Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Wall Street's Ridiculous Freakout Over Treasuries
The yield on 10-year U.S. Treasuries has hit 3 percent. The end is nigh.
When this threshold was crossed Tuesday, the financial world went into paroxysms. Headlines lit up, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged as much as 600 points, before recovering to close down 424 points. "The 3 percent level is a big psychological point for investors and has gained huge focus," the head of equities at London and Capital told CNBC.
But if your own reaction was a mixture of "huh?" and "what?" don't worry: You're the reasonable one. Wall Street's freakout over this is completely uncalled for.
But first, let's back up. What's the yield on a 10-year Treasury anyway?
A Treasury is just a U.S. government bond: You buy it from the government in exchange for interest payments at a set rate over time, and then eventually the bond matures and the government pays you back the principal. Other investors can also buy the bond from you, and then they lay claim to the interest payments and the eventual principal repayment. Different types of bonds mature over various time spans, but the 10-Year Treasury is probably the most widely used in financial markets.
The yield itself is just the return an investor can expect from buying the bond. It's a function of the bond's price and its interest rate. Holding the price constant, the yield goes up when the interest rate goes up, and the yield goes down when the interest rate goes down. Holding the interest rate constant, the price operates inversely: As the price increases, the yield falls. As the price decreases, the yield rises.
A few things can push the yield up.
If the Federal Reserve is worried about inflation, for instance, it may dial up interest rates on borrowing throughout the economy. In that case, the government will need to offer a higher interest rate to keep attracting investors. Slowly but surely, the Fed has been doing just that.
Investors also look to government bonds as safe places to store their cash. But as the economy picks up, and more investment opportunities arise elsewhere, investors' demand for Treasuries falls relative to the supply. That drives the price down and the yield up. Demand could also fall relative to supply if the supply of bonds increases — like when the government decides it's going to ramp up its deficit spending. Which it recently did.
All of this has led to an uptick in Treasury yields.
Now, why is Wall Street's panic overblown?
To begin with, here's the 10-Year Treasury yield since 1990. The recent rise to 3 percent is that little twitch in the bottom right corner.
The last time 10-year Treasury yields were as high as 3 percent was all the way back in ... 2014. Prior to 2008, they were always above 3 percent. The economy has gone through plenty of periods of strong growth before, with bond yields and interest rates in general significantly higher than they are now. The financial industry, and certainly the financial media, seems to just perpetually forget that the economy existed and functioned just fine prior to whatever conditions held over the last few years. Hence the latest panic.
Like I said, rising Treasury yields could also signal rising inflation. That could make investors nervous. But also consider the baseline that inflation would be rising from. We haven't even been able to hit the Fed's 2 percent target, much less exceed it, in years.
A third issue that could be worrying investors is the debt. If the supply of bonds is outpacing demand, does that mean the U.S. government could run out of lenders? Except many people forget the federal government controls the currency and can create all the money it wants to meet its debt obligations. The price of its bonds may fluctuate, but it will never run out of buyers or suffer a debt crisis.
Finally, while the economy can certainly operate at higher interest rates, the other concern could be the Fed: that it will hike interest rates too fast, before the economy is strong enough to shoulder them. Of course, that isn't a fear about economic conditions so much as a fear the Fed will make a bad policy choice. But while I think the Fed is hiking too fast already, it's not going wildly overboard. And its reactions to incoming inflation data seem pretty sober.
But there's one other factor worth mentioning as well.
The post-2008 period was something of a sweet spot for Wall Street. The economy has been sluggish, meaning inflation and interest rates have been low. Yet at the same time, business profits have been exceedingly large. That's a weird combination that textbook economics says isn't supposed to happen. A sluggish economy should deliver poor profits. But high profits combined with low interest rates and low inflation equals an absolute bonanza for the financial industry. And the upward trajectory of Treasury yields may signal the bonanza is coming to an end.
When this threshold was crossed Tuesday, the financial world went into paroxysms. Headlines lit up, and the Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged as much as 600 points, before recovering to close down 424 points. "The 3 percent level is a big psychological point for investors and has gained huge focus," the head of equities at London and Capital told CNBC.
But if your own reaction was a mixture of "huh?" and "what?" don't worry: You're the reasonable one. Wall Street's freakout over this is completely uncalled for.
But first, let's back up. What's the yield on a 10-year Treasury anyway?
A Treasury is just a U.S. government bond: You buy it from the government in exchange for interest payments at a set rate over time, and then eventually the bond matures and the government pays you back the principal. Other investors can also buy the bond from you, and then they lay claim to the interest payments and the eventual principal repayment. Different types of bonds mature over various time spans, but the 10-Year Treasury is probably the most widely used in financial markets.
The yield itself is just the return an investor can expect from buying the bond. It's a function of the bond's price and its interest rate. Holding the price constant, the yield goes up when the interest rate goes up, and the yield goes down when the interest rate goes down. Holding the interest rate constant, the price operates inversely: As the price increases, the yield falls. As the price decreases, the yield rises.
A few things can push the yield up.
If the Federal Reserve is worried about inflation, for instance, it may dial up interest rates on borrowing throughout the economy. In that case, the government will need to offer a higher interest rate to keep attracting investors. Slowly but surely, the Fed has been doing just that.
Investors also look to government bonds as safe places to store their cash. But as the economy picks up, and more investment opportunities arise elsewhere, investors' demand for Treasuries falls relative to the supply. That drives the price down and the yield up. Demand could also fall relative to supply if the supply of bonds increases — like when the government decides it's going to ramp up its deficit spending. Which it recently did.
All of this has led to an uptick in Treasury yields.
Now, why is Wall Street's panic overblown?
To begin with, here's the 10-Year Treasury yield since 1990. The recent rise to 3 percent is that little twitch in the bottom right corner.
The last time 10-year Treasury yields were as high as 3 percent was all the way back in ... 2014. Prior to 2008, they were always above 3 percent. The economy has gone through plenty of periods of strong growth before, with bond yields and interest rates in general significantly higher than they are now. The financial industry, and certainly the financial media, seems to just perpetually forget that the economy existed and functioned just fine prior to whatever conditions held over the last few years. Hence the latest panic.
Like I said, rising Treasury yields could also signal rising inflation. That could make investors nervous. But also consider the baseline that inflation would be rising from. We haven't even been able to hit the Fed's 2 percent target, much less exceed it, in years.
A third issue that could be worrying investors is the debt. If the supply of bonds is outpacing demand, does that mean the U.S. government could run out of lenders? Except many people forget the federal government controls the currency and can create all the money it wants to meet its debt obligations. The price of its bonds may fluctuate, but it will never run out of buyers or suffer a debt crisis.
Finally, while the economy can certainly operate at higher interest rates, the other concern could be the Fed: that it will hike interest rates too fast, before the economy is strong enough to shoulder them. Of course, that isn't a fear about economic conditions so much as a fear the Fed will make a bad policy choice. But while I think the Fed is hiking too fast already, it's not going wildly overboard. And its reactions to incoming inflation data seem pretty sober.
But there's one other factor worth mentioning as well.
The post-2008 period was something of a sweet spot for Wall Street. The economy has been sluggish, meaning inflation and interest rates have been low. Yet at the same time, business profits have been exceedingly large. That's a weird combination that textbook economics says isn't supposed to happen. A sluggish economy should deliver poor profits. But high profits combined with low interest rates and low inflation equals an absolute bonanza for the financial industry. And the upward trajectory of Treasury yields may signal the bonanza is coming to an end.
by Jeff Spross, The Week | Read more:
Image: Board of Governors, Federal Reserve System
Top Colleges Are Teaching Students to Prioritize Happiness - Not Money and Power
It takes a lot of hard work to get into places like Yale and Stanford. But once students make it to the Ivy League, many find that while they’re ready to tackle Shakespeare and comparative political systems, they’re lost when it comes to building emotionally rich, and balanced lives.
To that end, a growing number of top universities are offering courses that aim to put students on the happiness track. A week after Yale opened registration for its debut course “Psychology and the Good Life” this January, a quarter of the undergraduate population—more than 1,180 students—had signed up, making it the most popular course ever at the university. Meanwhile, one in six undergraduates at Stanford take a course that teaches students to apply design thinking to the “wicked problem” of creating fulfilling lives and careers. And at McGill University, in Montreal, Quebec, students have flocked to “Lessons of Community and Compassion,” a course on social connectedness and belonging—precisely the things they may have sacrificed to get into one of Canada’s top institutions.
“I think students are looking for meaning,” Peter Salovey, president of Yale, told Quartz at the World Economic Forum in Davos. Salovey, an early pioneer in research on emotional intelligence, says that while students today are more sophisticated and worldly than previous generations, they seem to be much less resilient. Their sense of vulnerability is driving them to search for purpose, in academic courses and beyond. (...)
Mental health issues among young adults are on the rise at universities around the world. “I was really surprised at the levels of anxiety and depression students face,” Santos says. A 2013 report by the Yale College Council found that more than half of undergraduates sought mental health services during their time on campus. A 2009 survey of 80,121 students, conducted by the American College Health Association-National College Health Assessment, showed that 39% of college students felt hopeless during the school year, and 25% felt so depressed they found it hard to function. Nearly half (47%) reported feeling overwhelming anxiety, and 84% said they felt generally overwhelmed by all they have to do.
Teaching students how to be happier isn’t just about helping them as individuals—it can also be about helping them be better citizens. In the course “Lessons of Community and Compassion: Overcoming Social Isolation and Building Social Connectedness through Policy and Program Development,” McGill University professor of practice Kim Samuel introduces students to some of the most socially isolated people on the planet—refugees and migrants, indigenous communities, families struggling with food insecurity; the displaced, disabled, and disconnected. One of the goals of her course, she says, is to teach students what it feels like to have a sense of safety and community in their own lives, so that they can help build connectedness in more disadvantaged populations. “All students have experienced some degree of social isolation in their lives,” she says, “and that recognition is the royal road to reciprocity.”
“We’re adding the ‘life’ component explicitly back to the college experience.” Many of her students say it’s a life-altering experience. Jeremy Monk, who took Samuel’s course and is now a graduate student at Columbia University, says, “I think a lot of us down the road, when we look back on where we started … this is going to be the place that we started, and where our ideas started to blossom, and where we really were given the chance to feel like we can make a difference and we are the leaders of change.”
Stanford’s “Designing Your Life” course, meanwhile, is taught by Bill Burnett, head of Stanford’s design program, and Dave Evans, who led the design of Apple’s first mouse and co-founded the gaming company Electronic Arts before becoming a lecturer in the design program.
Evans says everyone is trying to answer the question posed by poet Mary Oliver: “What is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” “None of us got the manual explaining how to figure out the answer,” he adds. Soon-to-be graduates are facing that question with immediacy, and under pressure. “They’ve been wonderfully trained to get into and attend schools for 22 years—but not how to live in the world and to determine what “a life” means to them,” Evans says. He notes that being good at school is not the same thing as being good at life.
The Stanford courses have been such a success that the university’s Life Design Lab, co-founded by Evans and Burnett, now helps other colleges and universities to develop their own versions of the program. Evans says similar courses are now being taught at Northwestern, University of Vermont, Dartmouth, University of Michigan and MIT. “We’re adding the ‘life’ component explicitly back to the college experience,” Evans says. “It’s attractive because the need is great, the priority is high, and there’s little offered to help.”
The pursuit of happiness is, of course, hardly a new development. “Plato was talking about this,” Santo says. Scores of people have bought best-selling books on achieving happiness, from Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project to Dan Gilbert’s Stumbling on Happiness. And as the New York Times notes, courses on positive psychology are a popular draw for college students; 900 students enrolled in a Harvard lecture titled Positive Psychology in 2006.
