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@nomdemetier
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
My incredibly bleak philosophy of compassion is that we should all pity each other horribly and practice an according amount of kindness.
I asked for a pastry at the coffee shop. When I raised my card up to pay, he simply said "you're good." and waved it away. I wondered why. I wondered what made him think I deserved to have my order be free. Sparing me those two dollars.
Sitting down at the table, I remembered the scars on my arm. The universal signifier of "This Kid Needs Help." Maybe his kindness was only out of pity. He saw those and assumed there was some great misery and wanted to offer me some relief. It's generally good to be kind to people who are hurting. But I wasn't hurting that bad.
The thing is, there is some great misery. People generally aren't doing that great. There is a great misery within me and within him and within everyone, and some people notice the pain, some people express it, others don't. But we all suffer from something.
It doesn't matter if someone seems to deserve some relief. Everyone needs it. Everyone is suffering constantly. Some more than others, but still. This Kid Needs Help applies to everyone.
Thirty minutes later, I went to get a second pastry, intending to pay and leave a tip this time. It was the same cashier. As he reached to grab it for me, I saw scars on his arm.
But it doesn't really matter. He'd deserve a tip anyway. Because it's never just us hurting.
dog water
Me too, buddy. Meeeee toooooo
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TW: Body image talk and everything that comes with it. The difference between hot and sexy is that one looks good but is impractical, while the other can look rough but is practical. I’m gonna come back to this in a moment, but first, a story:
When I returned home from my mission, I had gone from being 6’2” and 145 lbs to being 6’2” and 220 lbs. It turns out that I loved Mexican food, and, without other healthier outlets for my feelings, I ate to console myself and destress after what was, essentially, a 14-hour workday. This was fine to me while in the field because my heft was useful - I could help people carry heavy things, I could protect myself from dangerous companions, and I had enough energy to work. In truth, even at my heaviest I could still walk for miles and miles and miles without stopping. I could still proselyte for hours without needing more than a few minutes to rest every now and then. But when I came home, I came home to a family of insanely passionate athletes with thyroid disorders. My dad used to run thousands of miles a year. He does Jiu Jitsu and boxing weekly and lifts weights often. My mom runs marathons. I had a cousin who could slow his heart rate to like 30 BPM while sitting because he ran so far and so much. And even though I had actually gained a bit more physical ability, I felt ashamed and uncomfortable. I kept saying I wanted to lose weight, I kept trying diets that I’d give up on after a week, or getting into some kind of sport, or even just the good ol’ fashioned “counting calories,” but I never seemed to be able to make it stick, and it bothered me. Or at least, I thought it did, until one day I was talking to my brother, @inbabylontheywept, and I told him the same thing I’d been saying for over a year: “I want to lose weight!” And despite typically having the emotional wherewithal of a recently microwaved guinea pig, I was met with the mind blowing response of “No you don’t. If you did, you’d have done it already. You just want to want to lose weight.”
And I sat on that for a bit, partially because I was not yet accustomed to my baby brother being so wise, but partially because it left me with the huge, lingering question: “What do I want?” At the time, I think what I wanted was to fit in with the familial norm, but when I actually thought about it I actually kinda already did. My parents are extremely body positive, and had never pressured me or asked me to lose weight. In fact, my dad even expressed some jealousy about how easy it was for me to bulk up. I wanted to fit in to an idea I had, but as soon as I let go of that idea, that image, I found I was actually pretty happy with where I was at, in part because it served me. And this is what lies at the core of sexy vs hot, at least in my definition of these terms: sexy is practical, it’s tangible, and it can be imperfect in appearance and still do what it needs to do. Hot, on the other hand, only requires that something look or sound good, nice, or appealing. Hot can get us approval from others, since we like to praise things that look good, but hot does not always serve us. In fact, sometimes hotness actually demands we serve it.
For example: a man who makes $50k/year and can do so every year is sexy. Not always fun to look at - there may be nights spent in the office, days where he comes home dirty or stinky, times where work is stressful, but he can DO something. A millionaire with no life skills is hot. Fun to look at, but not really fun to be a part of. A man with a huge penis, massive muscles, and no care for a partner’s sexual pleasure can be hot, but not sexy. You don’t get anything from it in practice, just in theory. A man with a small penis, weak muscles, and a tongue that can make you forget human speech is sexy. You can get something real from it, and you can get it reliably.
