Looking across the blighted landscape of our Republic, it’s impossible to ignore the shattered guard rails and demolished institutions that, not so long ago, hummed very softly as they completed their appointed rounds. Salvation is at hand, though, and it’s coming from the one institution that outranks every other system in the nation.

Capitalism.

Think about that one for a moment. While the left is wailing about billionaires taking over the government and trying to launch a resistance to new tax cuts for the wealthy, capitalism is quietly thwarting the machinations of President Musk and Bobby KJ and even Donnie T. It’s a lot like War of the Worlds, except we’re getting saved by an invisible hand, not the invisible bacteria that’s too tough for Martians.

One of the great things about capitalism is that it’s based on a fundamental human trait: greed. Some people try to overcome their avarice and others don’t, but it’s always operating in the background of everything we do. I know a few people who wonder, “What’s in it for me?” before they decide to inhale and, while they’re in the extreme group, we’re all human after all.

So, how is capitalism about to save all of us from the worst onslaught on our freedoms since, um, ever?
First, pretty much everyone has stopped buying Teslas. Chinese EVs have been outperforming them, sales have plunged across the globe, and the “world’s richest man” is headed for paupertown. The United States, particularly, is a consumer-led economy and consumer tastes can change quickly.

Someone’s going to argue that boycotting Tesla’s is a political rejection of Musk, but it’s dollars, not votes, that will save the day. Consumers, particularly the demographic that has been the biggest source of Tesla’s allure, are very big on what their purchases say about them. They opted to pay a ton extra for a transportation choice that proclaimed their virtue in the global environmental wars. Now that the same vehicle sends a much different message, it’s not worth the extra cost. That’s how capitalism works.

The same applies to the millions mobilized to buy from local merchants instead of Amazon. It’s often more expensive and a bit more trouble to stop at a local store, but the consumer is buying bragging rights. For a few extra bucks, a case of beer becomes a badge of honor and gives us a story to tell about our resistance.

The people running companies might or might not care about DEI or immigration or LGBTQALEWKMLEI+, but they do care about their jobs and their bonuses, so they pay attention when the consumer turns sour. And it’s not just the consumer that’s calling the shots. As some law firms abdicate to the administration, corporate clients can start questioning the commitment those firms will show to them as clients and, in some cases, find new counsel.  No major company is suddenly going to hire a law firm that folds under pressure, but cowering and surrendering is guaranteed to send more than a handful of clients and staff to other resources.

Then we have the issue of economic policies out of the administration. I was going to cite one or two, but they’ll probably change three times while you’re reading this. The upshot, though, is that capitalism thrives on stability. You can’t build a plant with a 100-year life if the rule book gets replaced every week.

After that, there’s global markets. Suddenly, many of our former allies are taking a fresh look at what they buy and, look out below. When Germany decides to spend an extra trillion on defense, but is leery of buying from the United States, and other nations join in the search for alternative vendors, even the military/industrial complex can be brought to tears. Contracts won under the Biden Administration will not be renewed, and many will be canceled, as former allies seek out new suppliers.

One of the best things here is that these upheavals are hitting people who could not be reached otherwise. I know some folks in the business world who really don’t care a lot about citizens getting deported or enemies who are targeted, but they do care about their companies and their money. Capitalism is pushing more than a few to adjust their assessments of the Trump Administration.

One of the really terrible things about capitalism is that it’s soulless. Capitalism responds to money and pursues money’s best applications. Social good and morality and all that other value-based stuff is not a part of the core directive.

In the current situation, though, that soulless nature is going to help save the nation. Not from the top down, of course, but from the bottom up. Capitalism focuses on what works, not what we hope will work, and that emphasis on pragmatism is our best (only?) reason for optimism.
 
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I started this whole blog with the intention of never inserting myself into political discussions, but that was before all the politics were injected into me...

• Back so soon? I’ve never been sold on this whole reincarnation thing, but I’m becoming a true believer. Measles was declared dead a quarter century ago and now, like Lazarus, it’s walking tall again. Can’t wait to see what happens with polio and smallpox and, dare I hope, the Black Death.
  
