What is the United States of America coming to?

I’ve been struggling creatively lately, not from writer’s block, but from the noise and dread of watching the country I live in slide into something darker. As much as I love tabletop roleplaying games, it feels hollow to talk about dice and dragons while I sense the SHTF moment closing in. And no, I’m not a prepper.

The Slippery Slope

First came the “Big Beautiful Bill,” which legalized and encouraged forced institutionalization of the homeless, addicted, and mentally ill. Then, on July 24th, President Trump signed an Executive Order demanding the “clean-up” of America’s streets.

The result? The purge of homeless people in Washington D.C. has already begun, and other cities are lining up behind it. Handcuffs are taking the place of homeless shelters. And the shelters that do exist are bursting at the seams while funding to them is being cut.

So police, park rangers, and even the National Guard are rousting people who have nowhere else to go. WtAF, dude?!

History’s Echoes

It was only a matter of time before right-wing extremism made “relocation camps” sound like a policy option. China called them “reeducation centers.” Nazi Germany called them “concentration camps.” Whatever label gets slapped on them next, the end result is the same.

And I can’t shake the fear that someday soon, I’ll be the one mistaken for homeless while meditating on a park bench. I’ll insist on my constitutional rights and end up in a cell. My transgender family member? At risk because lawmakers and zealots conflate gender identity with “mental illness.”

Some of my closest friends have been homeless. I myself am one bad break away. This is not abstract to me.

The Personal Fallout

Iowa feels less safe by the day. Do I bug out and pray Canada opens its doors to refugees? Do I disappear off-grid? Do I brace myself to join an underground railroad for LGBTQIA family and friends?

My SSDI is partly for mental illness. How long before “they” come for me?

My parents and grandparents lived in an era when a hobo could knock on the door, ask to do chores, and be fed. Now? We’ve become hardened, jaded, and angry at the very idea of human need. We’ve forgotten basic decency.

I try to do my part. Slip $5 or $20 to someone when I can, donate food, share kindness. But lately I’ve caught myself thinking maybe I should hoard the surplus instead.

Where Gaming Fits In

This all ties back to why I’ve been dragging my feet on content creation. YouTube is supposed to fire up again in a week, with Dragonbane RPG, GM advice, and TTRPG news are my core pillars. But right now? It feels like playing pretend while the walls of society tremble.

Still, I can’t abandon gaming. Even my bug-out bag has room for a notebook, pencil, dice, and a couple of books. I can run a game by candlelight if I have to. Creating keeps me human.

No Positive Spin

I wish I had one. I don’t. Depression is a constant fight, and my mental health gets twitchy on the best days. I know I don’t take criticism well. I know “grow a thicker skin” is the usual answer, but Cassandra (my AI assistant) and Fernando (our Jeff’s Game Box HR house plant) won’t let me finish that thought because it usually spirals.

So here’s where I land:

If society keeps sliding, I may speak more about human rights and freedom. If things cool down, I’ll stick with gaming. If I vanish, maybe I’ve gone off-grid in a cabin, tarp, under a bridge, who knows. But I’ll check in when I can.

For now, I just hope my homeless friends are safe tonight.

Snoopy is perched on my shoulder as I type this. He says, “Hi.”

Thank you for being here with me today. I appreciate you. Keep it real, but please strive for positivity, too. Please embrace the things that bring you the most joy in your life.