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All essays by David Crush on Christianity, neurodivergence, politics, and pro wrestling.

Colored-pencil illustration: on a beach at dusk, a young castaway in a head bandana holds out a handwritten letter and presses a small carved wooden idol into the cupped hands of a bearded man in a battered hat, who looks down with a faint smile. Behind them, women sit around a campfire under torches and a thatched shelter, paying no attention.

Just Enough to Believe

JT handed Russell the Heroes' idol with a letter. There was no women's alliance.

Oct 25, 2026

Colored-pencil illustration: an empty wrestling ring with wooden posts and thick hemp ropes stands on a rocky riverbank beside a shallow stream at dawn, dry hills behind it. The sun is just clearing the horizon under a navy sky streaked with orange. A bearded man in rough, plain robes steps along the scuffed apron, bent forward, one hand pressed to his hip, limping.

The Oldest Booking Sheet

The 1-2-3 Kid pinned Razor Ramon on Raw. David had a sling.

Oct 24, 2026

Editorial illustration: a man in a navy sweater sits back from his desk at night, arms crossed. On the desk, a printed implementation plan is covered in handwritten edits, crossed-out lines, and sticky notes, one asking which model. On the monitor behind it, a dropdown labeled MODEL is chained shut with a heavy padlock, stuck on one option.

Keep Working on the Plan

Plan mode hooked me on Cursor. Now every new chat opens on Grok 4.7.

Oct 23, 2026

Colored-pencil illustration of a wooden table at dusk. A smartphone with a dark screen lies beside a large open Bible with a ribbon marker hanging over the table's edge. Above them a hanging lamp glows orange, and a pale moth flutters just below it. Through the window beside the table, birds fly across an open evening sky that fades from orange at the horizon to deep blue.

Ye of Little Faith

A four-minute phone call I put off for three days. Jesus had a name for that.

Oct 22, 2026

Colored-pencil illustration of a lone man sitting on an ash heap at the edge of a wide desert at dusk, head lifted toward a towering whirlwind of dust that rises from the horizon into a sky beginning to fill with stars.

Series · 1 parts

Where Were You

Job lost everything. God's answer was a question: where were you?

Colored-pencil illustration: a boy in pajamas sits cross-legged on his bed at night, a laptop of typed pages and wrestling title belts on his lap, looking uneasy. In the bright doorway, five smiling adults laugh and clap, their words drawn as one tangled black scribble above them. An overnight bag with a rolled sleeping bag waits by the door. On the wall above the bed hangs a theater mask still sealed in its plastic packaging.

Neurodivergence

You Don't Really Mean That

I said I did not want to go to the sleepover. People laughed it off.

Oct 16, 2026

Editorial cartoon: in a dim navy living room, a snarling wrestler in a black vest shouts and points out of an old boxy television set while a fan, seen from behind, leans toward the screen. A hand in a navy suit sleeve reaches in from the right edge of the frame and turns the TV's volume knob down. On the screen behind the heel, a small wrestler leaps off the top of a tall ladder over the ring.

Let the Heels Be Heels

Max Caster's rap barely drew heat. Firing him still taught every heel a lesson.

Oct 15, 2026

Editorial cartoon: under arena spotlights, a young wrestler holds a gold championship belt over his head in front of a cheering crowd. In the foreground, a grinning man in a navy suit waves into a TV camera, so the camera's screen shows him instead of the champion. In the corner, a hand holds a phone whose screen reads POST DELETED.

TNA Bound for Glory 2026: A Growing Pains Show

Leon Slater's title win was a welcome surprise. TNA buried it under its own mess.

Oct 13, 2026

Editorial cartoon: a man in a navy sweater reads a paperback in an armchair on a sunny porch, his phone face-down beside a cup of coffee. Through the window behind him, a giant glowing screen holds an endless stack of feed posts and a crowd of tiny people shouting and pointing. On a shelf in the foreground sits a glass jar labeled WAIT 24 HRS, full of crumpled paper.

Sit On It

I left four social networks. On the one I'm building, angry posts wait 24 hours.

Oct 12, 2026

Colored-pencil illustration of a wide, empty field of dry grass under a pale afternoon sky. In the foreground, a smartphone sits on a black tripod with a small red recording light glowing. Beside it, a gray metal folding chair holds a closed black Bible with a red ribbon marker. In the distance, a single leafy tree and an old wooden telephone pole stand at the edge of the field. No one is there.

The Sword in Vain

The Pentagon will livestream the firing squad, set for the hour of the shooting.

Oct 9, 2026