  
• So far away. Up until now, most people thought of government, especially the federal government, as something distant that did not affect them directly. The Musk Administration is changing that, bringing DC much closer to home. As post offices and Social Security offices and VA hospitals close, the people who rely on those federal agencies will suddenly connect the dots. Ditto for the after-school program or the bus route or the cancer screening that was funded by one of those pork-barrel projects we all love to hate. Suddenly, we’re all getting a lesson in civics, the hard way.
  
  
• We know already. Headlines we don’t need to see, because we already know the story:
  • Trump complains he’s treated unfairly
  • Musk complains he’s treated unfairly
  • ICE deports citizens in botched immigration action
  • Dems divided on response to Trump
  • Musk retweets nazi rant
  • Kanye’s wife appears nude(ish)
  • People dislike taxes
    
    
• No, you be the hero. We expect an awful lot of bravery from other people, especially as our new president (Trump, not Musk) rains vengeance on his enemies. Whether it’s Columbia University or Paul Weiss or the bureaucrat who’s been doxed for resisting DOGE intrusions, we expect them to fight to the death against clearly unjust assaults. The rest of us have given in and we’re bagging our own groceries, but anyone Trump attacks should be made of stronger stuff.
  
  
• Can't trust mom anymore. One more lie my mother told me is that two wrongs don’t make a right. As long as you did something wrong, everything I ever did is better than fine.  Did I release the nuclear codes to Russia? Well, you texted “love you” to someone you just met, so it’s the same thing.
  
  
• Let's not push tooooo hard. Daniel Burnham told us to make no little plans, but that’s all we’ve been doing lately. Eisenhower came up with highways, Kennedy launched the (100% fake staged phony) journey to the moon, Johnson pushed through the Great Society, Nixon created the EPA, and, um, pretty much crickets after that. Is there any vision for achievement that could drive us forward at this point, or are we too focused on zero-sum arguments that progress is our least important product?
  
  
• Having it both ways. Two absolutely consistent statements I’m hearing from my Trumpian friends: “He’s delivering exactly what he promised,” and “You can’t take him literally.” I hear the next Olympics will have a competition for mental gymnastics and the U.S. team is guaranteed gold.
  
  
• By the Booker. I think I’ve used my allotment of Schrodinger analogies for the year, but we cannot know if Congress is in recess or in session. It makes me feel really bad for Cory Booker, who could have spoken for weeks and never delayed any Senate action.
  
  

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Pennies are worth much more than you think and it's tough to find a good example these days. So, what else is new? Read on...

• This whole discussion about getting rid of pennies is monumentally stupid. Yes, it costs more than a cent to mint one, but you’re not using it just once. A penny stays in circulation 20-30 years, which means it gets spent at least 1,000 times during that time without needing to be replaced. It's a lot like a car, which costs more than a rideshare, or like a house, which costs more than a hotel night, or anything else that costs a bunch upfront and then gets used over and over again. Feel better now?
  
• I had a partner who told me nearly every question needs several follow-up questions, because the first answer won’t be what you’re hoping to learn. Very wise, she was, because some guy will tell you he worked on the leadership team at Mayo Clinic and it turns out he organized the coffee runs.
• That last comment was surprisingly challenging and it says a lot about our world. I was trying to think of some big event or major company to connect to my pseudo-executive and all I came up with was names involved in scandals of some sort. Tesla, Facebook, Amazon, NASA, Centers for Disease Control…you name it…it’s nearly impossible to come up with a reference to an organization that isn’t embroiled in some major controversy. Mayo Clinic is still safe, right?
• I’m playing cards with the grandkids and, suddenly, it occurs to me. Not only do I not know the cultural references that they know, but all of them know how to read. I must have blinked when a whole New World opened up for them and, now, nothing is the same.
• There will always be problems we cannot fix and we cannot table every solution until Problem Number 1 gets resolved. I see a ton of people saying we shouldn’t help X group until 100% of Y group is taken care of, but that kind of view makes no sense. No problem will ever be 100% solved for any large group, no matter how much effort and money we throw at it. That’s just not how the world works. We'll can make progress in several areas, but we'll never finish the job, and we just have to accept the reality.
• I used to work with a guy who always introduced himself to all the guests at any company event, including people he had met dozens of times in the past. He was either the most considerate guy I ever met or the most insecure. You can never tell.
  
