Tressie McMillan Cottom, one of America’s leading public intellectuals, posted this to Bluesky yesterday:

I’m going to be very honest and clear.

I am fully preparing myself to die under this new American regime. That’s not to say that it’s the end of the world. It isn’t. But I am almost 50 years old. It will take so long to do anything with this mess that this is the new normal for *me*.

I do hope a lot of you run. I hope you vote, sure. Maybe do a general strike or rent strike. All great!

But I spent the last week reading things and this is not, for ME, an electoral fix. So now I will spend time reflecting on how to integrate this normal into my understanding of the future.

Most of this will be personal. Some of it will be public — how we move in the world.

Right now, I know that I need to make a decision on my risk sensitivity. How much can I take? I also need to meditate HARD on accepting the randomness of that risk. No amount of strategy can protect me.

Those are things I am thinking about.

In response, Anil Dash posted:

Yeah, I keep telling people this is a rest-of-my-life fight, and… they do *not* want to hear it.

Author Meg Elison:

I’ve been thinking something like this for a few months now. We will fight, we will resist, etc. But we will also not live the lives we picked out and planned on. They’re not available anymore.

Therapist and political activist Leah McElrath:

Since Trump regained office, I’ve talked about this both gently and bluntly to try to help people understand that we lived in one era but we’re going to die in another.

I am, at least. I know my probable life expectancy and, at 61, have about 15 years left.

And @2naonwheat.bsky.social:

We’re all going to have to start planting shade trees we fully know we’ll never sit under.

Cottom nails how I’ve been feeling for the past few months (and honestly why it’s been a little uneven around KDO recently). America’s democratic collapse has been coming for years, always just over the horizon. But when everything that happened during Trump’s first three months in office happened and (here’s the important part) shockingly little was done by the few groups (Congress, the Supreme Court, the Democratic Party, American corporations & other large institutions, media companies) who had the power to counter it, I knew it was over. And over in a way that is irreversible, for a good long while at least.

Since then, I’ve been recalibrating and grieving. Feeling angry — furious, really. Fighting resignation. Trying not to fall prey to doomerism and subsequently spreading it to others. (This post is perhaps an exception, but I believe, as Cottom does, in being “honest and clear” when times call for it.) Getting out. Biking, so much biking. Paying less attention to the news. Trying to celebrate other facets of our collective humanity here on KDO — or just being silly & stupid. Feeling overwhelmed. Feeling numb. But also (occasionally, somehow) hope?

All of this is exhausting. Destabilizing. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I should be doing or how I can be of the most service to others. (Put on your oxygen mask before assisting others, they say. Is my mask on yet? I don’t know — how can I even tell?) I barely know what I’m trying to say and don’t know how to end this post so I’m just gonna say that the comments are open on this post (be gentle with each other, don’t make me regret this) and I’ll be back with you here after the, uh, holiday.

Tags: Donald Trump · politics · Tressie McMillan Cottom · USA

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This proves Japan has not yet TOTALLY cornered the Cute Market. Welcome to: Vilnius, Lithuania of all places. Well, they get their own tag for making these. “I saw this tweet, and *immediately* thought of your site. I read the Submissions Contract, but I’ll admit, I’m not quite sure if you can use this. From what I can tell, I think you can use it if you credit Mental Floss? [*Note: Yes. -Ed.] Thanks for helping me start my day on a bright note!” -Lisa B.

A jury on Wednesday found Sean “Diddy” Combs not guilty on two counts of sex trafficking and a count of racketeering, and guilty on two counts of transportation for purposes of prostitution. The verdict comes after a trial that stretched on for months, with over six weeks of live testimony.

For a month and a half, federal prosecutors laid out their case against Combs, calling over 30 witnesses to the stand. Before closing arguments began, prosecutors asked the judge to strike “attempted” kidnapping and arson from jury instructions in order to “streamline” their case and make things less confusing for jurors. 

Combs, who pleaded not guilty to all charges, declined to take the stand in his defense. 

“Make no mistake, this trial was how, in Sean Combs’ world, ‘no’ was never an option,” Assistant U.S. Attorney Maurene Comey, the lead prosecutor for the government, told jurors on the final day of closing arguments Friday. “Sean Combs did not take ‘no’ for an answer, not from employees and certainly not from his girlfriends.” 

