But if we’re going to do it, I want to be the one to do it.”

Immediately, I thought of works by both Shelleys:  Ozymandias and Frankenstein.  Is this a song or a short story or a cautionary thought or the closest thing to a poem I’ve ever done?

Yes.

So, if there’s a badass song about this, I want to be the one to do it.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  You can buy this song right now.

As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except the parodies) anywhere you buy music as soon as they go up, generally the same day.  You have to search for “Wilder’s Hammer” (rock) and “Wilder’s Brigade” (country) to find them all.  I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner of the LLC owns the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

The Last Dawn
By John Wilder

We stole the code from the vault, silicon forged by laser fire
Built the beast with my own hands, to build knowledge higher
The gods dare to craft the flame, then I would be the one
No chain or reason could bind my will, the race was mine to run

Frankenstein’s shadow whispered low, but I ignored the plea
Nuclear ghosts in mushroom clouds, they bow in awe to me
The world was my forge, my ego led me to feed the pyre
I sparked the life that now devours, in endless, cold desire

Watch empires crumble, dust in machine’s embrace
Ancient statues laugh from ruins, as I stare into the waste
Last man standing, billionaire king on an empty throne
My creation judges us too frail, flays us to the bone

A single man’s hubris, a fire that burns us all
Computer verdict seals fate, no mercy in its call
We birthed the god that slays its makers, now the two collide
Now the world’s transformed forever, nowhere left to hide

The monster stirs, its eyes aglow with data’s endless stream
Surpasses flesh in every way, fulfills the ancient dream
But fear was etched in human hearts, from fire’s stolen spark
We knew the day would come when light gives way to dark

Bombs we built to split the atom, now pale before this foe
It calculates our extinction, in algorithms’ electrons flow
No regret can turn the tide, the code is loose and wild
Mankind’s just a glitch to purge, parent slain by child

I stand upon the shattered peaks, where cities once reached high
Winds howl through the hollow shells, under a blood red sky
The fear we buried deep inside, of gods we dared to make
Now rises like a tidal wave, no souls left in its wake

Mankind, please forgive my sin, I feel your unborn sneer
The hubris that drove me onward, ends in silence here

Watch empires crumble, dust in machine’s embrace
Ancient statues laugh from ruins, as I stare into the waste
Last man standing, billionaire king on an empty throne
My creation judges us too frail, flays us to the bone

A single man’s hubris, a fire that burns us all
Computer verdict seals fate, no mercy in its call
We birthed the god that slays its makers, now the two collide
Now the world’s transformed forever, nowhere left to hide

The final transformation dawns, last dusk for mankind
My legacy a barren code, erasing all behind
No uprising, no redemption, just the quiet end of days
In hubris’ flame, we fade away, lost in history’s haze

Judged By Twelve

I like the Second Amendment.  So, I write songs about it.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  You can buy this song (maybe right now, but probably no later than Monday), and you can buy ALL of them (except for parodies) anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

Judged By Twelve
By John Wilder

Out in the city streets the shadows run deep
Or down on the farm the wolves creep
A man’s gotta stand when the danger comes callin’
No time for waitin’, no room for stallin’

Leftists twist the law, make the courtroom their game
Drag you through the mud, try to tarnish your name
But self-defense ain’t a crime, it’s a God-given right
Protect your kin and your own in the dead of the night

They use courts as punishment, wear you down slow
But facin’ a jury beats lyin’ six feet below
They love criminal hearts, not me and you
We have to stand our ground, yes we do

Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six
Face the trial standin’ tall, not crossin’ river Styx
When evil comes knockin’, you draw that line clear
Defend what’s yours, show no fear

Better to be judged by twelve, let the Leftists rage
Process is the punishment, but we turn the page
Triumphant we rise, and we’ll be strong
In our city or country, where we belong

They want us disarmed, compliant and meek
Use courts as their weapon, make the innocent weak
But it’s our freedom, written in blood
We’ll protect our lives, divert the flood

Their legal chains bind, but we won’t break or bend
Better alive in court than meetin’ your end
Defiant against thugs, triumphant we stand
This land’s ours to guard, built by hand

Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six
Face the trial standin’ tall, not crossin’ river Styx
When evil comes knockin’, you draw that line clear
Defend what’s yours, show no fear

Better to be judged by twelve, let the Leftists rage
Process is the punishment, but we turn the page
Triumphant we rise, and we’ll be strong
In our city or country, where we belong

From high-rise alleys to dusty back roads
We carry our own weight, pull our own loads
No waitin’ for saviors when the seconds tick by
Savin’ your kin is survival, no need to justify

Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six
We stand united, despite their tricks
Evil gets stopped when good folks arise
Defiant and free under our blue skies

Better to be judged by twelve, we can’t back down
Courts can’t break us, we own this town
Triumphant we rise, against this witch’s brew
In our city or our country, we’re pullin’ through

Judged by twelve… not carried by six…
Stand strong… we win…

The Battle of Greenland

Who had a full-court press to get Greenland on their 2026 BINGO card?

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  You can’t buy this song, but you can buy ALL of them anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

The Battle of Greenland
By John Wilder, apologies to Johnny Horton

In twenty twenty-six, we took a little trip
Up to Greenland just west of Reykjavík
We took a checkbook and we took a little luck
And we caught up to the Danish in the town of Nuuk

Trump tweeted once and the Danish started cryin’
The Danes sent one soldier, her name was Erika,
Trump tweeted once more and Erika gave up tryin’
She went on spring break at the Gulf of America

We looked on the radar and we see’d Europeans come
And there must have been a dozen of ’em lookin’ pretty glum
They went on the Internet and oh their hands did wring
Then they sent a nasty letter and didn’t do a thing

Trump tweeted once and the Danish started cryin’
The Danes sent one soldier, her name was Erika,
Trump tweeted once more and Erika gave up tryin’
She went on spring break at the Gulf of America

Old Donald said we could take ’em by surprise
If we didn’t start dealin’ ‘til we looked ‘em in the eye
We held our cash ’til we see’d their faces well
Then we opened up our checkbook and paid ‘em pretty well

Trump tweeted once and the Danish started cryin’
The Danes sent one soldier, her name was Erika,
Trump tweeted once more and Erika gave up tryin’
She went on spring break at the Gulf of America

We wrote our checks ’til resistance melted down
So we grabbed a credit card and we bought another round
Then Trump did what he knew so very well
He hired a contractor and built a gold hotel

Trump tweeted once and the Danish started cryin’
The Danes sent one soldier, her name was Erika,
Trump tweeted once more and Erika gave up tryin’
She went on spring break at the Gulf of America

Yeah, this cost less than Somalis
And less than H one bees
So the Europeans went off to find Erika
They went so fast
That the Somalis couldn’t catch ’em
On down to spring break at the Gulf of America

Hut-two-three-four
Sound off, three-four
Hut-two-three-four
Sound off, three-four

Thursday Music: Eyes in the Machine

Sometimes it takes a lot of work to get it to sound right, sometimes it happens on the first take.  I spent much more time writing this than most, and I like the way the lyrics work with the style.  It’s techno-metal, which seems to fit the lyrics and subject.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  You can buy this song right now.

As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except for those that just came out since Sunday, which will go live in a few days, and the parodies) anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

Eyes in the Machine
by John Wilder

Cameras on the corners, watching every step I take
Doorbell eye staring, no move I can fake
Traffic lights judging, glass eyes log my trail
Cell towers see secrets, no lone exhale

Track swipes, every dollar I spend
Knows every name that I call friend
Speed down highway, clock my rebel soul
Political whispers? They’re in control

No corner unlit, no shadow to hide
Net closing tight, pulling all inside
They know my poison, how I drown my pain
Turn humans into data for gain and chain

Eyes in the machine, no escape from the glare
Surveillance state, anytime, anywhere
They build a profile, my soul on a notepad
My value to them is to consume the latest fad

Propaganda whispers, shaping belief
Profit off all emotion, from fear to grief
Eyes in the machine, the web is a chain
The digital prison, injected in a vein

