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Concerned About A Stock Market Crash? Listen...
David Reavill
 February 26 2025 at 04:43 pm
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Bernard Baruch ** Current financial technology is simply outstanding. We rely on our ability to place an order on our smartphone, move cash from our bank to our brokerage account and back again, and sell anytime we're hesitant about the markets. Instant electronic communication puts Wall Street at our fingertips, and it gives us a feeling of comfort. However, a market phenomenon called a "Flash Crash" might limit our ability to sell stocks. We saw our first "Flash Crash" on May 6, 2020. That day, the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 1,000 points in 10 minutes. For those of us who were watching the financial markets that day, it was a shocking event, to say the least. Suddenly, everything seemed to plunge. Bids, the purchase orders that provide a floor to the markets, disappeared. Normal market function, the matching of buyers and sellers, was gone. Then, almost as quickly as it came, markets regained their composure, began to rally, and the terrible storm was over. The Flash Crash was all anyone could talk about for the next several days. Traders and analysts were abuzz with this new and entirely unexpected event. It would take weeks before a culprit was identified. A London Trader named Navinder Singh Sarao was convicted of entering fraudulent orders designed to manipulate the markets. Called "spoofing," this type of chicanery has been outlawed in the US since the 1930s. The Securities and Exchange Commission recognized that they had a problem. The Circuit Breakers, initiated after the 1987 Crash, failed to mitigate the rapid price drop. A Circuit Break is a brief halt in trading designed to stop just such a drop as we experienced on May 6, 2010. A new set of Circuit Breakers came into effect with shorter triggers thereafter. The new levels call for the First Breaker to halt trading at a decline of 7% in the S&P 500—at current levels, that would be a drop of roughly 400 points in the S&P. The second Breaker would currently be at 13% or approximately 800 points. Both of these breakers called for a halt in trading for 15 minutes. The third and final Breaker would occur with a 20% decline, about 1,200 points in the S&P, and then trading would be halted for the rest of the day. While this discussion may seem like an interesting piece of history, certain current factors make a review of the Flash Crash relevant today. Whether we like to believe it or not, the financial markets are living under a constant "hair trigger," which, if activated, could see prices move precipitously. Three factors allow another Flash Crash to occur at any time. Like the Great California Earthquake, this threat is constant. The first factor is the threat of high-frequency trading, which is a trade executed in a micro millisecond. Immediately after that 2010 Flash Crash, HFTs came under a great deal of scrutiny as investors realized that Mr. Sarao was operating in a world that many didn't know existed. High-frequency traders are in and out of the market (buying and selling) before most of us can get our phones out of our pockets. Fortunately, HFTs often offset each other, with a rough balance between those purchasing and those selling. But Sarao's objective, which worked, was to move to an imbalanced market, more on the sell side. This would drive prices lower, and Sarao could buy very cheaply. The second Flash Crash risk factor is the preponderance of Index Investing - many mutual funds using the S&P 500 Index will need to adjust when the Index declines. A significant price drop, like the one in 2010, will compel the funds to sell, compounding the decline. The final Flash Crash Risk Factor is the dominance of algorithms in trading systems. These semi-autonomous computer systems automatically make purchases and sales for mutual, hedge, and private equity funds. This is a boon to passive investment managers, including some of the world's most significant managers, such as BlackRock and Vanguard. Unfortunately, in a Crash Scenario, passive managers like these funds may add to the decline by placing sell orders upon sell orders. What to look for A Flash Crash should be understood rather than feared by the savvy investor. Like a summer thunderstorm, we need to recognize it and raise cash to the degree we can. Acknowledging that a Crash is caused when most market players change their outlook. Historically, Crashes have occurred when the "Big Guys" change their projections from positive to negative, from bullish to bearish. This drives the initial wave of selling. The time to become a contrarian is when most investors become overly optimistic. Bernard Baruch told the story of getting his shoes shined. Knowing Baruch was a major investor, the man shining his shoes was dying to tell him about the latest "hot tip," "couldn't miss" opportunity. "Yes, sir, that Stock Market is the place to be." At that moment, Baruch knew it was time for him to sell—the market had become one-sided, and when that optimism would change, something terrible was bound to happen. As it turned out, Baruch was having his shoes shined in early 1929, just before the Greatest Stock Market Crash in our history. Baruch sold and never looked back. When everyone feels the market "can't miss," you'll know it's time to raise some cash. ** If you enjoyed this article, please consider buying me a cup of coffee. Go to: https://buymeacoffee.com/davidreavill Thanks for reading!
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The Marxist Blueprint: Everywhere You Look
Nancy Churchill
 February 13 2025 at 03:47 am
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How a Revolutionary Ideology has Infiltrated Institutions, Culture, and Government Marxism did not die with the Soviet Union. It evolved. Today, it’s not just an obscure theory debated in academic halls—it’s a guiding force behind cultural, political, and economic shifts in America. While Karl Marx framed his toxic ideology as a battle between the wealthy and the working class, modern activists have rebranded his revolutionary playbook to focus on gender, race, climate policy, and government power. This Marxist Blueprint is a six-step strategy designed to transform activism into an unstoppable force for expanding state control—all in the name of “equity” and “justice.” It’s not limited to a single movement. It fuels feminism, DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion), the Black Lives Matter movement, climate extremism, and progressive governance. But beyond shaping policy, it does something even more insidious: it rewires belief itself. Economist Ludwig von Mises warned of statolatry—the worship of the state as the ultimate authority. Modern Marxist movements have embraced this fully. As Kevin of “The Smallest Minority” explains in his essay “Statolatry,” progressives have replaced traditional faith with faith in government, treating political figures as high priests and state power as salvation. This is not just about reshaping laws—it’s about reshaping how people think, training them to see government as the source of all moral truth. Step One: Define the Oppressor vs. the Oppressed Marxism doesn’t seek unity—it demands division. Conflict is its fuel. In classical Marxism, the bourgeoisie were framed as oppressors of the working class. Today, that same framework has been repackaged into the Marxist Blueprint. Feminists claim men oppress women. DEI activists insist white, straight, Christian men oppress minorities and LGBTQ individuals. The Black Lives Matter movement portrays police and the justice system as tools of systemic oppression. Climate activists blame corporations and industrialized nations for environmental destruction. This step ensures society is locked in a permanent struggle. A divided people are far more willing to accept government intervention to “fix” the problem. But there’s another layer: by making the state the final arbiter of justice, Marxist movements shift authority away from individuals, families, and communities and into the hands of the government. Step Two: Declare the System Fundamentally Corrupt Once the conflict is set, the next step is to convince people the entire system is rotten to the core. Marxist movements never argue for reform—they demand total destruction. Feminists claim Western civilization is built on patriarchy and must be dismantled. Black Lives Matter activists say America was founded on racism and that police must be abolished. DEI leaders argue that meritocracy itself is a tool of white supremacy and must be replaced with race-based hiring. Climate extremists insist capitalism is inherently destructive and must be replaced with a government-controlled “green economy.” This strategy doesn’t just tear down existing institutions—it replaces them. Once trust in faith, family, and tradition is shattered, government steps in as the new moral authority. The Marxist Blueprint doesn’t just attack the system—it seeks to replace it with a secular, all-powerful state. Step Three: Push for Government and Institutional Control If the system is corrupt, then only one solution remains: bigger government, more regulations, and less individual liberty. In Washington State, House Bill 1531, is euphemistically called “Communicable disease.” This dystopian proposal would give government bureaucrats control over public health decisions, overriding local authority and personal choice. DEI mandates force corporations to prioritize race and gender over ability. Criminal justice “reforms” weaken law enforcement, making communities more dangerous while expanding the government’s role in policing. Washington’s Climate Commitment Act imposes a carbon tax, forcing businesses into compliance with state-controlled energy policies. The pattern is clear. Every movement following the Marxist Blueprint leads to the same result: centralized power. And as the government grows, so does