What’s new is the growing body of scientific research on what actually makes people happy—and a sense from universities that today’s undergraduates are particularly in need of guidance.
To that end, a growing number of top universities are offering courses that aim to put students on the happiness track. A week after Yale opened registration for its debut course “Psychology and the Good Life” this January, a quarter of the undergraduate population—more than 1,180 students—had signed up, making it the most popular course ever at the university. Meanwhile, one in six undergraduates at Stanford take a course that teaches students to apply design thinking to the “wicked problem” of creating fulfilling lives and careers. And at McGill University, in Montreal, Quebec, students have flocked to “Lessons of Community and Compassion,” a course on social connectedness and belonging—precisely the things they may have sacrificed to get into one of Canada’s top institutions.
“I think students are looking for meaning,” Peter Salovey, president of Yale, told Quartz at the World Economic Forum in Davos. Salovey, an early pioneer in research on emotional intelligence, says that while students today are more sophisticated and worldly than previous generations, they seem to be much less resilient. Their sense of vulnerability is driving them to search for purpose, in academic courses and beyond. (...)Mental health issues among young adults are on the rise at universities around the world. “I was really surprised at the levels of anxiety and depression students face,” Santos says. A 2013 report by the Yale College Council found that more than half of undergraduates sought mental health services during their time on campus. A 2009 survey of 80,121 students, conducted by the American College Health Association-National College Health Assessment, showed that 39% of college students felt hopeless during the school year, and 25% felt so depressed they found it hard to function. Nearly half (47%) reported feeling overwhelming anxiety, and 84% said they felt generally overwhelmed by all they have to do.
Teaching students how to be happier isn’t just about helping them as individuals—it can also be about helping them be better citizens. In the course “Lessons of Community and Compassion: Overcoming Social Isolation and Building Social Connectedness through Policy and Program Development,” McGill University professor of practice Kim Samuel introduces students to some of the most socially isolated people on the planet—refugees and migrants, indigenous communities, families struggling with food insecurity; the displaced, disabled, and disconnected. One of the goals of her course, she says, is to teach students what it feels like to have a sense of safety and community in their own lives, so that they can help build connectedness in more disadvantaged populations. “All students have experienced some degree of social isolation in their lives,” she says, “and that recognition is the royal road to reciprocity.”
“We’re adding the ‘life’ component explicitly back to the college experience.” Many of her students say it’s a life-altering experience. Jeremy Monk, who took Samuel’s course and is now a graduate student at Columbia University, says, “I think a lot of us down the road, when we look back on where we started … this is going to be the place that we started, and where our ideas started to blossom, and where we really were given the chance to feel like we can make a difference and we are the leaders of change.”
Stanford’s “Designing Your Life” course, meanwhile, is taught by Bill Burnett, head of Stanford’s design program, and Dave Evans, who led the design of Apple’s first mouse and co-founded the gaming company Electronic Arts before becoming a lecturer in the design program.
Evans says everyone is trying to answer the question posed by poet Mary Oliver: “What is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” “None of us got the manual explaining how to figure out the answer,” he adds. Soon-to-be graduates are facing that question with immediacy, and under pressure. “They’ve been wonderfully trained to get into and attend schools for 22 years—but not how to live in the world and to determine what “a life” means to them,” Evans says. He notes that being good at school is not the same thing as being good at life.
The Stanford courses have been such a success that the university’s Life Design Lab, co-founded by Evans and Burnett, now helps other colleges and universities to develop their own versions of the program. Evans says similar courses are now being taught at Northwestern, University of Vermont, Dartmouth, University of Michigan and MIT. “We’re adding the ‘life’ component explicitly back to the college experience,” Evans says. “It’s attractive because the need is great, the priority is high, and there’s little offered to help.”
The pursuit of happiness is, of course, hardly a new development. “Plato was talking about this,” Santo says. Scores of people have bought best-selling books on achieving happiness, from Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project to Dan Gilbert’s Stumbling on Happiness. And as the New York Times notes, courses on positive psychology are a popular draw for college students; 900 students enrolled in a Harvard lecture titled Positive Psychology in 2006.
What’s new is the growing body of scientific research on what actually makes people happy—and a sense from universities that today’s undergraduates are particularly in need of guidance.
by Jenny Anderson, Quartz | Read more:
Image: AP Photo/Jessica Hill
How Much Money Can You Make With Google AdSense?
When you are building a website and want to make money from it, one of the first questions you are likely to ask is "How much money can you make with Google AdSense?" It is a fair question because honestly, that number can change based on a lot of factors.
How much traffic does your site have? What type of ads will Google run on your site? How much money are advertisers willing to pay per click?
It is important that you ask those questions. A lot of people just hear about the success stories of other people making money on the internet and think that it is easy and anybody can do it. The reality is you can make as much money with Google AdSense as you are willing to put effort in. It's not easy money, it takes work and skill, just like anything else in life.
The Key Factors In Making Money With Google AdSense
There are many factors you need to consider when trying to estimate how much money you can make with AdSense. The most obvious factors people look at are traffic and estimated cost per click. What you might not consider is ad placement and ad design/type. Also, you now have to consider your audience's device in your AdSense ad strategy. If you aren't looking at all the factors, you are leaving money on the table.
Website Traffic and Pageviews
The only way you are going to make money with advertising on the internet is if you have an audience. You need people to visit your website and in the case of Google AdSense, some small portion of those people need to click on your ads. If nobody clicks your ads, then you aren't going to make money. That's just the way it is.
On average anywhere from 1-10% of your visitors might click on an ad, so just to be safe assume some low number like 1%. To calculate how much your ads are worth, you can take the cost per click and multiply it by the number of clicks you can expect to get based on your traffic. So, if you have 100 page views and a click through rate of 1%, you will get 1 click on average. If your CPC (cost per click) is $1, then you might make $1 per 100 page views. The same formula is used to determine CPM, which is the cost per 1,000 ad views. In the case of the above estimate, you are looking at a CPM of $10.
Now, given an average CPM, it becomes pretty obvious how traffic impacts how much money you can make with Google AdSense. At $10 CPM, you need 10,000 pageviews to make $100. Next time you see a picture of someone holding up an AdSense check, think about how much traffic they needed to make that money. For many people, it is not possible to get that much traffic.
The question for you is, how much traffic do you think you can get to your website? How much are you already getting? Traffic is going to play a big role in how much money you can make from Google AdSense.
How Much Will Advertisers Pay?
You have to look at the cost per click, or CPC, numbers to get an idea of how much advertisers are willing to pay. It is as simple as that. If you are writing about a topic that advertisers aren't buying ads for, you aren't going to get paid much. For example, say you write a lot about something without a lot of advertisers like "white snow in the north pole". There are no advertisers trying to sell products or services in the north pole really. If there are advertisers, they aren't paying much because there is no competition. That means the CPC will be very low for your ads.
Imagine instead you write a lot about "diamond engagement rings". Guess what? There are a lot of businesses that want to sell diamond engagement rings because they sell for a lot of money and have a good markup. Think about every mall you go shop in or when you watch television for a while. There are tons of jewelry stores that want to sell diamond engagement rings. They all pay a fortune in advertising to get people to buy their products. On the internet, that high level of advertising spend and competition means you are going to see a higher CPC for the ads you run on your site. That means each click is worth more and you will make more.
How much traffic does your site have? What type of ads will Google run on your site? How much money are advertisers willing to pay per click?
It is important that you ask those questions. A lot of people just hear about the success stories of other people making money on the internet and think that it is easy and anybody can do it. The reality is you can make as much money with Google AdSense as you are willing to put effort in. It's not easy money, it takes work and skill, just like anything else in life.
The Key Factors In Making Money With Google AdSense
There are many factors you need to consider when trying to estimate how much money you can make with AdSense. The most obvious factors people look at are traffic and estimated cost per click. What you might not consider is ad placement and ad design/type. Also, you now have to consider your audience's device in your AdSense ad strategy. If you aren't looking at all the factors, you are leaving money on the table.
Website Traffic and Pageviews
The only way you are going to make money with advertising on the internet is if you have an audience. You need people to visit your website and in the case of Google AdSense, some small portion of those people need to click on your ads. If nobody clicks your ads, then you aren't going to make money. That's just the way it is.On average anywhere from 1-10% of your visitors might click on an ad, so just to be safe assume some low number like 1%. To calculate how much your ads are worth, you can take the cost per click and multiply it by the number of clicks you can expect to get based on your traffic. So, if you have 100 page views and a click through rate of 1%, you will get 1 click on average. If your CPC (cost per click) is $1, then you might make $1 per 100 page views. The same formula is used to determine CPM, which is the cost per 1,000 ad views. In the case of the above estimate, you are looking at a CPM of $10.
Now, given an average CPM, it becomes pretty obvious how traffic impacts how much money you can make with Google AdSense. At $10 CPM, you need 10,000 pageviews to make $100. Next time you see a picture of someone holding up an AdSense check, think about how much traffic they needed to make that money. For many people, it is not possible to get that much traffic.
The question for you is, how much traffic do you think you can get to your website? How much are you already getting? Traffic is going to play a big role in how much money you can make from Google AdSense.
How Much Will Advertisers Pay?
You have to look at the cost per click, or CPC, numbers to get an idea of how much advertisers are willing to pay. It is as simple as that. If you are writing about a topic that advertisers aren't buying ads for, you aren't going to get paid much. For example, say you write a lot about something without a lot of advertisers like "white snow in the north pole". There are no advertisers trying to sell products or services in the north pole really. If there are advertisers, they aren't paying much because there is no competition. That means the CPC will be very low for your ads.
Imagine instead you write a lot about "diamond engagement rings". Guess what? There are a lot of businesses that want to sell diamond engagement rings because they sell for a lot of money and have a good markup. Think about every mall you go shop in or when you watch television for a while. There are tons of jewelry stores that want to sell diamond engagement rings. They all pay a fortune in advertising to get people to buy their products. On the internet, that high level of advertising spend and competition means you are going to see a higher CPC for the ads you run on your site. That means each click is worth more and you will make more.
by Market Interactive | Read more:
Image:Google
[ed. From 2014, but I'm sure the metrics are about the same. Don't worry, just curious. Duck Soup is ad free and will always stay that way.]
[ed. From 2014, but I'm sure the metrics are about the same. Don't worry, just curious. Duck Soup is ad free and will always stay that way.]
Hog Waste Is Becoming A Streamlined Fuel Source
In late March, a project in eastern North Carolina revealed the potential to turn every hog farm in the state into a source of renewable natural gas, or what's known as swine biogas.
Biogas typically refers to methane created by the breakdown of organic matter. It can be made from food scraps, decomposing plants and animal waste. Swine biogas is methane that comes from hog waste.
Most people think the purpose of biogas is to create green fuel, but that's actually the byproduct. The main purpose of creating biogas is to destroy methane and earn valuable carbon offset credits — methane is a greenhouse gas that is 25 times more potent than carbon dioxide.
The Optima KV Project has the potential to do both — destroy methane and create enough renewable natural gas to power the equivalent of 1,000 homes for a year.
Currently, hog farms that make biogas also turn it into electricity onsite using a microturbine — think of a gasoline generator. This means a hog farmer oversees every step of the process.
The Optima KV Project does for swine biogas what Henry Ford did for the auto industry. It streamlines production by getting rid of individual microturbines at each farm. Instead, it funnels the biogas from five Duplin County hog farms into a pipeline that feeds into a nearby Duke Energy power plant. This is what's known in the industry as "directed biogas."
