I’ll just put it to you straight. I was fucking perturbed and outraged by a comment on one of my videos from some stupid fucking fake doctor, Dr. Gary Moore of San Antonio—a chiropractor, not a doctor. This guy has been pestering the hell out of me for the entire six and a half years I’ve lived here. I’ve deleted and blocked him three previous times, but he always pleads his case, calling at two in the morning until I relent and allow him back into my orbit. It always turns to shit.

In this latest round, he had the temerity to signal about Anthony Colpo. I’m genuinely sad that Anthony decided to shit-talk me and Thailand once he got back to Australia, especially after I personally hooked him up with a retirement visa and helped him set up here. But reflecting on it, these two guys are cut from the same cloth—both scared shitless of Thailand. Gary the fake doctor is even afraid to show his own face. I’ve got stories going way back. Afraid of everything. Not a man.

So here’s the deal, you gutless fucks: If you want to come shit on what I’m doing, if you want to shit-talk from the safety of your couches while accomplishing nothing and fearing everything, then bring it. Cowards terrified of Thailand. Go ahead.

… Before I get into the latest squalor-to-luxury update, I want to call attention to something the Wall Street Journal put out—a documentary video about 40 minutes long. Not only is it highly worthwhile to watch, it’s essential.

It’s about the people who opposed the lockdowns during Covid, and I’m astounded that a major news outlet would publish something like this. It’s 100 percent in that direction—not because I agree with it so much (I do) as the fact that I’m shocked a modern mainstream media news outlet would go against the prevailing narrative in such a fashion. It’s quite a watch.

This is like professional journalism.

OK, so I’m giddy, surprised, overjoyed, and every other giddy-up word you can conjure after what my gal has pulled off over the last several days to a week. I’ve done plenty for what she wants around here, and now it’s my turn. She’s moving ahead on getting my office and man cave built as the second story on the rear building. There are two structures here. The lower floor will eventually be the kitchen, but she insisted my space go in first.

She’s just getting it done, even surprising me with material deliveries and the rest. I’ll say something like, “That wasn’t in the budget—we never planned for that,” and she’ll wave it off: “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” or “I’ve got credit.” No drama, just forward motion.

And it isn’t cheap. It isn’t cheap-looking, either. This is American-pilot-grade work that would cost a fortune back home. I’m having furnishings built that would make you blush at the prices—thousands upon thousands of dollars for pieces designed and finished right here on site. In the States the same quality would run you real money in a nice shop, or tens of thousands if you commissioned it.

I’ll show you in the video what I’m talking about. There’s a plank table and two benches you’re going to see. I guarantee that once it’s finished and on display, someone would write a check for it without blinking—minimum thirty grand—because it’s one-of-a-kind and they’d want it in their house.

Alright. I think that about does it for this installment.