faith in the state as the only source of fairness, security, and justice. Step Four: Promote State Dependency Over Individual Freedom A free and self-sufficient people don’t need government handouts. That’s why the next step in the Marxist Blueprint is to undermine independence and create dependency. Feminist policies have weakened the nuclear family by incentivizing single motherhood through welfare. DEI and BLM initiatives have made career success dependent on affirmative action rather than merit. Climate regulations artificially restrict energy access, forcing businesses and individuals to rely on state-approved alternatives. Universal Basic Income, socialized healthcare, and government subsidies create a culture where people turn to the state for survival rather than relying on themselves. This isn’t an accident. The weaker families, churches, and local communities become, the stronger the state grows. Step Five: Silence Opposition and Control Speech Once people are dependent on the government, the next move is to shut down dissent, as Washington state Democratic representatives did with House Resolution 4607. Free speech is dangerous to Marxist movements because it exposes their contradictions—so they silence it. Criticize feminism? You’re a misogynist. Question Black Lives Matter? You’re a racist. Reject DEI quotas? You’re upholding white supremacy. Doubt climate change alarmism? You’re a science denier. Instead of debate, Marxist movements attack their critics with labels. Support parent’s rights? Your 13-year-old can make life-changing, permanent decisions and you’re probably a child abuser for wanting to parent him or her. Government, universities, corporations and our Washington state legislature enforce ideological conformity, ensuring only one narrative is permitted. Statolatry demands obedience. Any dissent against the government’s moral authority is treated as heresy. Step Six: Institutionalize Perpetual Revolution A Marxist movement can never declare victory—because if it did, it would lose power. That’s why the revolution must continue indefinitely. Feminists once fought for equal rights; now they demand gender quotas and the erasure of traditional masculinity. Black Lives Matter began with protests against police brutality; now it pushes for the abolition of law enforcement altogether. DEI policies once claimed to promote fairness; now they enforce racial hiring quotas. Climate activists once advocated for clean energy; now they demand bans on gas-powered cars, restrictions on farming, and government-controlled industry. The revolution must never end. Because the goal was never justice—it was power. How to Stop the Marxist Blueprint The Marxist Blueprint has long been at work in America, but we’re just now starting to recognize it. Fortunately, it’s not unstoppable. The first step to defeating it is recognizing its tactics. Americans must reject false oppression narratives designed to justify government expansion. They must resist power grabs at every level—local, state, and federal. They must defend free speech, ensuring open debate is never silenced. Most importantly, they must rebuild the foundations that Marxism seeks to destroy: strong families, self-reliance, faith, and local governance. Marxism doesn’t announce itself. It infiltrates, manipulates, and divides—until its control is absolute. The only way to stop it is to expose it and reject its framework entirely. The first step to stopping the Marxist Blueprint is to recognize it for what it is: a roadmap to tyranny. Nancy Churchill is a writer and educator in rural eastern Washington State, and the state committeewoman for the Ferry County Republican Party. She may be reached at DangerousRhetoric@pm.me. The opinions expressed in Dangerous Rhetoric are her own. Dangerous Rhetoric is available on thinkspot, Rumble and Substack. Support Dangerous Rhetoric SOURCES: 1) Kevin. "Statolatry." The Smallest Minority, 8 Feb. 2025, https://bit.ly/3EoJRkv 2) Damon Sloss. The DEI Delusion: A Marxist Blueprint in Disguise. Facebook, 5 Feb. 2025. https://bit.ly/4b9laVP 3) Brandi Kruse. "The most dystopian thing happening in America right now is House Bill 1531 in Washington state." https://bit.ly/4hsTkpv 4) Travis Couture (@TravisSCouture). "Umm, excuse me?!" X (formerly Twitter), 7 Feb. 2025, https://bit.ly/3CGmSB8 5) AgClimate Network. "One Year into Washington's Climate Commitment Act: Impacts on Agriculture." https://bit.ly/40SgkXV 6) Washington State Legislature. "House Bill 1531." https://bit.ly/417BpPH 7) Peter Abbarno. "Statement from Rep. Peter Abbarno on House Resolution 4607." Washington State House Republicans, 27 Jan. 2025, https://bit.ly/3WX5zm7
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When Nationalism Drowns Out Patriotism
Sadhika Pant
 February 10 2025 at 01:46 pm
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It happens slowly, like the wearing away of a stone under a steady drip of water. You don’t notice it at first. The rock is sturdy, immovable. But as the decades pass, one day you see it—the edges smoothed, the surface hollowed. So it is with patriotism. Not gone in a flash, not ripped away in a single moment, but eroded over time. Perhaps the fault lies in the confusion between two things that are not the same. Patriotism—an old love, like a farmer’s love for his land—is too often conflated with nationalism, which is a louder, often cruder sentiment. A man who is a patriot does not need to tell you that he is one. He carries it in his bones, in the way he speaks of home, in the way he worries over its troubles. But nationalism has a way of puffing itself up, of making a man feel big by making the rest of the world seem small. And in this confusion—a confusion that is deliberate at times, careless at others-— something of the tenderness of patriotism is lost. History is full of examples. When nationalism first took hold, it promised freedom, unity, a way for people to see themselves as something larger. It sought to empower the masses, providing them with a sense of collective identity that transcended feudal allegiances. And for a time, it worked. But power is a hungry thing, and soon nationalism became an instrument of conquest, a tool for consolidating empires, and a justification for ethnic cleansing. Turning to India, a country whose history I know more intimately and in which I feel a deeper sense of investment, patriotism evolved slightly differently. It was shaped less by territorial ambitions and more by security in cultural richness and moral resistance. Indian patriotism was born of a sense of civilisational continuity rather than the borders of modern nation-states. But even in India, in this land of a hundred histories, the lines blur. Nationalism creeps in, hardens, turns against its own. The ones who question or seek to reform the state of affairs are called traitors, individuals whose very efforts stem from a deep devotion to their country, for why else would they bother? Yet, there are moments—small, shining moments—when patriotism breathes once more. Not always in speeches or in declarations, but in art, in music. Few contemporary figures have done this with as much power as A.R. Rahman, a contemporary music composer. Rahman’s compositions do not shout; they stir. They do not demand allegiance; they evoke memory. And perhaps that is why it moves people so. Because in a time when love for a country is too often tied to its strength, Rahman’s music speaks of something more fragile but more real—the love of a people for the land that shaped them. His music paints an India that is not a monolithic idea imposed from above but a living, breathing organism of hopes, struggles, and triumphs. And the younger generation, whose connection to their country is often mediated by the cynicism of contemporary politics, hear it. A true patriot does not love his country because it is better than others. He loves it because it is his. He loves it the way a man loves a flawed father, seeing him not as perfect but as worthy. He does not demand that others bow before it, only that it be better tomorrow than it was today. It springs from an attachment to the shared values, traditions, and collective memory of a people. It is a sentiment deeply tied to a sense of place, not as a geopolitical construct, but as the soil from which one’s identity and culture grow. But nationalism, carried to its extremes, twists that love into something smaller, something meaner. This modern exaltation of the state, which nationalism so often espouses, is a poor substitute for the spiritual connection that true patriotism evokes. The confusion between the two is no accident. In an age of identity politics and global discontent, nationalism offers a seductive appeal to many (especially on the right) who are disoriented by the rapid dissolution of cultural boundaries. Of course, there is a great deal of merit in the argument that the homogenising forces of globalisation have not only erased local traditions but also diluted the sense of belonging that patriotism once provided. A citizen of the whole world, of everywhere, soon becomes a citizen of nowhere, as Theresa May once said. And this detachment comes at a cost—an erosion of identity and meaning. In India, where globalisation has brought not only a familiarity with Hollywood fashion trends and avocados in the local vegetable market, but also deep cultural anxieties, the loss of rootedness is felt acutely. The old ways slip, the ground beneath shifts. But patriotism does not have to mean shutting the doors, turning inward. Rahman’s music proves that. It is rooted in India, yet it reaches beyond. It does not see tradition and progress as enemies but as partners. It reminds us that to love one’s land is not to reject the world, but to carry one’s home within it. And so, we find ourselves in a time where patriotism is a thing to be defended, not against foreigners, but against those who claim it most loudly. The world moves fast, and the places men once called home become unrecognisable in their