"I just think that makes a lot more sense," said Randy Wheeless, a spokesman for Duke Energy. "That's because the process of turning the gas into electricity will happen at a major power plant with higher efficiency and better emission controls."
Duke Energy is purchasing the Optima project's swine biogas to meet a state-required mandate that 0.2 percent of energy come from hog waste by 2023. This project is getting the state close to meeting that mandate for the first time.
Another biowaste production facility, the Carbon Cycle Project, was slated to come online this summer, but people familiar with the company say it's been delayed. The Denver-based company, Carbon Cycle Energy, expects its project in Duplin County will produce enough electricity to power 32,000 homes annually. About a quarter of that energy will come from swine waste.
Duke University's emissions goal
A 2013 Duke University study found the directed biogas approach could lower the cost of swine biogas to as little as 5 cents a kilowatt hour, which is roughly the same price as solar power.
And there's a reason Duke University is interested in lowering the price of renewable natural gas. It has a goal of bringing all its emissions to zero by 2024. And while solar and wind energy can get Duke most of the way there, it's not enough.
The university still needs a combustible fuel source to turn water into steam in its massive boiler plant. That steam creates heat for buildings on campus year-round. The plan is to convert the boilers from burning natural gas to burning swine biogas.
"That means we would be able to run the campus on a renewable energy source," said Tanja Vujic, director of biogas strategy at Duke University. "And we would get credit for destroying methane that's coming off those lagoons."
In 2010, Duke University partnered with Google to pilot a system for turning hog excrement into electricity. This system is still running at Loyd Ray Farm in Yadkinville, hundreds of miles west of where most of the state's hogs live.
The purpose of the system was for Duke and Google to earn carbon credits to offset their carbon footprint as they transition to more renewable energy sources. The two could have gotten credits for capturing the methane and burning it (known as flaring), but Duke saw potential for swine biogas in a state with roughly 9 million hogs — each producing 10 times as much waste as a human.
Biogas typically refers to methane created by the breakdown of organic matter. It can be made from food scraps, decomposing plants and animal waste. Swine biogas is methane that comes from hog waste.
Most people think the purpose of biogas is to create green fuel, but that's actually the byproduct. The main purpose of creating biogas is to destroy methane and earn valuable carbon offset credits — methane is a greenhouse gas that is 25 times more potent than carbon dioxide.The Optima KV Project has the potential to do both — destroy methane and create enough renewable natural gas to power the equivalent of 1,000 homes for a year.
Currently, hog farms that make biogas also turn it into electricity onsite using a microturbine — think of a gasoline generator. This means a hog farmer oversees every step of the process.
The Optima KV Project does for swine biogas what Henry Ford did for the auto industry. It streamlines production by getting rid of individual microturbines at each farm. Instead, it funnels the biogas from five Duplin County hog farms into a pipeline that feeds into a nearby Duke Energy power plant. This is what's known in the industry as "directed biogas."
"I just think that makes a lot more sense," said Randy Wheeless, a spokesman for Duke Energy. "That's because the process of turning the gas into electricity will happen at a major power plant with higher efficiency and better emission controls."
Duke Energy is purchasing the Optima project's swine biogas to meet a state-required mandate that 0.2 percent of energy come from hog waste by 2023. This project is getting the state close to meeting that mandate for the first time.
Another biowaste production facility, the Carbon Cycle Project, was slated to come online this summer, but people familiar with the company say it's been delayed. The Denver-based company, Carbon Cycle Energy, expects its project in Duplin County will produce enough electricity to power 32,000 homes annually. About a quarter of that energy will come from swine waste.
Duke University's emissions goal
A 2013 Duke University study found the directed biogas approach could lower the cost of swine biogas to as little as 5 cents a kilowatt hour, which is roughly the same price as solar power.
And there's a reason Duke University is interested in lowering the price of renewable natural gas. It has a goal of bringing all its emissions to zero by 2024. And while solar and wind energy can get Duke most of the way there, it's not enough.
The university still needs a combustible fuel source to turn water into steam in its massive boiler plant. That steam creates heat for buildings on campus year-round. The plan is to convert the boilers from burning natural gas to burning swine biogas.
"That means we would be able to run the campus on a renewable energy source," said Tanja Vujic, director of biogas strategy at Duke University. "And we would get credit for destroying methane that's coming off those lagoons."
In 2010, Duke University partnered with Google to pilot a system for turning hog excrement into electricity. This system is still running at Loyd Ray Farm in Yadkinville, hundreds of miles west of where most of the state's hogs live.
The purpose of the system was for Duke and Google to earn carbon credits to offset their carbon footprint as they transition to more renewable energy sources. The two could have gotten credits for capturing the methane and burning it (known as flaring), but Duke saw potential for swine biogas in a state with roughly 9 million hogs — each producing 10 times as much waste as a human.
by James Morrison, NPR | Read more:
Image: James Morrison/WUNC
Cakewalk Returns, Now Available for Free
Cakewalk—a music software brand most known for its SONAR DAW—has been reopened by BandLab, a group of Singapore-based music-focused brands. According to a BandLab press release, the software will now be free.
Before it was acquired by Gibson Brands in 2013, Cakewalk had been one of the most enduring DAW—digital audio workstation—developers in the industry. Last November though, Gibson announced that it was closing Cakewalk, and ending the development and production of its products.
Last month, BandLab acquired all of Cakewalk’s IP and certain assets from Gibson Brands. The company said that the relaunched software—now called Cakewalk by BandLab—will include all the core premium features of SONAR Platinum.
The Windows version of Cakewalk by BandLab is available to download now, straight from BandLab's website.
by Guitar World | Read more:
[ed. But the instruction manual costs $200 bucks. Just kidding.]
Monday, April 30, 2018
Seattle: Congestion City
Seattle it's time we talked.
You’re not a kid anymore. People have lived in your footprint for thousands of years. But your recent growth spurt has been phenomenal. You will start to notice some changes, if you haven’t already: some of them terrifying, some of them delightful. You’ll feel things you never felt before. You’ll start hanging out with a faster crowd, and they won’t always be good for you.
With great change comes great responsibility, to paraphrase Marvel Comics. And it is time to take on some of that responsibility. It sounds daunting, but remember: We love you.
C’mon, Seattle. You’re growing into a big city.
It’s time to start acting like one.
Think of the city’s situation as your first day of kindergarten, or arriving on campus at a big college, or leaving a small family business to work at a big firm. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by others. Every time you turn over on your nap mat, somebody’s feet are in your face. There’s a line for lunch, then a line at the milk cooler, then a line to turn in your lunch tray. Years later, you’re crammed into a shoebox-sized dorm room at night, and in a lecture hall of 200-plus every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Seattle is that transition writ large. Between 2008 and 2017, our Emerald City added more than 100,000 people. It’s as if the entire population of Everett decided to move here in nine years. And all those people need space for their nap mats. (...)
Seattle cannot sprawl. Buildings have to be built closer together, and because they can’t get wider, they get higher. The roads and the sidewalks don’t get any wider, either. There certainly aren’t any more parking places for the people moving here. The bus stops that were placed just a few years ago were for a handful of people, not the crowds of 50 to 75 that jockey for space. This is “density,” and Seattle, you’re just not used to it.
I'm looking at you in particular, South Lake Union. A decade ago, a pedestrian was more likely to encounter rats and liquor bottles on the sidewalk than another person. Since then, Amazon added nearly 35,000 jobs, most of them in SLU. Now, the area is bustling with throngs of employees and their dogs; food trucks serving lunch to the employees and dogs; Ubers and Lyfts dropping off and picking up; cranes to build more high-rises; and construction workers trying to flag, drive and walk. The maze of streets that used to pass empty parking lots and shuttered commercial laundry buildings is carrying Ubers, Lyfts, buses, dump trucks and commuters. (Wait until Amazon reaches its goal of enough office space next decade for 55,000 workers. Does the plan say anything about where these people are going to fit amid closed-off streets and sidewalks? Doubt it.) It’s as if a giant vise had the city in its jaws and was slowly squeezing. And the people caught in it — all of us — are forced to get closer to one another.
Are we midtown Manhattan? By no means. The New York Times’ excellent 2016 article about sidewalk congestion noted that on one weekday, 26,831 pedestrians used a stretch of Fifth Avenue in three hours. However, the same article notes sidewalk crowding on Capitol Hill in Seattle. We’ve made the big time — kind of.
We have to take notice of others. There are so many of us now. Gone are the days when you could jump on the first bus that came by for your route and grab a seat, or go to Pike Place Market without dodging mobs of visitors and a stream of drivers who insist on motoring through the city’s most crowded thoroughfare. Driving I-5 south on a Friday night usually involves tears.
I’m not aiming this solely at residents; visitors, you need to adjust your expectations, too. If you haven’t been here in a while, this isn’t your mom and dad’s Seattle. The Kingdome is gone. Teslas are everywhere. Speaking of cars: Their numbers in the city have grown by about 1 jillion. (Well, OK; not a jillion. But, the number of car registrations grew by 7 percent between 2013 and 2015, while population grew just more than 2 percent, which was kind of a surprise.) Get it? Seattle is a big city now.
The squeeze really starts to pinch in places where we’re all thrown together a little more than we’re used to. Mainly, jammed public transportation, the region’s congested freeways and public thruways. This might be a little hard to swallow, Seattle, but frankly, you could do a little better when it comes to sharing the space you’ve become accustomed to over the years with a lot more people. And newcomers, there’s an awful lot of you all at once, but you’ve still got to share with those who were here already, no matter how many of those high-rises were built just for you.
You’re not a kid anymore. People have lived in your footprint for thousands of years. But your recent growth spurt has been phenomenal. You will start to notice some changes, if you haven’t already: some of them terrifying, some of them delightful. You’ll feel things you never felt before. You’ll start hanging out with a faster crowd, and they won’t always be good for you.
With great change comes great responsibility, to paraphrase Marvel Comics. And it is time to take on some of that responsibility. It sounds daunting, but remember: We love you.C’mon, Seattle. You’re growing into a big city.
It’s time to start acting like one.
Think of the city’s situation as your first day of kindergarten, or arriving on campus at a big college, or leaving a small family business to work at a big firm. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by others. Every time you turn over on your nap mat, somebody’s feet are in your face. There’s a line for lunch, then a line at the milk cooler, then a line to turn in your lunch tray. Years later, you’re crammed into a shoebox-sized dorm room at night, and in a lecture hall of 200-plus every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Seattle is that transition writ large. Between 2008 and 2017, our Emerald City added more than 100,000 people. It’s as if the entire population of Everett decided to move here in nine years. And all those people need space for their nap mats. (...)
Seattle cannot sprawl. Buildings have to be built closer together, and because they can’t get wider, they get higher. The roads and the sidewalks don’t get any wider, either. There certainly aren’t any more parking places for the people moving here. The bus stops that were placed just a few years ago were for a handful of people, not the crowds of 50 to 75 that jockey for space. This is “density,” and Seattle, you’re just not used to it.
I'm looking at you in particular, South Lake Union. A decade ago, a pedestrian was more likely to encounter rats and liquor bottles on the sidewalk than another person. Since then, Amazon added nearly 35,000 jobs, most of them in SLU. Now, the area is bustling with throngs of employees and their dogs; food trucks serving lunch to the employees and dogs; Ubers and Lyfts dropping off and picking up; cranes to build more high-rises; and construction workers trying to flag, drive and walk. The maze of streets that used to pass empty parking lots and shuttered commercial laundry buildings is carrying Ubers, Lyfts, buses, dump trucks and commuters. (Wait until Amazon reaches its goal of enough office space next decade for 55,000 workers. Does the plan say anything about where these people are going to fit amid closed-off streets and sidewalks? Doubt it.) It’s as if a giant vise had the city in its jaws and was slowly squeezing. And the people caught in it — all of us — are forced to get closer to one another.