Cassandra Ventura, the singer, actress and model known as Cassie, was one of the prosecution’s star witnesses. For four days, Combs’ former girlfriend took the stand, providing harrowing details about her relationship with Combs. She said she was coerced into engaging in sex acts, including participating in Combs’ now infamous “freak-offs” and being forced to have sex with male escorts while Combs watched. She explained that though she loved Combs, she was also fearful of him as a result of the level of control he exerted over every aspect of her life. Jurors were shown photographs of bruises and other physical injuries Ventura says she suffered as a result of Combs’ alleged abuse. 

A hotel surveillance video of Combs physically assaulting Ventura in a hallway — allegedly during one of these freak-offs — was leaked to CNN last May. It was shown to jurors repeatedly during the trial as evidence of the threat of violence Ventura experienced should he not participate in the freak-offs. Two male escorts formerly employed by Combs also testified against him, specifically that they witnessed first-hand Combs physically abusing Ventura and his threats of extortion against her. 

Ventura also filed a civil suit against Combs in 2023; the case was settled a day later, and Ventura received $20 million from Combs as a result.

An anonymous witness, known only as “Jane” in court proceedings, shared a similar story to Ventura over six days of testimony: An initial romantic relationship with Combs quickly changed as she was coerced into sex marathons, often with sex workers, that caused her to develop urinary tract and yeast infections. 

Both Ventura and Jane testified about having been taken across state lines at Combs’ direction to participate in “freak-offs” for Combs’ entertainment. 

The sex trafficking charges made up the centerpiece of the government’s case, and were tied to many of the other charges brought against Combs. 

Prosecutors argued that the women lived under threat of severe consequences should they not participate in these freak-offs, which often lasted for days and were enabled by the use of illegal drugs. The threat of domestic violence and of leaked sex tapes and photos was ever present, as was the revocation of financial support from Combs. With their careers and financial independence on the line, the federal government argued, the two women who took the stand against Combs were victims of sex trafficking. 

As part of the government’s closing argument, prosecutor Christy Slavik underscored that everything in Ventura’s testimony regarding Combs’ behavior drove home the trafficking charge. 

“All of this was designed to do one thing — to make Cassie afraid to say no to him,” Slavik said.

Sex trafficking is a widely misunderstood crime, experts say. It’s not usually a young woman being abducted by a stranger and forced into prostitution. Key to the federal legal definition of trafficking is the exchange of sex for something of commercial value — a financial payment or  shelter, clothing and employment.

Proving coercion is also an essential component in a federal sex trafficking case. Coercion most often takes the form of psychological coercion, such as threats and withholding something meaningful such as identification documents, housing, financial support or even romantic attention. Because coercion involves an intense and often intimate understanding of what a person most needs, and thus makes them most vulnerable, traffickers most commonly are not strangers, but someone a survivor already knows, including an intimate partner.

The racketeering charges brought by the federal government were closely tied to the sex trafficking charges. During the trial, prosecutors attempted to make clear to jurors that the trafficking they were accusing Combs of was enabled and supported by those who worked with him. 

The defense, however, repeatedly argued that while the physical abuse was clearly apparent, it was not the same as sex trafficking. They argued that Ventura and Jane both freely stayed in their relationships with Combs and participated in the “freak-offs” — and that the evidence of domestic violence shown during the trial was not the crime for which Combs had been charged. 

The defense showed jurors text messages sent by Ventura to Combs in which she appears to be enthusiastically consenting to the sex marathons, such as when she wrote “I’m always ready to freak off” and “I just want it to be uncontrollable.” In her testimony, Ventura explained that these messages reflected the coercion central to the case: that she was saying what she felt she needed to say to keep Combs happy and protect herself, and that if she did not participate in the freak-offs, she would not be able to get time with Combs. 

Attention, experts argue, is frequently a key tool used by traffickers to coerce their victims. 

The post Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs found not guilty on most serious counts, guilty on two others appeared first on The 19th.

U.S. Sen. Jerry Moran, R-Kansas, voted with GOP colleagues to pass the Senate's version of a budget, tax and policy bill also supported by U.S. Sen. Roger Marshall, R-Kansas. The measure heads to the U.S. House for consideration. (Kansas Reflector screen capture from U.S. Senate's YouTube channel)

TOPEKA — U.S. Sen. Jerry Moran and Roger Marshall of Kansas voted with fellow Republicans to secure passage of the Senate’s controversial budget and tax bill featuring domestic policy priorities of President Donald Trump.

