The Uggo Police

The life of Marilyn Monroe yields a few lessons for those who would follow in her footsteps. One, don’t marry a playwright. Two, get paid. No current-day actress has taken this second lesson to heart like Sydney Sweeney, whose tousled good looks are practically designed to make people underestimate her. Sweeney understands that being an object of sexual fantasy involves a hefty dose of contempt—and says, If that’s the game, I’m going to make some money off of me, too. She’s under no illusions that if her career is left to others, she’ll be cast in parts she finds interesting. So if she sees a script she likes, she funds it herself. To get money, she sells stuff: bath soap that supposedly contains her bathwater, jeans, ice cream.

And if these products are advertised in ways that are a little tasteless, or a little offensive, that means that people will talk about the ads, and that talk means sales, and those sales mean, in the end, more checks for Sweeney. Asking whether or not Sweeney knew that a jeans ad campaign with the tagline “Sydney Sweeney has great jeans” would activate the very weird and very horny portion of the Internet that has made her into a symbol of anti-wokeness misses the point. She would have done it either way. That is, I imagine that Sweeney regards her crew of weird, horny right-wing fans the same way she probably regards any group of fans: as wallets.

As for me, personally? I like Sydney Sweeney, in a vague way that doesn’t mean I have any interest in her movies. I just have a lot of respect for actors who don’t ever say no to a check (see, Orson Welles). The other side of libidinal contempt is feel-good pity, but there’s nothing pitiable about Sweeney either. Some girls are born connected, some girls are born pretty, and some girls are born smart. Two out of three isn’t so bad. But her cultists are another story. Aside from the obvious—adopting Sydney Sweeney as a cause allows them to post pictures of her in underwear with plausible deniability—what’s going on there?

The “Ballad of Sydney Sweeney” goes like this: “They” wanted to exterminate beautiful busty blondes. “They” put ugly people in ads (sometimes). Now, however, here comes Sydney Sweeney, ending wokeness once and for all. The implication is that at some point in the past ten years, it’s been disadvantageous to be a curvaceous babe. The only sense in which that is true has not changed: Sweeney keeps showing up in ads in bras that don’t fit. But never mind that; thanks to Sweeney, it is now legal to be hot. The hot people have come out from the places where they’d been driven into hiding by the uggo police. Now they frolic freely in the sun. Very touching.

Meanwhile, the anti-Sweeney in this drama is Taylor Swift. Swift and Sweeney have been pitted against each other by spectators, including Donald Trump: Swift, who represents woke, is no longer hot; Sweeney, anti-woke, is hot. (Out with the old blonde, in with the new.) Like so many statements about both Taylor Swift and Sydney Sweeney, or, for that matter, by Trump, this one has no tether to reality, but it’s how a certain type of person wants things to be. There’s a level of personal betrayal at play here. Swift, who stays out of trouble, avoids politics, doesn’t do drugs, rarely seems out of control, and sings about love, was the crypto-conservative icon of an earlier era. Eventually, it turned out that she was not one of them. Their Brünnhilde was within another ring of fire. Now all their hopes are pinned on Sweeney.

Does something about this scenario feel a little off to you? Not to sound like I’ve woken up from a coma, in which I have languished since 1992 after hearing Dan Quayle rail against Murphy Brown, but when exactly did making cleavage great again become a conservative cause? Somebody with the combined memory powers of (let’s say) three goldfish can easily imagine an alternate present in which Sweeney and her cleavage were an object of outraged conservative disdain. In this other world, Sweeney is attracting rage-filled press over her horror movie in which (I’m told) she plays a nun who bashes a baby to death. But in this world, these people don’t even get to do that. All rage provides is free marketing.

The people who are slavering over Sweeney will cheerfully confess to motivations that are gross enough. They like her because she’s white, busty, blonde, thin, and blue-eyed, but it seems like the white part might be the most important trait [ed. don't think so.]. To them, Sweeney represents things being right with the world; she’s the hot cheerleader to their collective star quarterback. (Among her many crimes, Taylor Swift’s engagement to a woke-for-football fellow, whose name I can’t recall, surely ranks pretty high on the list.) She’s the human embodiment of A.I.-generated pictures of beautiful white families, on a farm, reading the Bible, captioned, This is what they took from you!

Intriguingly little of this fandom has anything to do with Sydney Sweeney, the actual person, her professional life, or her public statements. When Doreen St. Félix, a writer for the New Yorker, had the temerity to call the American Eagle ad (and Sweeney, by implication) “banal,” the immediate reaction was to try to get her fired by digging up tweets she had written more than ten years ago and accusing her of racism against white people. One wonders whether what really set them off was St. Félix’s pointing out that Sweeney dyes her hair blonde: “Her blondness, like a lot of adult blondness, is a chemical thing masquerading as natural only to those most gullible in the population, straight men, who don’t know, and don’t care to understand, how much of so-called natural female beauty is constructed.” As both St. Félix’s piece and the subsequent backlash illustrated, the idea that Sydney Sweeney might be marketing herself undoes the illusion of the naturally beautiful girl who attracts attention and fame for doing nothing. Her fans miss all the things Sweeney herself clearly is—a smart businesswoman and an ambitious artist—because in her advertisements they see only a sleepy-looking fantasy object. Do any of these people even know that Sweeney makes movies? It’s an open question. (...)

So these people are deprived not only of the chance to ogle but of control. Neither their approval nor their disapproval can move the needle. The only thing that can is conjuring up the idea of a phantom lib, outraged and disapproving, and hoping some real people will come along to play the part. This type of resentment politics is the only card they really have: Look at how they despise you; make them mad, drink their tears! There’s always a professor somewhere who has said something inflammatory and stupid to back up this assertion.

But who cares? Really. Who cares? At last, to own the libs, we can admit McDonald’s tastes good, have fun at the movies, and post pictures of beautiful women in advertisements. But we already could do all of those things. It’s just that McDonald’s is junk, the movies are junk, and those advertisements exist to sell us junk. (...)

It might sound paradoxical to say that Sweeney’s worst fans adore her because they hate women, but it’s true. (Also, they don’t adore her.) There is always a young blonde to attach yourself to, and an older blonde to throw away. As long as Sweeney does nothing to alienate them, they will continue to hype her up; if one day she endorses a politician they don’t like, then it will be time to start talking about how she’s washed (or whatever slang has replaced “washed” by then). What they really want, besides the Fourth Reich, is a world in which women are either objects or invisible, disposable or essentially private.

by B.D. McClay, The Lamp |  Read more:

Image: American Eagle

[ed. Still high on winning the 'War on Christmas'. Also, have nothing against breasts.]

Uh Oh, US Farmers Totally Screwed

And that is bad news for The Groceries.

For fucking around with the world of Trump, some groups of people are reaching the find out phase faster and harder than others. And one of those groups is among the most loyal to the regime, farmers. While farm income is technically up, it’s only because of $42 billion in socialist bailout money in the form of a 720 percent increase in ad hoc disaster payments, that so far have made up more than 23 percent of Net Farm Income in 2025. But without that, farm income is down nearly 6 percent from December. And economists with the University of Illinois report that agricultural exports dropped by nearly $5 billion in just July alone.

The reason why is no mystery! Those Trump tariffs screwed over farmers coming and going, with higher input costs for supplies like seeds, fertilizer, and tractors, and lower selling prices for commodities. So far this year, China has not purchased one single, solitary soybean, opting to shop for them in friendlier Brazil, instead.

