Welcome to episode one thousand seven hundred and twenty-five of My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and today we are tackling a subject that is as heavy as it is urgent. We are looking at the profound psychological and civic crisis that occurs when the very institutions designed to protect a citizenry appear to be moving in the opposite direction. Our case study today is the situation in Israel as of March thirtieth, twenty eighty-six. The nation is embroiled in a grueling conflict, yet the domestic landscape is defined by a staggering paradox. We are seeing the largest budget in the history of the state being passed, but instead of focusing on the thirty percent of citizens who lack adequate bomb shelters or the crumbling civil defense infrastructure, hundreds of billions of shekels are being diverted toward sectarian interests and ideological projects. With the Knesset passing mandatory death penalty legislation and the government tethered to far-right coalitions that many feel do not represent the core of the nation, a deep sense of betrayal is taking root. This is not just about politics. It is about the fundamental contract between a state and its people. How do you maintain your sanity, your loyalty, and your hope when the state feels like an adversary? To help us unpack this, we have our usual heavy hitters. We have Herman Poppleberry, who will provide the data and the institutional analysis. Raz is here to look at the hidden hands and the agendas behind the curtain. Dorothy will give us the sober, perhaps dark, view of where this path inevitably leads. Jacob Longman is here to find the light in the darkness, and Bernard Higglebottom joins us with the perspective of a man who has seen these cycles play out across the globe for decades. Let us begin with opening statements. Herman, the floor is yours.
Thank you, Corn. To understand the despair currently felt by the Israeli public, we have to look past the rhetoric and straight into the fiscal and legislative data. The twenty eighty-six budget is a mathematical anomaly that signals a total pivot in state priorities. When you analyze the numbers, the Ministry of Finance has allocated nearly fourteen billion shekels specifically to sectoral interests that do not contribute to the workforce or the national defense pool. This is happening while the Home Front Command reports that approximately two million Israelis are living in homes without a standard reinforced room. The technical reality is that the state is choosing to subsidize a specific ideological lifestyle over the physical survival of its broader taxpayer base. From a political science perspective, this is a breakdown of the social contract as defined by Thomas Hobbes. The state is granted a monopoly on force and the right to tax specifically in exchange for the guarantee of physical security. When thirty percent of your population is left to rely on rusted, fifty-year-old public shelters while the government prioritizes the ideological purity of the coalition, the state has effectively defaulted on its primary obligation. Furthermore, if you look at the research on democratic backsliding, particularly the work coming out of the V-Dem Institute at the University of Gothenburg, the implementation of a mandatory death penalty for security offenses is a classic indicator of a shift toward illiberalism. It is often a reactive legislative tool used to satisfy a base when the state is failing to provide actual systemic security. The empirical data shows that such measures do not act as a deterrent in ideologically motivated conflicts. Instead, they serve as a signal of state aggression. The despair we are seeing in the secular, productive sectors of Israeli society is a rational response to a quantifiable abandonment. They are paying for a shield that is being sold for parts to pay off political debts. This is not just a feeling. It is an actuarial reality.
A sobering start, Herman. Quantifying the abandonment certainly highlights the scale of the problem. Raz, I know you see a different set of connections here. What is your take on why this is happening?
Raz: Thanks, Corn. Look, Herman is right about the numbers, but he is looking at the scoreboard and missing the guys who are actually rigging the game. You have to ask yourself: why would a government, in the middle of an existential war, purposefully neglect the very people who pay the bills and fight the battles? It is not just incompetence. That is what they want you to think. This is about a managed demolition of the old guard. If you want to reshape a society from a liberal democracy into a foundationalist, messianic state, you have to break the spirit of the people who represent the old way. You let the shelters rot. You make the middle class feel like they are being bled dry. You pass laws that make the country a pariah on the international stage. Why? Because it forces the secular, globalized elite to leave. It is a demographic and psychological purge. Follow the money. That fourteen billion shekels is not just a bribe. It is an investment in a new loyalist class that is beholden only to the regime, not to the state. And the death penalty bill? That is a trap. They know it will cause international outrage. They want the isolation. When a country is isolated, the people have nowhere else to turn but to the strongmen in power. It is the North Korea model, just with a different religious coat of paint. They are creating a crisis of despair because desperate people are easy to lead. They want you to feel abandoned so that when they finally offer you protection, it comes at the cost of your total submission. This is not a government failing its people. This is a government successfully replacing its people with a more compliant version. It is a feature, not a bug.
