I'm a U.S. military veteran, entrepreneur, husband, and father who spent 20 years traveling the world and has spent much of his life trying to understand what makes people, families, and civilizations endure by understanding myself as I self-actualize. I care deeply about the civilization my children will inherit as I build a legacy for them from the ashes of a tragic history, because they will have to live with whatever my generation preserves, improves, neglects, or destroys. Much of what I build and write comes from that sense of duty. Social media is merely where I share fragments of my mind as I build my family empire. You'll want to read my Substack because it gives you words for things you've felt but couldn't explain, as well as a place to think deeply about love, family, sex, race, identity, pain, parenting, relationships, and human nature, especially as they relate to Western civilization. This is where I slow down, go deeper, and make the philosophy personal. Click here to begin the journey into my mind: nortonsmind.substack.com/p/t…

This Russian pneumonic plague I keep hearing about. ...the black plague, airborne. I still have the uRay technology, even though I took it off the Wolven Industries website. It was designed to clean surfaces and to let the user know when a surface was being effectively cleansed of viruses like COVID, but I can *easily* convert it into an airborne version to help protect people from outbreaks if they install it in their homes. The technology itself is already ready. I have dumped several hundred thousand dollars of my own bootstrapped cash developing it with the original Wolven Industries team. The parts were verified by Tel Aviv University to work on COVID. ....though, not just COVID, virtually any microbe known to man. I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work on the pneumonic plague. The problem is, I need an investor. At least...if I am to move quickly enough while shifting priorities. I'm stretched too thin at the moment otherwise, to make this a priority. But I theoretically, and most certainly, could.

My two-year-old walked in through the front door with his mother. I reached for my usual hug. I had bags under my eyes from being sick from (what we strongly believe) was a bit of food poisoning. ...but I was struck by his hesitation to come to me. "What's wrong, little baby? You're not going to get sick." But that was a statement made from a false assumption: It wasn't me being sick that he was afraid of: "Daddy, dead?" I furrowed my brow, reeling at that: "Dead? No, I'm not dead! I'm right here!" He stayed at the threshold of my home office, and pointed: "Daddy, is it dead?" "No, I'm not...oh.........." Suddenly, I realized he wasn't pointing at me, but at the Halloween decorations to my left flank: either of two skeletal dark spirits hanging from the walls. Plastic. Perfectly safe. Not even animatronic, but it was realistic *enough* to an imaginative toddler's eyes. His little mind wasn't sure if the plastic ghosts were real threats. He was legitimately scared. "He won't go through the hallway, either," said my wife, as we had lined our hallway with a life-sized, realistic skeleton and other decorations. My wife wondered if we should take the decorations down, for they may be too intense for him. I thought about it for a moment, and saw the opportunity in the problem: "No," I said. "I know what to do." I then turned to him: "You want to go on a journey with me, son?" He just stared at me, unsure of what to say. "C'mon. Let's go on a little adventure," I took him by the hand while smiling... ...and walked him through the house, bending down as I did so, crouch-walking to lower my height closer to his. I switched into my Solid Snake voice. Solid Snake was the main character of a video-game franchise called "Metal Gear Solid" that I knew he liked from watching me and his sister play. Snake was a genetically engineered super soldier who saved the world many times from nuclear devastation. His voice was smooth with a mild rasp. Think of him as a kind of Rambo-esque character, a combination of 80s Kurt Russel and Sylvester Stallone. "Okay, kid..." I said. "We're on a mission. Are you ready?" "Yes!" "Are you really ready?" "Yes!" "Alllllllright." I kept speaking in the overly cool 80s action movie hero voice (deliberately stressing the "L" and "i" with a vocal fry the way Snake does whenever he victoriously smokes a cigarette), "Don't worry," I said: "...You're with Daddy now. Let's go!" He cheesed from ear to ear, and came with me. So he and I went on a special mission, Metal Gear Solid-style, and I "fought" some of the demons and skeletons in the house. Had some pretty close calls, if you ask me. But because my son gave me support via the codec and because I was enhanced by Big Boss's genes (if you know you know) I managed to save the day without the need for many rations. In the end, the plastic skeletons were simply no match for my super reflexes and CQC martial arts skills. Thankfully, there weren't any crab decorations for me to battle. Not *this* time. Might have ended badly... ...but by the time my son and I had made it back to base, he understood that all threats in the house had been neutralized. I told him not to thank me...that I'm no hero... ...never was... ....I'm just a hired killer...here to do some wetwork... 🫡 ( My wife could barely contain her smile and laughter. 🤣 ) I gave my son a high-five, a hug, and a kiss as I flicked away my imaginary cigarette. I saw the whole situation as a golden opportunity. If we had simply taken the decorations down to keep him in a bubble of comfort, we'd have missed it: A golden opportunity not simply to help him face his overt and literal fears of the ghouls and goblins, but to set a symbolic pattern as early as now in his subconscious mind about rising to face figurative monsters dead in the eye... ...once he grows old enough to realize that the real monsters are within us.