lifetimes. A man looks up and finds that his small town is a city, that the songs of his childhood are drowned out by a noise that is neither familiar nor welcome. And when that happens, he reaches for something that will make him feel steady again. Some turn to nationalism because it is easy, because it is there, waiting, with its simple answers and its loud voices. But some—perhaps fewer, but no less important—turn to something else. They turn to a song, to a story, to the smell of something cooking on a stove that has always been there. They turn to the feeling of earth beneath their feet, and they remember. What Rahman achieves, consciously or otherwise, is the elevation of patriotism to the realm of the spiritual. His music does not worship the state; it celebrates the cultural and national identity of the people. In his most famous rendition, Maa Tujhe Salaam, the repeated invocation of the motherland is less an act of submission and more an expression of filial devotion. The song reminds us that love for one’s country is akin to love for a parent: unshakable but not uncritical, profound but not possessive. It is this distinction that modern society must recover if patriotism is to survive the corrosive effects of extremism. Nationalism, in its most militant forms, stifles dissent and breeds an aggressive us-versus-them mentality, while extreme cosmopolitanism often dismisses genuine love for one’s homeland as antiquated and exclusionary. To love one’s country is to love its people, its land, its history, and its culture—not merely the apparatus of its governance. I reflect on the value of patriotism in the modern world, and I wonder what will become of it. It is a sentiment too often derided by the cosmopolitan elite as parochial and too easily co-opted by the demagogues of nationalism. Yet, it remains essential to the human experience, anchoring us in a sense of belonging that is both humbling and ennobling. It is a connection that must be nurtured, protected, and, above all, understood, lest it be lost to the distortions of nationalism or the apathy of indifference. Without it, we are just people standing on land, and a country is nothing more than a name on a map. Image source: Oath of the Horatii by Jacques-Louis David.
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Why It's Time to Dismantle USAID: My...
Right Away
 February 07 2025 at 07:43 pm
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I had unforgettable moments dealing with USAID, and they were not positive. All of us who work with the less fortunate learn the adage that we are to teach men to fish and get out of the business of giving them fish and pretending that we are helping. My response to that adage had an exception. “Unless you are USAID, of course.” When I learned of the recent recommendation to dismantle that organization, my response was immediate. “Duh! This is decades overdue.” When I served in the late 1980s, I would always stop what I was doing and turn my head when I heard a vehicle coming. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I found it uncommon to see motor vehicles on any road in Nepal. Entire weeks would pass without ever seeing a car, truck, or Jeep. Private individuals did not own cars in the Dang Valley, where I lived and worked for two years. The sound of a car engine always made me look up to see who it was. Yet, when I got passed by a vehicle on the dirt roads where the rest of us walked or rode bicycles, the most common decal on the side was USAID. They used Jeeps and sported a dedicated driver who I later discovered was paid more than a High School Principal with a Masters Degree. During those rare moments when I hitched a ride in the back of one, I learned that they carried spare fuel containers in case they had a meeting with someone of influence who needed some. If you needed fuel, you were certainly in the top 1% of all Nepalis. That was, I later learned, the primary group that USAID served. My experience with USAID wasn’t limited to their jeeps. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I remember visiting one of their employees who lived in the nearby town of Tulsipur, about two hours from my village. He had been in the country as long as I had and knew some of the language, but not much more than was needed to say hello, get his hair cut, and order a traditional Nepali meal of rice and lentils at a shack on the side of the “highway.” He was serving in Nepal as an agricultural consultant; it was ironic to learn that he didn’t know the difference between the words garlic and onion. My strongest memory of my meeting with him was my experience walking into his house. He lived south of Tulsipur in what I would call a castle. In US Terms, it was probably a 2000-square-foot home, but it looked like Anywhere, USA once we entered. He had carpeting, a dishwasher and a large refrigerator (with not a whole lot inside of it). When I asked him where he got that, he told me that USAID gave him an allowance to get Western goods delivered to Tulsipur as part of the “hardship” of serving outside of the United States. I don’t remember how I asked him how much it cost to get a fancy frig sent to the middle of the Himalayas, but I do remember his answer. He rolled his eyes and said, “You don’t want to know. More than a Peace Corps Volunteer makes in a year, for sure.” Nepal is a Himalayan country. It is landlocked and is famous for 6 of the 10 largest mountains in the world. The country was destitute by all measures. When I lived and served there, per capita annual GDP was something like $150. The country had no real exports. Tourism and mountaineering were the primary sources of foreign currency, outside of development dollars, mostly from the US. I worked on a project called the PEP-Primary Education Project. My job was to educate primary school teachers in modern educational methods. The issue was that the teachers didn’t want to learn new ways. They were happy with the old ways. As such, we had to encourage them to attend training. Someone at USAID had a brilliant idea that personifies how the agency operates. USAID paid them a stipend greater than they would make as classroom teachers in order to come to one of our trainings. Once the training was complete, it was my job to visit them back in their places of work and encourage them to use what they had learned in the training. When I began my conversation with them about the teaching methods they learned, I asked them to recall what they remembered of that week in training. The most common first reply was a statement of gratitude about their bonus for attending the training. Few, though, could remember more than a single point from the 5-day curriculum the trainer covered. During our Peace Corps training, we learned how other organizations worked in the areas where we worked. It was like Walmart employees being told about Target. The Brits had an equivalent organization called VSO, as did the Japanese. Yet, by far, the biggest source of cash inflow into the country was USAID. I don’t remember how much money it was, but it was something like ten times the amount that the Peace Corps spent, but both organizations had the same number of employees. Interesting. Over the years, I asked many of the people whom I worked with inside the local and state governments about USAID. No one knew anyone by name, nor had they ever stepped inside the man's house in Tulsipur. One winter, I decided to take some classes to get better at Hindi. My Nepali was excellent, but I needed some help for those moments when I would hire Indians to do work. I was referred to a young married woman, and I met with her every morning for three weeks. It was helpful. Her house in Kathmandu was huge. One morning, in Hindi, I asked her how she could afford a palace like this one. She said, “my husband. He works for your USAID. They will never miss it.” She was right. They had been in that house for ten years, and USAID never missed the money that he skimmed off of a construction project to build a palace for himself and his family. Once I heard the announcement that USAID was going away and gave my quick “Thank God” speech to my friends, I looked up the current financial situation for USAID in Nepal. According to fiscalnepal.com, the US Government provided money to 176 nations via USAID in 2023, and little Nepal was the 16th largest recipient on that list. The largest project in the country is called MCC. It has a $700M budget. Of that, the US is contributing $500M. That equates to $16 USD per Nepali citizen just for that project. That is just one project in one country. On my last visit to Nepal, I spoke to elected officials and leaders within the education community. No one had ever seen a penny of MCC money reach the local community. No one had ever had a visitor to come and see what the problems might be, nor did anyone other than Peace Corps types ever show up and try to learn their language. And there are 175 other countries getting money from USAID, each with its own experience where the people yearn for help and assistance. Our response to send money via USAID, and the rest is a mystery. My experiences are from a single country that I have repeatedly visited over the last four decades, but I am sure I am not alone in my conclusion. I would have written the recommendation and testified before a congression committee pro bono. USAID’s collapse will not be felt as we are being told. I already called one Nepali congressman, and he doesn’t anticipate the impact of hitting his budget until October, as his coffers are already filled. We need an organization that works with those in need, using skilled people who are culturally sensitive to their needs. We don’t need to carry around gas cans to fill the tanks of the rich or build monuments that don’t make a difference to the average man. Let’s fire everyone and start over. Those who start over need to be skilled in language and culturally sensitive to the needs of people who live abroad. This has been a waste of epic proportions.
