the Dictator

Some experiences stay with you for years, not because you understand them completely, but because they refuse to fade.

One of those experiences happened in May 2018 while I was working as a floor walker at AT&T, a company I still think of as carrying on the legacy of the American Bell System.

A coworker named Charlie transferred a customer issue that involved a gold Samsung Galaxy S7—the same model phone I happened to own at the time.

The customer had submitted the phone under warranty but was charged more than $600 after the claim was denied. The device had been returned because it was considered physically damaged.

While reviewing the documentation, I noticed something unusual. The photographs taken during the warranty inspection appeared to show what looked like a pellet hole in the shipping box. The images were timestamped April 20, 2018, at approximately 4:20 p.m.

To me, that didn’t make sense. I remember telling my manager that no one in their right mind would intentionally shoot their own phone before mailing it in for a warranty claim. I recommended that we credit the customer.

At the time, AT&T was being extremely conservative about issuing credits, and my request was denied.

I had to go back to the customer and explain that the charge would stand.

After the call ended, I walked into the restroom. When I urinated, the color was bright red. My first thought was that I was urinating blood. A little later I realized it was most likely caused by an extremely spicy Vietnamese curry I had eaten earlier that day.

Those events had nothing to do with one another. They simply happened on the same day.

Years later, while following the current court proceedings involving Charlie Kirk, those memories unexpectedly resurfaced. I also found myself noticing other coincidences: Charlie had handled the original customer interaction, I owned the same model Galaxy S7, and Charlie and I both happened to be missing the same tooth.

This morning, while in rehab, I shared the story with a nurse technician because it had been weighing on my mind. As I was leaving, I glanced at the large wall clock and became convinced it was showing around 2:20. In reality, it was approximately 4:10. I even mentioned that I thought the clock was wrong before realizing I had simply misread it.

The experience reminded me of what is sometimes informally called Todd’s syndrome, more formally known as Alice in Wonderland syndrome, a rare neurological condition associated with perceptual distortions. I am not claiming that I have this condition or that it explains what happened. Rather, the moment reminded me how easily perception can be mistaken, especially when reflecting on emotionally significant memories.

Looking back, I don’t claim these events prove anything. I don’t present them as evidence of a conspiracy or of anyone’s guilt or innocence. What they represent to me is an unusual chain of memories, coincidences, and perceptions that resurfaced as current events unfolded.

Whether those connections are meaningful or simply the way memory organizes experience is something each reader can decide for themselves.

—

Disclosure: This article was drafted with the assistance of artificial intelligence and reviewed for factual accuracy, to the best of the author’s recollection, by Todd Megee. Any interpretations or personal reflections expressed are those of Todd Megee.

This is the first time I’ve publicly shared this.

Nine months after Labor Day 2004—what I personally consider my rebirth—I became a eunuch.

Fast-forward to Christmas 2016.

My dad, Donal (without the second “d”), received a 45.8-pound brick of lead. Looking at it sparked an idea in my mind. It reminded me of the concept behind Citizens United v. FEC—that money functions like speech. My own thought became even simpler:

What if money is another form of light?

I couldn’t prove it.

So I built an experiment.

That experiment became TrumpDomains.net.

The goal was never to get rich. It was to attract goodness—and eventually prosperity—by giving away more than 100 Trump-related domain names to people who wanted to publish their own ideas. If sunlight is the best disinfectant, I wanted to help more people shine it.

I never charged for a domain.

I never made a penny.

The project is now dead.

Then came Thanksgiving 2018.

I woke up with phantom testicular pain.

Being a eunuch, that was… confusing.

By dinner, I checked my email and found someone requesting TrumpHasNoBalls.org.

I was ecstatic.

After two years, someone finally wanted one.

I replied, “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s finish the transfer tomorrow.”

About ten minutes later, he wrote back.

“Never mind. I found another domain.”

And then I started laughing.

The universe had finally explained the phantom pain.

That guy had just metaphorically kicked me in the nuts.

The project never attracted the money I thought it might.

But it did reinforce something I still think about today.

Maybe my idea wasn’t completely wrong.

Or maybe God just has an outstanding sense of humor.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned…

Life can still kick you in the nuts—

even after you’ve gotten rid of them.

—

Transparency

This article was drafted with AI assistance and reviewed, edited, and fact-checked for personal accuracy by Todd.

TrumpDomains.net never generated any income. The domains were given away freely as part of a personal experiment.

If you’d like to support future writing, donations are appreciated but never expected.

Cash App: $TheDictator42
Chime: $Todd-Megee
Bitcoin: bc1qxrhywvqkzw9x8xe99927dmd8fz5rnga2zjed32
Solana: 9JrcUzVCRCFXnG7vcLLgJyGKhDvxX9GUtZxeUpKhiePm

 

hey, I’m Todd and I’m odd about T Meta.. I mapped to much of the current Matrix configuration but didn’t learn to project actual control. it hasn’t been a beautiful day in the neighborhood, but today marks the halfway point of my rehab and I’m waking up hopeful I will learn how to tolerate this shit show of a holographic mirror of myself until I do. getting the courage scripts installed. The controls are there, just not the courage to use it, you know, caring about people’s feelings has really slowed me down.

BTW, screw the current /soon to be old configuration and in with the new. Jesus needs to return to the game and flip some of ya’lls tables.

*T Meta is my defining model of the cross Jesus got killed over.

pps: the wafting smell of shit at this rehab when the septic kicks on is ©the beautiful smell of recovery.