The future of my family may involve space flight. Not me, but the next generation or two. I mentioned in an earlier post that my children are starting private tech courses today: learning basic coding, astronomy, how to build machines, etc. I didn’t sleep on that talent: When I saw my five-year-old develop a flawed but functional remote controlled robot, my wife and I agreed: we, as parents, are not sleeping on that. His talents, as well as my other children’s, are being fast-tracked into development with private, supplementary schooling. One of them asked last night about space flight, and I told them what I knew pertaining to their questions. They asked why I have started so many small businesses if Wolven Industries is my true passion. I told them that I may seem distracted, but I am not: I am monetizing everything I authentically can about myself to fund my R&D independently until I link up with a suitable investor. The same way the Wright brothers had the bicycle shop to fund their independent R&D of the plane. I then told them that, “You know, when I retire or die, you guys are going to inherit these businesses. You could theoretically use them as the same independent funding platforms that people like Elon Musk used his previous businesses for to fund his initial space flights. Then attract investors just like he did. And then set your sights not on Mars, but on other planets where resources can be mined for major profit on earth. You know on Uranus and Neptune it literally rains diamonds? You could theoretically form your own space Silk Road if you play the cards I’ve worked my life to give you correctly.” He told me I was right. The rest of the family nodded listening. “If you choose to take that route, I’ll likely be too old to go with you by the time you are ready, but that is a generational plan for our family I support. Just so you know. It’s just more of the same: our Norse blood is inclined to explore. To seek wealth and glory. It’d be the same story, different time and setting. But the spirit is the same. The sword is the gun.”

I have found that women are generally only as hard or masculine as they feel they have to be. This comes to mind after seeing a Filipino woman's video pop up in my feed, complaining about white men fetishizing "submissive" women in Asia instead of bringing out the divinely feminine in their own women. Do you have ambition? Do you have a plan for accomplishing that ambition? And do you have the competence to really accomplish it? A woman, of any skin color, generally only becomes hard in character when a man, if self-observing honestly, finds himself giving any other answer besides a "Yes" to any of these questions. To whichever question he is unable to say a strong, confident, and true "Yes" is the gap within which her nervous system will compel her to become hard in the way that *he* should be. A man with ambition and a plan is a man who can well-define the role a woman would play in his life, which would naturally be different for every couple. The rest is simply about his will to maintain his own personal boundaries of self-respect, his willingness to peacefully walk away from any behavior from her that he does not deserve. If a man knows that he is worthy of his own ambitions (be they big or small) due to his ability to actively show tangible proof of his progression toward their fruition, even if in baby steps...then hardness, disrespect, her assuming what is supposed to be his leading role in his own dreams, etc. from his woman is unwarranted. In the West, a man should know exactly what he wants, where he's going, how he is going to get there, and what role a woman would play in making that become a reality...if any. And she should be either on board with that or not...from the door. From the very beginning. If she isn't, then that's his responsibility to identify that early so as to cut her from the team, so that an opening for a woman who *is* on board can take her place... ...because he should be the captain of his life's ship. The CEO of his life's company. A woman's "submissiveness," or lack thereof, is more often than not a symptom and a reflection of the man. She is generally not the problem.