A political theory that seems idyllic, but which cannot be practically implemented, is hot but not sexy. Trickle down economics, for example, is hot. It sounds good - a handful of people pay fewer taxes and instead use that money to fulfill a civic duty to provide for their community. Practically, though, it means Jeff Bezos pays less in taxes than a nurse or a teacher. It’s hot, but useless.
Food stamps, on the other hand, are sexy. They provide people with a real tangible benefit. While someday, sometime, Zuckerberg may decide to spend his billions to buy farms that produce free food for everyone, or Musk may decide to end homelessness, in reality giving them this much control over societal resources is impractical. Worse still, it puts us at the mercy of someone who has, to date, never done more than cause a problem. Is it hot to think of being rescued by someone who puts all the work in on our behalf? Yes! Will it happen? Not anytime soon. Food stamps, however, are tangible. They put food on your table while your wife recovers from childbirth, they feed your neighbor while he looks for a new job, they feed the medical student who will one day save the life of someone you love and care about. But it requires acknowledging the ugly truth that we cannot simply trust people to act in the benefit of society, that we have to take steps to make it happen.
Is paying for food - a universal human need - fun to think about? No, obviously not. Is struggling through hard times on limited government assistance the goal? Not really, no. But does it have a tangible effect on people’s lives? Yeah, yeah duh. So it’s sexy.
Differentiating between hot and sexy is crucial to most people’s functioning. Putting a 12x magnification scope on a Ruger 10/22 is hot, but putting a red dot scope on it is better for such a short-range gun, so it’s sexy. The sports car that costs $100k and requires another $25k/year in maintenance may seem nice, but the ability to reliably drive a used $10k car is sexy. Picking a prestigious career path is hot, but if you fucking hate it then it is not sexy because it won’t work for you. Instead, you have to work for it.
People pleasing, compulsions, avoidance, procrastination, are all hot. They give you something in return for your effort, but they give you little in comparison to the effort. Setting boundaries, resisting a compulsion, and doing the thing now instead of later, is sexy. It’s dirty, it’s messy, it doesn’t always look clean and neat and effortless, but it gives you a practical, tangible benefit. The benefit of delaying homework is temporary and usually impractical - it’s hot. The benefit of doing homework is lasting and usually practical - it’s sexy.
It’s also important to remember that some things can be both. Being able to bench 300 lbs and run 5 miles makes it easier to carry groceries, lift heavy objects at work, and fuck the bad thoughts out of your partner’s head? That can be hot and sexy. Being able to make a nice, hot meal that gives you energy and nutrition? That can be hot and sexy. But never let it be forgotten that sexy does not have to be hot - only functional. Is keeping your meds on the counter for guests to see hot? Not to most people. But if it helps you remember to take them, then it’s sexy, and that’s what matters most.
This is, at face level, a bizarre rant, but hear me out: So many people judge themselves for not being hot, and don’t give themselves credit for being sexy. If you feel that your body isn’t *hot,* please ask yourself what it can do. The thin lips that kiss your lover good morning? Sexy. The patchy beard that absorbs your friend’s tears? Sexy. The hairy legs that carry you through life? Sexy. The belly that digests the food that gives you energy? Sexy.
This works for other things about the body too. The wheelchair that gets you to your friend’s house? Sexy. The headphones that let you go to the mall without having a sensory meltdown? Sexy. The CPAP machine that lets you sleep through the night so you have energy in the morning? Sexy.
Even in a more abstract sense, it still works. The stigmatized job that pays your bills? Sexy. The extra semester you take to make it easier to pass a challenging class? Sexy. The cheap beat-up car you use to go from your job to your home? Sexy. The decision to change your major to something more enjoyable and sustainable for you? Sexy. Asking a friend for help? Sexy. Telling your neighbor to turn down the TV volume that’s been keeping you up at night? Sexy. Proposing with a ring you can afford instead of paying for the expensive (and hot) diamonds? That’s sexy too.