Vice President J.D. Vance capped lengthy debate by casting a tie-breaking vote to send the amended “big, beautiful bill” back to the U.S. House for reconsideration. The president urged federal lawmakers in the House and Senate to complete work on the package by July 4.

“The lefty fake news media has failed to tell the truth about this bill, that it will deliver a win for every single American,” Marshall said. “This is President Trump’s legacy and we are entering America’s golden era.”

Marshall said colleagues aligned with the president were obligated to vote for the Senate bill. “If you supported President Trump, you should support this bill,” he said.

In addition, Marshall said the legislation would spark such a massive expansion of the U.S. economy that it would “help shrink the debt.” The claim conflicted with a congressional budget estimate the bill would add at least $3.3 trillion to the nation’s debt over the next decade. The Senate bill would increase the federal debt limit by $5 trillion.

Moran said he voted for the Senate’s bill because it would extend federal income tax provisions Trump signed into law in 2017 and invest $320 billion in immigration enforcement and the military.

The bill also would slash federal safety net spending on food stamps. It would allow wind and solar tax credits if construction of those renewable energy projects began within a year of the law’s enactment or go into production before the end of 2027.

Moran said the Senate’s amended version of the bill would “bolster our economy and strengthen the safety of our nation.”

His post-vote statement focused on amendments to the bill designed to moderate damage to rural hospitals in wake of cuts to Medicaid and the Affordable Care Act.

“I was able to make changes to the legislation to make certain Kansas hospitals will not face any immediate cuts upon enactment of this legislation,” Moran said.

Moran lauded a $50 billion, five-year fund providing emergency assistance to rural hospitals at risk of closure.

Meanwhile, Moran touted $12.5 billion in appropriations to the Federal Aviation Administration to modernize air traffic control infrastructure. It included language giving farmers greater flexibility in acquiring credit and updated farm subsidy programs.

In May, the U.S. House delegation from Kansas split along party lines on the original version of the bill. Republican U.S. Rep. Tracey Mann, Derek Schmidt and Ron Estes voted for that package, but Democratic U.S. Rep. Sharice Davids dissented.

Packages of Valomilk Candy Cups, which are made by hand by the Sifers Candy Company in Merriam, Kansas, move through the production line towards boxing on Tuesday, June 24, 2025.

I’m going to say something that will make many of you deeply uncomfortable: our culture has confused ironic detachment with intelligence. We’ve mistaken cynicism for sophistication, distance for depth, and the refusal to commit to anything for wisdom itself.

This is killing us.

Not metaphorically. Not in some abstract cultural sense. It is literally destroying our capacity to respond to the crises that define our moment. Because while we perfect our poses of detached cleverness, people with deadly serious intentions are reshaping the world according to their vision.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And ironic detachment is moral cowardice dressed up as intellectual superiority.

Let me be clear about what I mean. Ironic detachment isn’t genuine critique—it’s defensive armor. It’s the reflex that allows you to comment on everything while committing to nothing. It’s the stance that lets you mock both sides of every conflict while accepting responsibility for none of its outcomes.

You see it everywhere. The journalist who treats democratic collapse like entertainment, crafting clever observations about the “theater” of authoritarianism without ever stating plainly that democracy is worth defending. The intellectual who responds to moral clarity with knowing smirks, as if the ability to see complexity were the same as wisdom. The friend who greets every urgent concern with “well, it’s complicated” or “both sides have valid points” or “this is all just politics anyway.”

These people have convinced themselves that their detachment signals sophistication. That their refusal to take moral stands demonstrates superior understanding. That their immunity to “naive” concerns about right and wrong proves their intellectual maturity.

They’re wrong.

What it actually demonstrates is a profound failure of moral imagination. An inability to conceive of situations where clarity matters more than cleverness. A retreat from the responsibilities that come with living in a world where our choices have consequences.

Because here’s what ironic detachment really offers: the comfortable illusion that you’re above the fray while remaining safely within it. It lets you feel superior to those who “fall for” caring about things while never having to defend anything yourself. It’s the perfect stance for people who want to seem engaged without actually risking anything.