We don't celebrate Halloween for just one day; we celebrate it for the entire season, starting from September 1st, ending on November 31st. Every year, we build our collection of decorations by just a little bit, leading to an increasingly outstanding display on Halloween night. I got permission from the local government to turn my house into a public haunted house. And I have my first horror novel coming out soon. I'll have pumpkins imported from other areas of the world, grown the way I like them so I can give the children as magical an experience as possible. Every night of the season, we watch a horror movie after dinner. We analyze it as a family, talk about morals, dangers, and the dark nature of human psychology. What to do in survival situations that most people wouldn't think of. What it means to be truly noble when nobody else is, and why when times are darkest and it is most convincing not to be good, that is ironically *precisely* when we *should* be our moral best. My wife and I save the really grotesque and avant-garde horror movies (especially those with sexual content) until after the kids fall asleep. I have a two-year-old who has been addicted to The Nightmare Before Christmas. Too young to go to school, he stays behind while the others leave for the day. He gets sad if we don't let him watch it; so, we just let him. He leaves it on repeat. Too young to understand its deeper moral themes, I do have conversations with my older children about what movies like that signal. For instance, The Nightmare Before Christmas has very strong, right-wing politics embedded in its programming--despite being beloved by left-wing thinkers who frequent stores like Hot Topic. Let's review that movie under a microscope, I tell my children: Notice how every type of person from every respective side of the forest/holiday should stay with their own kind. Don't mix the people and cultures. What happens when you do? What could Jack (The Pumpkin King) have done differently from the beginning if he had more empathy for the Christmas ethnic group? Was it truly Jack simply taking some ideas, or literally trying to usurp the Christmas leader? If Jack truly had good intentions but simply didn't see the damage he was causing the Christmas citizens, what does that say about the difference between good intentions and outcomes, versus being inherently harmful *despite* good intentions and the need for self-awareness? *Is* there actually a way to mix without chaos? (Take your mother and I for example, I'll tell them.) What does it mean to usurp? What if Santa Claus was corrupt; would Jack have been justified then? These are actually profoundly deep sociopolitical questions that could lead to hours of discussion as a family...helping them to understand much of the world we live in today... ...just from a single children's Halloween movie/cartoon. So imagine the discussions we have about others.

I really love having children. I love the entire process: -- A beautiful woman I'm genuinely attracted to from a culture I highly respect. -- Conception. Obviously. That's never *not* fun... ...but to be honest? What really did it for me was that one experience playing Aliens: Fireteam that I published to YouTube. When I experience my *five*-year-old saying things like "Daddy, on your six!" and my seven-year-old saying things like "We wouldn't be this good without daddy!" Like...it's just... ....I honestly enjoy moments like those *more* than the sex. To be very honest. I was over the moon. You could hear me *on* the video like "You guys are CHILDREN but you're moving like PROFESSIONALS! You actually remember the tactics I taught you! You guys are blowing my fuckin' mind right now!" When I say that my family has discipline, unity, and camaraderie like the Ninja Turtles...I am *not* lying or exaggerating! You can see it in that video...and that was just *one* game! The moment (and moments like them) are honestly the favorite part about building a family for me. At least, so far. I honestly enjoy that better than the sex *because* moments like those *directly* touch key, developmentally scarring moments of great pain and loneliness that just really make me lean back and think: Damn...life was worth it. Like I can't express how much I like my children! Any parent will say they love their children, right? But do you *like* them? Like do you enjoy hanging around them? I think my kids are fuckin' *cool*! Like, what new robot is the quiet one building this week? (The one who built the remote controlled robot when he was five; we're enrolling him in robot mechanics courses this month.) How is another one talking about strategy and tactics in how to take down bad guys in the latest video-game? What new pokemon is my daughter interested in seeking my advice in how to train (because two pokemon of the same exact type and evolution will have very different strengths and weaknesses depending on what they are exposed to in different levels). I have to balance the fine line between disciplinarian and older friend, right? But when I am in older friend mode...it is *all* just...pure... ...I don't know how to describe it... ...I'm nine years old again, during what I *thought* was the funnest time of my life that I'll never experience again...right before I went homeless and all that... (Read my memoir if you're new to the page) And I am *so* grateful to my wife, because I *fully* acknowledge her part to play in why it's been such a wonderfully healing experience. She has turned me into a legend in their minds. I am damn-near a demi-god to them...and a LOT of that has to do with how much respect she shows me in the house, the example it sets and what it communicates to the children... Like...it's easy to initially judge me as a narcissist with the way that I put my image out there (I get it), but that's just a necessary aspect of building a personal brand...which I then use to provide for my family. It's not my ego for its own sake. Because of that, I earn legitimate respect behind closed doors, even if I am made fun of sometimes on the outside, because my family *knows* the reality...and they treat me well for it. And writing this out is the best way I can express it...getting these positive emotions out... Like...I love my *life* right now! Everything about child-rearing to me is absolutely enjoyable. Every stage. Sure, there are *micro* parts that involve losing sleep, or arguments here and there (of course!)... ...but like... ...overall????? And I have a couple other children about to come out of their terrible twos and enter into that "cool" phase that I'm in with the other children right now...so like... ...we're about to have MASSIVE LAN parties... ...and when we go camping and paintballing and airsofting... ...and intra-family martial arts tournaments... I just get increasingly excited thinking about all of this!!! From *this* experience? I am *always* down to have another child! I am growing to grow old too soon!