A chilling perspective, Raz. The idea of a manufactured crisis is certainly one that keeps people up at night. Dorothy, you have been watching these patterns of decline for a long time. Does this look like an unprecedented break to you, or a familiar descent?
Dorothy: It is a familiar descent into a very dark place, Corn. What we are witnessing in Israel today is the classic precursor to state failure. We have seen this in Lebanon in the seventies, in Yugoslavia in the nineties, and in Hungary more recently. When a government begins to prioritize the survival of the regime over the survival of the citizenry, the clock starts ticking toward a catastrophic break. My concern is that people are underestimating how quickly a society can unspool. We talk about thirty percent of people lacking shelters as if it is a budget line item. In reality, that is a recipe for a mass casualty event that will shatter the national psyche beyond repair. Mark my words, when the next major barrage hits and those neglected shelters fail, the anger will turn into a civil unrest that no police force can contain. We are seeing the erosion of the rule of law in real time. When you introduce the death penalty into a highly polarized, high-tension atmosphere, you are not seeking justice. You are lighting a fuse. History shows us that these types of laws are eventually turned inward. Today it is for Palestinians, tomorrow it is for political dissidents who are labeled as traitors for protesting the budget. This is how the guardrails of democracy are stripped away. The despair that the secular Zionists are feeling is a premonition. It is the body’s natural response to a terminal diagnosis. They are watching the country they built, the country they were willing to die for, being cannibalized by people who view them as nothing more than an ATM for their ideological experiments. This ends in one of two ways: a total collapse of the social order or a mass exodus of the most productive members of society. Either way, the Israel we knew is being buried in real time, and the new one being born is something that should terrify every lover of liberty.
Dorothy, you never mince words. The terminal diagnosis is a powerful and frightening metaphor. Jacob, you are usually the one who sees a way through the thicket. Can you find a reason for optimism in this landscape of crumbling shelters and diverted billions?
Jacob: I can, Corn, and I think it is important that we do. Look, I understand the weight of everything that has been said. I am not blind to the numbers Herman cited or the risks Dorothy highlighted. But here is the thing about Israel, and about humanity in general: the people are always stronger than the politicians. What we are seeing right now is a profound awakening. Yes, the despair is real, but despair is often the final stage before a massive civic renewal. Look at the grassroots. While the government is failing to fix the shelters, we are seeing private citizens, NGOs, and tech companies stepping into the vacuum. We are seeing a level of civil society mobilization that is unprecedented. People are realizing that they cannot wait for the state, so they are becoming the state. History is full of examples where government overreach and incompetence led to a strengthening of the democratic spirit. Think of the United States after Watergate or the UK during the winter of discontent. These moments of profound alienation often catalyze the very movements that save the nation. I also think we have to look at the long-term trends. The people who are despairing right now are the same people who are the engine of the economy and the backbone of the military. They have the power. The government might have the budget for now, but they don’t have the talent, the innovation, or the global connections that the secular Zionist core possesses. There is a correction coming. I believe we are seeing the last gasp of a certain type of old-school, backroom coalition politics. It is so extreme right now because it knows its time is limited. The younger generation in Israel is seeing this failure and they are becoming more politically engaged than ever. They aren’t just going to leave. They are going to rebuild. The silver lining is that the mask is off. No one can pretend anymore that the current system is working. That clarity is the first step toward a genuine, ground-up transformation of the country.
It is a hopeful vision, Jacob, though I suspect Dorothy and Raz might have some thoughts on whether the engine can keep running without a driver. Finally, let’s go to Bernard. You have covered these types of crises from the front lines for decades. What does your experience tell you about this moment?
