The CNN anchor (Jake Tapper) then played video from the shooting in which someone was heard calling Renee Good “f*cking b*tch” after ICE agent Jonathan Ross, fired at least three shots.
“Is that Agent Ross’s voice calling Renee Good a f*cking b*tch?” Tapper asked.
“I can’t determine which one it is, but it could be, sir,” Kristi Noem replied.
Of the last fifty books I’ve read, forty came from my local library and ten from Kindle. I didn’t buy a single physical book in 2025. When I do purchase a Kindle title, I rarely pay more than $2.99. That number feels less like thrift and more like a verdict on how I now value books: still important, but no longer precious objects.
I wandered into Barnes & Noble twice this past year. Both times I walked out empty-handed. The books that were heavily discounted held no appeal, and the books I might have been interested in weren’t discounted at all. The store felt less like a literary crossroads and more like a museum gift shop—pleasant to browse, but disconnected from my reading life.
When I’m looking for something new to read, I rely on a small, familiar circle: The New York Times Sunday Book Review, Kirkus Reviews, or Goodreads review.
1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History–and How It Shattered a Nation by Andrew Ross Sorkin is the only current New York Times nonfiction bestseller I’ve read. I have no interest in the other titles on the list. The hardcover fiction list holds even less appeal; I haven’t read—and don’t intend to read—any of those books.
What surprises me most is not my indifference to bestseller lists, but how little conversation books generate anymore. I honestly can’t remember the last time someone recommended a book to me, or when I had a real discussion with another person about something we’d both read. Books seem to have slipped quietly out of our shared conversations.
That feels especially strange when I think back to being ten or eleven years old, roaming the Pennsauken Library in search of the next Hardy Boys, Tom Swift, or Chip Hilton book. I wish I had even a quarter of the excitement I felt then—the sense of urgency, discovery, and possibility that came with finding the next volume in a series. Reading was once a small, private adventure that somehow felt enormous.
At seventy-three, reading is harder in ways that have nothing to do with motivation. My mind doesn’t focus for long stretches. My eyes tire quickly. Cataracts and floaters dull the sharpness of the page. And beyond the physical changes, there’s the persistent feeling that many books now trigger: been there, done that. As one gets older, interest naturally drains from subjects that once felt endlessly compelling—politics, sports, business, self-improvement, psychology, religion. Not because they don’t matter, but because their patterns repeat.
There’s also the sense that books—especially those about current events, politics, or celebrities—have lost some of their gravity. So much of their content is given away in advance through interviews, podcasts, op-eds, and promotional appearances that the book itself feels like an afterthought, a bound summary of things already half-known.
And yet, despite all of this, I keep reading. Maybe not with the hunger of a child or the ambition of a younger adult, but with a quieter persistence. The library card still works. The Kindle still lights up. And every now and then, a book manages to cut through the fatigue and familiarity, reminding me why reading mattered in the first place—and why it still does, even now.
Pablo Torre deserves recognition for his sports reporting and investigative journalism, a rarity in sports news today.
TIME’s Person of the Year: Architects of AI (Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg, AMD CEO Lisa Su, Tesla CEO Elon Musk, Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang, OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, the CEO of Google’s DeepMind division Demis Hassabis, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei and AI pioneer Fei-Fei Li,)
My 2025 Person of the Year: Volodymyr Zelenskyy
My 2026 Person of the Year: ET
——–
I remember, with sadness, the moment it became clear that hospice care was necessary in the final phase of my mother’s life. Hospice is not about abandonment; it is about recognition—acknowledging that a loved one can no longer safely care for themselves. In my mother’s case, dementia stripped away coherence and judgment. She became irrational, prone to rage, suspicious of those trying to help her, and given to delusions and wild exaggerations that bore no resemblance to her once gentle, introverted nature.
Hospice mattered not only for her, but for those charged with caring for her. It imposed structure, limits, and compassion where denial would only have prolonged harm. Watching this decline was painful, but pretending it wasn’t happening would have been far worse. That same difficult recognition applies whether the person in question is a private citizen—or the President of the United States.