And US soybean farmers are projected to lose roughly $100 an acre this year. Nor are Mexican or Canadian companies as interested in buying the US’s corn or rice, now that retaliatory tariffs have made them more expensive. So farmers who took out loans or dipped into capital reserves expecting to sell their crops are facing the threat of bankruptcy, and in Q1 of 2025 the number of farm bankruptcies was nearly double the level of the first quarter of 2024.

Of course Trump knew full well this was going to happen, because it happened in his first term too: He levied tariffs, farm bankruptcies reached the highest level in a decade, and he ended up giving farmers a $16 billion bailout. And now Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins says even more bailout money might be coming.

It would be simple to help out farmers without giving them any socialist bailout money. Quit tariffing fertilizer, for one thing! Even Chuck Grassley has noticed this.

There’s a guy who definitely writes his own posts, who surely does watch a lot of corn. In an interview with RFD-TV, he vented more:

“We’ve got this farm crisis now, and this President should deal with this farm crisis right now. I’m hearing from bankers. I’m hearing from people that are getting pressed by their bankers to maybe sell part of their farm to somebody, [so] that when they build up their equity, they might be able to buy it back. We haven’t had this kind of stress in agriculture since the 1980s.”

Another big-brain idea, quit tariffing tractors! Or even just make ONE tariff rate and stick to it. The tariffs aren’t only expensive, they’re bizarrely complicated, and of course, prone to shifting with the tides of Dear Leader’s ever-changing moods.
From the WSJ:

The effective tariff facing exporters now varies depending on a product’s metal content. For a machine worth $1 million with a 20% steel content, the rate would be 50% of $200,000 and 15% of the rest, resulting in a $220,000 levy per machine—or a 22% tariff. The U.S. has said it would review the metals tariff list every four months, adding to the uncertainty.

Or as Grassley put it:

“Putting 50% tariffs on things that have steel in them, when you can’t buy those things in the United States, and you need them for your tractor to be finally manufactured? There should be tariffs on things that you can’t get in the United States. Why drive up the price of John Deeres because of a tariff on something they need for the tractor that they can’t even get in the United States? It’s a stupid policy.”

Indeed, if the point of these tariffs is to start making more tractors in the US, why put kooky tariffs on the metal that tractors are made out of? If we were cynical, it might seem like a ploy to make farmland real cheap so big agribusiness can buy it all up.

And the shortage of farmworkers is another self-made Trump problem. When the regime isn’t humiliatingly rounding up and detaining people with and without proper work visas, it’s also allowing the ones who do have H-2A visas to work in conditions one federal judge called “a form of modern-day slavery,” where they’re frequently abused, get their wages stolen, and are threatened with a call to ICE if they complain. (...)

And then there’s how USAID is no more, and not buying farmers’ extra grain any more. Cruel as they are stupid, ayup.

Are Republicans starting to smell the disaster Trump is brewing? Polling shows more Republicans than Democrats are worried about the economy, and Trump’s approval rating on the top issue dumbshit voters picked him to fix, The Groceries, has been going down to poundtown. And his approval rating is underwater in most states, including the breadbasket ones. Even in Arkansas, it’s plunged to single digits.

Anyway, it’s tempting to laugh at the poor dumb rural folk who thought that Donald Trump, the man who went broke on casinos, was going to be their savior. He bailed them out before, so guess they just expect that he and Congress will keep on doing it.

But we all have to eat, and bad news for The Groceries is bad news for everybody. But good news, soyboys, maybe at least domestic soybeans will be real cheap.

by Marci Jones, Wonkette |  Read more:

Image: Tomasz Filipek on Unsplash
[ed. For a clear explanation of why so many farmers supported Trump (knowing full well the downsides). See this:

How I Joined the Resistance

The religious evolution of J.D. Vance.

I prided myself on an ability to overwhelm the opposition with my logic. There was an arrogance at the heart of my worldview, emotionally and intellectually. But I comforted myself with an appeal to a philosopher whose atheism-cum-libertarianism told me everything I wanted to hear: Ayn Rand. Great, smart men were only arrogant if they were wrong, and I was anything but that. (...)

To lose my faith was to lose my cultural conservatism, and in a world that was growing increasingly aligned with the Republican party, my ideological response took the form of overcompensation: having lost my cultural conservatism, I would become even more economically conservative. The irony, of course, is that it was the economic program of the Republican party that least interested my family—none of them cared how much the Bush administration slashed tax rates for billionaires. The G.O.P. became a kind of totem—I attached myself to it ever more strongly because it gave me some common ground with my family. And the most respectable way to do so among my new college friends was through a dogged commitment to neoliberal economic orthodoxy. Tax breaks and Social Security cuts were socially acceptable ways to be conservative among the American elite. (...)

As I advanced through our educational hierarchy—moving on from Ohio State to Yale Law School—I began to worry that my assimilation into elite culture came at a high cost. My sister once told me that the song that made her think of me was “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Though I had fallen in love, I found that the emotional demons of my childhood made it hard to be the type of partner I’d always wanted to be. My Randian arrogance about my own ability melted away when confronted with the realization that an obsession with achievement would fail to produce the achievement that mattered most to me for so much of my life: a happy, thriving family.

I had immersed myself in the logic of the meritocracy and found it deeply unsatisfying. And I began to wonder: were all these worldly markers of success actually making me a better person? I had traded virtue for achievement and found the latter wanting. But the woman I wanted to marry cared little whether I obtained a Supreme Court clerkship. She just wanted me to be a good person.

It’s possible, of course, to overstate our own inadequacies. I never cheated on my would-be spouse. I never became violent with her. But there was a voice in my head that demanded better of me: that I put her interests above my own; that I master my temper for her sake as much as for mine. And I began to realize that this voice, wherever it came from, was not the same one that compelled me to climb as high as I could up our ladder of meritocracy. It came from somewhere more ancient, and more grounded—it required reflection about where I came from rather than cultural divorce from it.

As I considered these twin desires—for success and character—and how they conflicted (and didn’t), I came across a meditation from Saint Augustine on Genesis. I had been a fan of Augustine since a political theorist in college assigned City of God. But his thoughts on Genesis spoke to me, and are worth reproducing at length:

In matters that are obscure and far beyond our vision, even in such as we may find treated in Holy Scripture, different Interpretations are sometimes possible without prejudice to the faith we have received. In such a case, we should not rush in headlong and so firmly take our stand on one side that, if further progress in the search of truth justly undermines this position, we too fall with it. That would be to battle not for the teaching of Holy Scripture but for our own, wishing its teaching to conform to ours, whereas we ought to wish ours to conform to that of Sacred Scripture.

Let us suppose that in explaining the words, “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and light was made,” (Gn 1, 3), one man thinks that it was material light that was made, and another that it was spiritual. As to the actual existence of “spiritual light” in a spiritual creature, our faith leaves no doubt; as to the existence of material light, celestial or supercelestial, even existing before the heavens, a light which could have been followed by night, there will be nothing in such a supposition contrary to the faith until un-erring truth gives the lie to it. And if that should happen, this teaching was never in Holy Scripture but was an opinion proposed by man in his ignorance.

Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and the other elements of the world, about the motion and orbit of the stars and even their size and relative positions, about the predictable eclipses of the sun and moon, the cycles of the years and the seasons, about the kinds of animals, shrubs, stones, and so forth, and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn. The shame is not so much that an ignorant individual is derided, but that people outside the household of faith think our sacred writers held such opinions, and, to the great loss of those for whose salvation we toil, the writers of our Scripture are criticized and rejected as unlearned men. If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason?

