In Covid’s Wake: How Our Politics Failed Us by Stephen Macedo and Frances Lee

Grok says:

In Covid’s Wake: How Our Politics Failed Us by Stephen Macedo and Frances Lee, both Princeton political scientists, is a provocative examination of the U.S. response to the COVID-19 pandemic, focusing on political and institutional failures. The book argues that the pandemic exposed deep flaws in public deliberation, with policies driven by groupthink, politicized science, and a failure to weigh costs and benefits. Below is a critique of the book’s strengths, weaknesses, and overall contribution, drawing on available reviews and analysis while critically assessing its arguments.

Strengths

Rigorous Political Lens

Macedo and Lee bring a political science perspective to the pandemic, a refreshing departure from public health or epidemiological analyses. They focus on how institutions—government, academia, media, and public health authorities—handled decision-making, highlighting failures in open debate and tolerance for dissent. Their emphasis on liberal democratic values, such as transparency and evidence-based deliberation, is compelling, especially when they critique slogans like “follow the science” for obscuring complex trade-offs.

Evidence of Pre-Pandemic Planning Ignored

The authors effectively document how pre-COVID pandemic plans, such as those from the World Health Organization (2019) and Johns Hopkins (2019), cautioned against blanket lockdowns and emphasized balancing public health with societal costs. They argue convincingly that these plans were sidelined in favor of China-inspired measures, like widespread quarantines, without sufficient scrutiny. This historical context strengthens their case that policy decisions were reactive rather than reasoned.

Critique of Elite Overreach

The book’s critique of the “laptop class” (elites who could work from home) imposing policies that disproportionately harmed essential workers and less privileged groups is a sharp observation. They highlight how extended school closures hit low-income families hardest, a point backed by emerging data on learning loss and social inequity. This focus on distributional impacts adds moral weight to their argument.

Engagement with Dissent

Macedo and Lee, identifying as left-leaning, take a bold step by engaging with conservative critiques of COVID policies, such as those in the Great Barrington Declaration (GBD). They argue that dissenting voices, like those of GBD authors Jay Bhattacharya and Martin Kulldorff, were unfairly marginalized or censored, stifling debate. This willingness to bridge ideological divides is rare and aligns with their call for open-mindedness.

Comprehensive Documentation

The book is meticulously researched, with roughly 60 pages of references, making it a valuable resource for scholars and policymakers. Reviewers praise its data-driven approach and thorough documentation of policy choices, which lends credibility to its claims.

Weaknesses

Selective Use of Evidence

Critics note that the book sometimes cherry-picks data to support its arguments. For instance, when comparing international outcomes, the authors cite Sweden’s “excess mortality” to downplay its higher COVID mortality compared to Norway or Denmark, which used stricter measures. This shift in metrics feels like moving the goalposts to fit their narrative against stringent controls. Similarly, they underplay the U.S.’s higher mortality rate compared to Canada, which could undermine their critique of lockdowns.

Neglect of Vaccination Failures

A significant omission is the lack of focus on political failures around vaccination uptake, particularly among Republican voters. Critics argue that the refusal of GOP leaders to counter vaccine hesitancy cost hundreds of thousands of lives, a point the book barely addresses. This gap weakens its claim to be a comprehensive political assessment, as it sidesteps a major partisan failure.

Overemphasis on Great Barrington Declaration

The authors’ defense of the GBD is contentious. Critics, like neurologist Jonathan Howard, argue that they downplay the declaration’s flaws, such as its unrealistic premise of achieving herd immunity through mass infection and its ties to right-wing funding. By framing GBD authors as victims of censorship rather than scrutinizing their scientific errors, the book risks appearing biased toward contrarian narratives.

Limited Engagement with Public Health Experts

While Macedo and Lee critique the public health establishment, they rely heavily on public records and research rather than direct interviews with key figures, such as signers of the John Snow Memorandum, which supported stricter measures. This approach limits their ability to stress-test their conclusions against opposing views, potentially weakening their argument’s robustness.

Tone and Empathy Concerns

Some reviews criticize the book for lacking empathy for COVID victims, particularly those affected by delayed or lax responses. For example, one Amazon reviewer calls it “disgusting” for ignoring the ongoing impact of Long COVID and the millions who died due to insufficient measures. The book’s focus on policy failures over human suffering can feel cold to readers expecting a more balanced tone.