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Energy
08fordranger
 February 13 2025 at 04:45 am
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Good Things for America and the WorldUse hydrolysis to get Hydrogen from Water, Add the hydrogen to Carbon Dioxide filtered from the air and oceans, Make butane from this using the Wurtz reaction. Include this into the economy to feed the people energy and grow the economy of many if not all nations. The science is sound. Use this to advance humanity, around the world. By using this method we can cut fuel cost and energy costs, We can make unlimited things to help our fellow man or at least our country. If Europe is have a high cost for energy they can use the same method to reduce cost of energy and therefor materials as well.The sun provides 622 Exawatts of energy per hour to Earth, We can reduce the cost of all materials, both domestically and in foreign lands as well. Help me to understand why this would be not optimal for mankind. The Wurtz Reaction in Chemistry combines Methane into Ethane and Ethane to Butane, we can use butane to fuel our vehicles. we can recycle carbo0n dioxide out of the atmosphere and use it for fuel. We can bring cost down and help humanity. Please comment on this post, I'd love to hear what you think. I have been studying for a long time, The only thing I have trouble figuring out is why the news pretends that this is limited. Please Comment, Let me know what you think.
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How marriage protects against depression
angelobottone
 February 15 2025 at 10:54 pm
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A major new study shows that unmarried individuals are much more likely to experience depression than those who are married. The study looks at seven different countries, including Ireland. The research revealed that unmarried individuals - including those who are single, divorced, separated, or widowed - exhibit significantly higher risks of depressive symptoms compared to those who are married. Specifically, the analysis found that unmarried status is associated with an overall 86pc higher risk of depressive symptoms. This increased risk appears particularly pronounced among divorced or separated individuals (99pc). It is instead 79pc higher in single and 64pc in widowed individuals, when compared to married people. The study involved over 100,000 participants. The other countries examined along with Ireland were the United States, the United Kingdom, Mexico, South Korea, China and Indonesia. In Ireland, the risk of depression was notably higher for divorced or separated individuals, who faced a 160pc increased risk, and for widowed individuals, who had a 115pc increased risk, compared to their married counterparts. In other word, for every 100 married individuals experiencing depressive symptoms, in Ireland there would be approximately 260 divorced or separated individuals and 215 widowed individuals experiencing similar symptoms. The research suggests that marriage provides protective mental health benefits, possibly through mechanisms such as emotional and social support, economic stability, and the positive influence spouses can have on each other’s well-being. Importantly, the study also highlights that the association between marital status and depression is influenced by demographic and cultural variables. The authors suggest that the more pronounced link in Western countries, including Ireland, reflect cultural differences in social expectations and support systems surrounding marriage. “Eastern cultures tend to tolerate higher levels of emotional distress before it becomes problematic, which may partially explain the lower risk of depressive symptoms in unmarried participants from these countries”, they say. The authors admit that further research is needed to understand the observed cultural differences. Gender and education level influence in the relationship between marital status and depression. The study found that unmarried men are 25pc more likely to experience depressive symptoms than unmarried women. This risk was even higher among single men (48pc) while the research did not observe a significant difference between men and women among divorced/separated or widowed. “Females tend to have larger and stronger social support networks than males, particularly among never-married individuals”, the authors note. Additionally, those with higher educational attainment showed a greater likelihood of depression when unmarried compared to those with lower educational levels. This could reflect variations in social expectations and pressures, where individuals with higher education may feel a stronger sense of isolation or failure if they remain unmarried. In conclusion, this study reinforces the link between marital status and depression, expanding previous understandings by including a more diverse global sample. Marriage, as highlighted by this research, provides significant mental health benefits, reducing the risk of depressive symptoms. It offers emotional support, economic stability, and shared responsibilities, fostering resilience against stress. These are all good reasons why marriage should be promoted and strengthen in public policy and legislation.
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The Journalist, the Writer, and the Bias of...
