December 7, 2025 Some days in history don’t fade. They don’t soften. They don’t blend into the background noise of time. December 7th, 1941, is one of those days. A day when the world was punched awake. A day when young men — barely more than boys — got thrown into fire without warning. A day when fear, duty, sacrifice, and courage fused into one single moment that still echoes through our bones. On Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, we don’t glorify war. We don’t romanticize death. We don’t wave flags to make ourselves feel patriotic for a few hours. We remember — because remembering is a sacred obligation to the ones who didn’t come home. THE TRUTH IS THIS: REAL HEROES NEVER SEE THEMSELVES AS HEROES When the bombs fell and steel twisted and the sky went black with smoke, those men didn’t pause to ask who was watching. They didn’t check rank. They didn’t wait for instructions written in perfect grammar. They didn’t debate whether they had enough information to act. They moved. They fought. They ran toward fire they didn’t understand. They dragged wounded brothers from oil-covered water. They manned guns on decks that were exploding beneath them. They held the line with nothing but guts, training, and a sense of duty carved into their bones. Ordinary men became the wall that held back the storm. That’s the kind of courage that doesn’t die with time — it becomes the lighthouse for every generation after. WHY THIS DAY MATTERS TO OUR BROTHERHOOD IN THE TRADE You don’t have to wear a uniform to feel the weight of what those men did. Because we, too, live in a world where ordinary people step into extraordinary responsibility. We, too, work in the dark. We, too, answer a call that most people never hear. We, too, understand that safety isn’t a slogan — it’s a promise to the man beside you. When linemen go out in storms, fires, hurricanes — when we climb into danger because communities need us — we’re walking the same ancient road: Duty. Sacrifice. Service. Brotherhood.

Tonight marks one week since I threw down the gauntlet. One week since I lit the signal fire and said, “If you’re tired of the watered-down, glossed-over, corporate-approved version of this trade… step into the arena with me.” I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know who would answer. I damn sure didn’t expect this... But here we are… 250 souls... 250 linemen, apprentices, operators, safety hands, leaders, and hard-earned scars. 250 people who grabbed the guidon and said, “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s build something real.” Skool didn’t go live as a “group.” It went live as a challenge. A line in the sand. A dare. A call to every man and woman who’s tired of watching this trade drift away from the values that built it. And tonight, seven days later, the Brotherhood proved something powerful: There’s still plenty of fire out there!!! Plenty of people who want truth, not theater. Leadership, not titles. Safety that saves lives, not safety that checks boxes. Culture built in mud, storms, and steel — not in PowerPoints. To the 250 who stepped in: You didn’t just join. You committed. You picked up the guidon and said, “I’ll help carry this.” And that means everything!!! We’re only getting started. The work ahead is big. The mission is bigger. The impact — if we stay locked in — will be felt across the damn industry. So here’s to Week One. Here’s to the first 250!!! Here’s to the Brotherhood!!! Together We Rise!!! Lineman Bull$hit™ Skool. The arena is open. Let’s build.