Thursday, February 12, 2026
The Epstein Rosetta Stone Redux
Saturday, February 7, 2026
What I Will Accomplish Today
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It’s not wake up, brush my teeth,
look in the mirror and pinch my fat.
It’s not check the weather on my cel.
It’s not get dressed, take a statin pill
and an adult multivitamin.
It’s not make a tuna fish sandwich
with extra mayonnaise, packed with a V8
and three chocolate cookies for lunch.
It’s not take out the garbage
and drive ten kilometers in heavy traffic to work.
It’s not switch the radio station five times.
It’s not stop for gas.
It’s not make a pot of coffee,
pour a cup, one sugar.
It’s not text the plumber
that I have the cash I owe him.
It’s not answer emails,
and make a deal on the phone.
It’s not make a buck
to put some away for retirement.
It’s not check my news feed
and wonder if any of it is believable.
It’s not get angry
at the corruption, scandal, inhumanity.
It’s not drink a second cup of coffee, one sugar.
It’s not eat my tuna fish sandwich
and wonder if I’m getting enough protein.
It’s not finish the quarterly sales report,
a week past deadline.
It’s not avoid the boss.
It’s not check my news feed again,
and rage, again.
It’s not fantasize about having sex
with a cute coworker.
It’s not think about visiting
my sick brother this weekend.
It’s not sit in a management meeting
and take a few notes.
It’s not pay my daughter’s school tuition online.
It’s not wonder if I’m wasting my life.
It’s not slip out of work early.
What I will accomplish today
is write a poem.
Friday, February 6, 2026
The Epstein Rosetta Stone
It turns out the Epstein files may be the Rosetta Stone of depravity and corruption among the global ruling class.
You probably know what the Rosetta Stone is: a slab of rock dating from 196 BC, inscribed in three scripts—ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, Demotic, and Ancient Greek. Because the text was essentially identical in three languages, it became the key that allowed scholars to decipher hieroglyphs and, in doing so, unlock Egyptian civilization.
What we are now beginning to understand about Jeffrey Epstein is that his story is not merely about a wealthy sex trafficker, serial pedophile, and probable extortionist. It is something far larger.
The Epstein files function as a legend—a map—of global networks of power, personal connection, and influence.
Networks of wealth, power, and privilege are nothing new. In pre-industrial societies they were organized around monarchy, hereditary nobility, land-owning aristocracy, and religious institutions such as the Church. Power was usually exercised within relatively limited geographic boundaries—local or regional, if not national.
The political, social, and economic revolutions of the post-Enlightenment, post-industrial world challenged those rigid and well-defined systems. One measure of modernity’s success was that societies became less formally stratified and access to wealth and power was, at least in theory, open to far more people. Social classes persisted, but mobility became possible.
What we are now realizing—perhaps belatedly—is two things. First, that the modern aristocracy is far wealthier and more powerful than any ruling class in history. And second, that in the age of global capital, the reach and depth of their influence is vastly greater.
The Epstein scandal exposes that, at bottom, they remain much what they always were: entitled, debauched, privileged, selfish, grandiose and above-the-law. Only now they travel by private jet instead of by ship and are more globally interconnected than any elite before it.
Another unsettling implication of the Epstein material is the degree to which global-interconnectedness of elites fostered national security risks—not only in the United States, but across the world, including the UK, France, Norway, Russia, and farflung geopolitically marginal places like Djibouti.
It is therefore unsurprising that a substantial portion of the roughly six million files remains unreleased—almost certainly the most damaging portion.
Yes, these revelations will inevitably fuel dangerous conspiracy theories about world order, particularly antisemitic ones, and that is deeply regrettable.
More troubling still, for those of us who are not inclined toward conspiratorial thinking, is the further erosion of already-fragile public trust in institutional democracy.
Now that we have the Epstein Rosetta Stone, we can better decipher the networks of transnational elites. What remains unclear is what societies can realistically do about them. In the US, the political impact so far appears quite muted. In the UK, it is more volatile, threatening even the survival of a fragile Labour government. Yet even that would not guarantee meaningful change.
The recent past offers little reassurance. After the 2008 financial crisis, systemic failure was exposed in full view, yet high-level accountability amounted to precisely nothing. Elites have long proven adept at absorbing scandal while preserving the structures that protect their privilege.
The urgency cannot be overstated. Mechanisms of democratic accountability were designed for national institutions, not for transnational elites whose wealth, influence, and loyalties operate beyond borders. Exposure does not equal reform, and transparency does not reliably produce action. The Epstein files may clarify the architecture of power, but clarity alone does not tell us how—or whether—that power can be constrained.
Thursday, February 5, 2026
Love Transactional
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I loved you for your body,
This cannot be denied.
As I do with everybody,
Both open and implied.
There cannot be another way,
But to forsake transcendent love.
A body is, what a body may,
This I'm certain of.
