Kamala Harris has been meticulously rebranded, with the media crafting an image of her as a political powerhouse.
Yet, anyone who has followed her career cannot forget the often nonsensical statements, the forced laughter, and the glaring lack of substance. Despite her failures and gaffes, we’re expected to embrace her as a worthy leader. This isn’t just PR; it’s gaslighting on a grand scale.
Harris’s history of rising through the ranks by leveraging connections, from her days with Willie Brown to her current status, paints a troubling picture. Her performance during the pre-recorded interview—so carefully stage-managed—was unconvincing, revealing a politician who is more product than person. And with the backing of a powerful network, she is being positioned as a viable future president, regardless of her glaring inadequacies.
As the Biden administration continues to steer the country toward global instability, particularly with its policies in the Middle East, Harris’s complicity cannot be ignored. Her recent statements on Israel’s arms sales are meaningless when considering her close ties to pro-Israel interests. It’s a facade that promises no real change.
The dilemma is clear: many feel forced to support Harris because of the existential threat posed by Trump. However, the media blackout on Harris’s true competence, or lack thereof, should concern anyone who values transparency and effective leadership. What we are witnessing is not the rise of a capable leader but the careful packaging of a deeply flawed candidate.
This is not the change America needs. It’s a continuation of failed policies under a new, heavily marketed face.
Second article
John Lennon’s Poignant Reflection on Death
Just days before his tragic assassination, John Lennon was asked if he feared death. His response was both profound and eerily prescient. He likened death to merely switching cars on the highway of life’s journey—no more to be feared than a simple transition. Two days later, Lennon was killed, leaving behind a legacy that would echo far beyond his life.
In the end, we all face the same fate. We’re born into this world, live our lives, and eventually, our memories fade, as if we were never here. This is the inescapable truth of the universe—transient and impermanent, yet beautiful in its brevity.
Third article
Embracing Solitude and Overcoming Adversity: Lessons from Ulysses S. Grant
I’ve always found solace in my own company. Isolation has never been a burden for me; instead, it’s been a source of creativity and inspiration. In these quiet moments, I find the freedom to write music, craft words, and explore my innermost thoughts without the distractions of the outside world. Popularity has never mattered to me, and I’ve realized that when you’re content with who you are, others can’t intimidate or mislead you. They see your strength and self-assurance and know that you’re unshakeable.
Having a dream is one thing, but making it a reality requires a willingness to endure hardship. Every great person, whether virtuous or notorious, has faced significant challenges before achieving their goals. The road to greatness is not paved with ease; it’s marked by struggle, perseverance, and the refusal to give up.
Take Ulysses S. Grant, for example, one of the greatest American generals. Grant’s journey was far from smooth. Early in his career, he was a promising junior officer, but he grew bored and disillusioned, eventually being posted to a remote outpost far from his family. In his isolation, he turned to drinking, which nearly ruined him. Facing the choice between resigning or being court-martialed, Grant resigned and returned home, broke and directionless.
For years, he struggled to make ends meet, drifting from job to job, yet he never gave up. Despite his hardships, there was a fire burning inside him, waiting for the right moment to ignite. When the Civil War began, that moment arrived. Grant, once down and out, seized the opportunity. His unwavering opposition to slavery and his dedication to the Union cause led him to become the most feared and successful commander in the Union Army. Eventually, he caught the eye of President Lincoln, and his string of victories culminated in the ultimate triumph—accepting the Confederate surrender and securing his place as one of the most respected military heroes in American history.
Grant’s story is a powerful reminder that we should never give up, no matter how dire the circumstances. When others try to discourage you, remember that their failures don’t have to be yours. Keep pushing forward, even when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Whether you go around, over, or through the walls in your path, the struggle is worth it. Success isn’t just about talent or opportunity; it’s about resilience, determination, and the refusal to quit.
Fourth and final article
Discovering My Past: A Journey Through Racial Conflict
This morning, I stumbled upon something surprising: every home I’ve ever lived in—from my childhood to where I live today—can be found on the internet. I had no idea until now. As I sit down to write my life story, encouraged by my friends, it suddenly hits me that from the moment I was born, I’ve been navigating a world of racial conflict. It was a world very different from today, marked by the segregation of Colonial British Nigeria, the racial divide in 1960s New York, and the segregation in England during the sixties and early seventies.
I, Kio, stood out—a black face in a very white world. Until now, I hadn’t really reflected on this aspect of my life. But it’s clear: growing up surrounded only by white neighbors from the time you could crawl until now shapes your outlook. You might try to blend in, becoming what some call a “white black man,” or you could end up like me—very proud of your heritage and roots.
I’ve seen racial barriers fall in Nigeria and found myself caught up in the worst housing crisis in the U.S. in New Rochelle, New York, during the height of racial tension. My first school in England was Holmewood House, where I was one of the very few black students in a sea of white faces. It marked the start of a long journey through predominantly white institutions. Later, I attended Eton, where from 1970 to 1975, I was one of just two black boys, enduring a tough racial climate both at school and in England as a whole.
Then, God threw me into the deep end at the University of Pennsylvania, where black students were few and far between. I lived in Van Pelt House during my first semesters and became the first black member of my fraternity, which nearly sparked a riot among African American students. But I didn’t care—I enjoyed good wine, great food, and the butler suited me just fine. I told them, “Get a life.”
In corporate America, the pattern continued. I was often the only black face in senior marketing positions, while the few other black colleagues were secretaries. By this point, you stop thinking about it—you don’t feel the stress, you no longer hear the whispers or notice the dirty looks. No one can touch you when you know yourself. Your soul is strong, and Africa walks beside me, guiding me through thick and thin.
My father faced similar challenges before me, so I wasn’t the first in my family to stick out like a sore thumb in a very white-dominated world. I’ve made all kinds of friends, and unlike others, my friends are truly my friends. Now, I’m ready to start writing my life story.
