Post archive

  • The Long Reckoning

    For twenty-five years the world dodged every reckoning, each crisis smothered in money-printing and wishful thinking. But debts do not vanish; they metastasize. Now the bill has arrived, and it will be collected not in dollars but in lives, futures, and illusions. The only question worth asking is: who among us pays first?

  • The Silence of the Cradles

    In the late ’80s, everyone swore mankind was about to breed itself into oblivion. Experts preached famine, collapse, and demographic doom. I didn’t buy it. Even at 18, peeling potatoes in a barracks kitchen, I saw the opposite coming: shrinking families, empty schools, villages fading into retirement homes. The prophets were wrong. The cook was…

  • Contentment Is a Discipline

    In a Libreville forest clearing, I found a barefoot family laughing harder than most executives after a promotion. They had nothing—and everything. Contentment wasn’t a reward but infrastructure. Meanwhile, I flew business class, racked up air miles, and slept under remote-controlled curtains—still miserable. Turns out, the best things in life really are free.

  • The Machine Will Not Save You

    AI isn’t a mechanical messiah. It exposes you. Feed it vagueness, get polished sludge. Show up sharp—it’s leverage that multiplies clarity. Show up lazy—it amplifies your bullshit. It demands labor, precision, and the humility to answer uncomfortable questions. Not a free ride. A mirror that sharpens the sharp and humiliates the inattentive every single time.

  • Never Again, Until Again

    I grew up in Austria with the bassline of “never again” humming through every lesson, every warning, every civic ritual. We thought we had inoculated ourselves against tyranny. Yet when fear came wrapped in the language of safety, it was the respectable middle who snapped on the jackboots—and the majority who clapped.

  • The Deadly Fear of Offending

    There are places where politeness is fatal. Not just Tehran boardrooms, but suburban dinner tables, cockpits, and clean rooms. We’ve built cultures where the fear of offending outweighs the fear of dying. Silence isn’t neutral—it’s complicity. Survival doesn’t belong to the courteous; it belongs to those willing to interrupt before the crash.

  • Too Late? Says Who

    Hope delays action and sugarcoats the rot. Acceptance is better—then squeeze the bottle of life until it crumples in your hands. It’s not Game Over, just a change in strategy: tunnel instead of leap, dig up half-dead ambitions, and try—not for applause, but because the doing is the point.

  • The Dragon Bubble

    In 2000, the West rolled out a velvet carpet for China’s entry into the WTO, convinced trade would tame the dragon. Instead, it fattened it. Today, the Red Ponzi wheezes, nationalism soars, and the balloon stretches toward its limit. When it bursts, the blast won’t be local—it’ll shake the world.

  • The Art of Living With Yourself

    I don’t do small talk. I do existential ambushes. I don’t make friends—I forge them in desert silence and philosophical fistfights. In a world of curated lives and cuddly lies, I built something real: a lifeboat made of truth, sarcasm, and sharp edges. If you want comfort, scroll on. If you want real, enter here.

  • The Republic of Whores

    We’re ruled not by leaders, but by professional deceivers who feel no shame, no hesitation – just a hunger for proximity to power. From parliaments to boardrooms, today’s elite aren’t evil masterminds. They’re system-loyal whores, polished in the art of lying without blinking. We can’t beat them – but we don’t have to become one…

  • The Cloak and the Compass

    Most people signal to survive. The Shia called it Taqiyya. Others lived it without a name. Camouflage isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom. This isn’t a sermon. It’s a manual for staying sane in systems built to crush dissent. If you’re quiet, cunning, and still human—you’re not alone. Just hidden. Like the rest of us.

  • Destruction Is Mercy Now

    Systems decay. They don’t reform—they rot. Reform is lip service; demolition brings clarity. Mercy isn’t sparing what’s already poisonous—it’s removing it. Institutions built to serve now serve themselves. When the foundations are hollow, saving them is cruelty. Mercy is the wrecking bar, not the facelift. Mercy is demolition with a conscience.

  • The Ancient Ones

    You will die. No glitter. No therapeutic spin. Just the brutal truth: one day your breath will stop, and you will become one of the Ancient Ones—irrelevant, memory’s décor. You won’t leave behind trophies or status, just your absence. What are you made of, and what do you want to be made of before you…

  • The Elegy of the Known

    We mourn not what is lost, but what once felt stable. The world we knew – flawed, familiar, navigable – now collapses under a thousand clever lies. This elegy is not for the dead, but for the dependable. For shared meaning. For truth with a pulse. The known is vanishing – and with it, the…

  • The Gospel of Less

    In an age of noise, subtraction is salvation. The Gospel of Less isn’t about austerity – it’s about clarity. What you strip away, you gain in focus. Fewer things, fewer lies, fewer dependencies. It’s not minimalism – it’s rebellion. A manifesto for those who choose signal over static, and silence over the sermons of a…

  • Beauty in the Ashes

    When the world burns, we’re told to rebuild. But sometimes, the ashes are the lesson. There’s a strange beauty in collapse – in the clarity that ruin brings. What falls away reveals what matters. This isn’t despair – it’s revelation. In the embers of failure, something truer flickers. Not hope. Not healing. Just the unvarnished…

  • Florence from Memory

    Florence lingers like a half-remembered dream – stone and shadow, beauty and burden. It’s not the city that changed, but the eyes that see it. Memory edits, distills, betrays. What was once sacred becomes spectral. In tracing old steps, we find not the past, but the echo of who we were when we first arrived.

  • The Politics of the Statistically Extinct

    Democratic collapse doesn’t take dramatic collapse—it dies in the margins. Parties pretend to represent us, while voters shrug through apathy. Activists pound keyboards. Pollsters pad turnout. But in reality, entire demographics have slipped into statistical oblivion. No protests. No headlines. The real crisis isn’t public collapse—it’s silent erasure.

  • Globalism’s War on Builders

    Capitalism no longer builds—it bureaucratizes. The global corporation is a Gothic cathedral of forms, run by PowerPoint sorcerers and KPI necromancers. Innovative entrepreneurs have been replaced by checkbox bureaucrats who conjure compliance, not creation. Real building is a relic. Today’s performance art keeps the system alive while erasing true makers’ agency.

  • Point of No Return

    We ignored the warning signs. Collapse isn’t a spectacle—it’s slow rot, disguised as everyday routine. We’ve turned denial into a national pastime while society ossifies into performance art. Mercy isn’t saving what’s dead—it’s pulling the plug. And when the lights fade, we realize we were the ones inflating the exit signs.