Trust me, love, this is no game,
Of hifalutin minds.
Love yearns not for any name,
But for one whose body shines—
The glory of our very being,
For love is love exchanged.
Desire is a psalm we sing,
In bodies not the same.
Love, my love, is to transact,
Believe not in love transcendent.
I loved you once then held it back,
Then grieved for love that went.
A Grammar Mistake Mistaken for Metaphysics
You are given life. You are not given purpose.
This is a hard pill for many of us to swallow. We struggle to digest it.
Purpose, at best, is something people assemble after the fact. For some, it is personal and idiosyncratic—a loose mixture of desires, experiences, temperament, and luck. For others, purpose is said to preexist: assigned rather than discovered.
In this latter view, purpose comes from God, embedded in some vaguely defined “Divine Plan.” Any purpose not derived from it is considered inferior or mistaken. Failure to accept this purpose is framed as a moral defect; acceptance, as virtue. Everything that happens—joy, suffering, success, catastrophe—is declared “meant.”
A divine purpose must be absolute. If it comes from the creator, deviation is impossible. Such a purpose is important enough to justify killing and dying, which is why it also requires an afterlife. Without eternal compensation, the arithmetic fails.
I enjoy talking to religious people. I have several ultra-orthodox tenants, and every Friday a group of Lubavitch boys comes to my office to bring me closer to my faith. Our conversations usually end the same way, with the question that matters most:
“You really believe this is all there is—and then we die?” They mean it rhetorically.
I always feel strange answering yes. It sounds incomplete, almost arbitrary.
But I have no other honest answer.
The purpose of life is to live. This is not inspirational; it is tautological. Life does not require justification beyond itself.
We often describe life as a journey—birth, progression, death. But a journey implies a destination. That implication may be nothing more than a habit of thought: a grammar mistake mistaken for metaphysics.
Life may not be linear at all. It may be self-contained. The organism that is born and the organism that dies are not moving toward a goal; they are undergoing a process—growth, maturity, decline. No different in principle from plants, insects, or any other living system.
Life engenders process, not purpose. Minds invent purposes.
Hence the familiar substitutes: an afterlife for the righteous, spiritual missions, the Kingdom of God, tikkun olam—the repair of an imperfect world designed by a perfect creator. Or their secular equivalents: wealth, status, credentials, legacy, family. All serve the same function. They place life at a distance, something to be earned or completed, rather than something already happening.
But the only purpose that does not collapse under scrutiny is the one that does not need to be pursued. It is not ahead of you. It is not earned. It is already occurring. It is part of your very nature: the fullness of being alive.
Life persists even in cracks in pavement. It does not wait for meaning, permission, or explanation. Psychological constructions—expectation, obligation, narratives of purpose—often interfere more than they help.
Reduce the distance between mind and body. Reduce the demand that life justify itself. As the barrier drops, so does anxiety about purpose.
What remains is not meaning in the grand sense, but something simpler and harder to refute: being alive, fully, and without judgment.
Wednesday, February 4, 2026
A Rat In My Garbage Can
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Lifted the lid as I do
every Friday to drop in
the week’s sack
for the truck’s prehistoric jaws
to devour and disappear.
There it was
at the empty bottom,
lifeless, lying on its side
like a deflated football.
Not like looking down
a cavernous wishing well—more like
a jack-in-the-box ambush.
I reeled,
my labyrinthine mind scurrying
for an answer:
it tumbled in while
sniffing for scraps
and couldn’t climb back out.
Small furry survivor
of the T-Rex-killing asteroid,
done in by a dumb
plastic bin
from Home Hardware; thump.
I imagined the frantic,
futile claw-scratch scratching
against the bin’s
smooth cylindrical walls.
Had to smirk.
Next thought:
where there’s one,
there are many.
I peered through the fence
at my neighbour’s yard,
rows of containers
behind his shiny,
brand-new black Porsche.
It wasn’t the first time
I’d surveyed his trash
like a detective scrounging
for clues of ill-gotten gains.
While I stuck conscientiously
to a one-bag-a-week quota,
he always had two,
sometimes even three and four—evidence
he was an uncaring waster,
always a bit of a jerk, really.
And a menace.
My empty bin trapped the rat,
but it was my neighbour
who invited it
with his extravagant
consumption.
That’s when I heard
the inevitable truck’s roar,
rusty brakes screaming.
Darkness crossed
my sunny soul
like an omen eclipse.
We’re all doomed.
Monday, February 2, 2026
To Be Free
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I didn't choose my identity,
it chose me,
like eye colour and hair,
length and shape of nose,
height and brains;
a common refrain.
The many choices life offers
are more or less lies.
If you don't believe me,
just look at any photo;
all the smiles.
I was given money,
and didn't care about money.
I was given love,
and didn't care about love.
I was given life
and didn't care about life;
Still I tried and tried.