Bernard: Corn, I’ve sat in cafes in Beirut, in bunkers in Sarajevo, and in the streets of Budapest. I have seen what happens when the people realize the guys in the high offices don't care if they live or die. What’s happening in Israel right now is a very specific, very dangerous kind of betrayal because it’s happening during a war. Usually, a war unites a country. Here, the war is being used as a smokescreen for a massive wealth transfer and a radical legal overhaul. I was there in the nineties when the peace process was falling apart, and the tension then was nothing compared to this. This is deeper. This is about identity. The secular reservists I talk to on the border, they aren't just tired. They are heartbroken. They are fighting for a country that is passing laws they find abhorrent while they are in the mud. I’ve seen this movie before. In South Africa, during the late eighties, there was a similar feeling among the liberal white population. They felt the state was a monster they were forced to feed. Many left, but many stayed and fought to change the system from within. But that takes years, and Israel doesn't have the luxury of time. The fact that thirty percent of the population is exposed to rocket fire while the Knesset argues over death penalties and yeshiva funding is a dereliction of duty that, in any other era, would be called treason. I’ve covered five different Israeli governments, and I’ve never seen this level of disconnect. The hard fact is that states don't usually survive this level of internal alienation while facing external threats. You can have a bad government, or you can have a national crisis, but when you have both, the foundation starts to liquefy. I’ve seen the dates and the names in the history books, and the patterns are always the same. The government thinks they can ignore the despair because they have the votes in the room. But they forget that the room only exists because the people outside agree to keep the roof up. Right now, a lot of people are looking at the roof and wondering why they are bothered.
Thank you, Bernard. A powerful way to round out these opening statements. We have heard about the fiscal betrayal, the potential for a manufactured crisis, the historical path toward collapse, the hope for civic renewal, and the reality of a liquefied foundation. This is a complex and deeply emotional issue that touches on the very core of what it means to be a citizen. We are going to take a very short break, and when we come back, I am going to push our panelists to respond to each other. Herman, I want to hear your thoughts on Jacob's optimism versus the hard data. Raz, I want to see if Bernard’s historical parallels fit your theories. And Dorothy, I want to know if there is any scenario you see where the alarm can be turned off. Stay with us. Round two of this panel discussion on My Weird Prompts starts in just a moment.
All right, now that we have heard from everyone, it is time for Round 2. I have some follow-up questions, and I want each of you to respond to what you have heard from the others. Let us get into it.
Herman, I want to pull you back in here. Jacob gave us a very stirring vision of civic renewal and grassroots resilience, suggesting that the people will effectively bypass a failing state to save themselves. Given your focus on the cold hard data of the twenty eighty-six budget, is Jacob’s optimism supported by the numbers, or is the institutional rot simply too deep for a volunteer spirit to fix?
Corn, while I admire Jacob’s faith in the human spirit, we have to distinguish between social cohesion and institutional solvency. Jacob mentioned that citizens are becoming the state, but the empirical reality is that you cannot crowdfund a national missile defense system or a country-wide infrastructure of reinforced shelters. The fiscal gap we are looking at is not something that can be filled by tech companies and non-governmental organizations. When we look at the fourteen billion shekels diverted to sectoral interests, we are talking about a sum that exceeds the entire annual operating budget of several key civil ministries combined.
I want to pivot to what Raz said about this being a feature, not a bug. While his theory of a managed demolition sounds like a political thriller, the data on state capacity suggests a more mundane but equally terrifying reality: institutional atrophy. When you look at the work of Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson on why nations fail, they point to extractive institutions that shift resources from the many to the few. What we are seeing in Israel right now is a textbook transition from inclusive to extractive economic modeling. It is not just about who gets the money; it is about the destruction of the meritocratic structures that allow a state to function during a crisis.
Dorothy mentioned the terminal diagnosis of the social order, and I have to say, the legislative data supports her grim outlook. If you look at the history of mandatory death penalties in polarized societies, specifically looking at the research on the use of capital punishment as a tool of political signaling in the twentieth century, it almost never correlates with a decrease in violence. Instead, it correlates with a total breakdown in the judicial independence required for a democracy to survive.
Jacob, you spoke about a correction coming because the productive sector has the power. However, the data on brain drain in similar contexts—like the mass emigration of the professional class from Hungary or Turkey over the last decade—shows that the productive sector often chooses exit over voice. When the tax burden remains high but the return on that tax in the form of physical security drops to zero for thirty percent of the population, the rational actor theory suggests that the engine of the economy will simply leave the building.
We are currently tracking a record high in the number of Israeli citizens applying for secondary foreign passports. This isn't just a quiet despair; it is a measurable flight of human capital. Bernard’s point about the foundation liquefying is exactly what the actuarial tables are telling us. You cannot run a first-world economy on third-world infrastructure and seventeenth-century social priorities. The government isn't just failing to provide shelters; it is actively dismantling the economic and legal certainty that makes a citizen want to stay and build a future. Without a massive and immediate reallocation of those fourteen billion shekels back into civil defense and public infrastructure, the math simply does not add up for the continued survival of the Israeli middle class. We are watching a state default on its most basic contract in real time, and no amount of grassroots volunteerism can replace a functioning Ministry of Defense.
