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.
Was Tuesday, November 4 a political turning point—something akin to the Battle of Midway in 1942? Early in World War II, the United States absorbed one devastating blow after another, beginning with Pearl Harbor and continuing through a string of losses across the Pacific. Then came Midway: a battle whose full significance wasn’t immediately recognized, but which, in hindsight, marked the moment when momentum quietly shifted. The war was far from won, but the tide had stopped running entirely against the United States.
It’s tempting to wonder whether this week’s Democratic victories in New Jersey, Virginia, California, New York City, and elsewhere represent a similar inflection point. American politics in recent years has felt like a series of shocks and retreats for Democrats and for voters who oppose Donald Trump. And like an adversary who seems immune to normal political gravity, Trump has survived scandals and crises that would have ended the careers of most public officials.
Whether these election results signal a broader reversal of fortunes—or merely a brief pause in the storm—is impossible to know. It’s not hard to imagine Trump and his allies resorting to increasingly extreme measures to influence or undermine next year’s midterms. As with Midway, the meaning of this moment will only become clear in retrospect. For now, all we can say is that the political seas may be shifting, and time will tell in which direction they flow.
Deemed a modern classic, The Year of Magical Thinking is exquisitely written, deeply poignant—and I hated reading it. I rushed through its pages the way one might rush through the receiving line at a funeral: dutifully, respectfully, but eager to escape the suffocating air of grief.
Didion’s account of the sudden death of her husband and the parallel ordeal of her daughter’s illness feels both raw and composed, intimate yet universal. Her prose opens old wounds you thought had long scarred over. As I read, her words didn’t just tell her story—they resurrected mine.
I found myself silently comparing her losses to my own. Everyone, I suspect, has this book somewhere inside them, but few can articulate sorrow with Didion’s precision and restraint. Like her, I have often wondered whether I could have done more—whether I might have eased my mother’s suffering as dementia slowly erased her, or somehow saved my sister, who died suddenly before reaching forty. The helplessness still stings decades later.
Grief is a solitary ritual. When my father died of a heart attack at thirty-five, I was seven. There were no tears, no tantrums—just the quiet acceptance of a boy who learned too early that life can vanish mid-sentence.
As Didion’s pages turned, I realized I was no longer reading her memoir but reliving my own: the hospital rooms, the whispered prayers, the hollow silences after the machines stopped.
Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking is a Pandora’s box of 227 pages. Once opened, it releases everything you thought you had buried—grief, guilt, love, regret—and leaves you to reckon with the consequences.
With the death of vaudeville and variety shows, you can observe how new technologies change the economic landscape of media and narrow viewers’ tastes. With vaudeville, it was motion pictures, and with variety shows, it was cable TV. With late-night, it’s playing out over the internet and social media.
Gambling doesn’t just sponsor sports games. It shapes them, deciding which matchups are worth watching and how players are covered. Gambling doesn’t just buy ads. It owns sports networks, producing shows that prod fans to bet ever more.
Today, the gambling companies wield far more power over sports than the leagues or team owners ever did. News media outlets have criticized commissioners, players and executives for decades. But I can’t recall a single major sports broadcast program or publication willing to take gambling companies on directly. My friends in sports journalism tell me this is the one topic they can’t speak up about — not without risking their careers.
Patient Name: Uncle Sam Age: 249 years Date of Birth: July 4, 1776 Location: United States of America
Chief Complaint:
Progressive systemic decline characterized by political arrhythmia, social inflammation, moral neuropathy, and chronic division.
Medical History:
Patient presents with metastatic ideological cancer, first detected in 2017 following years of untreated inflammation from greed, corruption, and truth decay. A brief remission was noted, but malignancy has since spread to vital organs including the Judicial System, Congress, and National Conscience.
Patient also suffers from acute historical amnesia, with repeated lapses in memory regarding equal rights, freedom of the press, and separation of church and state. Increasing episodes of selective recall noted, often triggered by political self-interest and social media exposure.
In 2020, the patient contracted COVID-19, complicated by political co-infection. Though vaccinated, his recovery was hampered by widespread disinformation and refusal among many cells to follow treatment protocols. Residual scarring remains in the respiratory and trust systems.
Patient also exhibits chronic income disparity, hypertension of hostility, and arteriosclerosis of empathy, limiting blood flow to compassion and understanding.
Psychiatric History:
Patient demonstrates paranoid delusions, convinced that enemies lurk within rather than abroad. Displays mood instability, alternating between manic displays of nationalism and depressive bouts of self-loathing.
Once socially active, the patient is now increasingly isolated from former allies and global partners. Exhibits projection, blaming others for self-inflicted wounds.
Recent assessments reveal addiction to misinformation and dopamine dependency on outrage-based media. Sleep cycle disrupted due to 24-hour news exposure and endless campaigning.
Family History:
Descended from immigrants, now expresses hostility toward relatives of similar lineage. Strained relationship with younger generations due to generational and cultural disconnect.
Current Medications:
Denial (high dosage)
Partisan rhetoric (administered hourly)
Corporate lobbying (self-prescribed)
Occasional dose of hope and activism, though compliance inconsistent
Vital Signs:
Pulse: Erratic (divided between left and right chambers)
Blood Pressure: Elevated due to constant internal conflict
Temperature: Rising globally
Vision: Impaired by polarization
Hearing: Selective—responds mainly to echo chambers
Heart: Enlarged historically, now showing signs of hardening
Prognosis:
Guarded to poor. Survival depends on:
Aggressive treatment of ideological malignancy
Coronary transplant (restore compassion and moral circulation)
Rehabilitation therapy to strengthen backbone and restore balance
Cognitive behavioral therapy to reverse chronic denial and historical amnesia
Detoxification from greed, fear, and misinformation
Long-term infusion of education, empathy, and critical thinking
Summary:
Patient remains in critical but not terminal condition. Though his immune system of democracy is weakened, the antibodies of truth, courage, and civic duty still circulate—albeit faintly. Immediate intervention is required to prevent full organ failure of the Republic.
My expectation for those promoting the teaching of the Ten Commandments in schools is that they’ll soon explain how the penalties for breaking them depend on one’s political party, ideology, or religious affiliation.
***
This may be the sorriest era in which to write a decent book or speech, for the mob no longer reads to think but to feel confirmed—and preferably entertained.
***
Commercially, the most successful political and cultural “thought leaders,” pundits, and analysts are those who are first controversial, second entertaining, and a distant third—if ever—wise, prescient, or correct in their pronouncements.
***
Twenty or thirty years from now, history will mock and expose many of today’s cultural, political, and religious heroes and influencers as the charlatans and fools they always were.
***
Once, citizens braved fire hoses, clubs, and bullets to win the rights we now take for granted—laws signed in ink but sealed in blood. Today, those rights are being revised by comfortable hands and poisoned hearts, undone not by courage but by cowardice.
Esot-eric 