Between February 12 and March 19, 2026, I published 145 assertions on frankbenjaminhartvedt.no (this domain now redirects to this website). These assertions covered everything from sideways glances at the political and cultural realities of the West to commentaries on my work with Maksima.
I have decided to publish four of these entries here on frankbenjaminhornhartvedt.com. The rest will remain forever in the minds of those who read them consecutively in real-time – the slight majority of whom hail from my native Norway (though in the distant future, there is a possibility that all 145 assertions will be published).
March 3, 2026 | The Religious Bricoleur. We can all create religious conceptions. You can, I can. We live right in the middle of a mystery so fascinating and exciting that you struggle to find adequate words to describe it all. L. Ron Hubbard is a fascinating man, mainly because he didn’t just tumble around with fantasies and notions of a potential spiritual reality in his head – he wrote it all down. Volume after volume. He was a religious bricoleur. Some of what he came up with may seem absurd, but if you ask me, he had an exciting and compelling core idea. He envisioned that we humans have a soul – or a thetan, as he called it – that could develop life after life, and eventually end up as something almost greater than a god; a being capable of creating its own physical universes. He laughed at Nirvana. He scoffed at Christianity. “Thetans are individuals. They do not … merge with other individualities. They still have the power of becoming anything they wish while still retaining their individuality. … There is evidently no Nirvana. … When he goes upscale, he becomes more and more an individual capable of creating and maintaining his own universe” (Hugh B. Urban, 2013). Who knows what awaits us after death. Hubbard rambled a lot, but many of the thoughts behind his conclusion above still strike me as the most interesting religious conceptions I have encountered, having mapped much of what exists out there among religious movements with a certain following. Hubbard couldn’t be bothered with all the finger-wagging of the major (law-based) religions. In his mind, submitting to anything beyond his own ethical and moral standards (which he fed his followers, by the way) was not up for consideration. L. Ron Hubbard wanted to be the sovereign himself. A creator of a paradise tailored by him, and him alone. He came up with many (peculiar) tools needed to achieve that state in the end. He didn’t just talk, in other words. He acted.
March 3, 2026 | When watching the TV series Succession, I am among those who see qualities in the mogul Logan Roy that I find very compelling. Logan is proud of everything he has achieved through hard, purposeful work, uncompromising focus, and his mastery over adversity and opposition. He is proud of his media empire, knowing full well that building such a thing was anything but simple. He also knows that people who have built nothing in their lives cannot truly grasp what such an endeavor demands of a single man. His entire being exudes this. He carries an air of superiority. You see it in him. If people were to say to him, “Logan, relax, you’re just delivering news; you’ve achieved things, but you’re not God,” it is highly likely that Logan thinks to himself: “Well, I feel like a god. I feel superior. I believe I have every reason to, and frankly, I guess that is the only thing that matters.” Logan surely experiences a sensation that those who have felt it would characterize as one of the most supreme things an individual can experience in this life. In my youth, I watched the TV series Hart to Hart, featuring the couple Jonathan and Jennifer. They embarked on exciting adventures in every episode. Jonathan wore a monumental signet ring on the pinky finger of his right hand, and as he drove through the gates of his estate, it is highly probable that he looked with satisfaction at the large H-monogram on the gate every single time. Jonathan was a successful businessman. “Self-made,” as they say. Everything about him radiated contentment and pride. I must have loved what I saw. I also remember many of the villains in the TV series Columbo. I liked what I saw. The pinky signet ring was always present, the elegance of dress was at the highest level, and the self-assurance was almost beyond belief. These were men who had delivered in life. They had become murderers – that is why they were portrayed in Columbo – but prior to their murderous path, they had been achievers of the highest order. I remember these characters fascinated me. They had made fools of themselves by killing another human being, but when I looked at them, I thought: these are men who are high on themselves. For good reason.
March 3, 2026 | “I couldn’t give a firm explanation for that tingling I got on my back after I had defended my principles, nor why the tingling felt so wonderful. I just knew that it exceeded all of the other good feelings by a good margin.” I give you Terry and Raymond.
February 19, 2026 | Then you have a soul: Linus and Ben. Do humans have a soul – a spirit that lives on after we die? Do animals have a soul? Well, mine certainly did. Let me introduce you to unshakable Linus and “the human” Ben.
I grew up with the family budgie, Potsi. So it wasn’t unnatural that I bought a budgie when I left the nest. A blue male – just like Potsi. I named him Linus, after a funny character from my childhood books. For those who don’t know, budgies can become fairly tame, depending on how you handle the little guy. In my new home in Morvik, Åsane, Linus was given free rein – he could do exactly as he pleased. He had a cage where he could relax, but he was also free to fly whenever he wanted. I made sure to nail branches to shelves and walls so he had things to play on.
One of the first evenings in his new residence in Morvik, he stood on a shelf close to the ceiling, peering down at me as I played my keyboard for him. I focused intently on muted strings – violin and cello – knowing it would likely please the bird. And it certainly did. With his head tilted, he stood completely still for several minutes, staring intently at me and clearly listening with great concentration. He seemed utterly bewitched. And what happened? He flew down onto my head and stayed there, for a long time, while I kept playing. It’s quite certain I was playing Bach/Gounod’s “Ave Maria,” as I played that often, and I was probably also playing “Hello” by Lionel Richie, as that was also a regular back then. I knew these songs resonated with human souls, and I now understood they also struck a chord with budgies. At least with Linus.
After the keyboard session, Linus was hooked. From that moment on, he rejected branches, air, and cage, and perched on my head almost constantly – especially when I was sitting and writing on Way. But it went even further. This little fellow had become so fond of his master that he braved all kinds of danger just to be near me. If I was in the shower, he would flutter into the bathroom and fight against the heavy water jets to secure a spot on my head. The inevitable happened – he was knocked to the floor by the jet, time and again. If you’ve never seen a soaking wet budgie, you should. It’s a funny sight. I loved that little guy.
I often took him along on my outings – to training, to visit people, and so on. When I was at training, he sat on the car’s rearview mirror, patiently waiting for me. If I was walking down the street toward someone I was going to visit, for example, Linus had a VIP spot – in a warm jacket pocket. And while lying in my pocket, I’d fuss over him a little as I strolled along the asphalt.
But eventually, I started feeling a bit guilty about my little treasure. Because I couldn’t always take him with me. He needed a buddy, I decided. A soulmate of his own kind. So I bought another budgie. Minos. I knew that with that purchase, the close bond between me and Linus would likely be over – at least to a large extent. But not on Linus’s watch. I could forget that idea. The new budgie was brutally rejected. The head of Frank Benjamin was where Linus belonged – even in the shower. He chose the human over his own kind. Then you have a soul. There’s no arguing that.
What about Ben? Read about that young lad here.
(Note: The assertion regarding Ben and Linus was originally a brief statement with a link to the full text above)