Sadhika Pant
 February 16 2025 at 02:04 pm
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Two men sit at opposite ends of a diner. One listens and the other watches, but neither speaks, and in the silence between them is a vast difference of intent. The journalist uncaps his pen with a purpose fully formed. He listens for the bones of a thing, the sturdy facts, the names, the sequence of events. He sees a woman in a red coat at the counter, the way she stirs her coffee, the way she glances nervously at the door, and he thinks: Where is she going? What does it mean? His business is to find out, to take the dirt off a buried truth and to present it in clean lines. The writer, on the other hand, is a digger, not a dust-brusher. He sees the same woman and wonders what brought her to this diner and whether she’s lonely. He notices the imprint of a ring on her finger and wonders whether she is a woman who spurned her lover or the woman scorned. His purpose is to find, not the hard and polished thing that is called truth, but the truth of how things weigh upon the soul. The journalist seeks the conclusion, the writer, the becoming. And so the journalist and the writer sit in their opposite corners, neither speaking, both believing that they are the honest ones. The woman in the red coat finishes her coffee, pays her bill, and leaves. Somewhere, a headline is written. Somewhere else, a novel begins. And in neither place does she exist as she truly is, for the Kantian thing-in-itself is notoriously elusive. * * * My father was a writer. A poet, more precisely. I remember asking him once, “Why poetry?” He was sitting outside in the winter sun, his writing pad folded on his lap, the way a man keeps a thing close that he doesn’t quite need but isn’t willing to put away. He didn’t answer right away. He usually never did. He took his time with things, feeling for the shape of a thought before giving it words. Finally, he said, “I liked to see. And I wanted to make sense of what I saw.” I must have frowned at that. I had thought that a writer was a man who already understood, that he wrote to explain the world to others. But my father made it sound as though a writer did not write because he knew—but because he didn’t. That writing was not the sharing of understanding, but the search for it. "So," I said slowly, a tempting thought beginning to take shape in my mind, "So…you were guessing?" I held my breath and looked at his face carefully, trying to keep my face straight. His eyes twinkled, the way they did when he knew I was playfully sparring with him. “Guessing,” he said finally, "I suppose you could say that.” He shifted in his chair, tilting his face toward the sun, as if it might warm a memory loose. “Only guessing isn’t quite right, is it? A man guesses when he doesn’t know. A writer guesses because he knows something is there but can’t quite see it yet. Like feeling around in the dark for a thing you know is in the room. You catch hold of edges, corners. But you don’t see it whole, not at first. And sometimes you guess wrong. You put the thing together wrong, and it feels wrong, and you have to start over. That’s a risk, of course. But if you guess true, if you find the shape of it just right, then one day you look at it and you think—there it is. There it always was. You just hadn’t found the words for it yet.” He paused, looking at me, measuring whether I would understand. “You ever seen a dog catch a scent in the wind?” I nodded, trying to go over what he had just said. “So, you wrote to follow the scent?” He chuckled and made no answer. * * * Charles Darwin once wrote, 'How odd it is that anyone should not see that all observation must be for or against some view if it is to be of any service!' So, is observing without an agenda even possible? Or a man who believes he sees without bias is just a man who hasn’t examined his own mind yet? The journalist, for all his protestations of objectivity, has already picked his angle the moment he starts looking. He sees a slum and writes of its poverty; a writer sees the slum and understands the way poverty distorts the soul. The journalist’s trade is in presenting reality in such a way that the reader may form an opinion, preferably one he has already predetermined to be the correct one. The writer’s task is to immerse the reader in reality until opinion dissolves into something more complex—something resembling understanding. Journalism is, in theory, the act of unveiling what is hidden, stripping away falsehood and deception to reveal the raw, unvarnished facts of a matter. But this is an illusion. The very selection of facts, their arrangement, the adjectives applied to them, and even the order in which they are presented—all conspire to fit a narrative. Indeed, the journalist’s greatest deception is his pretense of objectivity. Of course, there are times when the division between writing and journalism blurs substantially. There are journalists who write with such artistry, with such sensitivity to the human experience, that they transcend the mere presentation of facts and elevate their stories to something akin to literature. And there are writers whose works, despite their artistic merit, are also exercises in truth-telling, where every word serves an agenda, a moral, or a political point. The problem is not that one is an art and the other a science, as the world would like us to believe. But this much can be said — journalism strives to uncover truth, while writing seeks to discover it, although neither, in the end, can escape the human tendency to frame reality in ways that serve a purpose. Two questions come to mind: Then, is writing merely a form of journalism sans the responsibility? And do modern journalists even recognise their responsibility, let alone shoulder it? A nation can be shaped not just with laws, nor with bullets, but with words. Journalism does this every day. It steers the great ship of public opinion, not always with a steady hand, and often with a hidden map. It decides what must be known and what must be forgotten. It names heroes and villains, and sometimes, with a well-placed headline, it even swaps them. The power to tell a story is the power to steer the course of reality, and if that is not a responsibility, then what is? Now, a writer—does he get to walk away clean, owing nothing to anyone but his own inspiration? I won’t wade into the infamous swamp of “art for art’s sake” but I will splash around in the shallows a bit. The writer’s honesty is not the journalist’s honesty. A journalist is called to be honest with facts: to gather them, sort them, and present them without favour or ambition, though few resist the temptation of a juicy lead. The writer, on the other hand, is called to be honest with himself, and that’s the hardest honesty there is. A man can lie to a newspaper, and in time, the lie will be found out. But a man who lies to himself? If he cheats, if he takes a shortcut, if he makes a character say something he wouldn’t have said in real life, you can feel the lie in the words. It doesn’t ring right. His work is ruined by it, even if no one can quite put a finger on why. He has to be true to the people he writes about, even if they don’t exist. That’s the strange thing about writing—its honesty isn’t about getting the facts straight, but about getting the feeling straight. Else the lie will live forever, wrapped up in pretty sentences, strung together with conviction, passed down from one reader to the next until no one remembers what was true to begin with. So in the end, does everything have an angle? Of course it does. A man can’t write anything worth reading without putting a piece of himself in it. A story, a report, even a stray remark—they all come at you bent and shaped by the hands that carried them. The writer admits to his leanings. He knows that no story is ever just a story, that the telling of a thing changes the thing itself. He doesn’t stand outside his words; he stands right in the middle of them, waist-deep, with his hands in the clay. We are all fumbling in the dark, and perhaps that’s where we’re meant to stay. But I want to keep reaching, keep guessing—because every now and then, flashes of understanding dawn upon me, and in that brief, flickering glow, I almost see. It is in these moments that I find my blindness redeemed. “जाने कितने लोग शामिल थे मिरी तख़्लीक़ मेंमैं तो बस अल्फ़ाज़ में था शाएरी में कौन था?”"Who knows how many were part of my creation—I was only in the words, who was in the poetry?”- Bharat Bhushan Pant. Image source: The Writing Master by Thomas Eakins.
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Why There May Well Be No Future
LadyVal
 February 24 2025 at 12:10 am
