In college, I majored in communications and wrote in a journalistic style, which I’ve reverted to lately in response to all the history-in-the-making articles I’ve been writing. For some reason, I thought documenting all this chaos was an important and worthwhile activity. Lately, I’ve realized I’m wasting my time.

My sister doesn’t think so, but… really, everyone is writing about this history-in-the-making right now. I’ve decided I need to stop writing about what’s in the headlines and concentrate on how I originally envisioned this series of articles: How is it affecting people I know? How is it affecting me?

Well, for one thing, since I am very near retirement, I am worried about how all this chaos is going to affect Medicare and my Social Security benefits. I can also tell you that all of this is making me seriously wish someone would strap Elon Musk—a person I used to admire—to one of his fucking rockets and send him on a one-way trip to Mars.

Here’s another way it’s affecting me. The woke movement, which I largely agree with, has made me somewhat ashamed to be a white American male. But now, thanks to the MAGA movement, I am even more ashamed to be an American.

We live on a single planet. We have no other. “America First” thinking is ignorant, stupid bullshit. It’s backward, idiotic, childish nonsense. “Earth First” is what we need to concentrate on.

Nations are imaginary. They exist only in our heads. The Earth, the climate, our resources—those are real. A tornado, a hurricane, a lightning strike, a landslide, a tidal wave—none of these things care about your nationality, your sexuality, your political affiliation, or your wealth. They don’t give a flying fuck, and they will kill you without even noticing.

Money, on the other hand, is imaginary—but it can also kill you. The difference is that money kills by motivating another human to do the killing. Because, oddly enough, of money.

Money kills because of money.

An imaginary thing.

Not something real, like heat stroke, drowning in water, or being consumed by fire.

Yet, it’s this imaginary thing that causes weapons of destruction to be manufactured and used. It’s this imaginary thing that causes systems of governance—designed to help people improve their lives—to instead make them worse off.

The systems become about money instead of people, and by extension, money becomes more important than the very real thing that enables us to live: the Earth.

The trouble is not MAGA. The trouble is not Donald Trump. The trouble is the money in politics. The trouble is medicine for profit. The trouble is money for money’s sake.

It subverts the system and breaks it.

But money in government is still not the root cause. The root cause is a system that forces corporations to grow without limitations.

More, more, more, more. Endlessly more. More than anyone will ever need, and then more still. Because of the demand for endless growth, corporations turn money into something like a black hole—consuming everything, sucking in resources that would otherwise be virtually limitless, depleting them mindlessly for the sake of more, more, more.

America in 2025 is the event horizon of this black hole.

And yet, America is an imaginary thing. It does not exist in nature. The same with corporations, political parties, and money.

It’s all in our heads. It’s a fever dream. And in 2025, the fever is out of control. If we don’t wake up soon, it’s going to end up killing us.

In late January 2025, President Trump ordered the release of approximately 2.2 billion gallons of water from California’s Lake Kaweah and Lake Success reservoirs. The stated intent was to provide water resources to combat wildfires in Southern California. However, this well-intentioned move seemed to overlook a minor detail: the water from these reservoirs doesn’t naturally flow toward the fire-affected regions. Instead, it meandered into the Tulare Lake basin, far from the parched landscapes it was meant to hydrate. Local officials, caught off guard by this decision, scrambled to mitigate potential flooding in the San Joaquin Valley, highlighting a classic case of miscommunication between idiotic federal directives and on-ground realities.

Not stopping at reservoir management, the administration has also set its sights on redefining the “Waters of the United States” (WOTUS) under the Clean Water Act. This move aims to reduce federal oversight on certain wetlands and streams, granting states more autonomy. While proponents argue this reduces bureaucratic red tape, critics fear it could lead to increased pollution and degradation of vital water bodies. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) assures that the revised definition will “follow the law, reduce red-tape, cut overall permitting costs, and lower the cost of doing business,” though environmentalists remain skeptical about the potential long-term impacts.