I have made previous year end predictions with modest success: 2023 predictions, 2024 predictions, and 2025 predictions. Some of my predictions are based on reason and some are based on hope and some tongue in cheek..
The world as we know it will change dramatically as AI advances and credible evidence of UAPs accumulates. The most profound disruptions will affect what we believe we know about science—particularly physics—and religion.
Kaitlyn Collins of CNN will try to secure the first interview with an ET.
Donald Trump will leave office by the end of 2026, ostensibly for health reasons.
A market correction of roughly 25% will occur in early 2026. A modest rebound will follow later in the year, but it will not recover the initial losses. AI will fail to deliver the financial returns many corporations expect, and large investments will produce disappointing profits.
By the end of 2026, unemployment will rise to between 5.5% and 5.8%.
Continued global distrust of the United States will push allies toward deeper economic and strategic alignment with China. Within three to five years, China—not the U.S.—will be the dominant economic, business, and political power. The U.S. will become an even greater political pariah, particularly if it engages Venezuela militarily or continues to inadequately support Ukraine. Should Ukraine be forced into a highly unfavorable settlement with Russia, it will represent a diplomatic and military defeat for the United States greater than Vietnam, with longer-lasting consequences.
Fear of major losses in the November 2026 midterms will trigger a reinvigoration of Republican members of Congress. Many current Trump administration cabinet members will be fired or pressured to resign due to scandal or incompetence. Congressional Republicans will withdraw institutional protection from failing officials.
Rising ticket prices and escalating sports-network subscription costs will provoke a fan backlash, reducing attendance and interest across major sports. Fans will increasingly feel that on-field and on-court performance does not justify the expense. ESPN, in particular, will regret its deal with WWE.
Taylor Swift will marry Travis Kelce. Tabloid reports of separation and divorce will soon follow.
Democrats will regain control of the House in November 2026, though by narrower margins than currently predicted.
Gun violence will continue unabated. Regardless of how horrific individual events become, no meaningful gun-control legislation will be enacted.
No Super Bowl celebration parade down Broad Street in Philadelphia in 2026.
Yearly Social Security increases are not keeping up with increasing rise in inflation. The senior citizen constituency will become an important political force in 2026 and 2028, one that the Republican Party can no longer be assured of their support.
“I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” —Howard Beale (Peter Finch), Network (1976)
WTF
Pete Hegsmith, meet Heinz-Wilhelm Eck.
Oberleutnant Heinz-Wilhelm Eck was a German U-boat commander who, in 1943, ordered his crew to machine-gun the survivors of a Greek steamer they had just sunk. Tried by the British in 1945, he was convicted of war crimes and executed.
One might imagine that the Secretary of War—and the uniformed brass surrounding him—would possess at least a passing acquaintance with the Hague and Geneva Conventions and the protections afforded to shipwrecked survivors. But apparently not. Instead, we are offered the “fog of war” as a catch-all excuse for killing helpless castaways, as if confusion somehow ennobles idiocy.
In my lifetime, Presidents have made some ghastly cabinet appointments—some incompetent, some malevolent, some simply stupid. The current administration appears determined to check all three boxes with gusto.
Sleepy Joe
Not long ago, pundits and political Cassandras wrote breathless tomes about President Joe Biden’s alleged cognitive unraveling. Democrats engaged in public self-flagellation, blaming one another for not confronting his fading vigor. Republicans snickered with schoolyard delight about his age and apparent frailty.
The ink is scarcely dry on those volumes, and yet one hears comparatively little about the mental and physical disarray of Donald J. Trump.To their perverse credit, Trump and his entourage are not bothering to hide anything. The public has front-row seats to his naps during cabinet meetings, his deranged social-media dispatches, and his endless stream of misstatements delivered with the confidence of a man who has never troubled himself with facts. His sneering insult at a female reporter—calling her “piggy”—barely registered as a scandal, landing with all the outrage of a damp tissue dropped on a sidewalk.
Americans are apparently meant to sleep serenely knowing that a man of Trump’s “unmatched intellect, tireless stamina, and unimpeachable judgment” has his hand on the nuclear button. Sweet dreams.