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I grew up during a time when, at least to the average person, there seemed a logic about life and its disputes and difficulties. When there was debate, there was also discourse. When something was identified as being “wrong” or even “inferior” to some other viewpoint or plan of action, people pretty much set about looking into the matter and, after a period of time, those involved returned with some sort of conclusion. Obviously, not everyone would be convinced that his point of view was wrong or inferior, but on the whole, the culture was able to reach a reasonable consensus from which came—if required—some plan of action to deal with the matter under consideration. But, alas, such sane, reasonable, civilized acts within the body politic no longer exist at least among a large percentage of people. The reasonable, rational adult has been replaced by the unreasonable, irrational child. The adult brain and its ability to determine that just because something is greatly desired does not necessarily mean that it is good [much less right!] has given way to what has been called by Dr. Steven Stosny, “the toddler brain.” According to Dr. Stosney in his article Anger in the Age of Entitlement,” smart people make the same mistakes over and over and get, as he puts it, “stressed out” because we have been duped by our current culture of “feelings over facts” into “living and loving in the wrong part of the brain.” Dr. Stosney identifies the difference between the “adult brain,” and the “toddler brain,” stating: “Suffering and failure begin in the volatile limbic system, or Toddler brain, which reaches full structural maturity around age three. When we're not under stress, we’re able to turn pain and failure into growth and accomplishment in the Adult brain—the prefrontal cortex, which is the most profoundly evolved part of the most complex organism in the known universe. In the Adult brain, which reaches full maturity around age 28, we have the mental capacity to construct a solid sense of self. Living in it, we’re able to improve situations, connect to others, protect all that we value, and appreciate people, ideas, nature and creative beauty. We can stand for something, learn from our mistakes, make the world a better place, and forge a legacy. When we retreat to the Toddler brain under stress, we create conflict and almost invariably act out self-defeating behavior. In the Adult brain, we create value, meaning, and purpose. The signature process of the limbic system is to sound alarms. This more primitive part of the brain lacks reality-testing, which is why we can become alarmed when we’re dreaming or when nothing is happening outside of our active imagination. The prefrontal cortex regulates limbic alarms by testing them against reality (Is there really a fire?) and by assessing the threat (How serious is the fire?). It then chooses a course of action—put out the fire; evacuate; or declare a false alarm and go back to work. Unfortunately, the assess and improve modes of our prefrontal cortex can often hijacked by habits forged in the Toddler brain—when those habits are repeatedly reinforced in adulthood. Instead of regulating alarms with reality-testing, then, our thought processes amplify and magnify them. Intelligence and creativity go to justifying the alarm. Commandeered by Toddler brain habits, the prefrontal cortex can reduce the alarm only temporarily by blaming it on someone, denying responsibility for it, or avoiding it through distractions. That's right: It employs the familiar toddler coping mechanisms of blame, denial, and avoidance.” Looking at the above, it becomes far easier to understand why people fall prey to the same conclusions and solutions that have proven entirely useless and unsatisfactory in attempts to deal with real world situations. This is illustrated in an old definition of insanity, to wit: “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” But whereas this has been a human situation virtually since the beginning of mankind, it has grown appreciably worse today. In the recent past—my youth as noted—such a reluctance to accept reality was limited to matters that, though real, were often subjective and intangible. Hard facts could not be “wished away” by the most insistent toddler brain and thus there were matters that could be settled even if the conclusion was diametric to the desires of those involved. I first got a glimpse of the fact that this reality-check was no longer in place when, during the Administration of Ronald Reagan, some of Reagan’s choices for a place in his White House were being charged with crimes as a means of denying the President their services. For instance, Raymond Donovan, Reagan’s choice for Secretary of Labor, was brought up on charges that eventually proved false, but the process destroyed his ability to serve. I distinctly remember Donovan, leaving the court in New Jersey, asking the media, “Where do I go to get my reputation back?” But though Donovan was innocent of any wrongdoing, there was no effort on the part of that same media to help him “get his reputation back” and in the end, innocent or not, Donovan was removed from service. Another victim of this attempt of political assassination via criminal prosecution was Reagan’s Attorney General Edwin Meese. Much was charged against Meese and the news media worked overtime to be sure that every such charge—reasonable or otherwise—was well publicized. In the end, when Meese had been cleared of every possible wrongdoing, his prosecutors—or more correctly, his persecutors—still did not altogether clear him. Rather, they stated vaguely that there was “the perception of impropriety” in his Justice Department. Amazingly, these same “prosecutors” and their descendants seemed unable to find actual impropriety on the part of liberal Democrats! But that was not the worst! The Democrats in Congress, having been assured Meese did not do that with which he had been charged, instead of accepting the findings of their own prosecutor, now looked around for more charges to bring! In other words, a valid finding of innocence was not accepted because it was not wanted! And so, the next step was to find “something else” to prosecute. Of course, such a process could go on quite literally forever! And as any reasonable adult knows, when a reasonable, rational, intelligent and honest decision can be rejected because it is not wanted, there is no longer any foundation upon which civilization is able to rest. The same can be said for any controversial matter. Take, for instance the matter of the American “civil war.” Once, it was possible to argue the reasons for the war, how they came to be, who bore the greatest portion of blame, and so forth. And for a long time, this debate allowed both sides to have their say, make their points and continue to hold opinions based on culture, class and Christianity. Those days are over. Now, only one side’s arguments are permitted even when those can be clearly, historically and indisputably refuted. In other words, what the facts are, what the truth is and what really happened is of no interest or value to the current “historical orthodoxy.” All that matters is what that “orthodoxy” says matters whether it be true or false, real or fable, right or wrong. When this becomes the criteria upon which “history” is based, you no longer have “history,” but the “winner’s version” no matter how skewed and mendacious. The rational argument which may find facts on both sides of any debate is replaced by the lie which cares nothing at all for fact. In the days of my youth, we acknowledged that there were people who preferred the winner’s version, but, at least they did not represent the majority of those who formed the culture. Today, alas, they do—and as a result, the basis of civilization itself is swiftly becoming moribund.
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On Cultural Loss
Sadhika Pant
 February 26 2025 at 07:24 am
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A man who sets out to write about the ethos of a community must, at some point, wrestle with doubt, not least because the act of doing so invites criticism from those who believe it impossible to encapsulate the lived experiences of many within the confines of language. One might argue, for instance, that the attempt is reductive, that no single life can hold the measure of a people. Others will insist that to speak of a "community ethos" is to deny the individuality of its members, reducing them to an indistinct collective. Such objections are compelling but also paralysing. If we feared oversimplifying so much, we’d never speak of anyone or anything. So, I am willing to tread on this precarious path, to paint a picture of one of the communities I come from—a picture that is, at best, incomplete, but honest in its intention. I was born into a marriage that was itself a sort of map of India—my mother’s people, Bengalis from West Bengal, where words bloom like flowers and art hangs thick in the air, and my father’s people, Kumaonis from the rugged folds of Uttarakhand, where mountain life is hard, and so the people learned to be soft-hearted. And as fate would have it, I came into this world in a third state, Uttar Pradesh, with its own rhythms and flavours. I grew up with many homes in me, layered like the soil of the plains after a flood. The Kumaoni part of me carries the weight of the hills. In those mountains, life has a way of stripping you bare, sanding off the unnecessary. There’s a simplicity there—not of ignorance but of understanding—that the world will give if you ask gently and take only what you need. As Julie Andrews sang in The Sound of Music, the hills are perhaps alive. Not just as a backdrop but as a quiet presence, shaping the people who live under their shadow. Their festivals are unadorned but rich with meaning; their food is plain yet nourishing, speaking of a respect for the land that provides it. Even in the way they talk, there’s a rhythm that matches the slopes—unhurried, measured, thoughtful. And like hillfolk everywhere, there’s a warmth that survives the cold. Kumaonis, by nature, are known for their warmth and hospitality. No guest is ever turned away; no traveller goes hungry. I remember visiting the small villages nestled in the hills and being welcomed with the simplicity of home-cooked meals that were as hearty as they were nourishing—dishes like bhatt ki churkani, made from local black soybeans, or the rotis cooked on an open flame. To sit for a meal with a bunch of hungry Kumaonis is to know that food, like life, is best shared. But life in the hills has always been about more than survival. There’s a method in the way Kumaonis tend their fields, their forests, their rivers. They understand the land isn’t something to conquer but to live alongside as stewards. Every grain of rice, every drop of water is used, nothing wasted. This isn’t poverty—it’s wisdom, the kind that comes from watching the earth’s rhythms and knowing your place in them. Even after my family moved down from the hills, that reverence stuck. In our home, my grandmother fed every stray