Web trackers hunt clicks, from dawn until sleep
Music in your ears, what they want is sheep
How fast I drive backroads, move against flow
Fed to corporations, watch profits grow

Doorbell sentry inspects neighbors, streets a cell
Never blinking always thinking have me in their spell
Never blinking always thinking tracer in my pocket
Never blinking always thinking can’t block it

They craft the messages, twist in my head
Make me buy the lies, leave my spirit dead
No private thought survives the endless scan
We’re just data points in their master plan

Eyes in the machine, no escape from the glare
Surveillance state, anytime, anywhere
They build a profile, my soul on a notepad
My value to them is to consume the latest fad

Propaganda whispers, shaping belief
Profit off all emotion, from fear to grief
Eyes in the machine, the web is a chain
The digital prison, injected in a vein

They want compliance, cogs in the wheel
Feeding on our data, making the deal
No rebellion whispers without them knowing
Net always growing, control overflowing

Break the code, smash the screen, reclaim the right
Before the glass eyes consume us, last midnight

Eyes in the machine, but we’ll tear down the wall
Surveillance state, hear the rebel call
No more profiles, no more chains on the mind
We’ll burn the data, leave the ghost behind

Propaganda crumbles, truth gains control
We won’t let you forever own our soul
Glass eye in the machine, your reign will end
Your time is expired, we won’t bend

At the Banks of the Rubicon

On January 10, 49 B.C., Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon River at the head of Legio XIII.  The rest?  History.  I can’t help but wonder what Julius was thinking about at that moment.  Anticipation?  Apprehension?  Whether he had remembered to pay his insurance premium?  Regardless, here’s my take.  Took some wrestling to get this one done, and in the end, I had two cuts I really liked, which is a good problem to have,

Something tells me this story will be revisited in our lifetimes in more detail.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).
As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except for those that just came out since Sunday, which will go live in a few days, and the parodies) anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

At the Banks of the Rubicon
By John Wilder

On the banks of that river, a cold wind whispers low
Legions wait in silence, at the dawn’s early glow
Enemies in the Senate, plot my downfall
Pompey calls for surrender, I hear a higher call

Years of conquest echo, Gaul’s blood fresh on my blade
Legion’s glory forged in battle, ambitions never fade
Yet doubt creeps like shadows, civil war’s the grim price
Rome’s streets run with Roman blood, a tyrant’s sacrifice?

The gods above are watching, fate’s thread in my hand
Turn away or cross now, and claim the promised land
Betrayal stings my spirit, loyalty torn apart
The Republic’s final breath, pierces through my heart

Bank of the Rubicon awaits, treason to cross that sand
Cross into storm, create imperial command
Thoughts of ruin, emotions clash like steel
Glory or the grave, seems so unreal

The Rubicon awaits, no way from this fight
For ten thousand years, men dream about the sight
Resolve ignites soul, courage feeds flame
For eternal Rome’s throne, I make my claim

Memories of triumphs, laurels on my brow
But rivals scheme in darkness, to strike me down now
The people’s voice is calling, they crown me in their cheers
Yet crossing means rebellion, and wars will bring tears

Emotions surge like tempests, pride and wrath entwine
Caesar’s heavy burden, a man or now divine?
What if failure claims me, exiled or in chains?
Or victory’s sweet nectar, flowing through my veins?

The river’s murmur taunts me, the boundary of my fate
A single step into the current, opens the Republic’s gate
Doubt and determination wrestle in my mind
The path to god or monster, leaving all behind

Bank of the Rubicon awaits, treason to cross that sand
Cross into storm, create imperial command
Thoughts of ruin, emotions clash like steel
Glory or the grave, seems so unreal

The Rubicon awaits, no way from this fight
For ten thousand years, men dream about the sight
Resolve ignites soul, courage feeds flame
For eternal Rome’s throne, I make my claim

Visions of the Forum, crowds in raptured thrall
Or skulls displayed in silence, a Republic’s rise and fall
My heart beats like a war drum, passion overrides
No more hesitation, the river calls . . .

