I have 4,000 dollars to my name at 33 and I want to walk you through why that makes me richer than my father ever was.
My father saved. My father saved his entire life, contributed to the 401k, matched the match, read the prospectus, and he retired, and he is, right now, anxious about money in a paid-off house, rationing a number he spent 40 years afraid to enjoy. He won the game and he is still scared. I have looked at that, clearly, with the eyes of my generation, and I have decided not to play a game whose winners look like that.
They have a name for it now. Soft saving. Doom spending. The economists say it like a diagnosis, like we are sick, like the reason we are not saving is a character flaw and not the spreadsheet. 56 million workers do not even have a retirement plan at work. 31 percent of people think they are on track, which means 69 percent of an entire country has quietly concluded the same thing I have, except I am the only one brave enough to be at peace with it.
Here is the math they do not want you to do. If I save aggressively, I can retire, frightened, at 70, into a world that the same economists tell me will be on fire and run by AI. Or I can decline the deal. I can take the money I would have put in an account I cannot touch for 37 years and I can put it into now, which is the only fund with a guaranteed payout, because now is the only thing I am certain to live to spend.
I buy an 11 dollar oat-milk matcha every single morning. The personal finance men online tell me this is why I am poor. 11 dollars times 365 times 40 years, compounded, is apparently a house. I have run that number, and my response to it is simple: I would rather have the matcha. The house they are describing is a house I get at 70, theoretically, if the market cooperates, if I do not get sick, if the world holds together. The matcha I get at 8am. I have chosen the asset that exists.
I have 4,000 dollars in a high-yield savings account and I call it my forever fund, which is a joke, but it is the kind of joke you tell so you do not have to feel the thing under it, and the thing under it is that 4,000 dollars is not the beginning of safety, it is the entire ceiling of it, and I have decided that since I cannot build the wall, I am not going to spend my one life carrying bricks toward a wall I will never finish. I am going to sit in the sun, with the matcha, in front of the unbuilt wall, and call the sitting wisdom.
I financed Coachella. 6 installments. The app let me split it, which the personal finance men also hate, but the personal finance men have never stood in a field at golden hour feeling, for one weekend, like the future was a rumor and not a sentence. That weekend cost me 1,100 dollars I will be paying off into the fall, and I have decided it was the single best allocation of capital I have ever made, because it bought a memory, and a memory is the only investment that pays out immediately and cannot be clawed back by a market correction.
My mother mails me articles. Physical articles, printed, about the magic of compound interest, about how if I had started at 22, and I read them, and I love her, and she is describing a religion whose god I have personally watched fail to show up for my entire adult life. Compound interest assumes a stable 40 years. I have not seen a stable 40 months. She is preparing me for a world that ended before I was old enough to inherit it.
I downloaded a budgeting app. I deleted it on day 3. It showed me a chart of my life as a series of failures to subtract, and I realized that the app was not going to make me richer, it was just going to make me ashamed in higher resolution, and I have enough shame at standard resolution, so I deleted it, for my peace, and protecting my peace is the only retirement plan that vests daily.
They call it doom spending. I call it refusing to defer a life to a future that keeps getting repossessed.
I have 4,000 dollars. I am 33. The matcha was excellent this morning. My mother's latest article is on the counter, unopened, next to a Coachella wristband I have not cut off because cutting it off feels like admitting the weekend is over.
And honestly, everyone in my group chat is talking about how the only real way out now is to just go all in on one asymmetric bet, one coin, one stock, one moonshot, because slow money is dead and the only wealth left is sudden, and I have been looking at a few, and I think I see one, and I think, for once, I am early.
I have never felt more free.
I have 4,000 dollars to my name at 33 and I want to walk you through why that makes me richer than my father ever was.
My father saved. My father saved his entire life, contributed to the 401k, matched the match, read the prospectus, and he retired, and he is, right now, anxious about money in a paid-off house, rationing a number he spent 40 years afraid to enjoy. He won the game and he is still scared. I have looked at that, clearly, with the eyes of my generation, and I have decided not to play a game whose winners look like that.
They have a name for it now. Soft saving. Doom spending. The economists say it like a diagnosis, like we are sick, like the reason we are not saving is a character flaw and not the spreadsheet. 56 million workers do not even have a retirement plan at work. 31 percent of people think they are on track, which means 69 percent of an entire country has quietly concluded the same thing I have, except I am the only one brave enough to be at peace with it.
Here is the math they do not want you to do. If I save aggressively, I can retire, frightened, at 70, into a world that the same economists tell me will be on fire and run by AI. Or I can decline the deal. I can take the money I would have put in an account I cannot touch for 37 years and I can put it into now, which is the only fund with a guaranteed payout, because now is the only thing I am certain to live to spend.
I buy an 11 dollar oat-milk matcha every single morning. The personal finance men online tell me this is why I am poor. 11 dollars times 365 times 40 years, compounded, is apparently a house. I have run that number, and my response to it is simple: I would rather have the matcha. The house they are describing is a house I get at 70, theoretically, if the market cooperates, if I do not get sick, if the world holds together. The matcha I get at 8am. I have chosen the asset that exists.