One of you had asked about this: What it was like my first time traveling to Latvia and meeting my mother-in-law. Fun fact: My wife hadn't warned her father that I was "black". 🤣 ...Her mother knew ahead of time, though. My wife led me to a small village called Krāslava. There, I was put through a "boot camp" of traditional Slavic and Baltic foods, culture, history, and language. Nobody actually called it a "boot camp"; that's just how my mind processes the experience (there is a part of me that will mentally and emotionally never leave the military): How quickly I was exposed to various elements of the culture in rapid succession while mildly sleep-deprived from jet lag. While I was there, every single thing I did was examined on a daily basis. Questioned. Tested from multiple angles. From whether I could handle the cold and certain foods... ...to even down to the way I showered: Any water left on the floor. The expenditure of clothing. I didn't smell the way they expected, which her mother found interesting after she sniffed my clothes (Yes, she sniffed my clothes...). I smelled like them, but my habits were 1st world. Her mother called me an "intellectual," (a post-communist insult) because my habits were viewed as bourgeois and wasteful. I adapted very quickly, though. I stayed there for three months (on *that* visit, at least). I started speaking a *little* Russian (which made babushka smile and laugh, because *nobody* spoke English *at all* but my wife and I, so it was total immersion for me). At one point, babushka was like (in Russian, remember...) "Why does he speak Russian like a BITCH!?" 🤣 She gave me a phrase to say, and said: "Say it like a MAN!" "He's mixing accents because he speaks other languages like Chinese and Japanese," my wife explained. I was like "No, no, no...babushka's *right*. She's harsh, but she's honest. If I go out there into the village sounding weak, that might lead to a fight..." (I called her babushka because of her relation to my children, even though technically she wasn't my grandma.) I knew that I *absolutely* stood out like a sore thumb. You could see me from *miles* away with *nowhere* to blend in with the people there. I was *the* only "black" dude in the entire village. So, no matter what I did, I knew I'd attract attention... ...and if I have this slender Slavic blonde on my arm while I'm going to the grocery store sounding weak...nah...that won't do. I knew I needed to get that tough Russian *bass* in my voice... ...in China, speaking like that may be thought of as rude or unnecessarily aggressive and unsophisticated, but among Russians? Nah. If you've got testosterone...show it. I knew I had to *represent* this family, not just the Nortons but the Dinevas too... I had to step up. 🤷‍♂️ That was on me if I wanted a beautiful Slavic/Baltic wife. Hey... ...so, I spoke from the diaphragm instead of the upper and middle chest (because, understand, I had just spent the past four years speaking Chinese, which involves shifts in tonality for differences in vocabulary definitions that Russian doesn't have...but were, at that point, embedded in my nervous system from daily life in China, so I sounded weird to the Russians and Latvians in the area.). And my mother-in-law was like, "Ah, there we go! THERE HE IS! THERE'S my son-in-law! Okay...Okay..." 🤣 At the end of it all, it was a good experience.

Once you make it past the terrible twos, it’s nonstop fun! Day in, day out bonding through whatever form of play you want as a parent. I don’t even do it for them; I play with my kids for me. And since all problems are opportunities in disguise, I realised early that the *initial* feeling of not being able to relate to the children due to the age gap is simply the *opportunity* to either invent or select games that bridge that gap. And then suddenly, from the outside looking in, what manifests is that you end up training your kids in things like modern warfare which may *seem* odd…but then you think: wait, no…that’s exactly how it’s always traditionally been, cross-culturally. What really were games like tag and capture the flag? Like really look at those games again, under a microscope. What were games like those *really*? In ancient times, how exactly did children transition from babes to hunter-gathering warriors and so forth? That’s what all that was. Play was originally never “innocent;” it was the transitory means of gently developing and preparing the mind to be beneficial members of the society in which they were born, acclimating and preparing them for the world they were living in at the time. When a father takes that approach to play, he ends up passing on all the skills and thought-processes necessary while barely even realizing it. What it means to train a child from birth in a thing (doesn’t have to be warfare) in a non-abusive way. My children are being trained from birth to be well-disciplined, tightly knit, strategically thinking, entrepreneurial modern warriors… …and I am loving every bit of the process.