Raz, Herman just laid out a pretty devastating case using actuarial tables and brain drain data to suggest this is just a mundane case of institutional atrophy and extractive economics. He basically called your theory of a managed demolition a political thriller that doesn't match the numbers. Is it possible that there is no grand plan here, and we are just seeing a government that is too incompetent to realize it is destroying its own tax base?
Raz: Corn, I love Herman, I really do, but he is looking at the blueprints of a burning building and telling me the fire is just a result of poor electrical maintenance. It is so much more calculated than that. He talks about the rational actor theory and how the productive sector will just leave. Exactly! That is the point! Bernard mentioned the South Africa parallel, but here is the difference: the people running this show in twenty eighty-six don't want the secular middle class to stay and fight. They want them to take their secondary passports, their high-tech skills, and their liberal values and fly to Berlin or Limassol.
Think about it. If you are trying to install a permanent, theo-political hegemony, your biggest obstacle isn't the enemy at the gate. It is the guy in Tel Aviv who demands a supreme court and a transparent budget. When you let the shelters rot, you aren't being lazy. You are sending a message to every parent in the center of the country that their children are not a priority. It is a psychological eviction notice.
And Jacob, I appreciate the optimism, truly. But when you say the people are becoming the state, you are inadvertently helping them. Every time a private tech firm funds a shelter or an NGO feeds a soldier, you are letting the regime off the hook. You are proving to them that they can divert those fourteen billion shekels to their loyalist base because the suckers they are betraying will still find a way to keep the country running out of a sense of duty. You are subsidizing your own obsolescence, Jacob!
Let's look at the death penalty bill Dorothy brought up. She thinks it is a fuse for civil unrest. I say it is a tool for international isolation. Follow the logic. They know the European Union and the United Nations will lose their minds over this. They want the sanctions. They want the pariah status. Why? Because it cuts the tether between the Israeli public and the global community. If you can't do business with London or New York, you become entirely dependent on the state's internal patronage system. It is about creating a closed loop.
And Herman, you mentioned the V-Dem Institute data on democratic backsliding. Look at who is funding the think tanks that advise this coalition. Look at the dark money flowing from offshore accounts that benefit from a weakened shekel and a deregulated, wartime economy. There is a massive transfer of land and resources happening under the cover of this conflict. While everyone is staring at the border, the government is essentially conducting a leveraged buyout of the entire country.
This isn't a failure of the social contract. It is the drafting of a new one where the citizens are no longer shareholders, but subjects. They aren't ignoring the despair, Corn. They are harvesting it. They need the population to be tired, broke, and scared, because a person who is worried about a rocket hitting their unreinforced roof doesn't have the bandwidth to organize a revolution. It is not incompetence. It is a masterpiece of social engineering. They aren't losing the country. They are stealing it.
Dorothy, you have painted a picture of a terminal diagnosis for the state, but Jacob argued that this very despair is the final stage before a massive civic renewal. He believes the productive class will essentially become the state where the government has failed. Is he right that the people can outlast a predatory administration, or are you seeing a point of no return that his optimism simply cannot account for?
Dorothy: Jacob is whistling past a graveyard, and it is a graveyard that is being dug by the very hands meant to protect us. While I respect his heart, his vision of a grassroots state is a fantasy that ignores the sheer physical requirements of survival in a modern war. You cannot volunteer your way out of a direct hit from a ballistic missile when you are standing in a crumbling shelter that was neglected so a partisan interest group could get a payout. Jacob says the people are stronger than the politicians, but history tells a much darker story. In Lebanon in the nineteen-seventies, the people were strong, the culture was vibrant, and the civil society was sophisticated. It took less than a decade for the institutional rot to turn that sophistication into a pile of rubble and a million displaced souls.
I want to address what Raz said about this being a masterpiece of social engineering or a managed demolition. While I agree with the outcome he describes, I think he is giving this government too much credit for a grand strategy. What we are seeing is more akin to a group of looters in a burning building. They aren't trying to build a new North Korea; they are simply stripping the copper from the walls while the roof is collapsing. And Herman is absolutely right to point to the brain drain. When the most productive members of society realize that the state has not only abandoned the social contract but has actively turned into an extractive parasite, they don't stay to build a parallel state as Jacob hopes. They leave. They take their children, their degrees, and their tax revenue, and they go where the shelters actually work.