I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would have reacted to this passage when I was a kid: If someone had made the very same argument to me when I was 17, I would have called him a heretic. This was an accommodation to science, the kind that someone like Bill Maher rightly mocked contemporary moderate Christians for indulging. Yet here was a person telling us 1600 years ago that my own approach to Genesis was arrogance—the kind that might turn a person from his faith.

This, it turned out, was a little too on the nose, and the first crack in my proverbial armor. I began circulating the quote among friends—believers and nonbelievers alike, and I thought about it constantly.

Around the same time, I attended a talk at our law school with Peter Thiel. This was 2011, and Thiel was a well-known venture capitalist but hardly a household name. He would later blurb my book and become a good friend, but I had no idea what to expect at the time. He spoke first in personal terms: arguing that we were increasingly tracked into cutthroat professional competitions. We would compete for appellate clerkships, and then Supreme Court clerkships. We would compete for jobs at elite law firms, and then for partnerships at those same places. At each juncture, he said, our jobs would offer longer work hours, social alienation from our peers, and work whose prestige would fail to make up for its meaninglessness. He also argued that his own world of Silicon Valley spent too little time on the technological breakthroughs that made life better—those in biology, energy, and transportation—and too much on things like software and mobile phones. Everyone could now tweet at each other, or post photos on Facebook, but it took longer to travel to Europe, we had no cure for cognitive decline and dementia, and our energy use increasingly dirtied the planet. He saw these two trends—elite professionals trapped in hyper-competitive jobs, and the technological stagnation of society—as connected. If technological innovation were actually driving real prosperity, our elites wouldn’t feel increasingly competitive with one another over a dwindling number of prestigious outcomes.

Peter’s talk remains the most significant moment of my time at Yale Law School. He articulated a feeling that had until then remained unformed: that I was obsessed with achievement in se—not as an end to something meaningful, but to win a social competition. My worry that I had prioritized striving over character took on a heightened significance: striving for what? I didn’t even know why I cared about the things I cared about. I fancied myself educated, enlightened, and especially wise about the ways of the world—at least compared with most of the people from my hometown. Yet I was obsessed with obtaining professional credentials—a clerkship with a federal judge and then an associate position at a prestigious firm—that I didn’t understand. I hated my limited exposure to legal practice. I looked to the future, and realized that I’d been running a desperate race where the first prize was a job I hated.

I began immediately planning for a career outside the law, which is why I spent less than two years after graduation as a practicing attorney. But Peter left me with one more thing: he was possibly the smartest person I’d ever met, but he was also a Christian. He defied the social template I had constructed—that dumb people were Christians and smart ones atheists. I began to wonder where his religious belief came from, which led me to René Girard, the French philosopher whom he apparently studied under at Stanford. Girard’s thought is rich enough that any effort to summarize will fail to do the man justice. His theory of mimetic rivalry—that we tend to compete over the things that other people want—spoke directly to some of the pressures I experienced at Yale. But it was his related theory of the scapegoat—and what it revealed about Christianity—that made me reconsider my faith.

One of Girard’s central insights is that human civilizations are often, perhaps even always, founded on a “scapegoat myth”—an act of violence committed against someone who has wronged the broader community, retold as a sort of origin story for the community.
 (...)

To Girard, the Christian story contains a crucial difference—a difference that reveals something “hidden since the foundation of the world.” In the Christian telling, the ultimate scapegoat has not wronged the civilization; the civilization has wronged him. The victim of the madness of crowds is, as Christ was, infinitely powerful—able to prevent his own murder—and perfectly innocent—undeserving of the rage and violence of the crowd. In Christ, we see our efforts to shift blame and our own inadequacies onto a victim for what they are: a moral failing, projected violently upon someone else. Christ is the scapegoat who reveals our imperfections, and forces us to look at our own flaws rather than blame our society’s chosen victims.

People come to truth in different ways, and I’m sure some will find this account unsatisfying. But in 2013, it captured so well the psychology of my generation, especially its most privileged inhabitants. Mired in the swamp of social media, we identified a scapegoat and digitally pounced. We were keyboard warriors, unloading on people via Facebook and Twitter, blind to our own problems. We fought over jobs we didn’t actually want while pretending we didn’t fight for them at all. And the end result for me, at least, was that I had lost the language of virtue. I felt more shame over failing in a law school exam than I did about losing my temper with my girlfriend.

That all had to change. It was time to stop scapegoating and focus on what I could do to improve things. (...)

I noticed during my research that many of those social problems came from behavior for which social scientists and policy experts had a different vocabulary. On the right, the conversation often turned to “culture” and “personal responsibility”—the ways in which individuals or communities held back their own progress. And though it seemed obvious to me that there was something dysfunctional about some of the places in which I’d grown up, the discourse on the right seemed a little heartless. It failed to account for the fact that destructive behaviors were almost always tragedies with terrible consequences. It is one thing to wag your finger at another person for failing to act a certain way, but it is something else to feel the weight of the misery that comes from those actions.

The left’s intellectuals focused much more on the structural and external problems facing families like mine—the difficulty in finding jobs and the lack of funding for certain types of resources. And while I agreed that more resources were often necessary, there seemed to me a sense in which our most destructive behaviors persisted—even flourished—in times of material comfort. The economic left was often more compassionate, but theirs was a kind of compassion—devoid of any expectation—that reeked of giving up. A compassion that assumes a person is disadvantaged to the point of hopelessness is like sympathy for a zoo animal, and I had no use for it.

And as I reflected on these competing views of the world, and the wisdom and shortcomings of each, I felt desperate for a worldview that understood our bad behavior as simultaneously social and individual, structural and moral; that recognized that we are products of our environment; that we have a responsibility to change that environment, but that we are still moral beings with individual duties; one that could speak against rising rates of divorce and addiction, not as sanitized conclusions about their negative social externalities, but with moral outrage. (...)

And here, again, the words of Saint Augustine echoed from a millennium and a half earlier, articulating a truth I had felt for a long time but hadn’t spoken. This is a passage from City of God, where Augustine summarizes the debauchery of Rome’s ruling class:

This is our concern, that every man be able to increase his wealth so as to supply his daily prodigalities, and so that the powerful may subject the weak for their own purposes. Let the poor court the rich for a living, and that under their protection they may enjoy a sluggish tranquillity; and let the rich abuse the poor as their dependants, to minister to their pride. Let the people applaud not those who protect their interests, but those who provide them with pleasure. Let no severe duty be commanded, no impurity forbidden. Let kings estimate their prosperity, not by the righteousness, but by the servility of their subjects. Let the provinces stand loyal to the kings, not as moral guides, but as lords of their possessions and purveyors of their pleasures; not with a hearty reverence, but a crooked and servile fear. Let the laws take cognizance rather of the injury done to another man’s property, than of that done to one’s own person. If a man be a nuisance to his neighbor, or injure his property, family, or person, let him be actionable; but in his own affairs let everyone with impunity do what he will in company with his own family, and with those who willingly join him. Let there be a plentiful supply of public prostitutes for every one who wishes to use them, but specially for those who are too poor to keep one for their private use. Let there be erected houses of the largest and most ornate description: in these let there be provided the most sumptuous banquets, where every one who pleases may, by day or night, play, drink, vomit, dissipate. Let there be everywhere heard the rustling of dancers, the loud, immodest laughter of the theatre; let a succession of the most cruel and the most voluptuous pleasures maintain a perpetual excitement. If such happiness is distasteful to any, let him be branded as a public enemy; and if any attempt to modify or put an end to it let him be silenced, banished, put an end to. Let these be reckoned the true gods, who procure for the people this condition of things, and preserve it when once possessed.