So they taught me
about God,
but it wasn't enough -
I needed something hot
like the burning sun,
something cold
like the icy moon -
I could not believe
in words,
and yet repeated words;
how absurd
to be free.
Friday, January 30, 2026
Heartfelt
So today was the last day of one of my co-workers with our company after nine years. It’s a bittersweet departure. She was an excellent employee—hard-working, super smart, diligent, even-tempered, modest, respectful, and a true team player. I’m not sure of the reasons she decided to leave the company, but it was somewhat unexpected. She was being groomed to become our comptroller.
She is still quite young and unmarried, and I believe she has decided to take some time off for personal reasons before returning to China, where there is a successful family business that she will likely take over. She will be successful in whatever she chooses to pursue in life—there’s little doubt about that.
But this post isn’t really about her.
It’s about the messages sent to her through the company email system to express appreciation and wish her well. We all got to see them. They were beautifully written tributes—accurate in their description of our beloved co-worker, her talents, and her importance to the company. My conservative guess is that 90% of them were either fully written by ChatGPT or, at the very least, heavily edited by it. I made sure mine wasn’t processed through the AI meat grinder.
I know—we can’t all be Shakespeare. And forgive me for sounding like a curmudgeon, but doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose if you use AI to express something that’s supposed to be heartfelt and personal?
It’s one thing to use AI for marketing, to edit a sales report, or even to help shape a short blog post. I’m guilty of that myself. But this need for perfection—the refined expression, the polished image, the flawless impression—is slowly killing everything.
I miss the sometimes ham-handed expression of genuine feeling. In fact, the one or two messages that clearly weren’t AI-generated were refreshingly obvious by comparison. They were loose and searching, cobbled together and ungrammatical. In other words, they were real.
This small end-of-week episode dovetails with something I heard earlier in the week: Noah Yuval Harari’s talk at the World Economic Forum in Davos. He spoke about what it means to be human. If it’s reason that defines us, then we’re in trouble. "Cogito, ergo sum"—I think, therefore I am—is how RenĂ© Descartes reasoned the Western human being into existence in the 17th century. Since then, our capacity to think has largely defined our existence.
Harari argues that AI has rendered that definition obsolete. When we build machines that can outthink us in nearly every domain—science, philosophy, academics, mathematics, finance—either humanity has reached a dead end in terms of purpose and meaning, or a new self-definition must emerge.
The alternative seems obvious. It is not thinking that truly defines us. Machines will do that better than we ever could. What truly defines us is feeling: suffering and joy, love and grief, and the expression of those feelings. Machines will undoubtedly learn to fake that—and do it convincingly. But the essential ingredient is still missing. It does not originate from human experience. And without that, any machine-made product is disqualified from being called art.
The advent of AI has suddenly put emotion—and the expression of emotion in art—back at the center of the question of what it means to be human.
Many AI prognosticators may be right that AI could mean our doom. Not because it will send armies to destroy us, but because we may allow ourselves to be infected by it—letting it mutate inside us and quietly alter our sense of what it means to be alive. The only inoculation is to redefine and re-valorize feeling as the essence of humanity.
That sounds like a monumental task in a world where AI is taking over so much of our daily existence. And yet it could begin with something as small as rediscovering the beauty, simplicity, and significance of writing a heartfelt note of appreciation—to a friend, a relative, or a colleague who will be missed.
Sunday, January 25, 2026
Down To Florida Blues
I ain’t goin down to Florida
Don’t care how cold it gets (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
They got snakes down in Florida
Thick as your two legs (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
They got alligators down in Florida
In their rivers and their lakes (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
They got hurricanes down in Florida
Make the house walls shake (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
They got big sharks down in Florida
Want to tear your flesh (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
They got sunshine down in Florida
Make your skin burn red (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
I had a girl down in Florida
The kind you don't forget (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.
I ain’t goin down to Florida
Don’t care how cold it gets (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
Cause one time I did say yes.
Thursday, January 22, 2026
Another's Eyes
You've played many roles,
Most of your life.
Daughter, sister, friend,
A mother and a wife.
In every hurricane,
There's an eye serene.
And you can hear a voice,
Saying who you should be.
Cause the script you had,
Since you took the stage.
Has lines you forgot,
And is missing a page.
The rules can change,
The stars re-align.
When you don't see yourself,
Through another's eyes.
Strike a yoga pose,
To locate your breath.
So you can recite,
A psalm of loneliness.
There’s a moment between,
Inhale and release.
Where the tumult recedes,
And the poses all cease.
The rules can change,
The stars re-align.
When you don't see yourself,
Through another's eyes.
I won't be your mirror,
And you won't be mine.
A map isn't space,
And a clock isn't time.
The rules can change,
The stars re-align.
When you don't see yourself,
Through another's eyes.
What Are Words For
Sunday, January 18, 2026
Serial Killer
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My father was a serial killer
but I loved him, anyway.