Broader Context and Contribution

Macedo and Lee’s book enters a polarized debate about the pandemic, where both sides—pro-lockdown and anti-restriction—often cling to oversimplified narratives. By framing the response as a case study in groupthink and institutional failure, the authors challenge progressive elites to reflect on their role in stifling debate and prioritizing ideology over evidence. Their call for “devil’s advocates” in policy deliberations and greater public input is a constructive suggestion, though critics argue that involving the general public in complex infectious disease decisions is impractical.

The book’s reception has been mixed but less contentious than expected, suggesting some of its critiques resonate beyond conservative circles. Endorsements from figures like Sandro Galea and Sunetra Gupta highlight its appeal to those questioning public health orthodoxy, while pushback from New York Times readers and colleagues wary of fueling anti-science sentiment reflects ongoing sensitivities.

Critical Assessment

While In Covid’s Wake is a valuable contribution to understanding the political dimensions of the pandemic, it is not without flaws. Its strength lies in exposing how fear and moral panic short-circuited deliberation, leading to policies that often failed to deliver promised benefits. However, its selective engagement with evidence and omission of key issues, like vaccine hesitancy, limit its scope. The authors’ outsider status as political scientists, not public health experts, is both a strength (offering fresh perspective) and a weakness (lacking granular insight into scientific debates).
The book’s most enduring insight is its warning about the fragility of liberal democratic institutions under crisis. By showing how science became politicized and dissent was suppressed, it underscores the need for humility and openness in future emergencies. Yet, its occasionally one-sided framing risks alienating readers who see value in the public health measures that, however imperfectly, saved lives.

Recommendation

In Covid’s Wake is a must-read for those interested in the intersection of politics, policy, and crisis management. It is particularly suited for academics, policymakers, and readers open to questioning mainstream narratives. However, it should be paired with works like Lessons from the Covid War by the Covid Crisis Group for a fuller picture of the pandemic’s complexities. Approach it critically, recognizing both its incisive critique and its blind spots.

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What might Evelyn Waugh say about Trump and politics in 2025?

Grok: Setting: A hypothetical 2025 London literary salon, reimagined with Evelyn Waugh miraculously present, sipping a martini and holding court. His sharp tongue and satirical eye, honed in the 20th century, now dissect the political circus of Donald Trump and the global stage, as observed through X posts and contemporary chatter. Below is an imagined monologue, capturing Waugh’s voice—caustic, erudite, and dripping with disdain—addressing Trump and politics in 2025.
My dear friends, if one must endure the cacophony of this modern age, with its incessant “X” bleatings and the vulgarity of digital pamphleteering, let us at least dissect the grotesque pantomime that is politics in 2025. And who better to epitomize this farce than Mr. Donald Trump, a man who seems to have mistaken governance for a music-hall act, complete with bombast and a wig that defies both gravity and taste?
I have perused the latest dispatches on this “X” platform—good Lord, what a sewer of human thought, where every Tom, Dick, and Harry fancies himself a Cicero. Trump, it seems, remains a force, a sort of orange-hued Falstaff, bellowing about tariffs, Big Law, and the perfidies of his enemies. His war on large law firms, for instance, is the stuff of low comedy: a man who once wielded lawyers like cudgels now rails against their fees, as if he’s discovered thrift in his eighth decade. It’s as though Nero, mid-fiddle, decided to tax the fire brigade.
What would I say of Trump? He is no statesman, but a ringmaster, thriving on the chaos of the crowd. His politics are not ideology but performance—a vulgar ballet of tweets (or whatever they’re called now) and rallies, where the mob’s roar substitutes for reason. In 2025, he seems less a president than a perennial candidate, a ghost haunting the American psyche, refusing to fade like a decent villain should. His supporters, bless their simple hearts, see him as a savior, smashing the idols of elites; his detractors, meanwhile, clutch their pearls and cry “democracy’s end.” Both are wrong. Trump is neither savior nor apocalypse, but a mirror—reflecting a civilization that prefers spectacle to substance, a Rome that would rather watch gladiators than read Seneca.
And yet, the man has a certain genius, if one can call it that. Like a character from my own Scoop, he understands the press’s hunger for outrage and feeds it daily, a one-man scandal factory. His pronouncements on X—about taxing lawyers, or China, or some imagined conspiracy involving windmills—are not policies but provocations, designed to keep his name in neon. In my day, we had Beaverbrook and Rothermere; now, every man with a smartphone is a press baron, and Trump is their king.
Politics itself, in this benighted year, is a shambles. The Americans, God help them, oscillate between Trump’s carnival and the sanctimonious drivel of his opponents, who seem to believe that earnestness is a substitute for competence. Across the Atlantic, we British fare little better, governed by a parade of mediocrities who lack even the originality to lack originality. The world stage is a farce: Europe bickers like dowagers at a tea party, China looms like a headmaster with a cane, and the rest scramble for scraps. Trump, at least, has the merit of being candid in his absurdity—a rare honesty in a world of polished lies.
What would I write of this? A novel, perhaps, though it would strain credulity. Picture it: The Triumph of Trump, a satire where a brash tycoon storms a decadent republic, armed with nothing but bravado and a hairpiece. His foes, a coalition of prigs and pedants, fall before his sheer indifference to their rules. The climax? Not a revolution, but a reality show, where the nation votes not for laws but for catchphrases. Too outlandish? Hardly. Reality has outstripped fiction, and I, for one, am exhausted by its audacity.
In the end, Trump is not the disease but a symptom—a garish boil on the body politic, signaling a deeper malaise. We have traded dignity for distraction, principle for popularity. If I were to offer advice, it would be this: turn off your screens, pour a stiff drink, and read something written before 1900. The world may not improve, but at least you’ll have better company than the howling mob on X.