Are we midtown Manhattan? By no means. The New York Times’ excellent 2016 article about sidewalk congestion noted that on one weekday, 26,831 pedestrians used a stretch of Fifth Avenue in three hours. However, the same article notes sidewalk crowding on Capitol Hill in Seattle. We’ve made the big time — kind of.
We have to take notice of others. There are so many of us now. Gone are the days when you could jump on the first bus that came by for your route and grab a seat, or go to Pike Place Market without dodging mobs of visitors and a stream of drivers who insist on motoring through the city’s most crowded thoroughfare. Driving I-5 south on a Friday night usually involves tears.
I’m not aiming this solely at residents; visitors, you need to adjust your expectations, too. If you haven’t been here in a while, this isn’t your mom and dad’s Seattle. The Kingdome is gone. Teslas are everywhere. Speaking of cars: Their numbers in the city have grown by about 1 jillion. (Well, OK; not a jillion. But, the number of car registrations grew by 7 percent between 2013 and 2015, while population grew just more than 2 percent, which was kind of a surprise.) Get it? Seattle is a big city now.
The squeeze really starts to pinch in places where we’re all thrown together a little more than we’re used to. Mainly, jammed public transportation, the region’s congested freeways and public thruways. This might be a little hard to swallow, Seattle, but frankly, you could do a little better when it comes to sharing the space you’ve become accustomed to over the years with a lot more people. And newcomers, there’s an awful lot of you all at once, but you’ve still got to share with those who were here already, no matter how many of those high-rises were built just for you.
Here's How:
by Melissa Davis, Seattle Times | Read more:
by Melissa Davis, Seattle Times | Read more:
Image: Gabriel Campanario/The Seattle Times
[ed. See also: After 14 years, I’ve had it. I’m leaving Seattle]
T-Mobile to Buy Sprint for $26.5 Billion
T-Mobile’s loud, outspoken John Legere is not your typical CEO
[ed. Now this is an informed CEO! Great video with lots of good information on the mobile industry in general. There's a reason why T-Mobile employees and shareholders love John Legere. (Update: click on the link to watch on YouTube).]
Sunday, April 29, 2018
Moments of Truth: Life and Change on the Kobuk River
It's getting dark in my sod house. I'm alone, and the heaped snowdrifts out my windows make me feel more buried down in the ground than usual in this subterranean home. In the dimness, along the north wall, my Mason jars and hanging cups and the pinned-up photographs of my family's past here on this hill reflect the faint and fading glow.
I'm hoping my solar panel charged today; I'd like some light, maybe some music. And I promised myself I'd write this evening, about caribou. I promise that every day, but every day I just want to be outside, snowshoeing after rabbits, chipping a waterhole, hauling firewood, doing what I grew up doing, what I love — working and hunting and inhaling the land and wind and returning sun — not struggling with unruly words. Being alone is easier outside than inside, too.
Writing, for me, is tougher than all the toughest things I do, and lately there's a new hole in the trail — another added difficulty besides my dyslexia, bad spelling and jumbled thoughts — a steady blizzard of mixed messages in my head, questioning what matters most in these modern days, what will help, how will I write about caribou without making people mad? The most discordant voice demands: Why write? Who reads? Who out there is not on their phone, or busy buying a newer phone? Who has time or even cares anymore about caribou, or porcupine problems, how tall the Labrador tea has grown, or how thin the ice on the river is this year?
Speaking of ice, the traditional trail along this section of the river has been snowed-in this season, unused, buried. Finally, this week some travelers are passing, mostly because of the Kobuk 440 dog race. They are sticking to the fresh trail, though. That leaves me uneasy, strangely — feeling at home but a little out of place — to have almost no people out roaming the country for food and furs.
Beside me here, on the old table my dad made, under my stained coffee mug, a yellow sticky Post-It note says, "Tell a truth you didn't know." There are a lot of notes scattered on my table, like yellow leaves in the fall. I can't recognize most human faces, and have virtually no short-term memory; I live under the vague impression that I have a hundred sagacious thoughts each day, but I'm not at all sure about that, since I can't seem to remember any of them. Hence the yellow sticky notes. Lately, I've been threatening to get tattoos, too, to help remember essential stuff. The first one, on my chest — or better yet, my forehead — will say: nwob ti etirW.
I shift my coffee cup. Scrawled underneath: Do you still believe in heroes? Hunters? Humor? At the bottom corner is one more tiny word. kids. Hmm, I wish I could remember what I meant there, exactly.
I miss the old hunters stopping in when they were traveling the land. I miss one constant in my life, since I was a little kid — one as consistent as the north wind: Clarence Wood's face showing up at the door, at any hour, black, frostbitten, sun-cooked, often needing gas, wanting coffee — at any hour, of course — sitting awhile, joking, teasing, telling stories of hunting and the rough country he'd crossed, and then rising stiffly, aching from the miles but unable not to stare hungrily out at the landscape, and travel on.
All my life, Clarence has been the most persistent hunter on this land, here and traveling north to Point Hope, Anaktuvuk and beyond, traveling some of the wildest country left on Earth, in the worst weather, in every season — until his name grew to almost be more than a name, to be the epitome of a true hunter and that culture he came from — but I think these years might finally be catching Clarence. And I'm not sure there's a place anymore for anyone to take his place.
The spring light reminds me of half a century of Aprils on this hill. The sun returning, the long sun-drenched days; the slow letting-go of winter while still half-expecting more snow, still waiting on the first caribou herds to appear from the south and the first fat geese to fly overhead — both species navigating separate migrations north, their arrivals announcing the coming flood of birds, mosquitoes, green leaves, and that exhilarating, almost unbelievable transformation of Arctic winter melting back to summer.
Actually, I did see caribou last week. When I snowgoed to Ambler to buy gas and see the dog mushers, I was surprised to run into a small herd standing in the trail. I don't think they are part of the migration, though. The main herds have been far away, absent here most of the winter, and these likely are survivors from stragglers that wintered farther east.
I stopped, and they watched me and then bolted up the hard-packed trail, sprinting straight for Ambler, a few miles away. In the next moments I experienced some dismaying realizations: Somehow I'd forgotten my wallet at home; Martin Cleveland at the Ambler city gas pump would be locking up in about 12 minutes; I was going to arrive late, broke and driving a herd of caribou into town — this on the big race day, with out-of-town visitors and villagers gathered and watching the river, waiting to greet arriving mushers — and with a hundred high-strung racing dogs already staked out behind the community building, resting. Or trying to.
Quickly, I did something I usually avoid: I gunned my snowgo and managed to zoom past just yards beside the fleeing animals. "Sorry, guys," I muttered. They were mostly girls, actually, bravely running their hearts out — sadly not in the wisest of directions.
At Don and Mary Williams' house, along the river at the lower end of town, I left my machine running, knocked and rushed in. "Oh! Hi!" Don shouted, alone, surprised, pleased to have a visitor.
I didn't have time for that. Gas is too important. I held out my hand. "Can I borrow some money?"
Later, over lunch in town with Don and Mary, I grinned at Mary and said, "I probably shouldn't tell you this …" She was slicing bread and glanced up, curious and expectant. She's in her 70s and has been sick, coughing, and had spent half the night at the clinic, but had just been prescribed Prednisone and now was bustling around, heating leftover caribou soup, making coffee. "I passed a bunch of nice-looking caribou, on the river, below your old igloo."
Her face lit up, shocked, thrilled, and then teasingly miffed that I hadn't shot any. "Ah! Ah, you!" She waved her hand, and then smiled acceptingly. That's something the elders here are amazingly good at: acceptance. It is kind of necessary, with the alien changes they've experienced in the last five or 10 or 20 decades, but still it's remarkable.
Mary has a perspective from the old culture. No matter the season, she's always excited to have fresh meat; she'll never say no to a fresh caribou. Picture yourself driving by $100 bills heaped along the side of the road and deciding to not pick up even one, and then stopping in and telling your Depression-era grandma about it. To Mary, that's how juvenile I can be at times. That was the surprise, excitement and then acceptance on her face.
Don just chuckled. He's from Ohio, a long, long time ago, and more pragmatic at this point, more inclined to think of the work involved, and the fact that their freezers are fairly full. He grinned, eating, gripping a marrow bone in his fingers, and pointed his knife over his shoulder. Beside the stove, the black hooves and gray furry ankles of four lower legs stuck out of a box, thawing. "She got them legs need skinning," he assured me.
I'm hoping my solar panel charged today; I'd like some light, maybe some music. And I promised myself I'd write this evening, about caribou. I promise that every day, but every day I just want to be outside, snowshoeing after rabbits, chipping a waterhole, hauling firewood, doing what I grew up doing, what I love — working and hunting and inhaling the land and wind and returning sun — not struggling with unruly words. Being alone is easier outside than inside, too.
Writing, for me, is tougher than all the toughest things I do, and lately there's a new hole in the trail — another added difficulty besides my dyslexia, bad spelling and jumbled thoughts — a steady blizzard of mixed messages in my head, questioning what matters most in these modern days, what will help, how will I write about caribou without making people mad? The most discordant voice demands: Why write? Who reads? Who out there is not on their phone, or busy buying a newer phone? Who has time or even cares anymore about caribou, or porcupine problems, how tall the Labrador tea has grown, or how thin the ice on the river is this year?Speaking of ice, the traditional trail along this section of the river has been snowed-in this season, unused, buried. Finally, this week some travelers are passing, mostly because of the Kobuk 440 dog race. They are sticking to the fresh trail, though. That leaves me uneasy, strangely — feeling at home but a little out of place — to have almost no people out roaming the country for food and furs.
Beside me here, on the old table my dad made, under my stained coffee mug, a yellow sticky Post-It note says, "Tell a truth you didn't know." There are a lot of notes scattered on my table, like yellow leaves in the fall. I can't recognize most human faces, and have virtually no short-term memory; I live under the vague impression that I have a hundred sagacious thoughts each day, but I'm not at all sure about that, since I can't seem to remember any of them. Hence the yellow sticky notes. Lately, I've been threatening to get tattoos, too, to help remember essential stuff. The first one, on my chest — or better yet, my forehead — will say: nwob ti etirW.
I shift my coffee cup. Scrawled underneath: Do you still believe in heroes? Hunters? Humor? At the bottom corner is one more tiny word. kids. Hmm, I wish I could remember what I meant there, exactly.
I miss the old hunters stopping in when they were traveling the land. I miss one constant in my life, since I was a little kid — one as consistent as the north wind: Clarence Wood's face showing up at the door, at any hour, black, frostbitten, sun-cooked, often needing gas, wanting coffee — at any hour, of course — sitting awhile, joking, teasing, telling stories of hunting and the rough country he'd crossed, and then rising stiffly, aching from the miles but unable not to stare hungrily out at the landscape, and travel on.
All my life, Clarence has been the most persistent hunter on this land, here and traveling north to Point Hope, Anaktuvuk and beyond, traveling some of the wildest country left on Earth, in the worst weather, in every season — until his name grew to almost be more than a name, to be the epitome of a true hunter and that culture he came from — but I think these years might finally be catching Clarence. And I'm not sure there's a place anymore for anyone to take his place.