You wouldn't know it
from seeing him every day;
his double-life.
Came home from work after 6,
plopped down in his La-Z-boy
with a glass of Crown Royal - two fingers
and exactly three cubes of ice -
in front of the six-thirty news.
Cursed the screen: Nixon, Vietnam,
the high price of gas.
Checked the TV Guide for who the Habs
were playing on Saturday.
I sat at his feet, while mother
cooked dinner in the kitchen, shepherd's pie.
She knew, was in denial,
or maybe hiding his secret.
Next morning, the alarm
set to talk-radio, he'd half-listen
for reports of his victims
from the previous night,
while he tied his perfect Windsor knot
in front of the mirror, a real expert.
His Old Spice was part
of the cover-up.
That smell always ruined
the taste of my Corn Flakes.
Then he'd slip out of the house,
without a word.
I watched mother clean up the mess,
and looked for evidence.
Stains on clothes, or shoes.
A missing table knife.
But he was too clever.
She kept a tidy house, took the garbage out
in large Glad bags. Laundry was washed
and folded into neat little squares.
Like I say, I suspect
she was in on it.
I fear I might carry
the serial killer gene too.
Everybody's Takin Pictures
CLICK HERE TO HEAR TO HEAR THE SONG
They’re takin pictures at the zoo,
They’re takin pictures of their shoes.
They're takin pictures at the museum,
They're takin pictures of pictures so others can see'em.
They say they're worth a thousand words,
But it’s gotten so absurd,
Everybody’s takin pictures.
They're takin pictures of toned abs,
They're takin pictures to show that they've lost their flab.
They're takin pictures of different body parts,
The pictures are filtered and edited to look perfect as art.
They say they're worth a thousand words...
They're takin pictures of expensive gifts,
They're takin pictures to give others jealous fits.
They takin pictures of babies plump as fruit,
So others will say, "Oooh she's so cute!"
They say they're worth a thousand words...
They're takin pictures of wild pets,
Pictures that seem impossible to get.
They're takin pictures of dogs cuddling cats,
They takin pictures of this and pictures of that.
They say they're worth a thousand words...
They're takin pictures of celebrities they claim to meet,
They're takin pictures of food too pretty to eat.
They're takin pictures of meals they just ate,
To show the world it tasted great.
They say they're worth a thousand words...
They're takin pictures of sunsets at the beach,
They're takin pictures of places you dream to reach.
They're takin pictures of events, scenes that are staged,
They're takin pictures for laughs, and pictures to enrage.
They say they're worth a thousand words...
They're takin pictures to show you're on top of your game,
Pictures so everyone wishes they were the same.
They're takin pictures to upload to the cloud,
Pictures that scream "Look at me!" to a digital crowd.
They say they're worth a thousand words,
Now it’s gotten so absurd,
Everybody’s takin pictures.
Friday, January 16, 2026
Making China Great Again
We’re watching it happen in real time: middle powers are quietly recalibrating away from the United States and edging closer to China.
Yesterday, Canada announced a renewed trade and diplomatic relationship with Beijing. As part of the agreement, Canada will lower tariff barriers on up to 49,000 Chinese electric vehicles from 100% to 6.1% in the initial phase—returning rates to their pre-2024 level. Those punitive tariffs were imposed by the former Trudeau government largely to mirror U.S. penalties. Ottawa is now signaling that automatic alignment with Washington no longer comes at any price.
In return, China will lift tariffs on Canadian agricultural and aquacultural exports, including seafood and canola—trade benefits estimated at nearly $3 billion annually. And this appears to be only the opening move.
Not long ago, this would have been unthinkable. Canada’s relationship with China was deeply strained after the 2018 arrest of Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou in Vancouver, carried out at the request of the United States. Beijing responded by detaining two Canadian citizens, Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor, in what was widely understood as retaliation. Although both men were released in 2021, relations never truly recovered.
So what changed?
Trump 2.0 happened.
More bullying. More belligerence. More unpredictability. Explicit threats to Canadian economic and political sovereignty. A United States increasingly willing to discard trade agreements, undermine security alliances, and treat even its closest partners as disposable. And wherever the U.S. retreats—or simply becomes unreliable—China is prepared to fill the space.
America’s traditional allies aren’t waiting to see how U.S. domestic politics resolves itself. They are rebuilding their militaries, reinforcing regional security arrangements that intentionally exclude Washington, and forging new trade relationships with partners they believe will honor commitments. For better or worse, China increasingly fits that role.
This has triggered an uncomfortable reassessment across the so-called free world. Have we been sold a simplified story about China? Does it truly matter, in strictly geopolitical terms, that it is a one-party state with different cultural values? Is it the responsibility of middle powers to enforce human-rights norms abroad—especially when their primary ally now routinely violates international law, tears up agreements, and treats norms as optional?
