My parents were British Protestants, both teachers who worked while traveling. My father taught across the United States and Canada, sometimes building houses along the way. I was meant to be born in the U.S., but when Dad filled in for a teacher ten miles over the Canadian border, that’s where I first entered the world.
My Irish father was tough, fond of whisky, and had an Irish temper. My English mother was gentle by contrast. She found Anglo-North America too cold and wanted California; Dad chose Florida, which she then found too humid. Dad could also be formidable. When a tenant refused to leave after months of unpaid rent, my father fired three warning shots over the house. Within minutes, the squatter and his wife fled, last seen heading north toward New York.
Just as we settled, Dad was offered a headmaster’s job in Vancouver, then a better position in England, and later one in Australia. He taught there for years before entering politics with a party he helped build, only to see, to his disappointment, hippies take over. He said they were worse than the Germans he’d fought as a WWII paratrooper.
Politically, my family were liberals, working in government jobs. In my twenties, after reading Atlas Shrugged, I became a committed free-market capitalist. I eventually persuaded my father, who shifted right in his mid-sixties. No one else did. At family gatherings, I disagreed with their views but mostly avoided arguments.
My older brother, a committed socialist, was a headmaster at a state school. When I said that governments waste money, he laughed and asked why they would waste money.
“Because it isn’t theirs,” I replied.
Another time, he questioned my claim that public servants don’t pay real taxes. I explained that if the state takes both wages and taxes from the same pool, the public servant only returns money that has already been taken.
After college, I worked for newspapers, drawing cartoons and caricatures, and writing political pieces under a pseudonym. My satire angered unions. When I refused to join them in striking, they blocked me from entering the building, so I paid a cab driver to deliver my work. The cartoons ran anyway. I later learned I’d been blacklisted.
A year later, editors nationwide told me they loved my new strip but couldn’t publish it. Their hands were tied. I knew then I needed another income.
With a young family, I turned to property and later founded a company that still operates today. We expanded into the U.S., employed Americans, and now serve clients in California, Texas, New York, Vancouver, and Australia’s Gold Coast.
Rob Larrikin is a pseudonym. I use a pen-name to protect my family from the Far Left, who are inherently violent by nature. ‘Rob’ is what socialists do. ‘Larrikin’ is what they call you when you tell the truth.
I was shadowbanned by Twitter and YouTube as early as 2013. When I launched LeftyLiars.com in 2018, it was immediately throttled by Google, Facebook, Reddit, and others. Most of it remains effectively invisible. Still, through other channels, my articles have reached millions, enough for a man the Left will always try to silence.
When Elon Musk bought Twitter, I returned. For the first time in years, a little light broke through a very dark, censorious world.
Disclaimer:
Nothing on this website constitutes legal, medical, or professional advice. I am not a lawyer, doctor, or other licensed professional, and no attorney-client or similar relationship is created by viewing this site. The views expressed here are based on my own research, reading, and experience. They may be right or wrong and may not apply to your circumstances. If you need advice on any serious or personal matter, consult a qualified professional. Any action you take based on this site is taken at your own risk. I accept no responsibility for losses, damages, or consequences of any kind arising from its use. If you disagree with or do not understand this disclaimer, do not rely on the content.