that came by—crows, dogs, monkeys, even the occasional mongoose. She believed that God sent all the hungry mouths and that it was our duty to feed them. Every morning still, my aunt carries on that tradition, feeding some twenty or thirty crows that, as if by clockwork, fly up to my house everyday. Yet, despite this simplicity, Kumaonis are anything but isolated in thought. Their philosophy is one of pragmatism, their spirituality instinctive rather than scholarly. They do not engage in the long-winded debates of the Bengalis, but their folklore and fireside stories are rich with lessons of perseverance and moral clarity. And this is where I think hillfolk everywhere must be kindred. There’s the same fierce hospitality, the same belief that a stranger is just a friend you haven’t fed yet. And there’s the same ache, too, when the hills start to empty out, when the young leave for cities and the old ways begin to fray. For those of us who have left the hills, there’s a quiet grief we carry, like an old scar. We see the mountains changing—tourists flooding in, forests cut down for roads and hotels—and we wonder what will be left when it’s all done. The stories, the songs, the foods—will they survive the thinning of the hills? Yet even as we grieve, we hold on. In cities far from Uttarakhand, Kumaoni families still gather, still cook dubke and kaapa, still sing the old songs, teaching them to children who may never climb those mountains but will carry their spirit all the same. In conversations with Kumaoni families, one can sense a respect for their homeland. But threaded through that reverence is a quiet sorrow, a kind of resignation, as if they know the land is slipping away from them, piece by piece, and there’s not much they can do but watch. They speak of the forests—once thick and alive, where every rustle carried a story—now broken by roads and girders, the old songs of the hills drowned out by the noise of machines. They remember the feel of damp earth beneath bare feet, the thrill of setting out with their brothers to hunt a rogue panther that had wandered too close to the village, or the simple wisdom of reading the skies—watching the poplar leaves turn over, their pale undersides flashing in the wind, a sure sign that the afternoon rains were coming. It struck me, then, how hill folk everywhere seem cut from the same cloth. It’s why a show like The Waltons, set deep in the Appalachian Mountains during the Great Depression, speaks so tenderly to me. The Waltons lived in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains, carrying the same kind of simple strength I’ve seen in Kumaoni families. They knew the land, loved it, and leaned on each other when times got hard. There was nothing fancy about it—their joys were small and honest: a good harvest, a shared meal, the soft murmur of voices around the dinner table. But underneath it all ran the ache of change, the same ache the Kumaonis feel now, as their hills begin to look less like the ones they grew up in. Cultural loss is neither entirely tragic nor wholly avoidable—it is simply the natural consequence of time's indifference. To insist that this loss is somehow unnatural, that it signals a moral failure rather than life’s inevitable course, would only make the tragedy seem larger than it is. We speak of vanishing traditions as though they were sacred relics stolen from us, but more often than not, they slip away because we no longer have use for them, or perhaps the will to bear their weight. A community’s identity, once forged out of necessity—its customs, its stories, its ways of living—grows brittle in the face of modernity’s conveniences, and eventually, it crumbles. There is no great villain in this narrative, no singular force to blame. And yet it’s a story worth telling, even if I can’t tell it perfectly. Because sometimes, even an imperfect truth is better than silence. Image Source: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
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thinkspot Newsletter 2/27
thinkspot
 February 27 2025 at 05:19 pm
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Concerned About A Stock Market Crash? Listen To The Timeless Wisdom Of Bernard Baruch By ValueSideWhy There May Well Be No Future By LadyValThe Problem with Strikers By Nancy ChurchillA.2: Hard and Soft Money By OctaveoctaveOn Cultural Loss By Sadhika PantPodcast Episode #244 - 10 Effects of Divorce on Children By Jude: The Divorced Dadvocate
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A Time-Travelling Bookstore
Sadhika Pant
 February 04 2025 at 05:06 am
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Every once in a while, I like to write about places I have been to, places that have left a strong impact on me. These can be places with overwhelming natural beauty, or places that are steeped in the richness of culture or history, or just places that spoke to me for one reason or another. Today, I walked into one such place, a place not of towering mountains or history-soaked temples but a bookstore—small, cramped, and stubborn—in the heart of an upscale Delhi market. Faqir Chand and Sons, lodged in a quiet corner of Khan Market, does not announce itself with neon signs or grand displays. It simply is. It stands there, watching, as the glassy storefronts rise around it, as new money and new tastes rush past its narrow wooden door. It has watched the world change, and yet, it refuses to. It was established in 1931 in Peshawar, in present-day Pakistan. When the partition came and India was still piecing itself together in the wake of the horror that followed, Mr. Faqir Chand fled to New Delhi and set up his store in 1951, from scratch, in Khan Market, which was established to rehabilitate the trader refugees from the NWFP (North-West Frontier Province). He sat in this very space once, guiding hands toward Kipling and Premchand, toward Ghalib and Vivekananda. Now, his 28 year old great-grandson, Abhinav Bahmi, keeps watch, carrying forward something that is more inheritance than profession. The shop is small, the kind of small that forces strangers to brush shoulders, to murmur apologies, to negotiate like travellers on a narrow road. Today, for reasons known only to the shopkeeper, yellow chrysanthemums sit in unexpected corners, bright and out of place among the rows of books that have grown comfortable in their dust. Hand-drawn sketches and post-its scribbled with minute writing are pinned up on the walls wherever a gap remains. A stranded Van Gogh’s Starry Night print pinned up high in a corner catches my eye briefly. The books are piled right up to the ceiling in no particular order or genre and they lean against one another like old friends in a conspiratorial huddle. Some teeter at dangerous angles, wedged into every available space. The dust has settled in the crevices of their spines, undisturbed by the sterile efficiency of modern booksellers. Here, literature is not stocked; it is stored, hoarded, cherished. There are no neat sections here, no crisp dividers to tell you what belongs where, and old and new books are all thrown together. A dog-eared Malgudi Days rests against a crisp, untouched Anna Karenina. A pile of Ruskin Bond essays leans against a stack of old Delhi guidebooks, their pages yellowed like parchment, their maps outdated but still carrying the weight of old roads, old names. Tucked inside a worn copy of The Old Man and the Sea is a note in slanted, hurried handwriting: “This one will break your heart, but gently.” I pull a secondhand Graham Greene from its crowded nest and open it, only to find another note, this one written in the careful, deliberate strokes of someone who still believed in the permanence of ink: “For Kabir, so you never forget the city we loved.” There are others—underlined passages in Austen, folded corners in Shakespeare’s sonnets. It stops me, just for a moment, just long enough for a thought to form—how many people have left pieces of themselves in books? How many hands have turned these pages, how many eyes have paused at the same sentence, how many lives have brushed against these stories like strangers passing in a crowded street? The books themselves tell stories, not just the ones printed on their pages but the ones carried in their creases, their wear, their hurried scribbles in margins. The men who work here—keepers more than sellers—know their stock like a shepherd knows his flock. “Looking for something particular?” one of them asked, his voice thick with the patience of a man who has spent years watching the world pass by through the same shop window. “Just browsing,” I said, though I knew that was a lie. One does not come to a place like this just to browse. One comes to remember. Legacy bookstores are strange things. They stand at the edges of history, waiting for readers who still believe in the weight of a book, the crack of a spine, the scent of ink. There are fewer and fewer places like this left. The world does not have patience for them anymore. Replaced by the efficiency of online sellers, the convenience of algorithmic recommendations, and the polished sterility of chain stores where books are stacked neatly, obediently, without personality or protest. I leave the shop with a single purchase, a copy of The Indian Epics Retold by R.K. Narayan. It was not the book I had come looking for, but then again, it never is in a place like this. I step out into the noisy street, the bright and modern world pressing in from all sides. The air is thick with the scent of perfumes and fresh cookies from nearby bakeries, with the hum of conversation, with the restless urgency of a city always moving forward. The little bookstore stands as it always had, unbothered, unchanged, as though it knows something—a story, a history—that the rest of us have forgotten. All images are self-clicked.
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DOGE - Looking Under the Hood Of Government...