None of this is an argument that China is benign. It is authoritarian. It suppresses dissent. It commits grave abuses against minorities. These facts are real, documented, and morally troubling.
But geopolitics is not a moral seminar. States do not choose partners based on virtue; they choose them based on predictability, reciprocity, and self-interest. And here is the uncomfortable truth many governments are arriving at: China is often more transactional, more consistent, and more disciplined in honoring agreements than the United States has become.
What we are witnessing fits a familiar historical pattern. Dominant powers enter a phase of excess—overreach abroad, polarization at home, contempt for institutions, personalization of power. Eventually, allies hedge. Rivals consolidate. The system adapts around the declining center.
The United States is now deep in that excess phase. Trump is not the cause so much as the accelerant. Each threat, each broken alliance, each act of unilateral coercion hastens America’s relative decline and China’s ascent. Power is not being seized by Beijing so much as abandoned by Washington.
This reversal would have seemed unimaginable within my lifetime. Yet it is now unfolding in plain sight—not because China has changed dramatically, but because the United States has.
Wednesday, January 14, 2026
Aliens
for Luigi Vendittelli
I come from another galaxy,
wear electric flesh that negotiates air, learns water:
When I say “I” don’t imagine a face, or a name, don’t imagine something
temporary or separate, oh and btw, the craft are real, especially when spotted hovering over
nuclear installations, the small, ageless greys with big black unblinking eyes are too, and
the warnings in melting glaciers, parched soil, bleached coral — a babble
of languages you failed to comprehend — no, you needed
visitations, odd probings and gov't conspiracies,
truth and beauty were never enough.
Monday, January 12, 2026
A Pussy Riot Comeback
“Wealthy patrons who supported Michelangelo and Bach weren’t trying to make profits. They were in pursuit of artistic greatness.”
Ted Gioia wrote that recently in his annual State of the Art essay. I can sum up his assessment in one word: bad. The condition he describes has reached a stage of near terminal clarity. Online consolidation has rendered the arts, in nearly every form, culturally anemic.
It’s not that art has suddenly fallen under elite control. It always was. Ancient Greece, the Renaissance, the Baroque—these were patronage systems run by a small group with wealth and power. The difference is that those elites cared about something beyond money: truth, beauty, immortality, divinity, greatness. They believed art mattered.
Today, art is governed by know-nothing technocrats who don’t give a fig about it. And unlike past patrons, they wield a kind of power over audiences that has never existed before. They decide what you are most likely to see, hear, and encounter. They own attention itself. It sits in your pocket.
This is what the state of the arts looks like when cretins are running the show—and it’s the only show in town.
It connects directly to trump, too: the would-be patron of the Kennedy Center. Art and power have always been intertwined. Every anti-democratic regime—cultural as much as political—targets artists, because art is about free thought and free expression, and nothing threatens power more than that.
None of this should surprise us. The arts have been hemorrhaging mainstream respect for decades. Once, bright and inquisitive minds pursued the arts because it offered the one thing money could not buy: a shot at immortality. You understood why artists would risk everything.
Then we told our children it wasn’t worth it.
Since the 1970s, we’ve steadily devalued the arts in education in favor of STEM. Profit became the only acceptable justification. The arts were framed as indulgent, impractical, unserious—no way to make a living.
And anyway, we were told, it was all bunk. Andy Warhol sealed the deal. He called his studio The Factory, made Brillo boxes, and sold them as art. Maybe it was ironic. But the cultural effect was devastating. Art slid from transcendence into marketplace logic. It became a sales job, an in-joke, or worse—a con.
When cretins, technocrats, and autocrats dominate politics, you can be sure they conquered the art world first.
What’s different now is consolidation. Cultural power has merged with algorithmic gatekeeping. Today’s rulers have found a way to neutralize artists without jailing or repressing them—which only risks turning them into folk heroes. The days of Pussy Riot are gone.
Now the tactic is to flood the zone.
Enrage the audience. Hook them on engagement. Keep them shit-scrolling until they become cultural zombies. Hollow them out until they genuinely believe a robot can write a song and sing it. At that point, the audience becomes part of the machine.
Is there any hope of breaking free?
There has always been a counterculture. Underground venues. Physical spaces. Real communities. Usually fueled by young people who hadn’t yet been fully indoctrinated, who rejected their parents’ values and had no stake in the status quo.
So where are the counterculture clubs now? Online.
Which is to say: nowhere. No real clubs. No real community. No real counterculture.
The techno-oligarchs have effectively operationalized the maxim attributed to Aristotle and Ignatius Loyola: “Give me the child until he is seven, and I will give you the man.” The “man,” in this case, is a servile cultural imbecile.
I’ll never say it’s over until it’s over. The human spirit has never been fully broken.
I’m still hoping for a Pussy Riot comeback.