It was the best criticism of our modern age I’d ever read. A society oriented entirely towards consumption and pleasure, spurning duty and virtue. Not long after I first read these words, my friend Oren Cass published a book arguing that American policy makers have focused far too much on promoting consumption as opposed to productivity, or some other measure of wellbeing. The reaction—criticizing Oren for daring to push policies that might lower consumption—almost proved the argument. “Yes,” I found myself saying, “Oren’s preferred policies might reduce per-capita consumption. But that’s precisely the point: our society is more than the sum of its economic statistics. If people die sooner in the midst of historic levels of consumption, then perhaps our focus on consumption is misguided.”

And indeed it was this insight, more than any other, that ultimately led not just to Christianity, but to Catholicism. Despite my Mamaw’s unfamiliarity with the liturgy, the Roman and Italian cultural influences, and the foreign pope, I slowly began to see Catholicism as the closest expression of her kind of Christanity: obsessed with virtue, but cognizant of the fact that virtue is formed in the context of a broader community; sympathetic with the meek and poor of the world without treating them primarily as victims; protective of children and families and with the things necessary to ensure they thrive. And above all: a faith centered around a Christ who demands perfection of us even as He loves unconditionally and forgives easily.

by J.D. Vance, The Lamp |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. Poor J.D. definitely lost the plot (not hard if solipsism and rationalization are your super powers). Hard to feel sorry for him though. In his present world view - Catholic or not - ambition (maybe destiny!) Trumps everything.]

Buddies

Redford and Newman: A Screen Partnership That Defined an Era (NYT)

Image: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation/Sunset Boulevard/Corbis, via Getty Images

[ed. Time marches on, and friendships... what you make of them. See also: Robert Redford and the Perils of Perfection (New Yorker).]

Adrien Moreau, Return from market

via:

Decades of Public-Lands Planning, Overturned in a Day

On the sagebrush plains of eastern Montana, cattle graze alongside mule deer, and pumpjacks rise from coal seams. For nearly a decade, the future of this landscape was hammered out in the Miles City Resource Management Plan, a compromise shaped by ranchers, tribes, hunters, energy companies and conservationists. Now, with one vote in Washington, Congress has thrown that bargain into doubt, and with it, decades of public-lands decisions across the West.

Finalized in November 2024 after years of debate and litigation, the Miles City plan is one of the nation’s largest, governing 12 million acres of BLM land and 55 million acres of federal mineral estate across eastern Montana.

But on Sept. 3, the U.S. House of Representatives voted to overturn three Bureau of Land Management plans, including Miles City, under the Congressional Review Act, the first time the law has ever been applied to land-use planning. Legal experts and conservation groups warn that the consequences could be far-reaching, enabling Congress to unravel decades of environmental protections and management decisions on public lands.

Resource management plans serve as guidelines for how the BLM manages the public lands it oversees. The plans are developed through a lengthy process that combines local and tribal input with environmental review under the National Environmental Policy Act. The goal is to create a blueprint for “multiple use” management, balancing economic activities such as grazing and oil and gas development with other concerns, including wildlife habitat, outdoor recreation and conservation.

In Montana, the disappearance of that blueprint will have immediate consequences. Ranchers face uncertainty on how many cattle they can run, when their permits will be renewed, and what will happen during a serious drought. Tribal cultural sites are likely to be left unprotected and years of tribal consultation overridden. Conservation groups warn that congressional vetoes could sideline science-based safeguards for vulnerable habitats. In Miles City, the resource management plan would have reformed coal seam leases near the Powder River Basin; without those reforms, habitat for elk, mule deer, sharp-tailed grouse and pheasants could be fragmented by new energy development.

The Miles City plan drew input from ranchers, tribes, energy companies, hunters, outdoor recreation groups and conservation groups, and its supporters argue that undoing it sets a dangerous precedent.

“It’s disregarding all the conversations that have happened on the ground,” said Land Tawney of American Hunters and Anglers. “That balance sometimes isn’t perfect for anybody, but it’s a path forward for all.” (...)

The 1996 Congressional Review Act allows Congress to overturn agency rules within a 60-day window using only a simple majority, bypassing the filibuster. This is the first time resource management plans have ever been treated as “rules.”

“That’s why we’re at an inflection point,” said Chris Winter, director of the Getches-Wilkinson Center at the University of Colorado Law School. (Disclosure: Winter serves on High Country News’ board of directors.) Resource management plans, he said, have never been submitted to Congress for review. “Applying it now could unravel decades of land-use planning practice,” he said.

The CRA was employed only once before 2017, but the first Trump administration dramatically expanded its use. If this resolution stands, it would subject all RMPs to possible congressional approval, throwing every element of the planning process into doubt. According to Michael Blumm, a professor at Lewis & Clark Law School, this reinterpretation “calls into question the legitimacy” of the more than 100 plans finalized since the Congressional Review Act became law.

by Zoë Rom, High Country News | Read more:
Image: Luna Anna Archey

[ed. See also: Trump looks to suffocate public lands; and, How to comment on the planned roadless rule rollback (HCN).]

Yuko Murakoshi

Hot Dog University

A man in a Vienna Beef apron is lecturing into a speakerphone. Somewhere, someone scribbles notes in the margins of a Costco receipt. Elsewhere, a woman slices onions with the precision of a surgeon. A teenager in Chicago buffs his stainless steel hot dog cart until it gleams like a spaceship. A former landscape mogul-turned-cannabis-entrepreneur serves 20 custom hot dogs from a hand-built stand nestled between a ski mountain in Vermont and his dispensary. In Washington State, a Silicon Valley escapee helps his social media manager capture the perfect shot of his stand. A retired math professor counts out buns in Texas. In North Carolina, a man unfurls a 14-foot banner that reads BIG SEXY DAWGS, then opens a folding chair and waits for customers outside a rowdy college bar.

Different zip codes, different lives, but somehow, they all trace the same strange road back to a place called Hot Dog University.Yes, that’s a real place — tucked into the back of the Vienna Beef factory on Chicago’s North Side. Part classroom, part test kitchen, part pilgrimage for anyone who’s ever dreamed of slinging sausages for a living.

Every graduate of Hot Dog U knows the drill. They've studied the sacred script. They know the snap of the casing is non-negotiable. They've practiced the topping order like it’s a choreography: yellow mustard, neon green relish, chopped onions, tomato wedges, a pickle spear, sport peppers, and just a dash of celery salt.

And they all know the cardinal rule, taught by their P.H.D. (that’s Professor of Hot Dogs): no ketchup. Unless you still ride a tricycle (and can prove it), you're pregnant (we don’t argue with cravings), or it’s your wedding day (and we’d better see the dress).

It’s easy to laugh, until it isn’t.

This is serious business and the students at Hot Dog U are gearing up. Not just for summer, but for something bigger — independence, reinvention, the hope that if they can just get the cart to the right corner, maybe, just maybe, everything might work out.

