About Me

There’s no quick pitch for this. I’m a small-town dad from Indiana who started making things—patches, essays, cringe shirts—because I couldn’t keep watching the world fall apart without trying to make sense of it. Red Pawn wasn’t planned. It was a reaction that I had to a moment of clarity amidst a huge change in my life. It's a coping mechanism that turned into a forge.

This isn’t a brand, though I toy with it like it is. It’s not an aesthetic project, though I want things to look good, not just be good. It’s not just content. It’s a toolkit for people who are trying to survive a collapsing narrative environment with their integrity, curiosity, and sense of humor still intact. Maybe you need to express yourself; maybe you just need a break. Or, perhaps you want to know that someone sees you.

I don’t belong to any political faction. Too authoritarian for the anarchists. Too libertarian for the communists. Too principled for the liberals. Too honest for the grifters. If that sounds like a contradiction, it is—but I think that’s where the truth lives. Not in purity. Not in allegiance. In tension, in complexity, in the places that don't flatten. I am from the hills and valleys, where everything has depth and height.

I believe in care. In housing. In dignity. In not letting people rot. I believe that capitalism, imperialism, and institutional liberalism have built a reality-distortion machine that is eating everything—our minds, our movements, our futures. And I believe the only way out is through clarity, critique, and community that doesn’t collapse under aesthetic pressure.

Red Pawn makes gear, but that’s just the delivery system. The deeper work is epistemic. The patches are satire, but they’re also armor. The essays are long, but they’re tools. The memes are jokes, but the stakes are real. This is for the ones who’ve been radicalized, disillusioned, and betrayed—but still give a damn. Radicalization doesn't mean ignoring the system that is crushing everyone else. It's standing up, in whatever way you can.

Everything you see here is made by me. No staff. No automation. Every patch, every order, every message is handled by hand. Every email gets read. I care more than I’m comfortable admitting. I hold every kind word close, and every criticism even closer. Except for the haters—they can gargle my balls from the back.

This project isn’t trying to lead anyone. It’s not a movement. It’s not a manifesto. It’s a signal beacon in the fog—a weird little campfire for people who don’t fully fit anywhere, but aren’t willing to disappear. I am a crazy old man in a lighthouse, just hoping to see at least one ship make it through the rocks unscathed.

If something here speaks to you, good. If it sharpens your tools, even better. If it pisses you off but lingers in the back of your mind—you're welcome.

Thanks for being here. For reading this far. For giving a shit.

If you ever want to talk, you can reach me. Directly. Always.

We need the biggest tent and longest table. Luckily, my father was a woodsman and a carpenter.

—Red Pawn