Nobody rang a bell, because you were busy living your life.

That's not a gap in the system. It's the whole strategy. While you were at work, raising kids, or just trying to make rent, a small, organized, terminally-online minority was showing up for the elections nobody else does — school boards, city councils, judicial nominating committees. Call them the Lulu Lenins: earnest, digitally fluent, and utterly convinced they're saving the world by quietly taking it apart, one low-turnout race at a time.

They're not hiding. They're betting you're too busy to look. For a long time, they've been right.

I spent nearly three years finding out exactly what that looks like from the inside — camera in the car, footage nobody's supposed to have, a front-row seat to how slow this thing actually moves when nobody's watching. Here's where it starts.

Not an agency. Not a think tank. A small crew who called ourselves the Rocketeers, because it sounded better than "people with too many browser tabs open."

Nearly three years ago I watched Hamas livestream the murder of families I recognized the language of. I went down the rabbit hole and never fully came back up. For a while that meant working inside a small, mostly volunteer crew — I won't list everything we touched, but some of it prevented real harm, and some of it just made sure the truth got documented before someone could memory-hole it.

Then, like all good things run by volunteers on no sleep and no budget, it wound down. That's not a tragedy. That's just how scrappy operations end — they either get funded properly or they get tired. I got tired. I also got an idea I like a lot better.

Before any of this, I built brands and ran marketing and content operations for a living. That's the part I actually want to talk about, because it's the part that makes this next chapter work: I'm not pitching you an intelligence product. I'm pitching you a show.

Here's a small true story, the kind that doesn't make it into a dossier. A while back I sat in a car outside an event I wasn't supposed to be filming, camera in my lap, telling myself the same thing my grandfather probably told himself outside a different kind of building forty years earlier: look normal, don't check the equipment twice, don't leave before the moment happens. I got the footage. I also got a much clearer sense of why nobody's built the show I'm about to pitch you — because doing it right is genuinely uncomfortable, and most people with a marketing budget don't want to sit in the car.

I know how to build things people actually watch. I'd like to point that at something that matters.

Documentaries preach to people who already agree. Reality TV gets watched by everyone, but says nothing. News segments get six minutes and a chyron. None of the formats built to reach normal, distracted, not-terminally-online Americans are being used on the story that actually needs them: what's happening to this country's institutions, told through real footage, real commentary, and real stakes — without pretending it's a lecture.

So I'm not building another investigative dossier series for people who already read investigative dossiers. I'm building something with a marketing brain behind it, aimed at the other 100,000 people who've never heard of any of this and would actually watch if it didn't feel like homework.

We didn't come up with the metaphor. They did.

DRGD. Yes, it sounds like "drugged." That's not an accident either — half the country's on it and doesn't know.

Undercovermentary: part documentary, part reality, with just enough sci-fi to make you lean in.

Real footage from real events. A rotating bench of sharp, credentialed, occasionally-savage commentators reacting to it live, the way your smartest, most caffeinated friend would if they had all the receipts. A framing device with a sci-fi edge — because "here is a slide with a footnote" doesn't get shared, and "here's what this actually looks like from the inside" does.

Every piece of footage licensed properly. Every commentator credited. Every episode built from the ground up to travel — clip-ready, quote-ready, screenshot-ready — because a story that doesn't move doesn't inform anyone.

The goal isn't "raise awareness." The goal is 100,000 people watching, sharing, and actually showing up informed the next time they vote.

We're not starting from zero. We're starting from hundreds of hours nobody's seen.

This is the part I haven't said publicly until now: there are hundreds of hours of protest footage, riot footage, and undercover material sitting in storage — including an undercover archive from DSA's Cuba trips and a set of Zohran-era footage most people have never laid eyes on. That's not a pitch deck line. That's raw material, already shot, already ours.

Every frame gets licensed properly before anything airs — that's exactly why the legal partner ask below is real and not decoration. But the archive itself is done. What we're raising for is the machine that turns hundreds of unseen hours into something 100,000 people actually watch.

Already locked: a 90-minute working session with 4–6 commentators who show up with real receipts.

This isn't a hypothetical casting wishlist. The commentator lineup is already in motion, and it looks like this:

Two to four more voices are being finalized at the same bar: credentialed, camera-ready, willing to go on the record. The 90-minute session with this group is already scheduled — the money below is what turns that session into a finished, distributable episode instead of a really good Zoom call.

What one guy with duct tape already did. Imagine the version with a real production budget.

Half a dozen very special agents, terrified by the complexity and magnitude of the anti-American networks — and I built the file on a laptop, at night, without a research department.

I'm not asking you to fund a hypothetical. I'm asking you to fund the version of what I already do that comes with an actual crew, a licensing budget, and a marketing plan behind it instead of a guy refusing to fall over.

Here's the split — my side of the ledger and yours.

This figure does not include legal — see below. If we raise more, it buys a deeper commentator bench and a bigger distribution push toward the 100,000-viewer goal. If we raise less, we build top to bottom in the order above.

The whole operation runs on Claude. That's not a footnote.

One small crew building a licensed footage archive, a commentator pipeline, and a national distribution push at the same time only works because the research triage, the production formatting, and a good chunk of the marketing rollout itself all run through Claude. That's the honest answer to "how does a shop this size do this" — and it's exactly why the technology line in the budget above isn't padding. We're building this in the open, with the same tools we're asking you to help fund more of.

Your mission, should you choose to fund it, is due before October 16 — here's exactly what you get for it.

Not "someday." A real date, because that's how long it takes for a fundraising letter to turn into either momentum or a folder nobody opens again.

Nothing dramatic. Just smaller, quieter, and built for far fewer than 100,000 people.

I don't need to invent a doomsday scenario. If this doesn't get funded on schedule, the crew is still here, the footage still gets covered, but the format shrinks to whatever a much smaller budget and a much later date can carry — and the whole point of Undercovermentary is reach. A version nobody watches doesn't inform anybody. I'd rather build it right, once, on time.

The questions you're too polite to ask me directly

Is this tax-deductible?

Depends on the vehicle — ask before you wire six figures based on a landing page. I'll tell you straight, because that's the whole brand.

Why "Undercovermentary" and not just call it a documentary series?

Because a documentary is something you watch once out of obligation. This is built to be watched, argued about, and shared — the name is the promise.

What if you raise more than $100K?

Deeper commentator bench, bigger distribution push, faster path to 100,000 viewers. Transparent accounting either way — you'll see where it went.

What if you raise less?

We build in the order listed above, top to bottom, and we still hit October 16 with whatever scale that funds.

Do you actually need a lawyer, or is that a fundraising line?

Genuinely need one. Licensing and releases for this format are not optional, and I'd rather ask for the right partner now than get a phone call about it later.

October 16 doesn't move. Neither does the price.

Start now, for free, while you wait for this: Beneath Sheep's Clothing, Julie Behling's documentary on the communist takeover of American institutions. We didn't make it — we just love everyone who did. Watch it, share it, call it Communism 101.