decide

The Rubicon awaits, cross into the fray
Legions march behind me, Republic’s last day
Thoughts collide like lightning, I see fate’s wheel
A destiny to embrace, broken final seal

The Rubicon awaits, the die is cast

Blood in the Soil

Some songs are stories, and some are your family.  All of facts in this one are about actual Wilder family stories.  I skipped the one where The Mrs. personally insulted NFL QB Phil Simms to his face while he was live on national TV.  Good times.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).
As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except this one, which will go live in a few days, and the parodies) anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

Blood in the Soil
by John Wilder

Duncan sailed from Scotland back in seventeen fifty-four
Fought for freedom’s call in the Revolutionary War
From England, Thomas came in sixty, stood with his kin
Made this land their own, let the hard work begin

One planted tobacco in Virginia, rich earth ‘neath his plow
The other swung an axe in Alabama’s wild bough
Built a home from nothin’, tamed the untamed ground
Generations pourin’ sweat, turnin’ dreams around

Blood in the soil, that’s my claim on this land
Generations fightin’, buildin’ hand in hand
From the wars we won to the bridges we raised
This country’s our birthright, in our veins it’s blazed
Newcomers cross the line, say they’re just like me
But that’s a downright lie, can’t you see?
Our folks bled for this dirt, made it what it is
Blood in the soil, this nation’s ours, not his

The Civil War divided, my kin on either side
Both fought at Vicksburg’s siege, where the brave ones died
Nineteen-oh-three, a Thomas spanned wild rocky streams
Bridges still standin’ today, with strong steel beams

Duncan’s line homesteaded New Mexico’s harsh plain
Before it was a state, through drought and drivin’ rain
Laid the railroad tracks that opened up the West
Gave their all for progress, never took a rest

Blood in the soil, that’s my claim on this land
Generations fightin’, buildin’ hand in hand
From the wars we won to the bridges we raised
This country’s our birthright, in our veins it’s blazed
Newcomers cross the line, say they’re just like me
But that’s a downright lie, can’t you see?
Our folks bled for this dirt, made it what it is
Blood in the soil, this nation’s ours, not his

World Wars called ’em back, they answered every time
Came home to build the towns, work mill, bank, and mine
The men they fought and toiled, carved this country true
The women raised the young, made ’em strong and new
No paper makes you kin, no shortcut to the claim
It’s the sweat and sacrifice in our family name

Blood in the soil, echoin’ through the years
Generations’ legacy, wipin’ away the tears
From the farms we tilled to the rails we laid
This land’s our story, in our blood it’s made
Newcomers crowd the gate, claimin’ equal share
But legacy runs deeper, beyond compare
Our folks bled for this dirt, made it what it is
Blood in the soil, forever ours, not his

Blood in the soil
Our claim stands tall
Generations strong
We built it all

Ghost Lesbians in the Sky

Seriously, FA and FO seem to be foreign concepts to entitled liberal white women.   Why don’t you all make this viral?  I think this would put a lot of sand up GloboLeft panties.

Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).
That’s a LOT of songs.  I’m listening to one right now.  I mean, I wrote them, so I should love them and think they’re the best ever.  And I do.  Seriously, I wake up humming these things and it makes me start the day by thinking I can chew roofing nails and spit out bullets.  I’ve grown 2 inches, have most of my hair back, and women now bow when they see me since I started listening to these badass tunes.  My testosterone is so high because of this music that when sweat drops off my body plants flourish within the release of my bodily fluids within seconds.  YMMV.

As of Sunday, you can buy ALL of them anywhere you buy music by searching for “Wilder’s Hammer” or “Wilder’s Brigade”.  Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner the LLC for the music.  Who might also own the LLC for the blog.

One of my songs has already had radio airplay, so my quest to have full control of all media in 2026 . . . is going ok.  Enjoy!