I’m not trying to convince anyone to love something they hate. And I certainly don’t want anyone to walk away from this with the idea that some simple platitudes can take away the entire crushing weight of judgement and mockery from others. I’m only asking that you ask yourself what you gain by changing your life for the benefit of looking better to someone who will never spend a day in your skin. I’m asking you to consider if the cost of making your appearance more appealing is worth the opportunity cost. If it is, fine, great, you’ve done a full analysis of things and still know what you want, but if it doesn’t, then ask yourself: WTF? What’s the function? If the function is insufficient to compensate for the cost, then do you ever really want to do it? Or do you just wish you wanted to do it? If you let go of the belief that you have to do things in a way that looks good, aesthetic, or clean, what are you left with? And is it worth it? Terry Pratchett said it well when he wrote that style is what people remember. We want things to look hot. But he also put it well when he said society is just two missed meals and a bad night’s sleep away from falling apart. We NEED things to be practical, to be reliable, to be sexy.
I know there has to be a better way for me to have said this. I’m even reasonably certain that someone, somewhere, has already said it better. But I also wanted to share ideas, questions, and skills that could make a real impact in your own lives. I wanted to invite people to reflect on what they really want to have, to possess, to sink their fingers into. Because when the lights are off and the crowds are gone, you’re left with what you have, what you really, tangibly, practically have, not just what it looks like you have to someone else. That is the difference between an ugly truth and a pretty lie. It’s the difference between a savior and a whited sepulcher. It’s the difference between an empty mansion and a full home. I wish this post was hotter, I really do, but if it gets the point across now then it’s sexy and I am OK with that. For those reading this, I hope that, if nothing else, this gives you something to think about, and if I’m being honest with myself I hope it helps you give yourself permission to let your life work for you instead of having to work for it.
Be gayer, be kinder - to yourselves and each other, pay attention to how you feel about yourself, not just how you feel about the reactions of others, read more Terry Pratchett, say hello to your neighbors, and remember that you have value beyond appearance.
The finale of Counter/WEIGHT is a really bleak and ambitious piece of storytelling, of the type that could only be done within a TTRPG campaign. The GM says: there is a way to defeat the main villain, but there’s no secret weakness, no superweapon, no shortcut. All you need to do is fight it long enough and hard enough, and you will win. It can be done.
The way this works in terms of game mechanics is that as a player, you get points for sacrificing non-player-character allies, and extra points for sacrificing your own player character. Get enough points and save the world. It is played out slowly, one by one by one. Every time it happens, the player, and the player character is given a choice: save this character, sacrificing a chance at victory, or let the character die, and get a point. These are characters we know and love and have followed for months, funny sad bold brave complex people. Most of them die. And that’s all it takes: warm human bodies, real human lives fed into a meatgrinder. It’s worth it. It’s incredibly sad, and it’s worth it. Despite being weird wobbly cyberpunk space opera shit, it’s one of the most meaningful explorations I’ve seen of the concept of a just war, except for some of the harshest passages in Marylinne Robinson’s Gilead about the American Civil War.
is a divine a god or just a machine? well, yes. but gods can be killed (insert le guin quote about the divine right of kings). it is a physical thing (wouldn’t it be beautiful, if we had a rigor, something we could just hit enough times and eventually it would be dead?)
but of course that’s not the end of it.
and this became what twilight mirage was about. the work is never over. to do it you have to do it.
Nishimoto Ryota
a piece of wood carved to fit perfectly into a zippered plastic bag
When it comes to understanding migration, this needs to be taken into account: if you are in a rural area in the global south, like Honduras, you have basically no access to social services, medicine, and education. In fact, the funding for those services is actually being cut, as the social security funds have been looted by corrupt politicans appointed by a military coup. Then you have to factor in that you likely have no access to the land, and no access to credit to buy seeds, and have to sell yourself for basically pennies to an agroindustrial giant. The peasants feed the local people; the agroindustries feed the Americans. In Guatamala, there is a neo-corporate fuedalism where you are allowed a patch of land if you are willing to work, unpaid, for coffee plantations which sell their produce to the German company Ritz. If you attempt to settle unoccupied land, a local businessman will claim it is his without any proof, and the police will take his side because the Agrarian Reform Institute, which issues land titles, is controlled by coupists whose main concern is squeezing as much wealth out of the country as possible. Thugs will murder a man and his wife in broad daylight, and the judge will respond by evicting you and your family from the land.