Sunday, January 11, 2026
Five Minutes
Peace of mind,
Sure don’t come easy these days.
No matter how we try,
To find just the right way.
Everything is moving,
And accelerating fast.
We must be going downhill,
With the peak back in the past.
We live in rooms so crowded,
With all the crap we’ve bought.
We can't tell the difference,
What we need from what we’ve got.
We think it’s more space,
That will solve all our problems.
When we get that extra space,
We realize we still got ’em.
Just asking for five minutes,
Five minutes without the news,
Five minutes without the blues,
Five minutes of your time.
Just asking for five minutes,
Five minutes without the news,
Five minutes without the blues,
Won’t constitute a crime—
Just asking for five minutes.
Making and spending all that money,
Is up to you and me.
Gotta keep the business moving,
Gotta to grow that GDP.
But let’s face it, love,
When we think of true scarcity.
It ain’t money and it ain’t space.
It’s spending time, just you and me.
Don't need to do much talking,
Don't need to get too fancy.
Don't want a long lunch at a café,
Or even dinner and a movie.
We can sit here quietly,
And watch the folks going by.
No need to justify ourselves,
Just finding peace of mind.
Just asking for five minutes,
Five minutes without the news,
Five minutes without the blues,
Five minutes of your time.
Just asking for five minutes,
Five minutes without the news,
Five minutes without the blues,
Won’t constitute a crime—
Just asking for five minutes.
Just asking for five minutes.
Friday, January 9, 2026
Calm
I thought I had entered
a moment of calm,
an eddy in the rapids—
but there is no real calm
in the current,
only surface and depth,
or a corner
you back into,
with no escape.
Thursday, January 8, 2026
The Phases of National Socialism
There was once a political movement called National Socialism.
It was a far-right movement that deliberately masqueraded as socialism in order to appeal to workers. It emerged during a period of economic breakdown: inflation was out of control, institutions were discredited, and the working class was suffering, angry, and increasingly resentful.
National Socialism coalesced around a charismatic leader who did not speak like traditional politicians. He was blunt, belligerent, and contemptuous of norms—and people found this exhilarating. He invoked a mythologized national greatness of the past and blamed an international system that, he claimed, had humiliated and exploited the nation.
In building his movement, this leader aligned himself with militant nationalist elements and an ideology that fused populism, illiberalism, hyper-masculinity, and racialized notions of white Christian purity.
To cement his relationship with these militants, he fomented an insurrection against the government. The attempt failed, and most observers assumed it had ended his political career.
It had not.
The existing political order proved feckless and weak. Despite never commanding majority support—his backing consistently hovered between roughly 35 and 45 percent, skewed heavily rural rather than urban—mainstream politicians enabled his entry into government. Once inside, he systematically shattered the fragile institutional framework and consolidated total control.
He ruled through “emergency” powers, governing by decree. He promoted an aggressive vision of national greatness, defined by hostility toward immigrants and the conviction that security and prosperity required territorial expansion. He consolidated power by militarizing the state, constructing a war economy, intimidating opponents, jailing dissidents, and increasingly suppressing opposition through paramilitary violence in the streets.
The National Socialist leader also fetishized political theatrics. He held large rallies and built monuments to himself and to glorify his movement.
In its final phase, National Socialism fully aligned its domestic project of militarization with its foreign policy of expansionism. The existing world order collapsed, and the result was the catastrophe of world war.
I am, of course, describing Nazism. And it is precisely by understanding the parallel to our current situation that we can recognize the phase we now appear to be entering.
Tuesday, January 6, 2026
Following Illegal Orders
One more aspect of the Venezuela attack has been nagging at me—one that few people in the mainstream media have addressed.
As I watched an almost giddy US Airforce General Dan Caine describe the military mission in Venezuela at the press conference, I started feeling extremely uneasy. That feeling kept coming back over the next 24 hours as I listened to commentary after commentary talk about how flawless and perfectly executed the mission was. It's only now that I'm hearing there were some American casualties (not fatal), which virtually no one has reported for some reason.
My feeling of unease stemmed from what I immediately perceived as an unjustified use of the military. Trump did not consult Congress, despite the constitutional requirement to do so. And the action appears to be a clear violation of international law. If trump’s action in Venezuela was illegal—under both international law and U.S. law—didn’t the military just follow illegal orders?
Isn’t this precisely what Democrats in Congress were warning about in early December, when they issued social media statements in response to trump’s deployment of the National Guard in American cities and the bombing of fishing boats in the Caribbean?
So what’s the connection?
There are several pieces that must fall into place for an authoritarian takeover. One is the capitulation of the legislative branch. Another is control—or effective neutralization—of the media. The third, and perhaps most important, is the acquiescence of the military.
I don’t know whether conditioning the military to follow unlawful orders was a motivating factor behind trump’s action in Venezuela, which reportedly involved drones, 150 aircraft, and Delta Force in an operation ostensibly to “arrest” a fugitive—an explanation that is patently false. But it's an undeniable effect.