In response to these federal maneuvers, state and local governments are charting their own courses. California is considering bolstering its protections for wetlands, hoping to shield them from the diminished federal oversight. This proactive stance underscores the state’s commitment to preserving its natural resources, even as federal policies shift. Additionally, the sudden water releases have prompted local agencies to reevaluate their emergency response protocols, ensuring that future federal directives don’t inadvertently lead to local crises.

Internationally, these policy shifts have not gone unnoticed. The expedited approval of projects like Michigan’s Line 5 pipeline replacement, involving major Trump donors, has raised eyebrows. Environmentalists express concerns over potential ecological risks, while critics question the intertwining of political contributions and policy decisions. Such actions demonstrate to the rest of the world that the U.S. now openly rejects environmental protections in favor of economic and political interests, damaging its leadership role in global environmental initiatives.

The Trump administration’s recent water management decisions highlight the intricate balance between federal initiatives and local realities. While the intent behind policies like reservoir releases and regulatory rollbacks may be framed as efforts to streamline operations and respond to emergencies, the outcomes often reveal the complexities inherent in managing these natural resources. As states like California build up their own environmental protections and local agencies adapt to shifting federal directives, the importance of cohesive and informed policy-making becomes ever more evident. In this “fluid” landscape, the challenge lies in balancing national objectives with local needs, ensuring that the “currents” of change lead to sustainable and beneficial outcomes for all.

The Trump administration continues to show an uncanny ability to turn basic governance into a constitutional crisis, and the latest developments show they have no intention of slowing down.

One of the more creative stunts recently involved the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian activist and permanent U.S. resident who made the critical error of thinking that free speech was still a thing. Federal immigration authorities, ever vigilant for threats to the nation, decided that his involvement in pro-Palestinian protests warranted detention. Allegations of Hamas ties were thrown around, because of course they were. His lawyers, who apparently still believe in things like due process, have been scrambling to challenge the claim. Meanwhile, the message has been made crystal clear: protest at your own peril.

The administration has also been showing its innovative side in dismantling the Department of Education. Why invest in education when you can just get rid of it altogether? By shutting down key offices and terminating half the workforce, including the pesky civil rights divisions, they’ve ensured that the government’s ability to enforce educational equity is, well, no longer a thing. States are now scrambling to figure out how to pick up the pieces, but hey, if kids wanted a fair education, they should’ve been born rich.

And let’s not forget disaster relief, because who doesn’t love a good hostage situation? The administration has been threatening to withhold crucial funds from states and cities that don’t toe the line politically. Emergency management, it turns out, is just another tool for control. Nothing says ‘efficient government’ like telling a hurricane-ravaged town to reconsider its voting habits before getting assistance.

Of course, these policies aren’t just affecting Americans. Globally, the administration’s antics continue to alienate allies and embolden adversaries. Between trade wars, immigration crackdowns, and general diplomatic chaos, the U.S. has been making quite the impression on the world stage. And by impression, I mean other countries are actively reconsidering their reliance on the U.S. for, well, anything.

Meanwhile, state and local governments are treating the administration’s overreach like an out-of-control wildfire—scrambling to contain the damage before it spreads further. Lawsuits are flying left and right, with California and a coalition of states taking legal action against the Department of Education’s demolition project. Sanctuary cities, refusing to be bullied into acting as federal immigration enforcement, are also suing in response to threats of funding cuts. And in places like San Antonio, local leaders are actually doing the unthinkable—trying to help displaced federal workers who were unceremoniously cast aside.

So, while the administration continues its quest to redefine governance as a chaotic, litigation-filled spectacle, the rest of the country is left picking up the pieces. The good news? There’s still some pushback. The bad news? There’s a lot of mess to clean up.

But hey, at least it’s never boring.

Are we racing full speed toward disaster like the Titanic?

Late-stage capitalism describes a system plagued by extreme inequality, corporate dominance in politics, and unsustainable consumerism. In 2025, the White House and Republican-led Congress embody this phase, with policies overwhelmingly benefiting the wealthy, corporate interests steering decision-making, and environmental protections discarded despite looming crises.