There is nowhere else for you to go but Tegucigalpa, where you can work trying to wash car windows or selling snacks to passing cars for a handful of lempira a day. Or perhaps you could work for a few dollars a day in one of the maquila factories making textiles for the American and European market, which are set up in special economic zones called Charter Cities where the constitution and labour laws do not apply, which can close down and spirit away whenever they like to another country when they are more willing to sell their people for even less. And then you have to factor in the hurricanes that sweep through the country, destroying everything, that the rains no longer come when they used to but when they do they come in flooding torrents. Much of the north of Honduras is currently underwater; most of the banana and coffee plantations have been destroyed.
And then you factor in when you tried to change this via electing a better government in 2006, he was overthrown in 2009; when you tried to get organised and resist the coup, your friends, your loved ones, your trade union leaders and peasant resisters all turned up mysteriously dead while the military and police worked with drug gangs disguised as agribusiness like the Dinant coproration to burn down villages that opposed them. For trying to change things in the way that you were supposed to, through non violently protesting, organising, and voting for something better, you were subjected to a decade of counterrevolutionary terror and violence that the “international community” not only ignored but gave its active approval to. All of the factors listed above have not only been ongoing for the last 10 years, they’ve been intensified, hothoused by the global counterrevolutionary terror that was the response to the 2011 wave of post-financial crisis uprisings and revolutions and accelerating climate apocalypse.
And at the same time, all of this is being done so more of the country can be turned into a massive cash cow for the benefit of foreign corporations and domestic oligarchs. The wealth of your country is siphoned off and flows around the American and European financial system, benefiting them and building a consumer disneyland that looks like paradise compared to your situation. That could, even if you are worked for nothing, give you a few dollars to send home that could build your abuela in the countryside a nice home for her to live out her days. What other option is left for you and your family other than joining the exodus of people heading north, to the countries where the wealth and profits and rewards of your homeland’s suffering are being kept. And after you cross mountains and rivers which freeze you to death and sweep you away, you are faced with a massive border wall of ahte and soldiers on horses which hit you with sticks. You are faced with an immigration detention centre that will chain you to your bed while you give birth and separate you from your baby who will be given away for adoption to a white couple. When you make a charge against the border fence in Melilla, fed up with being kept in shacks with nothing while the Northerners debate what to do about the problem people their greed has forced to move, the Moroccan police will beat 35 of you to death.
And then when you get there to that golden paradise, you end up doing work not dissimilar to the work you were doing back home, working for pennies (though pennies that are valuable enough back home to buy the family that remain the tiniest slice of comfort) for an agroindustrial giant that supplies supermarkets with cheap produce picked by cheaper people. While you work in the fields, a crop duster plane will spray you with paraquat; when support organisations try to raise this with OSHA they will ask for the plane’s number, and when this can’t be provided they will say nothing can be done. In fact, inspectors are ordered to stay away from the plantations on the Texas border. A member of the Border Agricultural Workers Project says she hasn’t seen a normal child born on the border in 20 years, such is the effect of agrichemicals. If you fuck up in the slightest, have any interaction with the state, you will be deported and sent back to square one. There are a 14 million migrants in the US in the same precarious state, effectively without any way of enforcing their rights. My aunt is a Mexican migrant in California. Her son was deported because he got a speeding ticket. It was 15 years before she saw him again, other than through the bars of the border fence, when she finally got her green card.
The situation in Honduras can be repeated for almost any other country. Syria, Venezuela, Iraq, South Sudan, Libya, all the headline countries are countries that have been subjected to a severe counterrevolutionary terror. The processes of dispossession and destruction of peasant economies and communities (primitive accumulation to use the Marxist jargon) have been hothoused over the last decade by war and violence. I just wish that relatively comfortable people in the imperialist countries realised that the “migrant crisis” is the result of policies that their governments forced on others. Violence that their elites made their fortunes off. What a monstrous, barbarous way of life we have.
i always mean it when i say i love you btw
‘but thats a stranger you dont know’ and i love them. i love that they exist and i love that they passed through my life. and i love u too btw
reblog to tell your mutuals you love them for existing
Del Monte Foods shuttered its Modesto and Hughson cannery plants in April.