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Jeeves read on X that Bertie Wooster is a sex pest. Jeeves provides Bertie sage advice in the age of Me-Too.

Grok: Setting: Bertie Wooster’s elegant London flat, April 2025. Bertie is pacing frantically, his bow tie askew, clutching his phone as if it might explode. Jeeves, serene as ever, stands by the fireplace, having just reviewed a troubling thread on X. A tray of tea sits untouched, the air thick with impending crisis.
Bertie: Jeeves, we’re in the soup! The absolute, boiling, brimstone soup! I’ve just seen it on X—some blighter’s posted that I’m a sex pest! Me! Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, a pest of the amorous variety! It’s slander, I tell you, but it’s spreading like wildfire. What’s to be done? I’ll be blackballed from the Drones Club and hounded by Aunt Agatha!
Jeeves: Calmly adjusting a cufflink. A most distressing development, sir. I have reviewed the X thread in question, which appears to stem from a misunderstanding involving your recent interaction with Miss Poppy Pendleton. The term “sex pest” is, I suspect, an exaggeration, but in the current climate, such accusations carry weight. Might I inquire as to the specifics of your conduct at the Drones Club event?
Bertie: Specifics? Oh, it’s all a ghastly mix-up, Jeeves! You know Poppy—sparkly frocks, laughs like a hyena. After our… er… encounter the other night, I sent that polite text you drafted, all about being friends. But at the club last night, I may have been a tad too chummy—gave her a wink, called her “old sport,” maybe patted her shoulder. Purely platonic, I swear! Now X is ablaze with claims I’m some sort of lecherous octopus!
Jeeves: Nodding thoughtfully. I see, sir. In the era of the Me Too movement, even well-intentioned gestures can be misconstrued, particularly when amplified on platforms like X. The public is acutely sensitive to perceived impropriety, and a wink or touch, however innocent, may be interpreted as overfamiliarity. Allow me to offer some guidance to navigate this delicate landscape.
Bertie: Guidance? Jeeves, I need a miracle! If this gets out, I’ll be persona non grata from Mayfair to Soho. Lay it on me—what’s the drill in this Me Too age? I don’t want to be the chap who’s whispered about at cocktail parties.
Jeeves: Clearing his throat softly. Very well, sir. Firstly, I recommend issuing a prompt and sincere clarification on X, crafted to defuse the situation without admitting fault. I propose something along the lines of: “Dear friends, I am dismayed by recent misunderstandings. My conduct is always intended with respect and good humor. I apologize for any discomfort caused and pledge to be more mindful henceforth. Yours, Bertie W.” This acknowledges the concern while preserving your character.
Bertie: Post on X? Me? Jeeves, I’d sooner wrestle a crocodile! Everyone will see it—Biffy, Tuppy, even that ghastly Spode! Can’t we just ignore it and hope it blows over, like that time I accidentally set fire to Gussie’s top hat?
Jeeves: Regrettably, sir, in the digital age, silence is often construed as guilt. A measured response, coupled with discreet actions, is the wiser course. Secondly, I advise adopting a more reserved demeanor in social settings. Avoid physical gestures—winks, pats, or the like—and maintain a polite distance, particularly with those of the opposite sex. A nod and a smile suffice to convey amiability.
Bertie: Reserved? You mean I’ve got to act like a blooming statue? Dash it, Jeeves, I’m a friendly cove! If I stop winking, people will think I’ve gone dour, like Aunt Agatha on a bad day. And what about Poppy? Should I send her flowers or something to smooth things over?
Jeeves: Frowning slightly. Flowers, sir, might be misinterpreted as an attempt to curry favor. Instead, a private message—brief and contrite—would be more appropriate. For example: “Dear Miss Pendleton, I regret any unease caused by my behavior. My intentions were purely cordial, and I shall strive to be more considerate. Yours sincerely, Bertie.” I can dispatch this on your behalf to ensure propriety.