It’s a little Ted Lasso, a little Abbott Elementary — big-hearted, scrappy, and, unexpectedly, profound. Our story begins in a classroom where the lessons are about hot dogs, sure. But this is also a story about failure and second chances, hustle and hope, and the deeply American belief that a sidewalk, a spatula, and a dream might still be enough.

In my family, hot dogs were never just food. They were in-between moments: passed across bleacher seats at ballgames, devoured at gas station stops, slightly charred at backyard cookouts. Hot dogs became shorthand for time spent together.

So when I set out to report this story, it wasn’t because I had a grand theory about encased meats. It was something more subtle: a soft spot for a food that always felt like home. And I didn’t expect to find much more than nostalgia.

But what I found at Hot Dog U wasn’t just a quirky trade school with a great logo. People arrive from burned-out careers and unexpected life turns, from family kitchens and military mess halls, carrying stories as varied as their menus. They leave with a cart, a diploma, and — if it works — a shot at something better.

There’s something quietly radical about that. In a country where “entrepreneur” has become a buzzword for tech bros and hustlers, the students at Hot Dog U are a different breed. They're working-class dreamers. Retired couples. First-generation families. People who don’t want to disrupt the industry. They just want a patch of sidewalk, a roll of napkins, and a line of hungry customers.

by Celia Aniskovich, Switchboard | Read more:
Image: Hot Dog University poster
[ed. From things I've heard it can be a pretty cutthroat business. Mostly about getting the right spot.]

Ed Smith
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Alexandre Pelletier, "Le Yack"
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DSA Political Platform

Preamble

The Democratic Socialists of America are fighting to win a world organized and governed by and for the vast majority, the working class. We are socialist because we share a vision of a humane social order based on popular control of resources and production, economic planning, equitable distribution, feminism, racial equality and non-oppressive relationships. We are democratic because we know that this transformation cannot be won from the top down, by a small group of elites who claim to have all the answers, or by even well-meaning politicians. This transformation can only come from the bottom up, when millions of working-class people stand together. DSA organizes to realize our working-class collective power, which stems from the reliance of the capitalist economy on our labor. Democracy is necessary to win a socialist society. Socialism is the complete realization of democracy.

Our fight to end capitalist exploitation is inextricably tied to our fight to end oppression. A democratic socialist society must end all systemic domination, whether it’s based on race, religion, ethnic origin, sexual orientation, disability, or gender. The historical development of U.S. capitalism was heavily reliant on the theft of people’s lives and land, through the enslavement of Black people and genocide of Indigenous people. Our legal, economic, and social institutions continue to perpetuate racialized oppression. We will never be able to unify a multi-racial working class without confronting structural racism.

Likewise, a democratic socialist society must end the economic subjugation of women in the workplace, violence and harassement affecting women and non-binary people, and the entire system of unpaid, gendered work. We strive for the emancipation of all people by forging the multiracial working class into an organized, fighting force on the terms of its most oppressed members. In overcoming the old, barbaric order of capitalism, the working class will not only liberate itself from its own shackles, but all of humanity from the parasitic death-drive of capitalism. As capitalism’s climate crisis ravages the whole Earth, the well-being of the working class is ultimately aligned with the survival of the whole planet.

In 2021, the U.S. socialist movement is on the rise for the first time in most of our members’ lifetimes. Millions of people have been inspired to seek out alternatives to the existing political regime, owing to Bernie Sanders’ two democratic socialist presidential campaigns,

working-class electoral victories at all levels of government, massive popular protests and organizing for racial justice, an influential upsurge in militant labor activity, and strategic campaigns to build popular support for key issues, such as healthcare and climate change. In the four years of the Trump administration, DSA membership exploded and is currently approaching our goal of 100,000 members.

But this growth of the socialist movement is not nearly enough to overcome the devastating impact of four decades of neoliberal capitalism, let alone bring about a transition to socialism. Neoliberalism is the political project of lowering taxes for the rich and corporations, eviscerating democratic decision-making both in the workplace and at the ballot box, slashing spending on essential social services such as education and social security, deregulating industries across the economy, and opening up flows of capital across national borders. The success of neoliberalism has enforced a culture of hyper-individualism and alienation from the kinds of collective, democratic organizations necessary to challenge the power of the capitalist class.

This challenge highlights the insufficiency of “progressivism” as well as the critical task of DSA. Transformational change in society does not come from moral righteousness or a checklist of policy positions, but from growing and wielding power. It is therefore imperative that we organize the largest possible number of people to join DSA and work together with broader coalitions united around common goals. It is to these ends that we are setting out the platform that follows. We have a world to win.

by Democratic Socialists of America |  Read more:

[ed. Some good ideas here, but some really nuts ones too (though not as bad as Project 2025). This is from 2021, so given all that's happened since hopefully they've revised or discarded a bunch of the really crazy stuff (defunding police to zero?) and are focused more on restoring important programs and backing common sense solutions that won't alienate half the country (and that are practically achievable).]

[ed. Jesus. Who in their right mind would have approved these interview questions? Miles Davis and Harry Reasoner (60 Minutes).]

Marianne Rosenstiehl, Juliette Binoche, Paris 1995

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Shared Custody Laws Are Changing Divorce Forever

Our society today is legally and normatively gender egalitarian. Women are empowered to pursue high-powered careers or anything else in life. Men are expected to help out with the housework and child-rearing. Now, many men don’t do that, but there’s an expectation that they should.

It was second wave feminism that brought about this revolution. But it also laid the groundwork for cultural changes that some feminists don’t like, such as in the area of divorce law.

Traditionally, divorce courts were very favorable to women. In the event of divorce, sole custody almost always went to the mother, with fathers relegated to limited visitation and hit with child support obligations. The “deadbeat dad” who failed to pay up was the target of even conservative ire. Women could even get alimony, which is financial support intended for the ex-wife herself, not the children. The logic here was that since women didn’t have careers, they couldn’t support themselves and so needed to continue to be provided for by their ex-husbands.

Men basically didn’t stand much of a chance in divorce court in this regime. The father’s rights movement publicized a litany of horrors such as men forced to pay child support for kids that were genetically proven not to be theirs, fathers being forced to pay for graduate school for kids who are well into adulthood, fathers denied access to their children at all, poor black men jailed for being too broke to pay child support, and men who can never retire because they are forced to pay lifetime alimony to their ex-wife (who may actually be shacked up with another guy).

But in this egalitarian world, where women have careers and men are spending more time with the kids, this old regime became increasingly unsustainable.

The most logical and fair divorce system in this egalitarian world would have a strong presumption of joint equal-time custody with no child support payments.

The divorce regime in general has been trending this direction, and some states have actually begun to enshrine this system in law. One of them is Kentucky, whose system was the subject of a lengthy article in the Wall Street Journal.

It was 2017, and across Kentucky, divorced fathers were coming together against a common enemy: a custody system they felt favored their ex-wives.

Although custody laws in Kentucky and elsewhere granted judges discretion to decide what split was in a child’s best interest, aggrieved fathers claimed that this typically meant relegating them to the role of every-other-weekend “Disneyland dads,” forced to cram two days of fun into what mothers had two weeks to create.
…
Around the country, the fathers’ rights movement was gaining momentum. Dividing time and decision-making equally between parents, advocates argued, reduced children’s feelings of abandonment, promoted gender equality and lowered tensions between feuding couples
…
In 2018, Kentucky became the first state to pass a law making equally shared custody the default arrangement in divorces and separations. Four other states—Arkansas, West Virginia, Florida and Missouri—have since passed their own versions of Kentucky’s custody bill. Around 20 more are considering or close to passing similar laws, according to an analysis by the National Parents Organization.

