If you're gonna do something, commit to it, really fucking hard too. Wanna work out? COMMIT. Want a relationship? COMMIT. Life's not meant for being incomplete because people won't commit to what they want.
@sunnyright Nothing left but a wonderful family, 30 patents, 2 engineering degrees from MIT, a farm with a peach orchard, a herd of Wagyu cattle, a dozen inventions in my head, a clucks capacitor roaming my fields, and investors lined up to back whatever I invent next.
This is actual, literal, undeniable treason. One of the clearest cases in years. Trump DOJ has to prosecute- horrible precedent to let this go unpunished.
Thomas Massie just delivered an urgent call to action:
“Americans are under attack by a German company.”
Bayer-Monsanto.
“People this week should be calling their congressmen … and saying, take the glyphosate immunity out of the Farm Bill.”
“It’s poison.”
“This administration has sided with the German company trying to get immunity from the harm that their products may cause.”
“Chellie Pingree and I … are trying to get them to strip the immunity for glyphosate that they’ve put into the Farm Bill.”
“Bayer’s product has become unprofitable because of the harm that state juries have decided has been caused to people.”
“And there’s something broader though than just glyphosate here.”
“This would set a precedent for every pesticide, every herbicide, every insecticide.”
“It would set a precedent that the EPA doesn’t exist to protect people and the environment.”
“It exists to give get-out-of-court-free cards to corporations.”
@MassieforKY@RepThomasMassie@RealLindellTV
Would you believe 57 Republicans and 211 Democrats recently voted in favor of this Orwellian automobile kill-switch? Here’s the roll call for the vote I forced to defund the mandate: https://t.co/dnPxPHFYie
>Be Noelia Castillo Ramos
>Your parents love you
>They fall on difficult financial times
>You are ripped away from them by the government
>Your grandmother and mom are crying and begging
>They bring 12 police officers to stop any resistance
>You are placed in a “teen shelter” full of muslim migrants
>You aren’t allowed to leave
>The staff treats you like you are worthless
>The muslim teens decide to gang r*pe you
>You think you will get help
>Nobody comes. Nobody listens.
>They rape you again, with even more people this time
>You try to report it
>The women in charge of the shelter are woke liberals
>They refuse to report it to avoid making muslim immigrants look bad
>They won’t do anything
>You try to be happy
>You can’t move on
>You jump from the 5th story of the building
>By the grace of God, you live
>You are injured, but you still have hope
>The state tells you about the option of euthanasia
>You pass it off at first
>The trauma keeps replaying in your brain
>Still, nobody is helping
>You feel hopeless
>Spain is falling
>You decide to do it because you feel worthless
>Your dad fights to keep you alive for years
>He loses in two different liberal courts
>You are scheduled for euthanasia
>The days pass
>You do an interview, which is really a desperate cry for help
>Still, nobody does
>The date gets closer
>They keep you isolated so you have no idea there is so much love and support is outside
>Your best friend desperately tries to get up to talk to you
>She is blocked by doctors who seem to take pleasure in the power they have
>The process begins
>You are alone and probably pretty scared
>You feel like you have no choice
>The sedative sets in
>The last thing you see is a cold, dark hospital room
>The toxin is administered
>Your lungs slowly stop working
>You die in your sleep
>Your abusers still face no consequences
>You become a monument to the failure of a state that was supposed to protect you
Last quarter I rolled out Microsoft Copilot to 4,000 employees.
$30 per seat per month.
$1.4 million annually.
I called it "digital transformation."
The board loved that phrase.
They approved it in eleven minutes.
No one asked what it would actually do.
Including me.
I told everyone it would "10x productivity."
That's not a real number.
But it sounds like one.
HR asked how we'd measure the 10x.
I said we'd "leverage analytics dashboards."
They stopped asking.
Three months later I checked the usage reports.
47 people had opened it.
12 had used it more than once.
One of them was me.
I used it to summarize an email I could have read in 30 seconds.
It took 45 seconds.
Plus the time it took to fix the hallucinations.
But I called it a "pilot success."
Success means the pilot didn't visibly fail.
The CFO asked about ROI.
I showed him a graph.
The graph went up and to the right.
It measured "AI enablement."
I made that metric up.
He nodded approvingly.
We're "AI-enabled" now.
I don't know what that means.
But it's in our investor deck.
A senior developer asked why we didn't use Claude or ChatGPT.
I said we needed "enterprise-grade security."
He asked what that meant.
I said "compliance."