Bought my uncle a burger and milkshake in exchange for letting me disrupt the holiest day of the week, NFL Sunday Football, so I could install a Pi-hole and free the household of ads...the thing abt the specific boomers I live with is they told me not to trust people on the Internet but they do not understand the algorithm or online advertising and think that Facebook has their best interests at heart. And every time I have tried to explain to them that no, blorbo from my dashboard is not selling my kidneys on the dark web but Google from your capitalism is definitely selling your web searches to every advertising company on the planet, they think I am paranoid. How could their personal friend Mark Zuckerberg want anything bad to happen to them etc. I am fighting battles I did not know existed!!!
Update I have had Pi-Hole successfully installed for two (2) hours and have since learned that 40% of the web traffic in this household went to advertisements. FORTY FUCKING PERCENT. We live in hell. This is the greatest gift I have ever given my family that they will not understand or acknowledge or feel any gratitude for.
Update #2: it was rising all night but the number it finally settled on was...60%. 60% of the web traffic in this household went to advertisements. I can't tell if this high number is bc I live in Silicon Valley and probably am subject to the Algorithmic Internet in ways people outside of Silicon Valley are not or it is normal to have 2/3rds of your web traffic be ads, but it did make me set up a recurring donation of the EFF lmfao.
Okay I have had multiple people ask, so here are the useful websites that me and Beryl used to muddle our way through:
Using Pi-hole and Raspberry Pi (on the Raspberry Pi website, really good overview of what Pi-hole does)
Tumblr-archived Twitter thread about one household's experience with Pi-hole (this is what sold me on it. Also the tweets were published in 2022 and Pi-hole is actively being developed, so I think some of the teething problems he mentioned might have cleared up or are at least being addressed.)
Pi-hole website (gives broad strokes of the software and imho is not actually that helpful, however this proves that I am not making shit up)
Pi-hole documentation (read prerequisites carefully, you do NOT need the newest model of Raspberry Pi to run this thing!! You don't even need a Raspberry Pi at all, you can run it on a bunch of Linux systems however I'm very stupid when it comes to Linux and when my options are install and learn a whole ass new OS or spend $$ on a Raspberry Pi and hook it up to my TV with a wired mouse and keyboard I will unfortunately be spending money)
Privacy International's guide to setting up Pi-hole on a Raspberry Pi (bro this one saved our asses)
You guys can ask me questions if you want but I guarantee I will not know the answers bc I don't know shit about fuck, I just followed the directions and reaped the rewards. It did take us 2 hours to set up bc I'm bad at following directions (and it's kind of complicated if you've been out of the software game for a while like I have), and you do have to be sososo brave about fucking around with your internet provider's configuration. So make sure you eat before you do it!! However it has been so worth it for me so far, given that now all my devices at home are running faster and I'm not seeing any ads while web browsing. We will see what complaints my family comes up with, but I love it so far.
Also!! if you've never heard of Raspberry Pi, which I realize are not all of my followers are lost in the Silicon Valley sauce so you might not have, here's is their website and their page for using Raspberry Pi at home.
(And here is the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a nonprofit that fights for digital privacy, free speech, and innovation, if you, like me, were presented with cold hard data about your personal internet usage and suddenly realized that our internet is fully a dystopia. haha.)
After a few months with pi-hole, I recently switched to AdGuard Home. It was recommended/is co-promoted in a pi-hole discord server, and it seems to be blocking a bit more successfully/consistently for me than the pi-hole did.
I also use Blokada on my phone when I'm not home and have the Windscribe browser extension which includes 10GB of free VPN traffic and has uBlock integrated into it. (AdGuard does technically make things that do this but I like those better; ymmv).
It all takes some setup and tinkering, but I highly, highly recommend taking steps to clear out some of the internet garbage and protect your info.
New Secret Knots comic, "The River". I hope you like it!
The Secret Knots comics are made possible by my patrons. Check out my pledge tiers if you'd like to be one of them.
'We have Enough Dead Friends --- Lena Oleanderson' thank you @lena-oleanderson for making this poem, was a good read!
I'm not gonna articulate this well, but there's this phenomenon I keep seeing on the left that I'll call "bean soup rhetoric," wherein someone fails to understand that they are not the target audience for a particular message, or just can't conceptualize why a speaker would craft their message differently to resonate with a target audience that doesn't already completely agree with them.