The article notes that one effect of this law was a steep decline in the number of divorces in Kentucky.

The law has become a model for other states, not least because Kentucky’s divorce rate has plummeted. Between 2016 and 2023 it fell 25%, compared with a nationwide decline of 18%, according to an analysis by the National Center for Family & Marriage Research at Bowling Green State University.

I don’t know that we have enough evidence to say that this law is what produced these outsized declines in the divorce rate. Divorce is very complex. People who are getting divorced tend to be extremely emotional and often irrational.

But I think there are reasons to believe this would discourage divorce in some cases. It’s extremely well-established that women initiate the vast majority of divorces - about 70% of them. But I’ve never really seen completely compelling findings on the reasons why they are filing for divorce.

But there is some evidence that custody laws do influence this. There’s an oft-cited study by Brinig and Allen called, “These boots are made for walking': why most divorce filers are women.” The authors note the many financial and power benefits to women under the traditional divorce regime:

Divorce, despite its many shortcomings, allows the woman to exercise control over household spending when she is awarded custody. If the court names her primary custodian, she makes most, if not all, of the major decisions regarding the child. As custodial parent, she will be able to spend the money the husband pays in child support exactly as she pleases—something she may not do during marriage. Finally, although the court will usually have ordered visitation, she can exert some control over her former husband by regulating many, although not all, aspects of the time he spends with the child.

After doing a lot of quantitative analysis, the authors conclude:

Our results are consistent with our hypothesis that filing behavior is driven by self-interest at the time of divorce. Individuals file for divorce when there are marital assets that may be appropriated through divorce, as in the case of leaving when they have received the benefit of educational investments such as advanced degrees. However, individuals may also file when they are being exploited within the marriage, as when the other party commits a major violation of the marriage contract, such as cruelty. Interestingly, though, cruelty amounts to only 6% of all divorce filings in Virginia. We have found that who gets the children is by far the most important component in deciding who files for divorce, particularly when there is little quarrel about property, as when the separation is long. [emphasis added]

This would be consistent with an interesting study I saw some years ago out of Stanford which found that although women are more likely to initiate divorce, men and women are equally likely to initiate breakups in non-marital relationships.

The Brinig and Allen study suggests that a presumption of equal custody might reduce divorce rates.

If it is custody outcomes that most influence divorce filings, changes in custody rules (or their likely outcomes) rather than in divorce grounds should most shape the patterns of both marriage and divorce. In particular, this could take the form of a presumption of joint custody or a rule that made post-divorce patterns mirror preseparation time shares as closely as possible, with sole custody only in cases where one party can show the other parent unfit. An appropriate custody rule mitigates the incentive for one-party filing for the purpose of gaining unilateral control over the children and, to the extent both parents remain involved through visitation or child support, the other spouse.

Again, we can’t draw too many conclusions from just one or a couple of studies out of the vast literature out there. But it’s intuitive from an economics perspective that a presumption of joint custody would significantly change the incentive structures around divorce.

However, this might not always lead to fewer divorces. Among upper middle class families, joint custody divorces might actually incentivize divorce in some cases.

It’s no secret that having kids dramatically constrains your lifestyle, particularly when the kids are younger. A joint custody divorce in which the father and mother alternate weeks with the kids allows them to have “the best of both worlds.” They can still be very involved in their children’s lives and be in parent mode on the weeks they have children, but they can live the single life of fun with friends, concerts, etc. on the other weeks. This might be more appealing to a would-be wife than a situation where she more or less has to have the child full time.

So I think the dynamics might be more complex than we expect here.

Still, these arrangements are undoubtedly more beneficial to fathers than the previous regime. Naturally many feminist advocates hate it. There’s basically no compelling moral or fairness argument against it within the framework of our contemporary egalitarian culture, so they have to raise the specter of abuse. Back to the Journal article:

Some people are staying married to abusive partners, critics of the law say, because they are terrified of leaving their children alone with a parent with a history of violence. “They know their kids are safer if they stay,” said Elizabeth Martin, chief executive of the Louisville-based Center for Women and Family, which provides services to victims of domestic violence (most but not all of whom are women). “Even if it means taking some beatings.”
… (...)

What the article does not state is that it’s well established that one of the leading threats to children is mom’s new boyfriend. As sociologist Brad Wilcox writes:

This new federal study indicates that these cases are simply the tip of the abuse iceberg in American life. According to the report, children living with their mother and her boyfriend are about 11 times more likely to be sexually, physically, or emotionally abused than children living with their married biological parents. Likewise, children living with their mother and her boyfriend are six times more likely to be physically, emotionally, or educationally neglected than children living with their married biological parents. In other words, one of the most dangerous places for a child in America to find himself in is a home that includes an unrelated male boyfriend—especially when that boyfriend is left to care for a child by himself.

Also, many mothers themselves have a variety of their own problems that endanger their children, such as substance abuse. But I doubt these advocates want mothers with a drug problem to automatically get stripped of custody of their children.

In short, the danger to children from being with a particular divorced parent includes being with their mother as well as their father. (...)

A presumption of equal time joint custody is the obviously fair approach in cases of divorce. This is a powerful reason why the world has been moving in this direction.

by Aaron Renn |  Read more:

Image: Jennifer Pahlka/Wikimedia, CC BY-SA 2.0
[ed. Some residual bitterness over this issue, so I'll just say: it's about time. Way past time.]

Enlly Blue & Royal Blues Club

[ed. More here, and if you like this check out Etta James' catalog, too.]

Keiko Masumoto, Ceramic octopus
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Calvinball

In the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, there's a game called Calvinball. The only rule is that the person with the ball makes up new rules as they go. Whatever helps them win becomes the rule. That's American politics now. Democrats follow the rules. Republicans change them whenever they want. And Democrats keep losing because they're playing a game that no longer exists.

Let's start with the Supreme Court. When Justice Scalia died on February 13, 2016, President Obama picked Merrick Garland on March 16. That was 237 days before the election. Mitch McConnell said no. His reason was "The American people should have a voice in the selection of their next Supreme Court Justice" (Hulse, 2020). He claimed there was a rule: no Supreme Court picks in an election year. Republicans refused to even hold a hearing. For 293 days.

Four years later, Justice Ginsburg died on September 18, 2020. That was 46 days before the election. McConnell rushed through Amy Coney Barrett in eight days before the election (Fandos, 2020). Suddenly the "rule" vanished. Remember Lindsey Graham. In 2016, he literally said "use my words against me" if Republicans ever did this. Then he voted for Barrett anyway (Montanaro, 2020).

Wisconsin, 2018. Democrats won every statewide race. Before the new governor took office, Republicans called a lame duck session. In 22 hours, they stripped the incoming Democratic governor of his powers (Stern, 2019). The Assembly Speaker admitted it plainly: "We are going to have a very liberal governor who is going to enact policies that are in direct contrast to what many of us believe in" (Stern, 2019). Translation: Democrats won, so we're changing the rules.

Money tells the same story. During Obama's presidency, McConnell called the deficit "the transcendent issue of our era" (Bolton, 2013). Obama inherited a $1.4 trillion deficit. He cut it to $665 billion (Treasury Department, 2013). Then Republicans took over in 2017. First thing they did was pass a tax cut that added $1.9 trillion to the debt (Tax Policy Center, 2024). Trump added $7.8 trillion to the debt in just four years (CRFB, 2024). When Biden was president the deficits mattered again.