• I’m finally at peace, more or less, with the expiration dates on pretty much everything I buy. Maybe it was the date on my bottled water that pushed me over the edge, or it could have been the predictions on items with so much acid or alcohol that they would never go bad. Just to be safe, though, I’m not buying anything that expires before 2027.
  
• Have you noticed that paying the bills hasn’t actually gotten much easier over the years? Yes, I can pay online and avoid sending checks in the mail, but there’s always a catch. This company won’t take Zelle or PayPal, these won’t take credit cards, and some websites don’t show payments made within a billing cycle. If I need more information, I have to talk to a bot that refuses to connect me to AGENT!!!! Sometimes, progress isn’t.
  

 
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When someone’s telling you their problems, you should absolutely, positively, NEVER tell them about something similar that happened to you.

When someone’s telling you their problems, you should absolutely, positively, ALWAYS tell them about something similar that happened to you.


Ah, the paradox of emotional support. Connections are great, unless they aren’t, and nobody can know in advance if they’re coming off like an ally or a self-centered, egotistical jerk.

I’ve always been a sharing guy. Someone has a problem and I cannot solve it, but at least I can let them know they aren’t alone and that I have some understanding of their challenges.  I’ll say I had something similar, or essentially the same, and I’ll try to reassure them that they are normal. Then, we’re back to their travail du jour.

Usually, it works. They might ask about what happened to me or how I handled it or whether things improved on their own. They might link it back to the specifics of their issue or the details that make our experiences more or less comparable.

Sometimes, though, it backfires. I’m not telling them they aren’t alone; I’m telling them it’s no big deal. I’m not reassuring them that they’re normal; I’m dismissing them for complaining about a problem that everyone else deals with just fine. AITA? Why, yes, I am.

Maybe it’s like modern sex and I need to ask for consent, or at least have them answer a brief list of questions so I can serve them better as a listener.

1. Please grade my head nodding on a scale of 1-5.
2. Do you have any added comments on my eye contact?
3. Would you recommend me as a listener, 1-10?

I could probably use a disclaimer, although starting a sentence with, “I’m not trying to make this about me,” guarantees that whatever I say next will sound like I’m 100% making it about me. Which is okay, because I have needs, too, and it’s not like they're paying for lunch. N.B.: If they are, in fact, paying for the lunch, I probably shouldn’t make it about me.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, Door Number Two. So, my friend is unburdening himself and leaving himself vulnerable in a world without pity and I’m supposed to leave him hanging? Silence doesn’t have meaning, at least no meaning that anyone can interpret with certainty. Still, he is going to read something into the fact that I am just sitting there, staring at him, earning zero out of 10 on his rating of my eye contact.

Maybe he thinks I am paying rapt attention. Maybe he thinks I am awestruck by the tragedy of his life. Maybe he thinks I’m wishing he’d shut up so I can talk about myself. Whatever he thinks, all we know is that he threw his challenges onto the table and they’re just sitting, waiting for…what?

Sometimes, I’ll offer the insight that their feelings are normal, that they have resources available to them. Sometimes, I’ll ask questions that might lead them to find some answers they’ve never considered. Usually, I’ll offer that they aren’t alone and share a personal tidbit, which will either make them appreciative or irritated.

I never know which it will be in advance. If they pay for the lunch, though, I know I’ve done it right.
 
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Maybe we all benefited from having no televisions in our rooms, and very few in the hotels, but I spent a week in Yellowstone National Park this fall without hearing a single word about the election. On the tour bus, at the restaurant counter, waiting for Old Faithful to erupt, the conversations were as notable for what they didn’t cover as the topics du jour.

Somewhere around day four, I realized I had not heard anyone say Trump or Harris or Vance or Walz or rigged or debate or vote or polls. There was a guy with a Team Trump bumper sticker on his truck, but I think that was from 2020 or 2016 and he didn’t read the phrase out loud for us, so it doesn’t count.

Instead, all the people I met were talking about wildlife and geysers, weather and climate, terrain and flora. None seemed interested in bringing politics into their journey. Maybe they don’t care as much as I’d think EVERYBODY CARES when I drop into the Twitter-verse or open the emails asking me for $3 to save the nation. Maybe they care deeply, but needed a bit of detox as they escaped the hellish battles of partisans for the gift of God’s creation. Maybe they just have better things to think about.

