I have a confession to make. I’m really embarrassed and upset, but I need help. I don’t know where to turn.

My seven-year-old nephew is self-identifying as Hellenistic.

It started innocently enough (we thought) in his second grade public school class. The teacher (obviously planted in the school by the radical Hellenistic group Dodekatheon to recruit bright, impressionable elementary school children) ostensibly wanted “her pedia” to learn the stories of the ancient Greeks and the tales behind many of the items and products named after so-called Greek gods and goddesses. We were concerned because, as Western Christians, we didn’t really want him learning such myths. I mean, a deity supposedly wrapped in swaddling clothes to protect him from those who meant him harm? A deity, worshipped from a young age, whose followers gathered at a cave where a supposed death and rebirth by fire happened? It was a story we were not entirely comfortable with, to say the least.

My nephew, we’ll call him Hugo, would come home every afternoon telling us stories of other gods and goddesses. That Hera is responsible for the Milky Way. That Dionysus frees people from self-consciousness and worry. That Olympia was a sacred city to those who worshipped Zeus. That the festival of Lykaia involved going to a mountain-top for human sacrifice. That Apollo could heal the sick, but could also spread death and plague. It just got to the point of the ridiculous.

But the stories were so ridiculous that we just knew Hugo wouldn’t believe any of them. But then, one day last week, while in the car with my mother, Hugo began to pray. To Zeus. My mother asked him why he was praying to Zeus and he said he’d learned about it in school. He figured he might as well take his prayers to the top. Not one to panic, my mother figured it was the folly of childhood, but made a mental note to watch him more carefully.

Hugo began to talk more and more about these Greek myths. On Monday he was found in his bedroom, dressed in a sheet designed as a toga. His parents tried not to panic, but how could they not? On Tuesday, my brother found him in the street, wearing Nikes, chewing Trident gum, and taking pictures of a bridge and power lines with an Olympus camera. He stopped eating tzatziki sauce on his gyros. He said plain yogurt was more pure.

Honestly, I knew something was up week before last. He sent me a Flat Stanley with instructions to “put him in an envelope and send him around the country,” to “learn about our postal system”. Stanley was colored red and purple, colors known to be associated with radical mythology.

I’m using my blog as a forum to warn you all: It could happen to you! These people like Hugo’s teacher work slowly, almost undetected, preying on young, immature minds. They teach them about explosions in science class. They make them familiar with the traditional dress of ancient Greeks. If we allow this so-called education to continue, where will we be in five years? I’ll tell you where—speaking ancient Greek, drinking wine from deerskin flacons, and marrying our sisters. That’s where.

We are not safe. None of us. For years we’ve let them infiltrate our colleges under the guise of “fraternal social organizations”. Will we let them take our babies now? The enemy is here, and they want us dead because they hate our Big Macs, and our Chryslers, and our Christian values.

Write your Congressman. Tell him you want our schools to stop indoctrinating our children with radical Hellenism. Boycott Nike, Trident, Olympus, Atlas Van Lines, Midas, Orion Pictures, and Trojan condoms (our children do not need to be indoctrinated with sex education either, so be careful with that one). No more travel to Phoenix! I am currently contacting some really big names in the music business for a protest song called “I Ain’t Gonna Play Camelback Mountain Resort”. We cannot let this infiltration and indoctrination continue.

Please, if you care about the future of a (single) Godly America, get the word out. Forward the link to this story to as many people as you can. Talk about it on The Facebook, on The Twitter. We cannot stand idly by. I want MY America back. Don’t you?