Impeachment standards shift the same way. Republicans impeached Clinton for lying about sex. Lindsey Graham said using your office "in a way that hurts people" was enough to remove a president (Evon, 2019). Then Trump pressured Ukraine to investigate Biden. He incited January 6th. Graham called both impeachments a "sad, ridiculous sham" (Williams, 2019). Lying about sex was impeachable. Trying to overthrow an election was presidential privilege.

Mail voting might be the most brazen flip. Florida Republicans invented modern mail voting. In 1988, Connie Mack won a Senate race because absentee ballots went 3-to-1 for him (Gardner & Dawsey, 2021). For thirty years, Republicans made mail voting easier. Then Trump lost. Suddenly: "Republicans: BAN MAIL-IN VOTING!!!" (Rodriguez, 2025). Since 2020, 21 states have passed 33 laws making it harder to vote by mail (Brennan Center for Justice, 2024).

Texas showed us how creative they can get. Their 2021 abortion law lets any random person sue anyone who helps with an abortion for $10,000 plus legal fees (Texas Legislature, 2021). This structure meant courts couldn't block the law since there's no officials to stop it. Even when judges said it was unconstitutional, clinics stayed closed. The law says if you provide abortions while fighting in court and lose later, you owe money for every procedure (Whole Woman's Health v. Jackson, 2021). Oklahoma and Idaho copied this trick.

Republicans have a significant advantage: it's easier to destroy existing structures than build new ones.

by Christopher Armitage, The Existential Republic | Read more:
Image: Drew Angerer/Getty Images/Politico
[ed. Sorry for another political post. Everything's going to hell so fast, sometimes it's hard to connect the dots (especially when you don't pay much attention or get most of your news from tv - especially Fox). When history gets written and we finally know how this all goes down I hope those complicit are forever remembered and shamed for their role in destroying this country's potential (and looting its riches). But if history is any guide, they won't be.]

Fascism is a cancer of the body politic. The ideas that form its foundation as a philosophy are there in every society, and each culture manages them the way most bodies contain pre-cancerous cells that will never metastasize because the body is healthy enough to maintain itself despite its underlying flaws. The far more interesting question than “who”, for me, is “what”? What are the conditions and triggers that cause the cancer of fascism to overwhelm the counterbalancing philosophies. To fester, grow, and ultimately become terminal to a healthy society.

The Oligarchs’ Dinner Party and Zuckerberg’s Hot Mic Reveal

On September 4, Trump summoned more than thirty of the most powerful figures in Silicon Valley to the State Dining Room. At the table: Mark Zuckerberg (Meta), Tim Cook (Apple), Satya Nadella (Microsoft), Bill Gates, Sergey Brin and Sundar Pichai (Google), Sam Altman and Greg Brockman (OpenAI), Safra Catz (Oracle), Alex Karp (Palantir), Jensen Huang (NVIDIA), Jeff Bezos (Blue Origin/Amazon), and a procession of other AI and chip executives.

The optics were unmistakable. A long table, microphones set before each oligarch, gold-rimmed plates. The ritual was familiar: like a Trump cabinet meeting, each guest took a turn praising the Leader, pledging billions in “investment,” extolling his “visionary leadership.”

The quotes read like scripted devotionals:

• Sam Altman (OpenAI): “Thank you for being such a pro-business, pro-innovation President. It’s a very refreshing change.”

• Tim Cook (Apple): “Thank you for setting the tone such that we can make a major investment in the United States.”

• Sergey Brin (Google): “It’s an incredible inflection point… that your Administration is supporting our companies instead of fighting with them.”

And the capstone: Mark Zuckerberg, seated right next to Trump, announcing a pledge of “at least $600 billion” in U.S. investment by 2028.

If it felt choreographed, that’s because it was. This was not a negotiation, not even a strategy session. It was performance—the oligarchs lining up to kiss the ring.

A Little Context, Please

To understand what this performance really means, it helps to step back and look at what these oligarchs have already done to America. For that, I turn to Mike Brock—ex-tech exec turned reluctant Cassandra—whose writing at Notes from the Circus cuts with unusual moral clarity.

Here’s Brock, in his essay The Oligarchs’ Dinner Party: How Silicon Valley Toasted American Fascism:

“To understand what these oligarchs have done to America, start with Mark Zuckerberg’s Instagram. His company’s internal research showed the platform was systematically destroying teenage girls’ mental health—creating unprecedented levels of depression, self-harm, and suicide among the most vulnerable users. The data was clear, the causation documented, the human cost undeniable.

Zuckerberg buried the research and continued the optimization.

This isn’t business negligence—it’s systematic cruelty disguised as innovation. Instagram was designed to extract maximum engagement from teenage minds through carefully engineered addiction, turning the most vulnerable period of human development into a profit center for algorithmic manipulation. The teenage suicide epidemic wasn’t an unfortunate side effect; it was the predictable result of systems optimized for engagement over human welfare.

But Instagram represents something larger: the entire Silicon Valley model of turning human consciousness into commodity. Every platform, every algorithm, every “connection” technology follows the same logic—fragment attention, replace authentic relationship with algorithmic substitutes, optimize human behavior for extraction rather than flourishing.

Tim Cook’s Apple markets privacy protection while building surveillance infrastructure for authoritarian regimes. Satya Nadella’s Microsoft promises AI enhancement while developing predictive policing systems that target communities for algorithmic enforcement. Each oligarch represents a variation on the same theme: technological sophistication serving moral barbarism, innovation rhetoric disguising systematic dehumanization.”

I can’t say it any better than that. These men and women didn’t walk into the White House as neutral technologists. They walked in as the architects of an extraction economy that commodifies our attention, monetizes our despair, and treats human vulnerability as an opportunity for profit. Yes, I know that’s very cynical, but when histories of this era are written a couple of centuries from now —assuming humanity survives and histories are still being written—I believe Brock has identified the central key feature of this era. The only question is whether humanity fully collapses because of it—or some counterforce emerges to defeat or at least mitigate it.

The Hot Mic Reveal

And then came the moment that crystallized everything.

As Zuckerberg delivered his carefully prepared pledge of a $600 billion U.S. investment, a hot mic caught him whispering to Trump.

“Sorry, I wasn’t ready… I wasn’t sure what number you wanted to go with.”

It was awkward. But more than awkward, it was revealing.

Here was the supposed master of the algorithm, the man who built a trillion-dollar empire on predictive precision, fumbling to figure out what number would please Trump. This wasn’t a CEO making a business decision. It was a courtier checking with the king.

Mike Brock nailed the significance in his companion essay The Hot Mic and the Monsters:

“This isn’t business negotiation. This is a courtier asking his king what lies he’d prefer to hear, then delivering them with practiced servility to a public they view as sheep requiring management rather than citizens deserving truth.”

The hot mic stripped away the theater. It revealed the truth: the oligarchs weren’t there to shape policy. They were there to play their part in legitimizing authoritarianism through performance.

Conclusion

What we saw in the State Dining Room was not business as usual. It wasn’t “innovation,” it wasn’t “visionary leadership,” and it sure as hell wasn’t patriotism. It was a court of oligarchs kneeling before an aspiring autocrat, pledging riches and obedience in exchange for protection and privilege.