Dunno and don’t care. It was exquisite. Even better, it was a slap in the face, a reminder that I don’t have to travel 1,500 miles to enter a different world. All I need to do is move from one room to another, either figuratively or literally or both.

We all make the choice, every day of our lives, and some choices are more damaging than others. On Twitter, it’s all politics all the time and I can read 100 different explanations about why the same slice of video is the end of Trump or the proof of his apotheosis. Some of the politics has infected LinkedIn, but mostly it’s a million notes about trying harder, working harder, never giving up, and not being a worthless failure. During the Jewish High Holidays, I spent days in a room where all I focused on was my spiritual and moral worthiness.

The thing we forget, or that I certainly ignore, is that we have a million rooms and a million choices. Nobody forces us to focus on just one thing in just one space. Nothing requires that we answer every question with a reference to politicians or a whatabout. None of us is trapped in the misery zone, although we stay much too long by choice.  

What room should I enter today? Which room will any of us choose to inhabit over the next 24 hours…of 24 years? I can choose the room that offers comfort and solace, or fear and pain. Stupidly, I choose the latter much too frequently, forgetting I have the power to move physically or spiritually to more pleasant surroundings.

I hope everyone else is much smarter than I am about the whole thing.
 
 
 

So why do I need to know about Nahor’s concubine anyway?

Every year at this time, I channel my inner rabbi in a fruitless attempt to grasp the wisdom of the ages, and so…

We’re in the middle of the Jewish High Holidays, the Ten Days of Awe that begin with the new year and culminate with us being written—or not—into the Book of Life for the coming year.  I don’t take it all literally, since predestination isn’t really my jam, but I do respect the discipline of considering my (few, tiny, not even worth mentioning) flaws and vowing to do better at least once each year.

The liturgy is the same every year, including the story about Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac until an angel announces at the last moment that God was only kidding about it and he doesn’t have to kill his son after all. (The rabbis used to say Abraham passed the test by being willing to accede to God’s command, but I’ve written before that he really flunked the test big-time and the rabbis got it all wrong.)

Meanwhile, at the end of the story, after all the drama, we find out that Abraham’s brother, Nahor, has been having a swinging time, baby, and both his wife and his concubine have popped out a huge number of kids: an even dozen, if you’re keeping score. Clearly, Abraham and his brother haven’t been in touch over the years, since it takes a long time to produce 12 children, even with two women and no birth control.

Still, you have to wonder why the scribes decided to finish off the big story with the names of Nahor’s children. Most of us would be wondering how Abraham and Isaac reconcile after the whole I-have-to-kill-you thing, or maybe we'd want to know how Sarah’s going to react when Isaac tells mom about his latest camping trip with dad.

Instead, we find out that Abraham’s brother has a wife who gave him eight sons and a concubine who gave birth to three sons and a daughter and they are living happily ever after, or as happy as you can be with no air conditioning or indoor plumbing.  There’s no explanation for including this little family newsletter after all the excitement of the prior tale, but I think I’ve finally figured it out.

No matter what happens in our lives, no matter how important or dramatic or traumatic the situation might be for us, everyone else is going about their business because, well, it’s their business. Even in the most earthshaking times, people have to take care of their own lives, their own families, even their own concubines, before worrying about everything else.

You can be conversing directly with God, getting ready to sacrifice the child your wife waited 90 years to have, finalizing the deal for the Chosen People franchise, but the rest of the world will keep spinning regardless. I can imagine Abraham calling Nahor to say, “Bro, you won’t believe what just happened! God told me to kill Isaac and I was going to do it and…” but then Nahor says, “Can I call you back? My wife and concubine are fighting again and I have to break it up.” And Abraham, who has some experience with wives and concubines not getting along, will have to wait for a return call.

And that’s the lesson I’m taking from the strange ending to our story. Everyone has a life, everyone has their own problems, and it’s a gigantic gift when/if someone drops what they’re doing to help us out. It’s also a gigantic exception, because taking care of our own business is absolutely the norm. Mostly, we’re on our own, fighting our own battles, and oblivious to the challenges haunting the rest of the world. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is fighting their own battles and oblivious to our problems. We have no right to expect any help from anyone else, whatever someone does for us is 100% a blessing.

It's not the most surprising lesson I’ve encountered, the idea that everyone else has their own lives and their own problems and they don’t owe us anything. Still, some of us do need a reminder every now and then.