He asked which compliance.
I said "all of them."
He looked skeptical.
I scheduled him for a "career development conversation."
He stopped asking questions.
Microsoft sent a case study team.
They wanted to feature us as a success story.
I told them we "saved 40,000 hours."
I calculated that number by multiplying employees by a number I made up.
They didn't verify it.
They never do.
Now we're on Microsoft's website.
"Global enterprise achieves 40,000 hours of productivity gains with Copilot."
The CEO shared it on LinkedIn.
He got 3,000 likes.
He's never used Copilot.
None of the executives have.
We have an exemption.
"Strategic focus requires minimal digital distraction."
I wrote that policy.
The licenses renew next month.
I'm requesting an expansion.
5,000 more seats.
We haven't used the first 4,000.
But this time we'll "drive adoption."
Adoption means mandatory training.
Training means a 45-minute webinar no one watches.
But completion will be tracked.
Completion is a metric.
Metrics go in dashboards.
Dashboards go in board presentations.
Board presentations get me promoted.
I'll be SVP by Q3.
I still don't know what Copilot does.
But I know what it's for.
It's for showing we're "investing in AI."
Investment means spending.
Spending means commitment.
Commitment means we're serious about the future.
The future is whatever I say it is.
As long as the graph goes up and to the right.
I chose the green door ninety-three days ago.
At the time, it seemed obviously correct. Not even a close call. The red door offered two billion dollars immediately—a sum so large it would solve every material problem I'd ever face, fund any project I could imagine, and still leave enough to give away amounts that would meaningfully change thousands of lives. But two billion is a number. It has a fixed relationship to the economy, to the things money can buy, to the world.
The green door offered one dollar that doubles every day.
I remember standing there, doing the mental math. Day 30: about a billion dollars. Day 40: over a trillion. Day 50: a quadrillion. The red door would be surpassed before the first month ended, and after that, the gap would grow incomprehensibly fast. Choosing the red door would be like choosing a ham sandwich over a genie's lamp because you were hungry right now.
So I walked through the green door.
The first few weeks were unremarkable. I had a dollar, then two, then four. By day ten I had $512, which felt like finding money in an old jacket. By day twenty I had over a million, and I started getting calls from financial advisors I'd never contacted. By day thirty-one I had crossed the two-billion threshold—officially richer than I would have been behind the red door.
I didn't understand what was happening until around day sixty.
The money, you see, had to exist somewhere. Not philosophically—I mean physically. Digitally. When I checked my bank balance, a computer somewhere had to store that number. And storing the number 2^n requires n bits.
One bit per day. That's it. That's the rate at which my fortune's representation grows. A linear function. Almost comically modest.
But here's what I'd failed to understand about exponential growth: the value doesn't care about the representation. The bits grow linearly. The dollars they encode grow exponentially. And dollars make claims on the physical world.
Day sixty. My balance: 2^60 dollars. About 1.15 quintillion. Roughly 1,000 times the entire global GDP. The number itself required only 60 bits to store—less than a tweet, less than this sentence, trivially small from an information-theoretic perspective.
But money is not information. Money is a claim.
The calls started coming from the Treasury Department. Polite, confused, increasingly frantic. They explained that the M2 money supply of the United States was approximately 21 trillion dollars. I now held about 15,000 times that amount. When I tried to spend any of it—even a tiny fraction—the transaction represented a claim on more goods and services than the entire human economy had ever produced in its history.
"The number in your account," a Treasury official said, "is not meaningful."
"It's in your computer," I replied.
"The computer," she said carefully, "does not understand what the number represents."
Day seventy-five. 2^75 dollars. I could purchase—in principle—roughly 350 million copies of the entire Earth's annual economic output. The representation remained elegant: 75 bits. Nine and a half bytes. I could write my net worth on a Post-it note in binary.
But representations aren't wealth. Wealth is factories, farmland, human labor, time, attention, atoms arranged into useful configurations. And I had laid claim to more atoms than existed.
This is where it gets strange.
The global financial system is, at its core, a system of ledgers. Distributed, reconciled, audited. When the Federal Reserve's systems recorded my balance, and Chase's systems recorded my balance, and the IRS's systems recorded my balance, those numbers had to match. And they did match—trivially, easily, using a handful of bytes each.
But then the systems tried to do things with the number.
Calculate taxes owed. Assess systemic risk. Determine what fraction of GDP was held by a single individual. Run inflation models. Price assets in a market that now included a participant with claims exceeding the value of all other claims combined.