***
It's midnight now: This day has been another beautiful one, sunny and bright, white snow and blue sky, splendid traveling conditions, to the mountains and more mountains beyond. This evening I've done my countless chores, sharpened the chain saw, wired the split rusted stovepipe, filled the kettles, hauled in a last armload of wood, finished frying some caribou meat and muskox fat, and now the ice and the sky out there are bluish-gray, descending into night.The spring light reminds me of half a century of Aprils on this hill. The sun returning, the long sun-drenched days; the slow letting-go of winter while still half-expecting more snow, still waiting on the first caribou herds to appear from the south and the first fat geese to fly overhead — both species navigating separate migrations north, their arrivals announcing the coming flood of birds, mosquitoes, green leaves, and that exhilarating, almost unbelievable transformation of Arctic winter melting back to summer.
Actually, I did see caribou last week. When I snowgoed to Ambler to buy gas and see the dog mushers, I was surprised to run into a small herd standing in the trail. I don't think they are part of the migration, though. The main herds have been far away, absent here most of the winter, and these likely are survivors from stragglers that wintered farther east.
I stopped, and they watched me and then bolted up the hard-packed trail, sprinting straight for Ambler, a few miles away. In the next moments I experienced some dismaying realizations: Somehow I'd forgotten my wallet at home; Martin Cleveland at the Ambler city gas pump would be locking up in about 12 minutes; I was going to arrive late, broke and driving a herd of caribou into town — this on the big race day, with out-of-town visitors and villagers gathered and watching the river, waiting to greet arriving mushers — and with a hundred high-strung racing dogs already staked out behind the community building, resting. Or trying to.
Quickly, I did something I usually avoid: I gunned my snowgo and managed to zoom past just yards beside the fleeing animals. "Sorry, guys," I muttered. They were mostly girls, actually, bravely running their hearts out — sadly not in the wisest of directions.
At Don and Mary Williams' house, along the river at the lower end of town, I left my machine running, knocked and rushed in. "Oh! Hi!" Don shouted, alone, surprised, pleased to have a visitor.
I didn't have time for that. Gas is too important. I held out my hand. "Can I borrow some money?"
Later, over lunch in town with Don and Mary, I grinned at Mary and said, "I probably shouldn't tell you this …" She was slicing bread and glanced up, curious and expectant. She's in her 70s and has been sick, coughing, and had spent half the night at the clinic, but had just been prescribed Prednisone and now was bustling around, heating leftover caribou soup, making coffee. "I passed a bunch of nice-looking caribou, on the river, below your old igloo."
Her face lit up, shocked, thrilled, and then teasingly miffed that I hadn't shot any. "Ah! Ah, you!" She waved her hand, and then smiled acceptingly. That's something the elders here are amazingly good at: acceptance. It is kind of necessary, with the alien changes they've experienced in the last five or 10 or 20 decades, but still it's remarkable.
Mary has a perspective from the old culture. No matter the season, she's always excited to have fresh meat; she'll never say no to a fresh caribou. Picture yourself driving by $100 bills heaped along the side of the road and deciding to not pick up even one, and then stopping in and telling your Depression-era grandma about it. To Mary, that's how juvenile I can be at times. That was the surprise, excitement and then acceptance on her face.
Don just chuckled. He's from Ohio, a long, long time ago, and more pragmatic at this point, more inclined to think of the work involved, and the fact that their freezers are fairly full. He grinned, eating, gripping a marrow bone in his fingers, and pointed his knife over his shoulder. Beside the stove, the black hooves and gray furry ankles of four lower legs stuck out of a box, thawing. "She got them legs need skinning," he assured me.
by Seth Kantner, Anchorage Daily News | Read more:
Image: Seth Kantner
Saturday, April 28, 2018
A Farewell to Free Journalism
Bloomberg, my former employer, is reportedly moving to a paywall. If that turns out to be true, I can’t say I’ll be surprised.
When I announced that I was leaving Bloomberg View for the Post Opinion section in February, many longtime readers gently reproached me for moving my writing behind a subscriber paywall. Some of them were not so gentle. How could I cut myself off from readers like that? Was I really so arrogant as to think they ought to pay for the privilege of reading me?
I couldn’t blame them for being miffed; some of them, after all, had been reading me since I was a young(ish) blogger writing from Ground Zero. The open Internet literally gave me my career, and for years, I’ve repaid that gift by seeking out employers that kept my writing free to readers. I really believed in the motto that “information wants to be free.”
But by the time The Post approached me, I’d already concluded that the battle for the open Internet was lost. Sooner or later, virtually everyone in the industry is going to put his or her content behind a subscription wall. And in general, you should bet on “sooner” rather than “later.” This week, Vanity Fair became just the latest in a long line of publications to say “If you want to read us, you’ll have to subscribe.”
As New York University journalism professor Jay Rosen noted on Twitter, Bloomberg already has “one of the greatest subsidy systems ever invented”: the terminals that it sells to financial companies at a cost of $20,000 per user per year. If they still want a paywall, we should be bearish on the chances that anyone else in the news business will make a go of the “free content” model.
So how did my industry make it work for so long? The answer is that we never did, really, which is why so many newspapers and magazines are struggling to stay afloat, and so many Web publications are burning through piles of investor money as they hunt for a viable business model. The more interesting question is why we couldn’t make it work. And the answer to that lies in the structure of the traditional media business.
Critics of the “mainstream media” (or if you prefer, the “lamestream media”) are fond of saying that we’re going to be put out of business by competition from “new media” upstarts. Indeed, as a young blogger, I might even have made a few such pronouncements. And I and those critics were wrong. Traditional media can survive competition for readers just fine. It’s competition for advertisers that’s killing us.
For more than a century, magazines and newspapers were what’s known as a “two-sided market”: We sold subscriptions to you, our readers, and once you’d subscribed, we sold your eyeballs to our advertisers. That was necessary because, unbeknownst to you, your subscription dollars often didn’t even cover the cost of printing and delivering the physical pieces of paper. They rarely covered much, if any, of the cost of actually reporting and writing the stories printed on those pages. And you’d probably be astonished at how expensive it is to report a single, relatively simple story.
But that was okay, because we controlled a valuable pipeline to reader eyeballs — a pipeline advertisers wanted to fill with information about their products. You guys got your journalism on the cheap, and advertisers got the opportunity to tell you about the fantastic incentive package available to qualified buyers on the brand-new 1985 Chevy Impala.
Then the Internet came along, and suddenly, we didn’t own the only pipeline anymore. Anyone can throw up a Web page. And over the past 20 years, anyone did — far more than could support actual advertiser demand.
The companies that won this rugby scrum weren’t the venerable old names with long experience marrying ads to winsome content. They weren’t even the new media companies with their frantic brigades of young staffers generating hot takes. The companies that are winning — mostly Google and Facebook — get content for free from their users, or other people on the Internet. Including us.
Providing the rope with which someone else will hang you is obviously not a very good business model. And in the words of economist Herb Stein, “If something can’t go on forever, it will stop.” Either we will find someone else to pay for the news and opinion and cartoons you consume, or we will go out of business.
That someone doesn’t have to be the reader. Some journalism can function as a sort of a loss leader for a conference business, or another associated product, like books or package tours. Some opinion writing can be produced by people who use it as a personal loss leader for their brand as a “thought leader” or “public intellectual” — or simply use it as a hobby to blow off steam. Outside of the “loss leader model,” there are a few other options: Some reporting can be financed by donors as a philanthropic project; some consumer product journalism can support itself through affiliate programs that provide rewards for selling merchandise; and some writing can be supported by “native advertising” sprinkled among the journalism so that it’s hard to tell them apart. All of those business models can produce good journalism.
But all of those strategies also have flaws. You need a pretty affluent demographic and a highly prestigious brand for the “loss leader” strategy to work. And while opinion writing is very important (she said, modestly), it’s not the only important work we do; academics and business executives are largely not going to pick up the unglamorous but necessary job of beat reporting. Philanthropic journalism can take up some of that slack, but it will be narrow in another way: Donor-funded journalism tends to largely be ideological, with donors looking for stories that flatter their opinions and produce measurable political “impact” beyond just keeping readers informed. A lot of that journalism is very valuable — but it’s not all that we need. And as for the last two models, I presumably don’t have to explain the dangerous incentives built into them.
But if you don’t like those options, then you, dear reader, are going to have to step up to the plate. Unfortunately, many of you have gotten used to the idea that news ought to be free, and resent being asked to pay for it.
When I announced that I was leaving Bloomberg View for the Post Opinion section in February, many longtime readers gently reproached me for moving my writing behind a subscriber paywall. Some of them were not so gentle. How could I cut myself off from readers like that? Was I really so arrogant as to think they ought to pay for the privilege of reading me?
I couldn’t blame them for being miffed; some of them, after all, had been reading me since I was a young(ish) blogger writing from Ground Zero. The open Internet literally gave me my career, and for years, I’ve repaid that gift by seeking out employers that kept my writing free to readers. I really believed in the motto that “information wants to be free.”
But by the time The Post approached me, I’d already concluded that the battle for the open Internet was lost. Sooner or later, virtually everyone in the industry is going to put his or her content behind a subscription wall. And in general, you should bet on “sooner” rather than “later.” This week, Vanity Fair became just the latest in a long line of publications to say “If you want to read us, you’ll have to subscribe.”
As New York University journalism professor Jay Rosen noted on Twitter, Bloomberg already has “one of the greatest subsidy systems ever invented”: the terminals that it sells to financial companies at a cost of $20,000 per user per year. If they still want a paywall, we should be bearish on the chances that anyone else in the news business will make a go of the “free content” model.So how did my industry make it work for so long? The answer is that we never did, really, which is why so many newspapers and magazines are struggling to stay afloat, and so many Web publications are burning through piles of investor money as they hunt for a viable business model. The more interesting question is why we couldn’t make it work. And the answer to that lies in the structure of the traditional media business.
Critics of the “mainstream media” (or if you prefer, the “lamestream media”) are fond of saying that we’re going to be put out of business by competition from “new media” upstarts. Indeed, as a young blogger, I might even have made a few such pronouncements. And I and those critics were wrong. Traditional media can survive competition for readers just fine. It’s competition for advertisers that’s killing us.
For more than a century, magazines and newspapers were what’s known as a “two-sided market”: We sold subscriptions to you, our readers, and once you’d subscribed, we sold your eyeballs to our advertisers. That was necessary because, unbeknownst to you, your subscription dollars often didn’t even cover the cost of printing and delivering the physical pieces of paper. They rarely covered much, if any, of the cost of actually reporting and writing the stories printed on those pages. And you’d probably be astonished at how expensive it is to report a single, relatively simple story.
But that was okay, because we controlled a valuable pipeline to reader eyeballs — a pipeline advertisers wanted to fill with information about their products. You guys got your journalism on the cheap, and advertisers got the opportunity to tell you about the fantastic incentive package available to qualified buyers on the brand-new 1985 Chevy Impala.
Then the Internet came along, and suddenly, we didn’t own the only pipeline anymore. Anyone can throw up a Web page. And over the past 20 years, anyone did — far more than could support actual advertiser demand.
The companies that won this rugby scrum weren’t the venerable old names with long experience marrying ads to winsome content. They weren’t even the new media companies with their frantic brigades of young staffers generating hot takes. The companies that are winning — mostly Google and Facebook — get content for free from their users, or other people on the Internet. Including us.
Providing the rope with which someone else will hang you is obviously not a very good business model. And in the words of economist Herb Stein, “If something can’t go on forever, it will stop.” Either we will find someone else to pay for the news and opinion and cartoons you consume, or we will go out of business.
