There’s literally a children’s board game whose whole premise is showing how free market capitalism ends with one person owning everything while everyone else goes bankrupt.

63 New Yorkers have been arrested 5k times for crimes on the subway. 327 New Yorkers were arrested 6k times for shoplifting in 2022. Imagine how much we could increase quality of life in NYC by arresting a tiny population of career criminals

I've never seen a good answer in "abolish prisons" utopianism for these sad, lost souls who will just keep committing crimes until they die.

Thanks for your critique, Janet. We actually tried a couple of episodes where House (Hugh Laurie) (please put the brackets in the right place) gets it right first time, but they were only 6 minutes long. NBC weren’t happy. Then we tried some where House never gets it right and the patient dies. The audience wasn’t happy. One could apply your trenchant analysis to other art forms: JS Bach wrote 30 Goldberg variations on the same chord structure; Frida Kahlo painted 50 portraits of herself; Henry Moore, what?? The point is, or was, variations on a theme; if all you see is hospital, medical blah blah, then it wasn’t meant for you. Nonetheless, I look forward to your first novel!

USA. A potluck. Everyone brings one dish. I have never been so out of my depth in my life. I was invited to a gathering. "Just bring a dish to share," they said. Simple words. I did not sleep for three days. Because I understood instantly what this was. A summit. Every guest, a lord of their own house, arriving bearing tribute. And tribute is judged. Tribute is ranked. To bring the wrong dish to the wrong table is to fall in standing before your peers, possibly forever. So I prepared. I made my finest dish. I carried it to the door with two hands and a straight back, braced for the weighing of my worth. The first lord arrived with a bowl of orange powder noodles. Macaroni and cheese. The crowd roared. He set it down at the center of the table. The CENTER. I noted this. The center is the seat of power. The second lord brought a tower of small brown meat orbs in red sauce. "Meatballs," he announced, like a man laying down a sword. They were placed beside the macaroni. A strong showing. An alliance, perhaps. I studied the table like a battlefield map. Potato salad: defensive, reliable, old money. A vegetable tray, untouched, clearly a hostage offering no one expected to win. And then a woman walked in, raised a flat box overhead, and the entire room turned and CHEERED. Pizza. She had brought pizza. Store-bought. Still in the box. I was stunned. She had not even cooked it. And yet the people rejoiced as if a king had entered. I revised my entire understanding of the hierarchy on the spot. Effort means nothing here. Only the roar of the crowd decides rank. I placed my dish down, humbly, near the napkins. A peasant's position. I accepted it. And then a man tapped my shoulder, pointed at my dish, and said the words that changed everything. "Whoa, did you make this? This is amazing. Everybody, you GOTTA try this guy's thing." The room turned. The room came. The room ATE. My dish vanished in ninety seconds. The pizza woman herself took a second helping and looked at me with respect. I had won the summit. By accident. With a dish I placed by the napkins. I understand nothing about this country. I have never been happier. I am hosting the next one. So tell me, America. Is there a system to the potluck? A secret rank? A hidden law? I have decided there is not. You just bring the thing you love, and everyone eats it, and somehow everybody wins. It is the most insane way to hold a war. I will fight in every single one.

USA. Summer. It is 95 degrees outside, and I am shivering inside a sandwich shop. I have discovered how Americans forge strong souls. Outside, the sun is trying to kill everyone. Inside this small restaurant, it is winter. My breath does not fog, but it is thinking about it. A man near me is eating a cold sandwich while wearing a jacket. In summer. Indoors. In Japan we would simply turn it down. Americans do not turn it down. And now I understand them better than they understand themselves. This cold is not an accident. This cold is a gift. The owner has built, inside his shop, a second season. He invites you in from the brutal heat and hands you the one thing the sun has denied you all day: a reason to be cold. To endure it is to be tempered. You walk in soft and sweating. You walk out sharp and clear, a slightly stronger person than you were. So I did not complain. I removed my outer layer and offered it to the woman at the next table, who was hugging herself. She said, "Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you." She was not fine. Her lips were blue. But she, too, understood the training. She would not break first. I respected her deeply. The owner asked if everything was okay. "It is perfect," I said, through my teeth, which were chattering. "Thank you for the winter." He said, "...I can turn the AC down if you want?" I told him no. A man does not ask the mountain to be shorter. I stayed two hours. I ordered a hot coffee to survive. Then a second one, to hold. By the end I could no longer feel my hands, but my spirit had never been clearer. So now, on the hottest days, I seek out the coldest rooms. I sit. I shiver. I sharpen. And when I finally step back out into the summer heat, and it wraps around me like a warm bath, I feel it. Reborn. A man who has survived the winter, in August, indoors, for the price of a sandwich.

I spent $8,700 on first dates after moving to NY a year and a half ago. Here is what I learned. 50 first dates, 10 second dates, 1 girlfriend (we've been together for 4 months now). All from Hinge. An average of $174 per date. Looking back I could have done a better job at filtering. Goal was always a long term relationship. Best filter was a call before the date (highly recommend that actually). Can save both of you a lot of time. And sets the expectations right. All women were between 25-32. I'm 30 years old. You can definitely find the love of your life on the apps. I spent most of my time in the office so its very hard for me to meet women irl. I'm also not really a bars/club guy. I was looking for a very specific person. Similar cultural/religious background. Just get Hinge pro or whatever its called. Makes it easier to filter and gives you a boost. Kinda hard to say but true. If you are a man below 50% in looks/status or whatever you want to call it you are going to have a hard time. there are just more men than women on the apps (see the report). Set your expectations accordingly. The height thing is true. I'm 6'1 so it was not a problem for me. But heard this complaint from every single guy under 6 feet. Also dating is expensive. Especially in NY. Maybe just do drinks or something. I always did dinners and insisted on paying for them (maybe an egyptian thing). Out of the 50 first dates, I probably liked 20. 10 liked me back. One girl I dated for 3 months but it turned out it was not a long term match. Great girl though! I was very lucky I guess but I never had an awkward experience (definitely more risky for a girl). Actually had some really interesting conversations even if we both knew this would not be a romantic match. kinda weird to say but online dating is a funnel. you have to meet people to figure out what you like and what you dont like. took me around 50 tries to find my current girlfriend. you can see the full report in the tweet below.

watching Indiana Jones for the first time, do archaeologists typically kill this many people?

BREAKING: California will impose a 100% tax on payments distributed from Trump’s Jan. 6th “slush fund.”

If you only count the progressive taxes the U.S. levies, then the U.S. system is quite progressive. But if you also count regressive taxes (payroll taxes, sales taxes, etc), it's not very progressive.