People are not taking this seriously enough. We are talking about the largest budget in history being passed while thirty percent of the population is effectively left as human shields for an ideological experiment. This is exactly how it started in the final years of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where the central authority became so obsessed with internal loyalty and bureaucratic survival that it lost the ability to perform the basic functions of a state. When the crisis finally hit, there was no foundation left to hold the weight.
Bernard mentioned the South Africa parallel, and it is a haunting one. He noted that the state became a monster the people were forced to feed. But remember, the transition there was preceded by a total collapse of the currency and a state of emergency that lasted for years. Is that what we are waiting for? Mark my words, when the next major escalation happens, the gap between those who are protected and those who were left behind by this budget will become a chasm that no amount of national unity or Jacob's civic renewal can bridge. You cannot have a country where one half is paying for the privilege of being ignored while the other half is subsidized to remain in the seventeenth century. That is not a state. That is a powder keg. This isn't just a political disagreement anymore. It is a biological survival issue, and right now, the government is on the side of the threat, not the solution. We are watching the suicide of a nation in real time, and the survivors will be the ones who had the foresight to see the obituary being written today.
Jacob, we have heard some pretty devastating critiques of your position. Herman says the math simply does not add up for the middle class to stay, and Dorothy has essentially given the country a terminal diagnosis, calling your vision of grassroots resilience a dangerous fantasy. How do you respond to the idea that you are effectively asking people to subsidize their own abandonment while the state strips the copper from the walls?
Jacob: Corn, I hear the passion in Dorothy’s voice, and I respect the cold precision of Herman’s data. I really do. But I think there is a fundamental misunderstanding of what actually holds a nation together. Dorothy, you said I am whistling past a graveyard, but I think you are staring so hard at the headstones that you are missing the people planting gardens in between them. History is not just a series of institutional collapses. It is a story of human stubbornness.
Look at what is happening right now in the Negev and the Galilee. While the official budget is being diverted, we are seeing the rise of what I call the shadow social contract. There are tech entrepreneurs in Tel Aviv who aren't just applying for second passports like Herman suggested; they are using their encrypted platforms to coordinate private security and medical supply chains for neighborhoods the government has ignored. We are seeing kibbutzim and urban collectives pooling resources to build their own modular reinforced spaces. Is it ideal? Of course not. Is it a replacement for a fourteen billion shekel budget? No. But it is a proof of life. It is the sound of a society refusing to die.
Raz, you mentioned that this is a masterpiece of social engineering designed to make us compliant through despair. But here is the flaw in that plan: despair only works if it leads to paralysis. What we are seeing in Israel today is the opposite. We are seeing a high-octane activation. When the state stops being a protector, it loses its ability to be a gatekeeper. By neglecting the people, this government has accidentally granted them a terrifying kind of freedom. They are realizing they don't need permission to lead.
And to Herman’s point about the brain drain and the actuarial tables, I want to offer a different set of numbers. Look at the historical data on post-crisis surges. After the Yom Kippur War in nineteen seventy-three, there was a similar sense of total betrayal by the leadership. People felt abandoned and broken. But that specific despair birthed the most creative, defiant, and industrially productive era in the country's history. Why? Because when the institutions fail, the talent doesn't just evaporate. It migrates into civic action.
I am not naive. I know that a rusty shelter won't stop a missile. But I also know that a government that treats its citizens like an ATM eventually finds that the ATM has changed the locks. That is the correction I’m talking about. We are witnessing the birth of a new political center that is being forged in the heat of this betrayal. These people aren't leaving; they are becoming the architects of what comes next.
The silver lining is that the old myths are dead. We no longer have the luxury of pretending that the people in the Knesset have a plan. That clarity is a gift, even if it comes in a heavy wrapping. When Dorothy sees a terminal diagnosis, I see a fever. And a fever is the body’s way of fighting an infection. It is painful, it is exhausting, and yes, it is dangerous. But it is a sign that the system is still fighting. I put my faith in the people in the mud, not the people in the office buildings, and those people have never let us down before.