That someone doesn’t have to be the reader. Some journalism can function as a sort of a loss leader for a conference business, or another associated product, like books or package tours. Some opinion writing can be produced by people who use it as a personal loss leader for their brand as a “thought leader” or “public intellectual” — or simply use it as a hobby to blow off steam. Outside of the “loss leader model,” there are a few other options: Some reporting can be financed by donors as a philanthropic project; some consumer product journalism can support itself through affiliate programs that provide rewards for selling merchandise; and some writing can be supported by “native advertising” sprinkled among the journalism so that it’s hard to tell them apart. All of those business models can produce good journalism.
But all of those strategies also have flaws. You need a pretty affluent demographic and a highly prestigious brand for the “loss leader” strategy to work. And while opinion writing is very important (she said, modestly), it’s not the only important work we do; academics and business executives are largely not going to pick up the unglamorous but necessary job of beat reporting. Philanthropic journalism can take up some of that slack, but it will be narrow in another way: Donor-funded journalism tends to largely be ideological, with donors looking for stories that flatter their opinions and produce measurable political “impact” beyond just keeping readers informed. A lot of that journalism is very valuable — but it’s not all that we need. And as for the last two models, I presumably don’t have to explain the dangerous incentives built into them.
But if you don’t like those options, then you, dear reader, are going to have to step up to the plate. Unfortunately, many of you have gotten used to the idea that news ought to be free, and resent being asked to pay for it.
by Megan McArdle, Washington Post | Read more:
Image: via
[ed. I beg to differ. News media have already experimented with moving content over to Facebook (how'd that work out?) and paywalls will only hasten their demise. I suppose they could try taking a page from the airlines' playbook and begin charging for prime, extra prime, and really super-duper prime access to content (see here). But in the end it'll all be for naught because no one is going to pay for multiple individual subscriptions. In a sense, there's really no free will involved in these decisions, just sort of a technological determinism at work. I think the most likely outcome (after the media landscape is littered with dead paywalled companies) is that remaining news outlets will eventually get bundled into some type of aggregated subscription service (think cable tv), or Costco/Amazon Prime type membership model. Or, they might eke out a living on an alternative revenue stream like micro-payments and blockchain technology. Until then, these finger-in-the-dike solutions only spell doom for all but the largest media outlets. See also: The Bloomberg Paywall Does Not Make Sense]
Mental Health on a Budget
Everyone knows medical care in the US is expensive even with insurance and prohibitively expensive without it. I have a lot of patients who are uninsured, or who bounce on and off insurance, or who have trouble affording their co-pays. This is a collection of tricks I’ve learned (mostly from them) to help deal with these situations. They are US-based and may not apply to other countries. Within the US, they are a combination of legal and probably-legal; I’ve tried to mark which is which but I am not a lawyer and can’t make promises. None of this is medical advice; use at your own risk.
This is intended for people who already know they do not qualify for government assistance. If you’re not sure, check HealthCare.gov and look into the particular patchwork of assistance programs in your state and county.
I. Prescription Medication
This section is about ways to get prescription medication for cheaper. If even after all this your prescription medication is too expensive, please talk to your doctor about whether it can be replaced with a less expensive medication. Often doctors don’t think about this and will be happy to work with you if they know you need it. They may also have other ways to help you save money, like giving you the free sample boxes they get from drug reps.
1. Sites like GoodRx.com. This is first because it’s probably the most important thing most people can do to save money on health care. For example, one month of Abilify 5 mg usually costs $930 at Safeway, but only $30 with a GoodRx coupon. There is no catch. Insurances and pharmacies play a weird game where insurances say they’ll only pay one-tenth the sticker price for drugs, and pharmacies respond by dectupling the price of everything. If you have insurance, it all (mostly) cancels out in the end; if you don’t, you end up paying inflated prices with no relation to reality. GoodRx negotiates discounts so that individual consumers can get drugs for the same discounted price as insurances (or better); they also list the prices at each pharmacy so you know where to shop. This is not only important in and of itself, but its price comparison feature is also important to figure out how best to apply the other features in this category. Even if you have insurance, GoodRx prices are sometimes lower than your copay.
2. Get and split bigger pills. Remember how a month of Abilify 5 mg cost $30 with the coupon? Well, a month of Abilify 30 mg also costs $30. Cut each 30 mg pill into sixths, and now you have six months’ worth of Abilify 5 mg, for a total cost of $5 per month. You’ll need a cooperative doctor willing to prescribe you the higher dose. Note that some pills cannot be divided in this way – cutting XR pills screws up the extended release mechanism. Others like seizure medication are a bad idea to split in case you end up taking slightly different doses each time. Ask your doctor whether this is safe for whatever medication you use. Do not ask the pharma companies or trust their literature – they will always say it’s unsafe, for self-interested reasons. Contrary to some doctors’ concerns, this is not insurance fraud if you’re not buying it with insurance, and AFAIK there’s no such thing as defrauding a pharmacy.
3. Mail order from Canada. Canada has lower prices than the US for various prescription drugs. Canadian pharmacies are unlicensed and illegitimate and you should never use them, according to the same people who tell you that marijuana is a gateway drug and porn will fill your computer with Russian viruses. According to everyone else, including most doctors I know, they are fine as long as you avoid obvious scams. They are technically illegal but the FDA has a policy not to prosecute people who buy drugs there for personal use. The Canadian Internet Pharmacy Association maintains a list of ones they consider safe. If I try really hard, I can find a way to get the month of Abilify 5 mg for $4.58 from canadapharmacy.com, but this isn’t really that much better than the best American option. Some other medications do seem to be better, especially ones that are still on patent; if I want a month of Saphris 10 mg, the best I can find on GoodRx is $620, but on canadapharmacy.com there’s a deal for $196.
4. Pharma company patient assistance programs. As part of their continuing effort to pretend they are anything other than soulless profit-maximizing bloodsuckers who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes, some pharma companies offer their drugs for cheap if you can prove you need them and can’t afford the regular price. These are most useful if for some reason you need a specific expensive brand-name drug; if you have any other options you’re better off just buying the generic. You can search for these programs at Partnership For Prescription Assistance, RXAssist, and NeedyMeds. Be very careful to read the fine print on these, because no matter what they pretend, drug companies are soulless profit-maximizing bloodsuckers who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes, and sometimes these are just small discounts that aren’t as good as using one of the other methods. Occasionally a company will give you a great discount that knocks a brand-name medication costing $300 down to only $150 without telling you that there is a similar generic that costs $5. But if you need one specific very expensive thing, and you are lowish-income, and you don’t have government help, this is still your best bet.
5. Get 90+ day supplies. If your insurance charges you a co-pay of $30 per prescription, and you get a 90-day supply instead of a one month supply, then you’re paying $30 once every three months, instead of once a month.
II. Therapy
This section is on ways to do therapy if you cannot afford a traditional therapist. There may also be other options specific to your area, like training clinics attached to colleges that charge “sliding scale” fees (ie they will charge you less if you can’t afford full price).
1. Bibliotherapy: If you’re doing a specific therapy for a specific problem (as opposed to just trying to vent or organize your thoughts), studies generally find that doing therapy out of a textbook works just as well as doing it with a real therapist. I usually recommend David Burns’ therapy books: Feeling Good for depression and When Panic Attacks for anxiety. If you have anger, emotional breakdowns, or other borderline-adjacent symptoms, consider a DBT skills workbook. For OCD, Brain Lock.
2. Free support groups: Alcoholics Anonymous is neither as great as the proponents say nor as terrible as the detractors say; for a balanced look, see here. There are countless different spinoffs for non-religious people or people with various demographic characteristics or different drugs. But there are also groups for gambling addiction, sex addiction, and food addiction (including eating disorders). There’s a list of anxiety and depression support groups here. Groups for conditions like social anxiety can be especially helpful since going to the group is itself a form of exposure therapy.
3. Therapy startups: These are companies like BetterHelp and TalkSpace which offer remote therapy for something like $50/week. I was previously more bullish on these; more recently, it looks like they have stopped offering free videochat with a subscription. That means you may be limited to texting your therapist about very specific things you are doing that day, which isn’t really therapy. And some awful thinkpiece sites that always hate everything are also skeptical. I am interested in hearing experiences from anyone who has used these sites. Until then, consider them use-at-your-own-risk.
III. Supplement Analogues
This section is for people who can no longer afford to see a doctor to get their prescription medication. It discusses what supplements are most similar to prescription medications. This is not an endorsement of these substitutions as exactly as good as the medications they are replacing, a recommendation to switch even if you can still get the original medication, or a guarantee that you won’t go into withdrawal if you switch to these. They’re just better than nothing. Make sure to get these from a trusted supplier. I trust this site, but do your own investigation.
This doesn’t include detailed description of doses, side effects, or interactions; you will have to look these up yourself. These are all either legal, or in a gray area of “probably legal” consistent with them being very widely used without punishment. I am not including illegal options, even though some of them are clearly stronger than these – but you can probably find them if you search.
1. Similar to SSRIs: 5-HTP. This is a serotonin precursor that can serve some of the same roles that selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors do, though this is still controversial and it is probably not as strong. Cochrane Review thinks that “evidence does suggest these substances are better than placebo at alleviating depression”. This may plausibly help with SSRI withdrawal, though not as much as going back on an SSRI. It can be dangerous if you are taking any other serotonergic medication, so check with the doctor prescribing it first. Cost is about $10/month. Definitely legal.
2. Similar to antidepressants in general: Tianeptine. This is a European antidepressant which is unregulated in the US, making it the only way I know to get an regulatory-agency-approved antidepressant without a prescription. Look up the difference between the sodium and the sulfate versions before you buy. Generally safe at the standard dose; higher doses carry a risk of addiction. Cost is about $20/month. Probably legal, widely used without legal challenges.
3. Similar to stimulants: Adrafinil. This is the prodrug of modafinil, a stimulant-ish medication widely used off-label for ADHD. Modafinil itself is Schedule IV controlled (though widely available online); adrafinil is unscheduled and also widely available. Look up the debate over liver safety before you use. Cost is about $30/month. Probably legal, widely used without legal challenges.
4. Similar to anxiety medications: GABA and picamilon. GABA is an endogenous inhibitory neurotransmitter, but it has questionable ability to cross the blood-brain barrier when taken orally (though see here for counterargument). Picamilon is the same neurotransmittor attached to a niacin molecule that helps it cross the BBB more readily. Both are sold as supplements. The evidence base is weak, and this is the entry on this list I am most skeptical of. Use at your own risk (of it not working; it’s probably pretty safe). Neither of these is as strong as a benzodiazepine and these will not significantly relieve acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. Cost is about $30/month. GABA is definitely legal. Picamilon is possibly legal; the FDA has tried to stop companies from selling it as a dietary supplement, but does not seem to be challenging users.
This is intended for people who already know they do not qualify for government assistance. If you’re not sure, check HealthCare.gov and look into the particular patchwork of assistance programs in your state and county.
I. Prescription Medication
This section is about ways to get prescription medication for cheaper. If even after all this your prescription medication is too expensive, please talk to your doctor about whether it can be replaced with a less expensive medication. Often doctors don’t think about this and will be happy to work with you if they know you need it. They may also have other ways to help you save money, like giving you the free sample boxes they get from drug reps.
1. Sites like GoodRx.com. This is first because it’s probably the most important thing most people can do to save money on health care. For example, one month of Abilify 5 mg usually costs $930 at Safeway, but only $30 with a GoodRx coupon. There is no catch. Insurances and pharmacies play a weird game where insurances say they’ll only pay one-tenth the sticker price for drugs, and pharmacies respond by dectupling the price of everything. If you have insurance, it all (mostly) cancels out in the end; if you don’t, you end up paying inflated prices with no relation to reality. GoodRx negotiates discounts so that individual consumers can get drugs for the same discounted price as insurances (or better); they also list the prices at each pharmacy so you know where to shop. This is not only important in and of itself, but its price comparison feature is also important to figure out how best to apply the other features in this category. Even if you have insurance, GoodRx prices are sometimes lower than your copay.