"The 'God Made Trans People' billboard is stupid! God didn't make me! I'm an atheist!" Okay. The billboard sits along a major highway in Kansas. We can deduce that the target audience is not you—it's the centrist evangelical Christians driving along that road who could probably be persuaded to become allies as long as we choose our words carefully and don't make them feel attacked for not already knowing everything about trans rights issues. Another one I see a lot is, "We shouldn't be talking about how right-wing legislation catches [privileged in-group] in the crossfire when [marginalized out-group] suffers far more!" I know. I agree with you. Which is why you and I are not the intended audience of this argument!
The entire point of rhetoric is to win over someone who doesn't already fully agree with you. In this case, let's say that someone is Jennifer, the moderate center-right mom in your neighborhood who doesn't really know or care about transgender issues but would be absolutely horrified by the idea of her teenage daughter having to submit to an invasive inspection of her body just to be allowed to play soccer. Tell her, "Banning trans students from sports will inevitably subject all student athletes to invasive gender-policing," or "Legal restrictions on gender-affirming care will make it harder for you to access the hormone replacement therapy you take to treat menopause symptoms," and she is more likely to question her existing beliefs and listen to the rest of what you have to say than if you lead with leftist talking points that she already has a calcified opinion about or which she thinks do not personally affect her.
Tailoring the argument to the things she already cares about does not mean we're forgetting that she has more privilege than most—entirely the opposite, in fact. A privileged ally can be extremely valuable. Jennifer votes in every election. And so do all the other ladies at her book club, and church, and in the PTA, and those folks listen to Jennifer. There's a reason both parties were courting suburban women so hard in the last election cycle! If we can find common ground with her on this, if we can get her calling her representatives and talking to her friends and phone-banking and door-knocking and making a stink, that's how the needle starts to move. If I can convince her to take her support away from the candidates who are actively restricting my rights and throw it toward those who want to restore and expand those rights...then I'm sorry, but Jennifer is a more valuable ally to me than the people who agree that the legal boundaries of gender ought to be abolished altogether but refuse to actually do anything except complain online about how both sides are equally bad because the right is trying to force everyone to drink the cyanide kool-aid while the left keeps serving bean soup and they don't like bean soup
I have three monitors on my desk. The left one shows the order book. The middle one shows Truth Social. The right one shows the investigation queue.
On April 21st, the left screen moved first.
I am a Senior Surveillance Analyst at a commodities exchange. I have held this position for nineteen years. My job is to monitor trading activity for suspicious patterns and generate compliance reports. I am employee of the quarter. I have a mug.
At 19:54 GMT on April 21st, someone placed 4,260 sell orders on Brent crude futures. They did this during post-settlement. The window after the market closes when daily volume is typically in the dozens. Sometimes single digits. Sometimes I watch the screen and nothing happens for forty minutes and I think about whether my daughter is happy.
On April 21st, someone placed $430 million in directional bets in 120 seconds during that window. One hundred and twenty seconds. I timed it on my watch because the system clock rounds to the nearest minute and I have found, in nineteen years, that precision matters to no one but me.
At 20:10 GMT, the President posted on Truth Social that he was extending the Iran ceasefire.
Brent dropped from $100.91 to $96.83.
I flagged the trade. I flag a lot of trades. I want to tell you what happens to my flags.
My flags go into a system called TRACE. Trade Review and Compliance Evaluation. I did not name it. The system generates a report. The report goes to a committee. The committee has a name I am not allowed to share but I can tell you it meets quarterly and the conference room has a credenza with bottled water that is sparkling because someone once put still water in the room and a managing director sent an email about it that was longer than most of my surveillance reports.
The committee reviews my flags. The committee has reviewed all of my flags. Here is the complete record of actions taken on my flags in 2026:
Reviewed.
That's it. "Reviewed" is a status. In compliance, a status is the absence of an action that has been given a name so it looks like one.
Let me show you my flags.
March 9th. Someone bet millions on oil falling at 18:29 GMT. Forty-seven minutes later, a CBS reporter posted that the President said the Iran war was "very complete, pretty much." Oil dropped 25%. Forty-seven minutes. I flagged it.
