Platner blames "large forces" and "corporate media" for the allegations against him. But ultimately, he is ending his campaign. (video is 11 min (!!) long).
Westside creative capital runs on focus + ritual. Today's [playlist/coffee]
Now Spinning: [Group Chat] 🎧☕
[vibes]
Use case: [90-min deep work / Sunday reset / creative sprint]
Sunday morning protocol:
1. Grind fresh Arabica
2. First cup before the phone
3. Press play on this week's Rue de Vivre set
Coffee is discipline. The playlist is the pace.
Somewhere in your pro forma is a yellow-highlighted cell that says "3% annual increase." Let's have a moment of silence for it. https://t.co/Fmh9UTma1t
The Low-Mileage Lie: How I Talked Myself Into a Lemon
I remember the day. The lease was almost up, we were about to throw ourselves into opening a coffee business, and I needed the car situation handled so I could stop thinking about it.
The car I had was a 335-horsepower machine, and it was fantastic. Genuinely. But we needed an SUV — more room, more practical, the kind of vehicle that fits the life you're about to build, not the one you're leaving. So we searched. And it was not an easy search. Anyone who has hunted for a specific used SUV knows the feeling: too many compromises, too many "almosts," nothing that's actually the thing.
Then one day, the car appeared.
It was more powerful than the newer, faster version. Fully loaded. Every box checked. And the mileage was ridiculously low — the kind of number that makes you sit up. We told ourselves a story to explain it, the way buyers always do. The previous owner had a few cars, we figured. This one just sat in the garage. We weren't getting a used car, we were getting a barely-touched one. We were getting a great offer.
So we moved aggressively. Put four new tires on it. Drove it off feeling like we'd won.
And for a little while, we had. It was powerful. It was fast. It was everything the listing promised.
Then came the first engine light.
Then the second.
Then it failed SMOG, and I panicked — because a coffee business doesn't wait while you sort out a car. They took it in, charged me a few thousand dollars, and handed it back declared fixed. And the way they handed it back is the part that stays with me. It wasn't "sorry for the trouble." It was delivered in a tone where I was supposed to be grateful. I hadn't seen the bulletin. I didn't ask the right questions. The chain of who-knew-what, upstairs to upstairs, was murky enough that I couldn't find the floor to stand on. So I paid, I thanked them, and I drove off.
Then came the third engine light.