2. Get and split bigger pills. Remember how a month of Abilify 5 mg cost $30 with the coupon? Well, a month of Abilify 30 mg also costs $30. Cut each 30 mg pill into sixths, and now you have six months’ worth of Abilify 5 mg, for a total cost of $5 per month. You’ll need a cooperative doctor willing to prescribe you the higher dose. Note that some pills cannot be divided in this way – cutting XR pills screws up the extended release mechanism. Others like seizure medication are a bad idea to split in case you end up taking slightly different doses each time. Ask your doctor whether this is safe for whatever medication you use. Do not ask the pharma companies or trust their literature – they will always say it’s unsafe, for self-interested reasons. Contrary to some doctors’ concerns, this is not insurance fraud if you’re not buying it with insurance, and AFAIK there’s no such thing as defrauding a pharmacy.
3. Mail order from Canada. Canada has lower prices than the US for various prescription drugs. Canadian pharmacies are unlicensed and illegitimate and you should never use them, according to the same people who tell you that marijuana is a gateway drug and porn will fill your computer with Russian viruses. According to everyone else, including most doctors I know, they are fine as long as you avoid obvious scams. They are technically illegal but the FDA has a policy not to prosecute people who buy drugs there for personal use. The Canadian Internet Pharmacy Association maintains a list of ones they consider safe. If I try really hard, I can find a way to get the month of Abilify 5 mg for $4.58 from canadapharmacy.com, but this isn’t really that much better than the best American option. Some other medications do seem to be better, especially ones that are still on patent; if I want a month of Saphris 10 mg, the best I can find on GoodRx is $620, but on canadapharmacy.com there’s a deal for $196.
4. Pharma company patient assistance programs. As part of their continuing effort to pretend they are anything other than soulless profit-maximizing bloodsuckers who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes, some pharma companies offer their drugs for cheap if you can prove you need them and can’t afford the regular price. These are most useful if for some reason you need a specific expensive brand-name drug; if you have any other options you’re better off just buying the generic. You can search for these programs at Partnership For Prescription Assistance, RXAssist, and NeedyMeds. Be very careful to read the fine print on these, because no matter what they pretend, drug companies are soulless profit-maximizing bloodsuckers who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes, and sometimes these are just small discounts that aren’t as good as using one of the other methods. Occasionally a company will give you a great discount that knocks a brand-name medication costing $300 down to only $150 without telling you that there is a similar generic that costs $5. But if you need one specific very expensive thing, and you are lowish-income, and you don’t have government help, this is still your best bet.
5. Get 90+ day supplies. If your insurance charges you a co-pay of $30 per prescription, and you get a 90-day supply instead of a one month supply, then you’re paying $30 once every three months, instead of once a month.
II. Therapy
This section is on ways to do therapy if you cannot afford a traditional therapist. There may also be other options specific to your area, like training clinics attached to colleges that charge “sliding scale” fees (ie they will charge you less if you can’t afford full price).
1. Bibliotherapy: If you’re doing a specific therapy for a specific problem (as opposed to just trying to vent or organize your thoughts), studies generally find that doing therapy out of a textbook works just as well as doing it with a real therapist. I usually recommend David Burns’ therapy books: Feeling Good for depression and When Panic Attacks for anxiety. If you have anger, emotional breakdowns, or other borderline-adjacent symptoms, consider a DBT skills workbook. For OCD, Brain Lock.
2. Free support groups: Alcoholics Anonymous is neither as great as the proponents say nor as terrible as the detractors say; for a balanced look, see here. There are countless different spinoffs for non-religious people or people with various demographic characteristics or different drugs. But there are also groups for gambling addiction, sex addiction, and food addiction (including eating disorders). There’s a list of anxiety and depression support groups here. Groups for conditions like social anxiety can be especially helpful since going to the group is itself a form of exposure therapy.
3. Therapy startups: These are companies like BetterHelp and TalkSpace which offer remote therapy for something like $50/week. I was previously more bullish on these; more recently, it looks like they have stopped offering free videochat with a subscription. That means you may be limited to texting your therapist about very specific things you are doing that day, which isn’t really therapy. And some awful thinkpiece sites that always hate everything are also skeptical. I am interested in hearing experiences from anyone who has used these sites. Until then, consider them use-at-your-own-risk.
III. Supplement Analogues
This section is for people who can no longer afford to see a doctor to get their prescription medication. It discusses what supplements are most similar to prescription medications. This is not an endorsement of these substitutions as exactly as good as the medications they are replacing, a recommendation to switch even if you can still get the original medication, or a guarantee that you won’t go into withdrawal if you switch to these. They’re just better than nothing. Make sure to get these from a trusted supplier. I trust this site, but do your own investigation.
This doesn’t include detailed description of doses, side effects, or interactions; you will have to look these up yourself. These are all either legal, or in a gray area of “probably legal” consistent with them being very widely used without punishment. I am not including illegal options, even though some of them are clearly stronger than these – but you can probably find them if you search.
1. Similar to SSRIs: 5-HTP. This is a serotonin precursor that can serve some of the same roles that selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors do, though this is still controversial and it is probably not as strong. Cochrane Review thinks that “evidence does suggest these substances are better than placebo at alleviating depression”. This may plausibly help with SSRI withdrawal, though not as much as going back on an SSRI. It can be dangerous if you are taking any other serotonergic medication, so check with the doctor prescribing it first. Cost is about $10/month. Definitely legal.
2. Similar to antidepressants in general: Tianeptine. This is a European antidepressant which is unregulated in the US, making it the only way I know to get an regulatory-agency-approved antidepressant without a prescription. Look up the difference between the sodium and the sulfate versions before you buy. Generally safe at the standard dose; higher doses carry a risk of addiction. Cost is about $20/month. Probably legal, widely used without legal challenges.
3. Similar to stimulants: Adrafinil. This is the prodrug of modafinil, a stimulant-ish medication widely used off-label for ADHD. Modafinil itself is Schedule IV controlled (though widely available online); adrafinil is unscheduled and also widely available. Look up the debate over liver safety before you use. Cost is about $30/month. Probably legal, widely used without legal challenges.
4. Similar to anxiety medications: GABA and picamilon. GABA is an endogenous inhibitory neurotransmitter, but it has questionable ability to cross the blood-brain barrier when taken orally (though see here for counterargument). Picamilon is the same neurotransmittor attached to a niacin molecule that helps it cross the BBB more readily. Both are sold as supplements. The evidence base is weak, and this is the entry on this list I am most skeptical of. Use at your own risk (of it not working; it’s probably pretty safe). Neither of these is as strong as a benzodiazepine and these will not significantly relieve acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. Cost is about $30/month. GABA is definitely legal. Picamilon is possibly legal; the FDA has tried to stop companies from selling it as a dietary supplement, but does not seem to be challenging users.
by Scott Alexander, Slate Star Codex | Read more:
Fishing for Stories via Instagram
Every fish tale starts with a whopper. This one started with a photograph on Instagram.
I was researching a story on the actor Chris Pratt and was surprised that a photograph he posted to the social networking app with his son on a fishing trip had been liked more than 1 million times. Even by celebrity standards, that is a huge number.
Donald Trump Jr., another avid angler and Instagram user, whom I profiled last year, garnered tens of thousands of likes for his fishing pictures. And more and more, the people I follow were posting fish tales of their own.
How big is the fishing crowd on Instagram, I wondered.
It is indeed an active community; #fishing alone has nearly 20 million posts.
As I scrolled through hundreds of photographs, I noticed that many anglers posing with their catch exhibited a studied flair, much like fashionistas promoting designer clothes in the early days of Instagram. (A few years ago, models had their own selfie pose called the “fish gape.”) (...)
The genre had all the hallmarks of a mature social media phenomenon. A lot of people were promoting brands. So much so, one Twitter commenter asked if the fishing industry now had “influencers.” Noelle Coley of Colorado said she worked with a number of companies, receiving free fishing equipment or apparel in exchange for social media mentions. (Some outlets, like Orvis, a maker of fly fishing equipment, are seeking to increase the number of women in the sport. That’s no surprise, given that recreational fishing is on the rise in the United States and women are an untapped market.)
What was most striking, though, were the photographs themselves, which were colorful, immediate and engaging. I reached out to a number of the featured men and women from across the country and asked them to tell me their back stories.
While much of America is divided between red and blue states, these anglers recounted experiences that transcend geography and politics. They said they had friends on both coasts, as well as in the middle of the country.
Could fishing be the great uniter? That would be no small feat these days, when everything seems politicized.
They even wanted to take me fishing. But that’s another story. (A brother once chided me for catching a trout smaller than the purse I owned.)
Most of all, though, these fishing enthusiasts were eager to describe how social media helped them document their pastime so they could share it with others.
I was researching a story on the actor Chris Pratt and was surprised that a photograph he posted to the social networking app with his son on a fishing trip had been liked more than 1 million times. Even by celebrity standards, that is a huge number.
Donald Trump Jr., another avid angler and Instagram user, whom I profiled last year, garnered tens of thousands of likes for his fishing pictures. And more and more, the people I follow were posting fish tales of their own.How big is the fishing crowd on Instagram, I wondered.
It is indeed an active community; #fishing alone has nearly 20 million posts.
As I scrolled through hundreds of photographs, I noticed that many anglers posing with their catch exhibited a studied flair, much like fashionistas promoting designer clothes in the early days of Instagram. (A few years ago, models had their own selfie pose called the “fish gape.”) (...)
The genre had all the hallmarks of a mature social media phenomenon. A lot of people were promoting brands. So much so, one Twitter commenter asked if the fishing industry now had “influencers.” Noelle Coley of Colorado said she worked with a number of companies, receiving free fishing equipment or apparel in exchange for social media mentions. (Some outlets, like Orvis, a maker of fly fishing equipment, are seeking to increase the number of women in the sport. That’s no surprise, given that recreational fishing is on the rise in the United States and women are an untapped market.)
What was most striking, though, were the photographs themselves, which were colorful, immediate and engaging. I reached out to a number of the featured men and women from across the country and asked them to tell me their back stories.
While much of America is divided between red and blue states, these anglers recounted experiences that transcend geography and politics. They said they had friends on both coasts, as well as in the middle of the country.
Could fishing be the great uniter? That would be no small feat these days, when everything seems politicized.
They even wanted to take me fishing. But that’s another story. (A brother once chided me for catching a trout smaller than the purse I owned.)
Most of all, though, these fishing enthusiasts were eager to describe how social media helped them document their pastime so they could share it with others.
by Laura M. Holson, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Patrick Duke
Friday, April 27, 2018
Thursday, April 26, 2018
The Operating Theatre: Contemporary Fiction & Las Vegas
Las Vegas is known for a multiplicity of things. Gambling. Transience. Heat. Solitude and isolation. Freakery. Global tourism. Indulgence. The triumph of spectacle, celebrating the celebratory. Somewhat recently, in the last five to ten years, prior to the November 2016 election of President Donald Trump and the October 2017 tragedy of the Mandalay Bay mass shooting, in the realm of literature the Nevadan metropolis of Las Vegas has become an examination room and a battleground, a kenoma in which writers have elucidated an elegiac donnée, one that refracts the soul (or soullessness) of an America enamored with the effervescence of the eternal present.