The principle of disobeying unlawful orders is dicey under the best of circumstances. It is taught to every service member in the U.S. military under Article 92 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the U.S. Manual for Courts-Martial.
The reason is straightforward: in a constitutional democracy, the ultimate authority is not the Commander-in-Chief, but the Constitution itself—the document to which all service members swear an oath of loyalty.
In theory, this makes sense. In practice, it is deeply problematic. Service members are not trained in the nuances of constitutional or international law. Soldiers are not lawyers (unless they serve in the JAG Corps). They are trained to follow orders through the chain of command.
So how does one determine whether an order is unlawful? Is that determination left to individual judgment or moral conscience? If not, on what authority does such a determination rest? Wouldn’t a personal refusal expose a service member to charges of insubordination and possible prosecution?
These questions are becoming increasingly urgent given the undeniable frequency and escalatory pattern of trump’s military actions.
Since taking office in January 2025, trump has overseen at least 626 airstrikes, according to data compiled by the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project. By comparison, Joe Biden launched a total of 555 airstrikes during his entire four-year term. Trump has taken military action in the Middle East (Iran, Yemen), Africa, the Caribbean, and Latin America.
Classic examples of unlawful military orders involve internationally recognized war crimes under the Geneva Conventions, such as deliberately attacking unarmed civilians. According to the U.S. Department of Defense Law of War Manual, “attacking a shipwreck” is frequently cited as a primary example of a “clearly illegal” order. Sound familiar?
I don’t know whether conditioning the military to comply with unlawful orders was the reason behind trump’s actions in Venezuela. What I do know is this: Each such action makes future ones easier. Each unchallenged operation lowers the threshold for the next. And each instance of unquestioning compliance makes it less likely that the military will resist when the stakes are even higher next time
On this, the 5th anniversary of the January 6th attack on the Capitol, it's hard not to see trump’s pardon of the insurrectionists as setting up the permission structure for militants to follow his illegal orders.
Sunday, January 4, 2026
The Don-roe Doctrine
Smoke screens and subplots
I believe January 3rd, 2026 will be remembered in much the same way as September 11th, 2001: not simply as a dramatic event, but as a moment that revealed a fundamental shift in the world order.
The emerging order is defined by spheres of influence, in which great powers dominate their respective regions—China in East Asia, Russia in Europe, and the United States in the Western Hemisphere. This represents a decisive break from the global system that emerged after World War II, which sought to promote international security through economic integration, multilateral institutions, and a commitment—however imperfect—to universal human rights.
What is replacing it is something older and more brutal. The new order is grounded in the principle that might makes right: increased militarization, economic de‑integration, and chronic political instability. If we want to understand what this world looks like, we need only look to the nineteenth century—a period of competing empires and shifting alliances that ultimately culminated in two world wars at the dawn of the twentieth.
Transitions between world orders are never smooth. It will take time for dominant powers to establish control within their regions, and that process will be met with resistance. In Europe, clashes between Russian forces and European Union–aligned militaries are likely to intensify. Ukraine, far from being an endpoint, may only be the beginning. In East Asia, it is difficult to imagine China not challenging Taiwan in the near term. The United States, for its part, will seek to reinforce its own sphere of influence through increasingly overt military and strategic moves.
This is the larger narrative that will shape the world our children and grandchildren inherit—a world far more dangerous and unstable than the one we were born into. Other explanations, however emotionally satisfying or politically convenient, are either subplots or deliberate distractions.
People are easily seduced by simple answers. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with an uncle about the U.S. bombing of alleged drug‑smuggling boats. I argued that the strikes constituted a violation of international law. He replied that he supported them because the targets were “very bad people” engaged in drug trafficking.
How do we know who they were? I asked. They were obliterated without trial, without evidence presented, without any possibility of defense. He responded that the Americans possess the most advanced intelligence capabilities in the world and knew exactly who they were. He said he trusted the Americans.
So now we are comfortable killing people without due process? Acting as judge, jury, and executioner for those we deem undesirable? He was unconvinced. Finally, I pointed out that if the United States had the technological capacity to identify and precisely target these individuals, it also had the capacity to intercept the boats, arrest the suspects, and seize the evidence. At that point, the argument would not even be necessary. He seemed to concede the point.
The story matters not because of drugs or boats, but because it illustrates the seduction of expediency—the willingness to abandon the rule of law in exchange for fast, decisive outcomes. My uncle is an educated, reasonable, intelligent person. Yet for him, as for many others, the ends justified the means.
We hear the same logic today in arguments justifying the kidnapping of NicolĂ¡s Maduro. He is a bad man. His election was illegitimate. Therefore, the reasoning goes, abducting him and subjecting him to American justice was justified.