David Reavill
 February 06 2025 at 04:49 pm
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My friend Sam always says: "Information wants to be free." By this, he means both without cost and readily available, free access to information. The newly introduced DOGE Department Of Government Efficiency has taken the most significant step in providing the average citizen with a minute-by-minute update on the financial condition of America. It's impossible to overstate the long-term effect this will have on our Government's budgets and spending. Over the past half-century, I've seen this sort of information revolution in the country's financial markets. When I began my career as a Stock Broker in 1972, brokers had a monopoly over the distribution of information. If someone wished to know the current price of their stocks, they had to call a broker. There was no other readily available method (unless one purchased their own stock quote terminal). Later, information would be distributed across the internet via computers and smartphones. By allowing investors a free flow of news and data, investors were assured of the legitimacy of the financial markets. The invested capital of the nation exploded. Consequently, the value of US stocks went from roughly $1 trillion in 1972 to today's $62 trillion. The public was more than willing to invest now that they had the "full picture," the complete and up-to-the-moment news, information, and prospects for the shares they wanted to purchase. When Americans are presented with the whole story, they are more than willing to stand by any company or government entity that is forthright and honest and has the stakeholder's best interest at heart. Today, many citizens have lost confidence in our Government. Taxpayers have watched as trillions are spent on foreign wars, wasteful social experiments, and pseudo-scientific schemes, which, if they ever pay a return, it will be long after our lifetimes. The most recent poll conducted by Pew Research indicated that 24% trusted the Federal Government to "do what's right most of the time, or just about always." Put another way, three-quarters of Americans do NOT feel that the Government will do what's right most of the time. That's an awful indictment of our nation's leaders and the systems and institutions that make up the Government. Aside from outright malfeasance and corruption (improper arrests, immoral conduct, violence, etc.), much of the nation's lack of trust stems from financial mismanagement or pilfering. Today, the nation's debt stands at an incredible $36 Trillion, and if you go to usdebtclock.org, you can watch the amount increase at a dizzying rate, so much so that our debt may have already risen by the time you read this. To rein in these out-of-control expenditures, DOGE, The Department Of Government Efficiency, was created shortly after President Donald Trump's Inauguration. Headed by the multi-billionaire Elon Mush, the Department is tasked with reducing spending and waste. Unfortunately, today's headlines are full of protesting government employees and Representatives who want to maintain the status quo. They need to change. From a purely dispassionate perspective, the country cannot continue to add debt willy-nilly. Further, many in Congress want to retain their control by obscuring how our money is spent. For years, it's been apparent that Congressional and Bureaucratic control hides the financial realities of overspending, ignoring budgets, and, in light of recent DOGE revelations, even outright corruption. We are entering a time when confidential budgets and hidden spending will no longer be permitted. DOGE has swung the doors wide open. The secret recesses of Government expenditures are coming under the watchful eyes of you and me, the American People. And once released, there will be no way to put this genie back in its bottle. Fading fast are the top-secret, black budgets. We will now see what portion of our taxes were spent on some obscure vision for the environment, or to induce social change, or to enrich some faraway country. The budgets of all government agencies, including three letter agencies, will eventually be available for all to see. One of the most innovative aspects of the DOGE's website is the “DOGE Tracker,” an up-to-the-minute report on new savings and un-budgeted spending. As I write this article, over $2 billion has already been recaptured by the new Department (remember, DOGE is only a couple of weeks old). As you would expect, most of these savings have come from USAID, where over $400 million has been cut. Additionally, $100 million in savings has come from the Department of Agriculture and over $50 million from the Department of Health and Human Services—an admirable start by any perspective. These numbers represent savings in this fiscal year, ending September 30, 2025, and a portion of next year, up until July 4, 2026. Finally, one last data point, DOGE, is the first place to show both the amount budgeted versus the amount actually spent for the current fiscal year. This is a critical first step in appreciating how profligate Federal spending has been. For the past many years, Government Agencies and Departments have "blown through" their budget in an effort to spend, and spend, and spend. Now, we, the people, can see up-to-date evidence of the Government's overspending - expenditures that go beyond their Congressional allocation. It will create a revolution in accountability and oversight .Sam, after all, was right. Indeed, information should be free. Even more, the information DOGE is uncovering could end our accursed debt and set us, the people of the United States, free from the hidden and oppressive federal Government's current financial system. Follow me here on ThinkSpot for more stories from the ValueSide.
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The Liberal Way Out of the Discrimination Trap
ShipInDistress
 February 07 2025 at 12:20 pm
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Quota regulations are wrong in many respects. The starting point for the considerations in this article should be the motives of the proponents of such regulations. After all, they certainly have no more evil intentions than we do. A discussion can only take place if we acknowledge this. The call for quotas, summarized under the term DEI, is a central demand of the left. If you follow the train of thought behind this desire, you will encounter a perfectly understandable feeling of injustice. Why, for example, are there fewer women than men on the boards of S&P 500 companies? A monocausal approach is insufficient in this context. Nevertheless, the higher risk of absenteeism among women of childbearing age compared to men is certainly a contributing factor. Our sense of justice rebels at this point. After all, it is not the women's fault that they become pregnant and give birth to children. But what do we actually mean when we talk about justice in this example? The idea behind this seems to be that everything must be possible for everyone. But this idea simply negates reality. Another example. Men under 6 feet are severely underrepresented in the NBA. Is that fair? This example seems to differ from the previous one. After all, the woman who is rejected by a company as a board member due to the risk of pregnancy may otherwise be ideally suited. However, it is precisely this risk that must be taken into account when considering suitability. The company concerned will therefore certainly prefer a man - if he is otherwise equally suitable. The basketball club concerned will usually also prefer a taller player to a shorter one if both can handle the ball equally well. Behind the idea of wanting to make everything possible for everyone is either the desire for absolutely identical starting conditions (the opposite of diversity) or the desire to steer the economy in such a way that everyone has the same opportunities everywhere. From a mathematical point of view, the latter endeavor is doomed to failure. Every person is different, has different prerequisites and characteristics. Assuming there are ten board positions to be filled, it is clear to everyone that we cannot map the distribution of the countless human characteristics anywhere near exactly onto the ten positions. But even if we only allow a limited number of characteristics as criteria, e.g. gender and ethnic origin, the need for equal distribution means that we have to fill positions with people who are less suitable than others. Furthermore, the introduction of a quota for women, for example, means that men are disadvantaged by law simply because they are men. We have not achieved the goal of abolishing discrimination. Rather, we have introduced state-mandated discrimination. This is where the liberal approach, which does not see the task of the state as making everything possible for everyone, but rather placing as few obstacles in the way as possible, proves to be the better one. In more formal terms, according to the liberal view, the task of the state is to establish equal rights for all. As explained above, this is not compatible with an equal distribution of all groups of people, regardless of the criteria used to compile them. Anyone who calls for a legal quota is calling for the abolition of equal rights. The free market, as a self-organizing system of companies fighting for their survival, generally has only one incentive: profit. Any other approach will sooner or later ruin the company in question. For this reason, companies will always discriminate when recruiting new employees. The fact that companies discriminate differently depending on the sector can give cause for hope. An IT company has different requirements for its employees than a modeling agency. A company therefore discriminates according to the only sensible criterion: suitability. After all, hiring the most suitable employees leads to stronger growth in the economy as a whole and thus generates more prosperity. It should be noted that women should by no means be discouraged from pursuing their dream career. In the author's view, the slightly higher risk of absenteeism due to a potential pregnancy is not a particularly significant factor in the recruitment process. On top of this, the situation of almost identically suited applicants who differ only in gender will be rather rare. The main reason for the unequal distribution of women and men in all possible professions is more likely to be a difference in the interests of the sexes. Studies in Scandinavian countries point in this direction (see “gender equality paradox”). In summary, it can be said that the diversity of people ensures that not everyone can enter every profession. Attempts to change this by means of quotas lead to a man-made form of discrimination. In the author's opinion, this in turn carries a much greater potential for social division than the naturally occurring situation, for which no one can ultimately be held responsible. Quota regulations show the true face of left-wing thinking: People are not seen as individuals, but as members (or rather elements) of a group. This dehumanized view of the individual is the real problem of ideology. Even if my mother had experienced disadvantages in her life because she is a woman, I am quite sure that she would not want me to experience them now just because I am a man.

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