Moral seriousness is different. Moral seriousness forces you to face consequences. To choose clearly. To stake out positions that require genuine courage rather than performative intelligence. It demands that you say what you believe even when saying it costs you something.

And yes, this makes people uncomfortable. Because moral seriousness isn’t simplistic—it’s demanding. It isn’t arrogant—it’s responsible. It requires you to act as if your judgments matter, as if your choices have weight, as if the world depends on people like you making decisions about what’s worth defending and what isn’t.

The ironically detached hate this. They prefer the safety of eternal meta-commentary, the endless deferral of commitment, the pose that says “I’m too smart to be fooled by caring about anything.”

But here’s what they miss: intelligence without moral commitment is just sophisticated paralysis. Nuance without the capacity for judgment is just elaborate confusion. The ability to see complexity in everything is worthless if it never leads to clarity about anything.

So let me ask you directly: if moral seriousness bothers you—if you find yourself recoiling from people who speak with clarity about right and wrong—what does that say about you?

Does it say you’re sophisticated? Or does it say you’ve trained yourself to avoid the discomfort that comes with taking responsibility for your own moral judgments?

Does it say you understand nuance? Or does it say you’ve become so committed to seeing all sides that you’ve lost the capacity to choose any side?

Does it say you’re intellectually mature? Or does it say you’re using intelligence as a shield against the demands of living in a world where things actually matter?

I know this is uncomfortable. Good. It should be.

Because while you’ve been perfecting your ironic distance, people with no such hesitations have been busy. They don’t waste time wondering whether their convictions are sophisticated enough. They don’t apologize for moral clarity. They don’t treat their own beliefs as just another position in an endless debate.

They understand something the ironically detached have forgotten: that power goes to people who believe in something. That the world belongs to those willing to commit fully to their vision of what it should become. That democracy doesn’t survive on clever commentary but on citizens willing to say plainly what matters, what is true, and what is at stake.

The authoritarians aren’t ironic. They’re deadly serious about their goals. They don’t hedge their commitments or apologize for their clarity. They don’t treat their own power grabs as just another interesting development in the ongoing political show.

They understand that ironic detachment is the perfect ideology for people who want to feel important without actually mattering. For people who want to seem engaged without risking anything. For people who prefer the comfort of eternal spectatorship to the responsibility of actual participation.

This is why a culture built on irony will crumble in crisis. Because when everything is equally interesting, nothing is truly important. When all positions are equally valid subjects for commentary, no position becomes worth defending. When commitment itself becomes naive, only the uncommitted remain to watch the committed reshape the world.

We don’t need more cleverness. We need more clarity. We don’t need more sophisticated commentary on the complexity of our challenges. We need more people willing to name what threatens us and act accordingly.

We need citizens who understand that moral seriousness isn’t just stylistic—it’s existential. That democracy survives not on ironic detachment but on people willing to say what they believe and defend what they value.

The center cannot be held by people who refuse to acknowledge there’s a center worth holding. The flood cannot be pushed back by people who treat every rising tide as just another fascinating phenomenon. The wire cannot be walked by people who prefer watching others fall to taking the risk themselves.

Ironic detachment promises you safety through distance. But there is no safe distance from the collapse of the systems that make your detachment possible in the first place. There is no commentary booth elevated enough to escape the consequences of living in a world where serious people with serious intentions are making serious choices about the future.

The pose of sophisticated neutrality is itself a choice. The stance of ironic distance is itself a commitment. The refusal to take sides is itself taking a side—the side that benefits from your passivity, from your paralysis, from your conversion of moral clarity into epistemological complexity.

So choose. Not between simple answers to complex questions, but between engagement and evasion. Between responsibility and performance. Between the hard work of moral judgment and the easy comfort of ironic observation.

Choose to speak plainly about what matters. Choose to commit to what you believe. Choose to risk the discomfort of being wrong rather than the cowardice of never being anything.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And the world belongs to people who take these simple truths seriously enough to build something real upon them.

The revolution is moral seriousness. The rebellion is choosing clarity over cleverness. The resistance is saying what you mean and meaning what you say.

Every minute of every day.

Remember what’s real.

Mike Brock is a former tech exec who was on the leadership team at Block. Originally published at his Notes From the Circus.