I have 4,000 dollars in a high-yield savings account and I call it my forever fund, which is a joke, but it is the kind of joke you tell so you do not have to feel the thing under it, and the thing under it is that 4,000 dollars is not the beginning of safety, it is the entire ceiling of it, and I have decided that since I cannot build the wall, I am not going to spend my one life carrying bricks toward a wall I will never finish. I am going to sit in the sun, with the matcha, in front of the unbuilt wall, and call the sitting wisdom.
I financed Coachella. 6 installments. The app let me split it, which the personal finance men also hate, but the personal finance men have never stood in a field at golden hour feeling, for one weekend, like the future was a rumor and not a sentence. That weekend cost me 1,100 dollars I will be paying off into the fall, and I have decided it was the single best allocation of capital I have ever made, because it bought a memory, and a memory is the only investment that pays out immediately and cannot be clawed back by a market correction.
My mother mails me articles. Physical articles, printed, about the magic of compound interest, about how if I had started at 22, and I read them, and I love her, and she is describing a religion whose god I have personally watched fail to show up for my entire adult life. Compound interest assumes a stable 40 years. I have not seen a stable 40 months. She is preparing me for a world that ended before I was old enough to inherit it.
I downloaded a budgeting app. I deleted it on day 3. It showed me a chart of my life as a series of failures to subtract, and I realized that the app was not going to make me richer, it was just going to make me ashamed in higher resolution, and I have enough shame at standard resolution, so I deleted it, for my peace, and protecting my peace is the only retirement plan that vests daily.
They call it doom spending. I call it refusing to defer a life to a future that keeps getting repossessed.
I have 4,000 dollars. I am 33. The matcha was excellent this morning. My mother's latest article is on the counter, unopened, next to a Coachella wristband I have not cut off because cutting it off feels like admitting the weekend is over.
And honestly, everyone in my group chat is talking about how the only real way out now is to just go all in on one asymmetric bet, one coin, one stock, one moonshot, because slow money is dead and the only wealth left is sudden, and I have been looking at a few, and I think I see one, and I think, for once, I am early.
I have never felt more free.
My latest for Bloomberg: "We are about to see the Great Clean Energy Acceleration 2.0 – a discontinuity in energy markets as profound as the oil shocks of the 1970s, and one that could bring forward peak fossil fuel use and emissions to this side of 2030." https://t.co/857eRwNea3
The IRGC-affiliated Fars News Agency reported that U.S. officials involved in the negotiations sent indirect messages to the Iranian side through intermediaries urging them to “ignore Trump’s tweets,” saying his public statements are “purely for domestic and media consumption” and that “his position at the negotiation table is completely different.”
A source told Fars that Trump “has realized that Iran is not one to give concessions” and sends word through intermediaries that his statements “should not be paid attention to.”
Just one day after ending "The Late Show" on CBS, Stephen Colbert returned to TV — to host a public access show with rocker Jack White in Monroe, Michigan.
Appearances by Jeff Daniels, Eminem and Steve Buscemi.
The economic hit man system rose after Vietnam.
We could no longer claim to spread democracy through war, so we turned to economics instead: debt, contracts, resource control.
This Memorial Day, I’m thinking about what democracy requires of us now.
Solární energie je nejrychleji rostoucím zdrojem energie v lidské historii.
Její růst je tak bezprecedentní, že to rok za rokem šokuje energetické experty.
A také trhá jejich predikce.
Předpov��ď IEA z roku 2015 byla překonána 19x.
World Energy Outlook od IEA vs skutečnost:
I'm being left behind by the AI revolution in the same way I was left behind when Heaven's Gate ascended to join the spaceship that was hiding behind a comet.
The question is never asked directly, so let me ask it directly:
If you live in the country that dropped more bombs than all of World War II on a nation of farmers, and you voted in every election, and you paid your taxes, and you consumed the economy those taxes and that voting sustained, and you watched the news that told you this was complicated...
What is your relationship to what was done?
Not your government's relationship.
Yours.
Not in the sense of personal guilt for actions you didn't take.
In the sense of membership.
Participation.
Benefit.
The roads you drove on were funded partly by an economy structured by the same foreign policy that dropped those bombs.
The currency in your wallet holds its value partly because of the system those bombs enforced.
This is not a rhetorical trap.
It is a real question about what citizenship means and what it obligates.
The reason it is almost never asked in American public life is that to ask it seriously would require an answer.
And the answer, taken seriously, would require something.
Much easier to keep it complicated.
Much easier to keep it about the government.
The government is over there.
You are over here.
That distance is the most important thing the empire ever gave you.
Guard it and you can feel clean forever.
My balcony solar bill, the SUNNY Act, just passed the energy committee!
We can pass this bill to lower utility bills, reduce emissions & expand New Yorkers’ access to solar energy. It pases the Senate unanimously last month.
The Assembly has 4 weeks to get it through. Let’s go!