President Donald Trump’s economic policies reflect late-stage capitalism’s defining traits. His administration’s tax cuts, projected to reduce federal tax revenue by $5 trillion to $11 trillion over a decade, disproportionately benefit high-income individuals and corporations. Critics argue this follows the pattern of privatizing gains while socializing losses, as resulting deficits will lead to devastating cuts in essential social programs. While supporters claim these cuts will spur investment and wage growth, historical trends show corporations most typically use such windfalls for stock buybacks and dividends, inflating asset prices and enriching executives rather than benefiting workers.

Tariff policies, including a 25% levy on imports from Canada, Mexico, China, and the EU, further worsen economic instability. These measures will lead to higher consumer prices and job losses, mainly affecting lower-income populations. Nobel laureate Joseph Stiglitz calls this approach “crony rentier capitalism,” a system that enriches capital owners at the expense of the majority, concentrating wealth and power — a hallmark of late-stage capitalism.

Trump’s Cabinet, filled with ultra-wealthy individuals and former corporate executives, reinforces the melding of economic and political power. Elon Musk, for instance, inexplicably appointed head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), is an unprecedented Cabinet role. Other figures, such as Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and Attorney General Pam Bondi, illustrate the administration’s preference for high-profile personalities from business and media.

Meanwhile, Trump’s close ties with corporate leaders raise concerns about policy manipulation. His private dinner with Amazon’s Jeff Bezos coincided with editorial shifts at The Washington Post, favoring narratives on personal liberties and free markets. Such engagements betray an open alignment between the administration and corporate interests, reinforcing the fact of an oligarchic system favoring the elite.

To maintain support amid growing inequality, the administration relies on distraction. Trump’s media strategies — hot-mic moments requesting praise, restructuring the White House press pool to favor right-wing outlets, and grandiose claims — align with late-stage capitalism’s preference for spectacle over substance. Policies that primarily benefit the elite are masked by absurd political theater, diverting public attention away from where the damage they’re doing is on full display.

Late-stage capitalist societies historically show similar trends: extreme inequality, corruption, and an elite detached from the struggles of the working class. Comparisons to the Gilded Age are inevitable, with billionaires amassing unprecedented wealth while income inequality reaches its highest levels since the 1920s. The top 0.1% of Americans now hold as much wealth as the bottom 90%, a concentration of riches reminiscent of the eve of the Great Depression.

Even the late Roman Empire offers a cautionary tale. Roman elites indulged in luxury and political games while their empire crumbled beneath them. Today’s ruling class prioritizes tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy over infrastructure, healthcare, or wage growth. Political theatrics — distracting narratives and populist rhetoric — serve the same function as Rome’s “bread and circuses,” keeping the masses entertained while real issues remain unaddressed.

Marxist and critical theorists predicted many of today’s patterns: wealth concentration, the capitalist class capturing political power, and the eventual crises caused by overproduction and inequality. Karl Marx foresaw capitalism’s self-destructive tendencies, where the system feeds on itself until it collapses. The current administration’s policies, favoring short-term corporate gains over sustainable economic stability, follows this trajectory.

Lenin’s view of imperialism as capitalism’s final stage finds echoes in Trump-era policies prioritizing resource control over global cooperation. Neoliberal scholars point to regulatory capture, erosion of safety nets, and public disillusionment with democracy — trends vividly displayed in today’s governance. The phrase “late-stage capitalism” has even gone mainstream, used to mock modern absurdities, from $5 million beachfront condos selling while sea levels rise to companies offering “thoughts and prayers” apps instead of healthcare benefits.

The Trump era exemplifies late-stage capitalism’s contradictions: wealth concentration, political corruption, and environmental neglect. Economic policies deepen inequality, political decisions serve the elite, and environmental stances mortgage the future for present gain. America today really does resemble a cruise ship where the first-class deck enjoys luxury, engine-room workers toil unrewarded, and the captain denies the iceberg ahead.

History shows such a trajectory is unsustainable. The question remains: will the U.S. correct course, or are we witnessing the final act of an empire on the brink?