The city’s literary history is rarely insular, often regionally inscribed by its proximity to Los Angeles, an hour by plane or four hours by car, calling to mind Joan Didion’s Play It As It Lays (1970). It is the consummate desert city, defined by long, scorching summers and unremitting drought, essentially adjacent to the Southern Californian high desert, Death Valley, the Hoover Dam, and the Colorado River. It is a one-of-a-kind oasis, but it is also part of the American southwest. Book-wise, it is most readily associated with Hunter S. Thompson’s much-loved Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1972), novel-ish in structure, avant-garde in execution, a cult-classic exercise in self-invention. The genesis of gonzo journalism, a freakier version of the non-fiction novel in the aftermath of Capote and Mailer, but drug-doused, thus kin to Kesey, Thompson’s opus can also be categorized as Social Criticism. The nineties saw the success of John O’Brien’s 1990 novel Leaving Las Vegas, followed by a film adaptation five years later that brought the author’s distinctively bleak semi-autobiographical stylings to the screen. In recent years, three major works employ Las Vegas as a setting for literary fiction: Chris Abani’s The Secret History of Las Vegas (2014), Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch (2013), and the tentpole of the New Vegas novel, Charles Bock’s Beautiful Children (2008). (...)
Uniforms of all types, not just military ones, proliferate more in Las Vegas than in most cities. Remembering Thoreau’s dictum, “Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes,” Abani takes pleasure in blurring, puncturing, and deconstructing clearly identified roles. The casino/hotel/resort employees are decked out in the trimmings of their trade as bellhop or desk clerk, pit boss or baccarat dealer, maid or gift shop employee. The female self-objectification-for-money hierarchy runs from cocktail waitress to stripper to hooker, each with her own particular costume. The tourists also love to play dress-up in the Southern Nevadan citadel, women donning a mini-skirt or a cleavagy black dress, men sporting a blazer and jeans at the steakhouse with the fellas, or visor and fanny pack at the pool with a little age hampering their gait but never dimming their glad-to-be-there grins. As one can imagine, Halloween on the Strip is a singular and revelatory forum for revelry. And of course, the other type of raiment that is every bit as prevalent as that of the scantily clad over-the-top get-ups or the soldier boys in their finery, is that of the brides and grooms, wedding parties trailing behind, whether lavish and quasi-celebrity at a ballroom inside The Wynn, or cheap and fast—like the subjects of Didion’s Saturday Evening Post essay “Marrying Absurd” from Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968)—at one of the old downtown chapels all wicker and white paint, kitschy and pseudo-quaint. (...)
Las Vegas is a sunny place, hardly ever even cloudy or overcast, but its landscape and its paradigms are rarely clear. It is hard to find reality. The superficial is as rampant as the heat, and the constant commerce is as much of a glut as the slow-moving pedestrians and the always waiting lines of cabs and limos, and even the Strip itself, the literal sidewalk, is often buried beneath discarded handouts, fliers, and baseball card–sized advertisements for escorts. Las Vegas as a setting for the literature of social comment has only been lightly studied; it remains under-utilized, far from exhausted.
In an August 2014 issue of LA Weekly, Henry Rollins writes, “In many ways, Las Vegas is the ultimate statement of Homo sapiens. Not Coltrane, not NASA or literacy. This assault on nature is one of the most obscene attempts to tame the wild. It is a massive concrete, steel and pavement tantrum.” It is as if everybody knows that Washington D.C. isn’t really the capital anymore. Sure, there’s still a plentitude of power suits, the agglomeration of mid-Atlantic wealth, the Machiavellian allure of politics typified by Kevin Spacey’s Frank Underwood in House of Cards, but it’s not the most American of cities, it’s not the most popular or the best-known. It’s a relic, a studio lot for CNN, talking heads with landmarks hovering in the background like something out of a much-reused sixth-grade textbook. The modern-day United States is condensed into instantly recognizable symbols, as portrayed through the media, social or traditional, old or new, in all their hyper-linked and instantly gratifying versions. And though the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building and the White House are well-known edifices, they don’t quite encapsulate or semiotically signify, not in the way that the Manhattan skyline or the Hollywood sign serve as American archetypes.
For the latter half of the twentieth century, those two port cities, N period Y period and L period A period, were America’s benchmarks and bookends, but the twenty-first century may more appropriately be compared to Las Vegas, Nevada and all its cartoonish glory. Where the booms and busts hit first and hardest (chronicled in Michael Lewis’s The Big Short (2010) and its 2015 film adaptation). Where the American empire sends you on vacation or to a conference. William Chalmers’s book America’s Vacation Deficit Disorder (2013) stipulates, via a citation of the MMGY Global/Harrison Group’s 2012 Portrait of American Travelers, that only 9 percent of U.S. residents are even interested in international destinations, so Las Vegas provides a Cliff’s Notes version of the world, a more comfortable brand of tourism, without the massive time shifts, language barriers, and xenophobic fears inherent to international travel. “L.V.” says you don’t have to go to Paris and put up with those snooty French people to see the Eiffel Tower or to order a baguette from an ersatz boulangerie. You can experience the thrill of a tropical isle without the interference of child beggars and that depressing drive through the dilapidated slums on the way from the airport. The photogenic amenities of Venice are available without the stink of the canals, and the gondoliers backgrounded in selfies kick back for a Krispy Kreme donut or a Coors Light after work.
Las Vegas has acknowledged America’s fame obsession and is vending it. The illusion of being a somebody. You get to be whatever you want and, better yet, you get to leave it there. Hide from your job and your boss and your kids, shed your skin and let out that inner slouching beast. Yeats got the city wrong, but he was right about the desert. Las Vegas is a place where the temporal and the ephemeral are morphed into insta-culture, a palace of assimilation that’s open twenty-four/seven. There is no past or future, no need for perspective or long-range thought, there is only the unending now, the new promised land, a most codified place, a domain of myth and ritual.
The city’s literary history is rarely insular, often regionally inscribed by its proximity to Los Angeles, an hour by plane or four hours by car, calling to mind Joan Didion’s Play It As It Lays (1970). It is the consummate desert city, defined by long, scorching summers and unremitting drought, essentially adjacent to the Southern Californian high desert, Death Valley, the Hoover Dam, and the Colorado River. It is a one-of-a-kind oasis, but it is also part of the American southwest. Book-wise, it is most readily associated with Hunter S. Thompson’s much-loved Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1972), novel-ish in structure, avant-garde in execution, a cult-classic exercise in self-invention. The genesis of gonzo journalism, a freakier version of the non-fiction novel in the aftermath of Capote and Mailer, but drug-doused, thus kin to Kesey, Thompson’s opus can also be categorized as Social Criticism. The nineties saw the success of John O’Brien’s 1990 novel Leaving Las Vegas, followed by a film adaptation five years later that brought the author’s distinctively bleak semi-autobiographical stylings to the screen. In recent years, three major works employ Las Vegas as a setting for literary fiction: Chris Abani’s The Secret History of Las Vegas (2014), Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch (2013), and the tentpole of the New Vegas novel, Charles Bock’s Beautiful Children (2008). (...)Uniforms of all types, not just military ones, proliferate more in Las Vegas than in most cities. Remembering Thoreau’s dictum, “Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes,” Abani takes pleasure in blurring, puncturing, and deconstructing clearly identified roles. The casino/hotel/resort employees are decked out in the trimmings of their trade as bellhop or desk clerk, pit boss or baccarat dealer, maid or gift shop employee. The female self-objectification-for-money hierarchy runs from cocktail waitress to stripper to hooker, each with her own particular costume. The tourists also love to play dress-up in the Southern Nevadan citadel, women donning a mini-skirt or a cleavagy black dress, men sporting a blazer and jeans at the steakhouse with the fellas, or visor and fanny pack at the pool with a little age hampering their gait but never dimming their glad-to-be-there grins. As one can imagine, Halloween on the Strip is a singular and revelatory forum for revelry. And of course, the other type of raiment that is every bit as prevalent as that of the scantily clad over-the-top get-ups or the soldier boys in their finery, is that of the brides and grooms, wedding parties trailing behind, whether lavish and quasi-celebrity at a ballroom inside The Wynn, or cheap and fast—like the subjects of Didion’s Saturday Evening Post essay “Marrying Absurd” from Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968)—at one of the old downtown chapels all wicker and white paint, kitschy and pseudo-quaint. (...)
Las Vegas is a sunny place, hardly ever even cloudy or overcast, but its landscape and its paradigms are rarely clear. It is hard to find reality. The superficial is as rampant as the heat, and the constant commerce is as much of a glut as the slow-moving pedestrians and the always waiting lines of cabs and limos, and even the Strip itself, the literal sidewalk, is often buried beneath discarded handouts, fliers, and baseball card–sized advertisements for escorts. Las Vegas as a setting for the literature of social comment has only been lightly studied; it remains under-utilized, far from exhausted.
In an August 2014 issue of LA Weekly, Henry Rollins writes, “In many ways, Las Vegas is the ultimate statement of Homo sapiens. Not Coltrane, not NASA or literacy. This assault on nature is one of the most obscene attempts to tame the wild. It is a massive concrete, steel and pavement tantrum.” It is as if everybody knows that Washington D.C. isn’t really the capital anymore. Sure, there’s still a plentitude of power suits, the agglomeration of mid-Atlantic wealth, the Machiavellian allure of politics typified by Kevin Spacey’s Frank Underwood in House of Cards, but it’s not the most American of cities, it’s not the most popular or the best-known. It’s a relic, a studio lot for CNN, talking heads with landmarks hovering in the background like something out of a much-reused sixth-grade textbook. The modern-day United States is condensed into instantly recognizable symbols, as portrayed through the media, social or traditional, old or new, in all their hyper-linked and instantly gratifying versions. And though the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building and the White House are well-known edifices, they don’t quite encapsulate or semiotically signify, not in the way that the Manhattan skyline or the Hollywood sign serve as American archetypes.
For the latter half of the twentieth century, those two port cities, N period Y period and L period A period, were America’s benchmarks and bookends, but the twenty-first century may more appropriately be compared to Las Vegas, Nevada and all its cartoonish glory. Where the booms and busts hit first and hardest (chronicled in Michael Lewis’s The Big Short (2010) and its 2015 film adaptation). Where the American empire sends you on vacation or to a conference. William Chalmers’s book America’s Vacation Deficit Disorder (2013) stipulates, via a citation of the MMGY Global/Harrison Group’s 2012 Portrait of American Travelers, that only 9 percent of U.S. residents are even interested in international destinations, so Las Vegas provides a Cliff’s Notes version of the world, a more comfortable brand of tourism, without the massive time shifts, language barriers, and xenophobic fears inherent to international travel. “L.V.” says you don’t have to go to Paris and put up with those snooty French people to see the Eiffel Tower or to order a baguette from an ersatz boulangerie. You can experience the thrill of a tropical isle without the interference of child beggars and that depressing drive through the dilapidated slums on the way from the airport. The photogenic amenities of Venice are available without the stink of the canals, and the gondoliers backgrounded in selfies kick back for a Krispy Kreme donut or a Coors Light after work.
Las Vegas has acknowledged America’s fame obsession and is vending it. The illusion of being a somebody. You get to be whatever you want and, better yet, you get to leave it there. Hide from your job and your boss and your kids, shed your skin and let out that inner slouching beast. Yeats got the city wrong, but he was right about the desert. Las Vegas is a place where the temporal and the ephemeral are morphed into insta-culture, a palace of assimilation that’s open twenty-four/seven. There is no past or future, no need for perspective or long-range thought, there is only the unending now, the new promised land, a most codified place, a domain of myth and ritual.
by Sean Hooks, 3:AM Magazine | Read more:
Image: uncredited
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