The Inner Monologue

There is something almost theatrical about American health insurance. It dresses itself in the language of markets and choice, yet performs more like a state religion—complete with tithes, rituals, and a priesthood of billing specialists. The smallest of its rituals is the copay: that tiny offering we drop into the coffer each time we step…

There is a special kind of driver who believes they are the master of the road, confident in their knowledge, certain of their skill, and unshakable in their belief that all circular intersections are the same. These are the people who still call a modern roundabout a “traffic circle.” Bless their hearts. They are the…

Welcome to adulthood, where everyone’s screaming “follow your passion!” while quietly drowning in student debt. You’ve been fed lies like “hard work always pays off” (lol) and “just be yourself!” (unless “yourself” is bad at Excel). Newsflash: Success in your 20s isn’t about luck or vibes—it’s about playing the game better than the clueless NPCs…

Ah, the age-old debate: Is Chris Stapleton better than Bob Seger? Or, as I like to call it, How to Get Uninvited from Thanksgiving Dinner in One Easy Conversation. Let’s settle this once and for all—or at least give you enough ammunition to annoy your uncle at the next family gathering. Round 1: The Voices…

There’s a certain kind of lawsuit that isn’t filed to win. It’s filed to hurt, to scare, and to shut people up.It’s called a SLAPP — short for Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation. And in many ways, it’s one of the quietest but most effective weapons against democracy ever invented. 🏡 A Story About a…

It is a dangerous myth that totalitarianism always announces itself with jackboots and banners. In modern America, the rise of control comes not as a coup but as a convenience — each new rule, each new restriction, each new normalization sold as protection, patriotism, or progress. The founding fathers feared tyranny; the modern citizen often…

There are roughly eight billion people on this planet, and most of them live in households—billions of homes, each with walls that hold a story. Think about that for a moment. Every apartment window glowing at night, every porch light, every shack, condo, farmhouse, and tent is a little universe of drama, joy, sorrow, routine,…

There’s a curious phenomenon among the powerful — a generational dilution of virtue. The founders, the builders, the titans who clawed their way to prominence, often possessed a blend of vision, ruthlessness, and charisma that made their success at least somewhat comprehensible. You could respect them, even if you didn’t like them. But then come…

There’s a moment—somewhere between the latest invasion, the newest sanctions, and the twelfth emergency summit in a single month—when you realize that geopolitics has become less “game of chess” and more “children fighting over a crayon box during nap time.” The stakes are high, the rhetoric is grand, and yet the whole performance feels weirdly…