Whether Maduro is a villain is beside the point. The international system that emerged after World War II was built on processes rooted in law and respect for national sovereignty—mechanisms designed to resolve disputes between states without resorting to unilateral force. What the United States did in Venezuela was not merely a violation of international law; it was another nail—perhaps the final one—in the coffin of the liberal, rules‑based international order.
The rule of law is not simply a tool for maintaining order. Dictatorships maintain order too. Law is an expression of values—liberal values grounded in individual rights, due process, and restraint on power. When the United States, which for eight decades styled itself as the guardian of those values, decides that they no longer apply, we all lose.
This moment is unprecedented in my lifetime. When the United States intervened militarily in the Western Hemisphere during the Cold War, it at least claimed—sometimes cynically, sometimes sincerely—to be defending liberal democracy against communism. There is no such pretence here. Donald Trump said as much openly.
Some have argued that the closest historical precedent is the 1989 abduction and prosecution of Panama’s Manuel Noriega. The comparison does not withstand scrutiny. Panama functioned as a de facto client state of the United States. American intelligence agencies were deeply embedded there, tens of thousands of U.S. troops were stationed on Panamanian soil, and Noriega himself rose to power with American consent. He never even served as Panama’s president. When his criminal activities—drug trafficking, arms dealing, and money laundering—began to outweigh his usefulness, the United States removed him with the cooperation of domestic political forces.
Venezuela is not Panama. And in the days and months ahead, that difference will become evident.
So let us return to the central point and discard the distractions. This is not about drugs. It is not about oil. It is not about a single man. It is about the collapse of a system that sought—however imperfectly—to restrain power through law rather than force.
What is emerging in its place is not a new world order, but an old one: a world organized around spheres of influence, enforced by military power, and legitimized by success rather than principle. History offers little comfort about where such arrangements lead.
We are now entering the most dangerous phase of this transformation—the moment when rules still exist on paper but no longer bind those strong enough to ignore them. This is the phase marked by miscalculation, escalation, and violence justified by moral certainty rather than law.
January 3rd, 2026 may not be remembered for a single act, but for what it revealed: that the liberal international order did not collapse in a dramatic instant, but was finally abandoned by the power that once claimed to defend it.
Disintegration rarely announces itself clearly. It is always unmistakable in retrospect.
Saturday, January 3, 2026
Nothing Is For Free
It’s cold outside,
And only getting colder.
I’m old inside,
and only getting older.
Sometimes I ask myself,
Who am I protecting?
Who are these folks,
Whose feelings need defending?
I’m surrounded by people,
You know I want to please.
My hand extends across the fence,
And like animals they feed.
Time to get serious,
Cause time is running out.
Don’t say you know what’s best for us,
Cause we all live with doubts.
I had another life,
Before I met you.
I had other loves,
That still live inside me too.
Sometimes at night,
I close my eyes.
And imagine myself,
In another time.
Didn’t worry about the next bill,
That I had to pay.
And every new experience,
Was just another day.
As the years went by,
The load got heavy.
The legs that used to carry me,
Got shaky and unsteady.
I never asked for much,
Just room to be me.
It’s not a matter of trust,
I’m just trying to get free.
It’s cold outside,
And only getting colder.
I’m old inside,
and only getting older.
I never asked for much,
Just room to be me,
It’s not a matter of trust,
I’m just trying to get free
Nothing is for free.
The Maduro Episode
Well that didn’t take very long.
On December 30th I wrote “ One can only hope he doesn’t drag America into a war with Venezuela, a plotline twist for his flailing show.”
The US has attacked Venezuela and kidnapped its president and his wife.
This morning I’m hearing all kinds of commentary to explain why trump did it. They say, it’s to bring a narco-terrorist to justice. That would be plausible if he hadn’t just pardoned the narco-terrorist of Honduras.
It’s his pursuit of the Monroe Doctrine, as if trump even knows what the Monroe Doctrine is.
It’s about oil. If that was true the Americans would have to control the Venezuelan government and that’s a risky and at this point doubtful result.
No, he just wanted Maduro.
I haven’t heard the only explanation that I believe is correct. The simplest one. The only explanation that actual describes how trump thinks. The one that I tried to describe in my December 30th post. It’s a plot line twist of his failing TV show. It’s about ratings.
The only thing trump truly understands is media, and the only thing he is actually competent at is manipulating the attention economy.
The last few months have been disastrous for the trump show. Epstein. His poll numbers (ratings) are tanking. Republicans are turning on him. And every distraction he’s tried has fallen flat.
A trial in New York worked for him during the election. Now he figures another high profile trial in New York will provide the plot line twist he needs to keep the media and the public engaged.
That’s it. Not more complicated.
Unfortunately, when you have a simpleminded leader interested only in how things affect his standing, and doesn’t consider the wider consequences of his actions, things tend to spin out of control.
Watch for China to make a move on Taiwan.
Watch Greenland.