The spectacle was obscene: billionaires who’ve built fortunes by monetizing despair now rushing to sanctify the man who has turned constitutional vandalism into performance art. Zuckerberg’s hot mic didn’t just reveal stage fright — it exposed the truth of the whole evening: this was theater, not policy; flattery, not leadership; a ritual of submission masquerading as a summit of visionaries.

Mike Brock captured it with precision:

“What the hot mic moment exposes is the elaborate theater that authoritarian consolidation requires to maintain legitimacy while systematic plunder proceeds.”

That’s the point. These men aren’t independent actors shaping the future. They are props in a reality show where Trump plays Dear Leader and the oligarchs play sycophants, helping to launder authoritarianism through the language of “innovation” and “investment.”

Every once in a while, a moment cuts through the fog and shows us the rot for what it is. The Oligarchs’ Dinner Party was one of those moments — a gaudy, gold-plated warning flare. We should not look away, and we should not forget who stood at that table and kissed the ring.

by Michael D. Sellers, Deeper Look |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. Be sure to visit Mike Brock's site for the original posts (and more): The Oligarchs’ Dinner Party; and, The Hot Mic and the Monsters (NFtC). See also: The art of the fawn: pouring praise on Trump is latest political phenomenon (Guardian).]

10 Questions to Answer Before You Die

There are endless questions you could ask, but these are the ones (split into 5 questions to ask and 5 actions to take before you die) I’ve seen make the biggest difference for the person dying, and for the people left to live without them. And none of which require a lawyer or a ton of money—just a little intention.

5 questions to ask:

1. What method of body disposition feels right for me?

Most people haven’t given much thought to what they’d like to happen to their body after they die—but it’s one of the most important end-of-life decisions you’ll make, both for yourself and for your loved ones. The options include, but aren’t limited to:

• Cremation (flame or water)
• Natural or conventional burial
• Human composting
• Donation to science
• Launch your cremains (yes, the correct term is “cremains,” not ashes, because cremated remains are actually the decedents' pulverized bones) into space
• Turn your cremains into a diamond

There are more options than you might think, and we’re working on building something to help you explore them in an approachable, easy way.

Choosing ahead of time saves your people from having to make a big financial and emotional decision while in shock and grief. Without your guidance, they’re left to guess about what you “would’ve wanted” or how much money is “meaningful enough” or appropriate to spend. Your choice gives them relief, confidence, and one less decision to make during an overwhelming time that can be akin to experiencing a traumatic brain injury.

2. What kind of goodbye would feel meaningful for me and for the people who love me?

Before you say, “I don’t want a funeral” or “I don’t care,” remember: your funeral isn’t just for you—it’s also for the people you love the most in this world.

Ceremony and ritual—big or small—is hugely important for helping people process loss. Denying them that moment could lead to delayed or complicated grief. It doesn’t need to be traditional, elaborate, or expensive, but it does need to be intentional. Encourage your loved ones to have a ceremony or gathering in your honor, and if you’re worried about it being “too much of a fuss,” leave instructions for something simple, and start saving money (the average funeral costs $8,000) to pay for it or contribute. Don’t know where to start? Book a conversation with me.

3. Who should be notified if I die tomorrow?

Consider right now: If you were to get in a lethal accident tomorrow, who would you want to be notified first? And if you already have a list, are these contacts still accurate? Divorce, estrangement, death, or the passing of time can all shift who belongs on this list.

Make sure the person you’d want handling your affairs (going through your phone and your things) has access to the information they will need, and you’ve had a conversation with them about the two questions above. This is one of the most overlooked—and most practical—pieces of end-of-life planning.

4. Who do I trust to make medical decisions if I can’t?

Imagine you're in a car accident and end up unconscious, kept alive by machines. The hospital calls your emergency contact—maybe it’s your mom, who lives out of state and wants to keep you alive at all costs (can you blame her?). Meanwhile, your partner or best friend, whom you’ve had this conversation with, is in the waiting room, desperate to advocate for you, but they can’t, because you never named them as your Medical Power of Attorney (MPA). So doctors default to “next of kin,” and suddenly a medical crisis becomes a conflict. One person wants to “do everything,” another insists you wouldn’t want to live like this...Grief turns into blame, and families are torn apart. Everyone thinks this stuff only happens to other people, but it happens every day. Do yourself and your family a favor, and get it sorted in advance.

The person you name as your MPA does not necessarily have to be your spouse or even related to you, but whoever it is, they need to be informed of your wishes. So, if you become unconscious or unable to speak, they’re the ones the doctors will ask to make the hard decisions.

5. Is there anything I’ve left unsaid? Who do I need to say it to?

This one is personal: If you had a year left to live, what truths would you speak? Who would you thank? Apologize to? Forgive?

Regret is one of the heaviest things we leave behind. Don’t wait for the “right” moment. Say what needs to be said—now.

5 Things you can do right now that will make your inevitable death easier:

6. Set up your iPhone Legacy Contact & Gmail Inactive Account Manager.

This is one of the easiest (and most overlooked) things you can do. It ensures that when you die, someone you appoint and trust can access your phone or email (without it, your loved ones might get locked out of everything), which is crucial for closing accounts, alerting contacts, and sorting through photos. Think of it as naming your digital next of kin. And choose wisely—this is also the person who’ll have access to all your stuff, so make sure it’s someone you trust to delete anything you wouldn’t want to see the light of day.

You can set this up in under 5 minutes in your Apple ID settings or Gmail account settings. And some social media platforms, like Facebook and Instagram, also let you assign a “legacy contact” to manage or memorialize your profile. It’s a small step that can prevent a lot of stress for the people you love.

7. Set up a password manager—and share the master password.

Your entire digital life is locked behind passwords—almost everything you own or use is tied to one: your bank details, subscriptions, social media, phone, and computer, etc. A password manager (like 1Password) helps you organize and secure them all in one place.

When you die, the people left behind will need these passwords to access, manage, and close your accounts. Giving one trusted person access to your master password ensures they can do all of that without jumping through legal hoops, or getting locked out because they had to guess your password and they guessed wrong too many times. It’s a small act of preparation that prevents a whole lot of chaos.

8. Name a guardian for your kids or pets.

If something happened to you tomorrow, who would care for your children? Who would take in your dog? Who would clean out your apartment? Don’t assume they’ll say yes, or that they know.

The first step and time to have these conversations is before a crisis. Not after. For pets, it’s not legally required, but for kids, this designation should be followed up with a legal document (typically your will) to make it official. Without it, a court could decide who gets custody, and that may not align with your wishes.

9. Make a bank account “payable on death” (POD).

You don’t need a will to do this. You can go to your bank (some might even let you do it online) and add a beneficiary to your account with a single form. This allows the people you trust to access funds immediately—for emergency flights, funeral costs, food, and childcare.

10. Write down what matters most.

Inspired by the letters my mom wrote me on her deathbed to open for future milestones (one of which I have coming up very soon—my wedding), I do something similar on every flight. I review notes I’ve made in my phone for the people I love, just in case. Because if the plane does go down, and I die (or when I eventually die), I want them to know: how much they meant to me, and what sign I will try to use to communicate with them after I’m gone.

A few sentences can change everything for the people you love. It doesn’t have to be long, and it can look however you want it to:

• A memoir or series of stories about your life
• A simple love note
• A list of your favorite things (songs, movies, books, vacations, etc)

by Maura McInerney-Rowley, Hello, Mortal |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. Good advice for future reference.]