March 23rd. Someone sold 5,100 lots of Brent and WTI crude futures between 10:49 and 10:50 GMT. Fourteen minutes later, the President posted on Truth Social about a "COMPLETE AND TOTAL RESOLUTION" to hostilities. Oil dropped 11%. Over 13,000 contracts traded in sixty seconds after the post. Fourteen minutes. I flagged it.
April 7th. Someone established a $950 million short position in oil futures at 19:45 GMT. Three hours later, the President declared a two-week ceasefire. Nine hundred and fifty million dollars. I flagged it.
April 17th. Someone placed $760 million in bearish bets twenty minutes before Iran's foreign minister confirmed the Strait of Hormuz would reopen. Seven hundred and sixty million. I flagged it.
April 21st. The $430 million. Fifteen minutes. I flagged it.
That is $2.1 billion in directional oil bets in April alone. Every one of them landed on the correct side of a presidential announcement. Every one of them was placed in a window so narrow you could measure it in bathroom breaks. I flagged every single one.
The CFTC chair told a Congressional committee that his organization has "zero tolerance" for fraud and insider trading. I wrote that quote on a Post-it note and stuck it to my right monitor. The one that shows the investigation queue. The investigation queue has not moved since March.
Zero tolerance. Zero staff. Zero budget. Zero prosecutions under the STOCK Act since it was signed in 2012.
Fourteen years. The law has existed for fourteen years and has been enforced zero times. In compliance, we call that a compliance rate of one hundred percent. No cases filed means no cases lost. You cannot fail an audit you never conduct. We call that excellence.
Last month the White House sent an internal email to staff. I was not on the distribution list but I have read reporting on it and I need you to sit with what I am about to say. The email instructed White House staff not to use insider information to place bets on prediction markets.
The White House had to send a memo telling its own employees not to insider-trade.
I want you to read that sentence again. Not because the instruction was unclear. Because the instruction was necessary. Because someone in the building looked at the same pattern I have been flagging for months on my three monitors and decided the appropriate response was an email.
The President's son sits on the advisory board of Kalshi. He is an investor in Polymarket. Both are prediction markets. Both saw accounts created days before U.S. military action.
One account. I cannot stop thinking about this account. It was called "Burdensome-Mix." It was created in December. On January 2nd, it placed $32,500 on Venezuela's president being removed from power. On January 3rd, Maduro was seized by U.S. special forces. Burdensome-Mix collected $436,000. Then it changed its username. Then it disappeared.
One account is a coincidence. But there were six.
Six accounts were created on Polymarket in February. All bet on U.S. strikes on Iran by the 28th. When the President confirmed the strikes, the six accounts collected $1.2 million between them. Five of the six never placed another bet. The sixth went on to correctly predict the ceasefire date and made another $163,000.
My surveillance system logged all of this. My system logs everything. My system does not have opinions and neither do I. I generate reports. The reports go to committees. The committees meet quarterly. Between meetings, the windows get shorter and the bets get larger.
March 9th: 47 minutes. March 23rd: 14 minutes. April 17th: 20 minutes. April 21st: 15 minutes.
The window is compressing. In March, you had time to make coffee between the trade and the announcement. By April, you had time to send a text. By summer, at this rate, the trade and the announcement will be the same event.
The spokesman said any implication that administration officials are engaged in insider trading is "baseless and irresponsible reporting."
Then the White House sent the email again.
I have been in compliance for nineteen years. I have seen insider trading run out of strip mall offices by men who could not spell "derivative." I have seen pump-and-dump schemes coordinated over WhatsApp by people who used their real names. I have seen a man try to manipulate soybean futures from a Panera Bread.
I have never seen $2.1 billion in perfectly timed trades across five presidential announcements in a single month go uninvestigated.
But I have also never seen a compliance system work this beautifully. Every trade flagged. Every report filed. Every committee briefed. Every quarterly meeting attended. Bottled water: sparkling. Minutes: distributed.
Zero prosecutions.
As long as the flags go up and the cases don't, my performance review says I am meeting expectations.
I am meeting expectations. The system is meeting expectations. The $2.1 billion is meeting expectations. The fourteen-year-old law with zero prosecutions is meeting expectations.
The left screen moves. The middle screen moves. The right screen stays perfectly, immaculately still.
In my field, we call this price discovery.