Day eighty-two. The S&P 500 became undefined. Not zero, not infinity—undefined. My proportional ownership of the market, if I chose to exercise it, exceeded 100%. The shares I could theoretically purchase outnumbered the shares that existed. Financial models divide by market cap; market cap now included a term that broke the arithmetic.
Day eighty-five. The International Monetary Fund published a paper titled "On the Representability of Post-Scarcity Claims." It concluded that exchange rates could no longer be calculated because the dollar itself had become paradoxical—simultaneously the world's reserve currency and a unit of measurement that had lost all meaning.
My balance on day eighty-five: 2^85 dollars. Still just 85 bits. About ten and a half bytes.
The representation remained trivial. The reality it pointed to had become impossible.
Day ninety. I tried to buy a coffee.
The transaction failed. Not because of insufficient funds, not because of a technical error, but because the payment system could not determine a meaningful exchange rate. My card represented a claim on approximately 10^27 dollars. The coffee cost $4.50. The ratio between these numbers—the percentage of my wealth the coffee would cost—was so small that it rounded to zero in every floating-point system on Earth. I could not pay because the act of payment required representing a number smaller than any computer could distinguish from nothing.
I offered to pay in cash. I had a twenty.
The barista looked at me like I'd offered to pay with a seashell.
"Where did you get physical currency?" she asked.
That's when I realized: I had broken cash too. The Treasury had stopped printing bills three weeks earlier. Why maintain physical currency when one account holder could—at any moment—claim more dollars than had ever been printed in human history? The symbolic relationship between paper and value had always been a polite fiction, but my existence had made the fiction impossible to maintain.
Day ninety-three. Today.
My balance is 2^93 dollars: approximately 10^28. About 10 billion times the estimated value of all assets on Earth. The representation requires 93 bits. Twelve bytes. Smaller than my name.
The economy hasn't collapsed, exactly. People still trade, still work, still produce. But they've stopped using dollars. They've had to. A currency in which one person holds virtually infinite units is not a currency at all—it's a monopoly ticket that everyone has silently agreed to stop playing with.
I keep thinking about what money actually is. It's not the bits. The bits are trivial; they always were. It's not even the paper or the gold or the entries in a ledger. Money is a shared agreement about who has claims on what. A story we tell together about value and exchange and debt.
I broke the story.
Not through violence, not through fraud, not through any action more dramatic than walking through a door and watching a number tick upward. Just by existing. Just by holding a claim that grew faster than the world's ability to honor it.
The red door offered two billion dollars. A large but finite claim. A claim that fit within the story, that could be exchanged and spent and taxed and inherited. A claim the world could accommodate.
The green door offered something else entirely: a claim that would grow until it consumed all other claims, until the very concept of claiming became incoherent.
I still have the 93 bits. They're sitting on a server somewhere, humming along, doubling quietly at midnight. By next week they'll represent more dollars than there are atoms in the observable universe.
And I still can't buy a coffee.
Four shots with our 62gr .223 = four dead hogs.
Fancy calibers and expensive setups are great, but don't for one second think you can't be effective with a sub $1k AR15 shooting basic FMJ ammo.
The operator is as important as the equipment.
Are you training?
I have cosponsored @Rep_Clyde's bill to remove suppressors from the National Firearms Act.
These helpful hearing protection devices aren't regulated at all in countries like New Zealand & South Africa and shouldn't require a $200 tax stamp.
https://t.co/UOGeWaGp22
Last week, we filed an amicus brief with @BruggerThomet, @FRACAction , @sb_tactical , and @SilencerShop for rehearing the 5th Circuit Peterson Case in support of the 2nd Amendment. Find out all the details in this video!
Ok, I wasn't going to comment on Elon Musk and Ashley St. Clair, but I figured I should.
Here are my thoughts on it:
Dexter Taylor is currently serving a ten-year sentence for building his own firearms in New York.
The judge who presided over his case prohibited him and his lawyer from bringing up the Second Amendment during his trial.
ATF and NYPD raided his home and arrested him. He had no prior criminal history.
The state of New York has violated his rights.
Dexter is still fighting for his freedom as well as ours.
Those who value the right to keep and bear arms must continue fighting for him.
BREAKING: 🇺🇸 🇮🇱 Trump’s DOJ forms “anti-Semitism task force” targeting college campuses.
After 249 years of existence, lsraeI has now officially destroyed the 1st Amendment.
Wow.