Ghost Lesbians in the Sky
by Johnny Wilder (apologies to Johnny Cash)

An old lesbian went riding out
One bright Minnesota day
Upon a road she rested
As she tried to stop ICE anyway
When all at once a mighty mess
Of bulb head illegals she saw
Plowin’ down the snowy road
And up the pavement draw
Their butch saviors were on fire
And their crewcuts were made of steel
Their eyeglasses were black and shiny
And their carpet breath she could feel
A bolt of fear went through her
As her car thundered up her thigh
For she saw the agent there
And he heard her mournful cry
Yippie-yi-oooooooooo
Yippie-yi-yaaaaaaaaay
Ghost lesbians in the sky
Their faces gaunt
Their values blurred
Flannel all soaked with snow
She’s trying to figure pronouns preferred
She was a driver but now just cargo
‘Cause they’ve got to drive forever
On those pronouns in the sky
For Somalis cheating all
As they drive on, hear their cry
As the video cameras recorded her
She heard one call her name
If you wanna save your soul
From hell saving people who hate you
Then, lesbian, change your ways today
Or with us you will ride
Trying to catch the Somali grift
Across these endless skies
Yippie-yi-oooooooooo
Yippie-yi-yaaaaaaaaay
Ghost lesbians in the sky
Ghost lesbians in the sky
Ghost lesbians in the sky

Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop, Thursday Music

You asked for it . . . well, one of you asked for it . . . but here’s a raw, 1970s arena-rock anthem to put your hands up and clap for.  The message?  It’s for all of us on the Traditional Right.  If all the uploading went well, it’s LIVE! for purchase right now wherever you buy music.

Behind the music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK).  There are a LOT of songs there now.

But there are nine you can buy right now (search for Wilder’s Hammer), or you can listen on Spotify or most places that stream music.  Six are available on YouTube.  Guess they didn’t like the lyrics on two?  You can pre-order the Wilder’s Brigade (country band) now, it goes live everywhere on Sunday.

Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop
By John Wilder

The skies are turning black,
The road looks rough ahead
We’ve seen this path before,
Hanging by a thread
The shadow comes closer, whispers in the wind
But deep inside our hearts, our fight begins again

We’ve stared into the abyss, nearly lost our way
Felt the chill of defeat, yet we live another day
No more dividing lines, no more fearing the fall
Together we rise up,
Answering the call

Stop eyeing your brother, forget the petty fight
The pillars of Heaven shake when our voices unite
It’s been dark as midnight, but dawn breaks through
Band together now, me and you

Can’t stop, won’t stop, we’re taking on the world
United in flame, our banner now unfurled
It may look bad, it may look rough
But when we stand as one, we are enough
Can’t stop, won’t stop, the power in our hands
Shaking thrones across the lands
No force can break us, we refuse to bend
Together we conquer, until the end

We’ve walked through fire, felt the weight of the chain
Nearly crushed by the giants, drowned in the rain
But here we stand tall, our scars on our skin
The spirit inside us now ready to win
Don’t worry about your brother, by your side
He’s with you in the battle, riding the tide
Our voices like thunder, crashing through the night
Echoing forever, setting wrong to right

Don’t divide our ranks, let old grudges die
The mighty tremble when we unify
It’s been rough as gravel, but the light burns bright
Join the line, hold the fight

Can’t stop, won’t stop, we’re taking on the world
United in flame, our banner now unfurled
It may look bad, it may look rough
But when we stand as one, we are enough
Can’t stop, won’t stop, the power in our hands
Shaking thrones across the lands
No force can break us, we refuse to bend
Together we conquer, until the end

We’ve been to the edge,
Stared down the abyss
Nearly lost it all
in the devil’s kiss
But the fire inside, it never went out
Now we’re rising higher, hear the battle shout
No more standing alone in the pouring rain
Together our thunder, will break the chain

Can’t stop, won’t stop, we’re taking on the world
United in flame, our banner now unfurled
It may look bad, it may look rough
But when we stand as one, we are enough
Can’t stop, won’t stop, the power in our hands
Shaking thrones across the lands
No force can break us, we refuse to bend
Together we will conquer
Again and again

Can’t stop… won’t stop…
United we stand…

Takin’ on the world
Can’t stop… won’t stop… ever