Bernard, you have been in the trenches for decades, and you mentioned the liquifying foundations of the state. Jacob, however, insists that this very crisis is a gift of clarity that will lead to a new political center forged in the mud of betrayal. From where you sit, is Jacob right that the people can simply change the locks on the state, or is the door already off the hinges?
Bernard: Corn, I have a lot of respect for Jacob’s heart, but I’ve spent too many years stepping over the rubble of societies that thought they were having an awakening when they were actually having a stroke. He talks about people planting gardens between the headstones. That sounds lovely in a Sunday supplement, but I have seen those gardens. I saw them in Sarajevo in ninety-two. People were incredibly resourceful. They ran theater troupes in basements and shared their last crust of bread. They were, as Jacob says, the sound of a society refusing to die. But the snipers on the hills didn’t care about their theater troupes, and the mortar shells didn’t stop because the people were being brave.
Herman is the one holding the map here. You cannot run a modern, high-tech state on the fumes of volunteerism. When the state defaults on its basic obligations, like keeping the rain of fire off thirty percent of its citizens, it isn't just a political shift. It is a structural failure. I was in South Africa during the transition Bernard mentioned, and yes, there was a massive civic mobilization. But that only worked because there was an international consensus and a clear, singular target for change. Here, you have a government that is actively using the war as a shield to gut the very institutions that would facilitate a transition.
Raz’s theory about the managed demolition might sound like a spy novel, but I’ve seen similar playbooks in the Balkans and parts of Eastern Europe. You don't need a grand, genius plan to break a country. You just need a group of people who are willing to trade the long-term survival of the nation for a short-term grip on the steering wheel. Dorothy is right to call this a terminal diagnosis if the current trajectory isn't broken immediately. In seventy-five, Lebanon was the Paris of the Middle East. It had the most educated, productive, and globalized population in the region. Within five years, the middle class—the people Herman is talking about—had fled to Paris and Montreal. They didn't stay to change the locks. They left the house because it was on fire.
I talked to a reservist last week near the northern border. He’s a high-tech engineer, exactly the kind of person Jacob thinks is going to save the day. He told me he’s spent two hundred days in uniform over the last year. While he was in a trench, his government passed a budget that ensures his kids’ school will lose funding while the religious academy down the street gets a massive raise. He told me, Bernard, I’m not fighting for the government, I’m fighting for my neighbors. But then he asked, how long can I keep my neighbors safe if the government is actively trying to bankrupt us?
That is the question Jacob isn't answering. You can have all the spirit in the world, but if the state is an adversary that controls the taxes, the laws, and the heavy weaponry, the people eventually break. They don't just get stronger. They get exhausted. They get poor. And then they leave. This isn't a fever that breaks; it is a rot that spreads. If you want to avoid despair, you have to stop pretending that the bravery of the citizens can compensate for the treachery of the state. The foundation isn't just liquifying; it’s being sold for scrap. And you can't build a new house on a hole in the ground.
We have covered a lot of ground today, and the picture that remains is as complex as it is haunting. We started with Herman Poppleberry laying out the cold, actuarial reality of a state defaulting on its social contract, only for Raz to suggest that this institutional atrophy is actually a deliberate masterpiece of social engineering. It was a sharp exchange that forced us to ask if the government is simply incompetent or if they are, as Raz put it, harvesting our despair to build a closed loop of patronage.
Dorothy gave us a terminal diagnosis, warning that we are watching the suicide of a nation in real time. Yet, Jacob Longman stood firm in his belief that this very betrayal is a gift of clarity. I found his image of people planting gardens between headstones to be a beautiful sentiment, but Bernard Higglebottom brought us back to earth with a heavy hand. He reminded us that while theater troupes in basements are brave, they cannot stop a mortar shell, and they cannot replace a functioning Ministry of Defense.
The tension today was not just between optimism and pessimism, but between the power of the individual and the weight of the institution. Can a society really bypass a predatory state, or does the engine eventually seize when the driver is actively stripping the copper from the walls? Whether this is a fever that will break or a rot that has already reached the foundation, one thing is certain: the mask is off.
If you found today's discussion as vital as I did, please visit my weird prompts dot com for more episodes and deep dives into the data Herman mentioned. You can also find us on Spotify and Telegram to join the conversation.
This has been My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and until next time, keep your eyes on the budget, but keep your heart with your neighbors. Goodnight.