Epstein Files
The furor over the Epstein files has quieted to a dull hum. Every day, whether through Machiavellian design or sheer gonzo incompetence, the Trump administration generates enough scandal and spectacle to bump Epstein to the back pages.
Most Americans understand perfectly well what Trump may fear in further disclosures. Yet a sizable portion of the MAGA faithful will excuse anything—anything—no matter how sordid. Trump was found liable for sexual assault and it barely dented his presidential campaign.
As for me, I have exhausted the lower bounds of my opinion of Donald Trump. There is nothing—absolutely nothing—he could do that would surprise me anymore. His behavior long ago slipped the surly bonds of shame.
Some scientists and observers opine that 3iAtlas now traveling in our solar system is actually an alien craft. If so, this may be a possible communication on board as it passes Earth.
I’ve been an admirer of Andrew Ross Sorkin’s financial reporting for years, particularly through his work on CNBC, and I previously enjoyed his book Too Big to Fail, a definitive account of the 2008–2009 financial crisis. With that bias admitted upfront, I found 1929 to be an engaging and illuminating read. Though the book is lengthy—about 444 pages—it never feels like a dry history textbook. Instead, it flows with the narrative tension of a novel, making complex financial events accessible and compelling.
A background or interest in finance, economics, or banking certainly enriches the reading experience, but Sorkin’s storytelling makes the material approachable even for those who aren’t steeped in economic jargon.
A Rich, Relevant History
What makes this book especially resonant is how closely the late 1920s echo aspects of our present moment. The U.S. had recently emerged from a pandemic; optimism about growth and technological change was widespread; and the stock market appeared unstoppable. Investors—large and small—took on unprecedented leverage, borrowing heavily to chase rising share prices.
But economic momentum is fragile. Once confidence cracked, the market’s collapse was swift and devastating. The crash wiped out fortunes, triggered a steep economic downturn, and led to widespread unemployment. The government and the Federal Reserve lacked a clear or unified strategy, and their responses were often reactive, hesitant, or contradictory.
Sorkin offers a nuanced view of Herbert Hoover, depicting him not as the caricature of incompetence found in some earlier accounts, but as a leader who recognized the depth of the crisis and attempted—albeit imperfectly—to stem the damage. It’s a more sympathetic portrait than many readers might expect.
Vivid Personalities and Power Players
The book is populated with fascinating figures from finance, government and politics, including:
Charles Mitchell, chairman and CEO of National City Bank (a central figure in the era’s excessive speculation)
Winston Churchill
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Senator Carter Glass
Evangeline Adams
Herbert Hoover
Ferdinand Pecora
and many others
Sorkin demonstrates how the interplay of personalities, policies, and economic forces created the conditions for both the boom and the crash. His research is broad, and his interpretations are measured yet insightful.
Reflections on Today’s Economy
Reading about 1929 inevitably led me to think about the state of the economy today. Although history doesn’t repeat itself exactly, the parallels are difficult to ignore.
Policy and leadership concerns: I have deep concerns about the current administration’s economic management. Policies such as tariffs continue to ripple through the U.S. and global economies, often harming consumers and industries rather than helping them.
Social and economic inequities: Decisions to cut or withhold food aid and other social supports can create long-lasting harm. Tax structures continue to favor the wealthy, while those with the least must rely on charity to meet basic needs.
Economic data skepticism: I find it increasingly hard to trust official numbers—whether on inflation, unemployment, or growth—given how politicized and selectively interpreted economic data has become.
Uncertain impact of AI: Artificial intelligence is propping up portions of the stock market, but the long-term effects on employment, productivity, and corporate earnings remain unclear. Few leaders or analysts can articulate what the next decade will really look like if the hype fizzles.
Declining trust in corporate leadership: Watching CEOs—particularly in tech and finance—publicly defer to political power has shaken my confidence in their judgment. Elon Musk is the most visible example, but he is not alone.
The culture of greed: Increasingly, it feels as if greed has become our national creed. Even institutions that purport to offer moral guidance seem more interested in fundraising than fostering compassion or community.
Esot-eric 