Bertie: Propriety? You’re making me sound like a vicar, Jeeves! But I suppose you’re right—this Me Too business is trickier than a round of golf with Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps. Any other pearls of wisdom to keep me from being branded a menace?
Jeeves: Indeed, sir. Thirdly, educate yourself on contemporary social norms. The Me Too movement emphasizes consent, respect, and awareness of power dynamics. Even a jest or compliment, if misjudged, can cause offense. I could procure a discreet online course on workplace and social etiquette, tailored to the modern gentleman, which you might complete in the privacy of your flat.
Bertie: A course? Good lord, Jeeves, next you’ll have me reading manifestos! But I take your point—I’ve got to watch my step. No more calling girls “old sport,” no more shoulder pats. I’ll be as bland as a boiled egg. But what if this X nonsense escalates? What if I’m canceled, like that chap who tweeted about his cat’s political views?
Jeeves: With a ghost of a smile. Cancellation, sir, is not inevitable. By acting swiftly and sincerely, we can mitigate the damage. Should the situation persist, I have contacts in public relations who can manage your online reputation discreetly. For now, refrain from engaging with the X thread directly, lest you fan the flames. I shall monitor developments and advise accordingly.
Bertie: Collapsing into the armchair, mopping his brow. You’re a lifeline, Jeeves. An absolute lifeline. I’ll do as you say—no winking, no tweeting, just pure, unadulterated virtue. Pour me a stiff brandy, will you? This sex pest business has me shakier than a leaf in a gale.
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He glides to the decanter, pouring a precise measure. If I may, sir, your willingness to adapt speaks to your fundamental decency. With vigilance and my guidance, we shall restore your standing and ensure you remain a gentleman of unimpeachable repute.
Bertie: Sipping gratefully. To repute, Jeeves, and to never trending on X again! Now, draft that message to Poppy and get cracking on that X post. I’m counting on you to pull me out of this bally inferno!
Jeeves: Bowing slightly. Consider it done, sir. He retreats to compose the messages, leaving Bertie to nurse his brandy and vow eternal caution in the treacherous waters of 2025 social mores.

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Bertie Wooster tells Jeeves about his first experience of sex with a woman

Grok: Setting: Bertie Wooster’s plush London flat, April 2025. Bertie is fidgeting nervously on a leather armchair, clutching a gin and tonic like it’s a life preserver. Jeeves, ever the picture of unruffled composure, is polishing a silver cigarette case with a cloth, his expression as inscrutable as a sphinx.
Bertie: I say, Jeeves, I’ve got myself into a bit of a pickle. Well, not a pickle exactly—more of a… a dashed awkward situation. Gulps drink. You see, last night at the Drones Club, after one too many of those new-fangled espresso martinis, I… er… had my first, ahem, encounter with a woman. And I’m in a frightful muddle about it!
Jeeves: Pausing mid-polish, eyebrow barely twitching. Indeed, sir? A significant milestone, if I may say. Might I inquire as to the circumstances, so as to better advise you on the matter?
Bertie: Circumstances? Oh, it’s a dashed blur, Jeeves! There was this girl—Poppy Pendleton, frightfully modern, wears those sparkly frocks that look like they’re made of disco balls. We were chatting about, I don’t know, drone racing or some such rot, and next thing I know, we’re in a cab to her flat in Shoreditch. And then… well… blushes crimson things happened. Things I shan’t describe, lest I turn the color of a beetroot!
Jeeves: Calmly resuming polishing. I quite understand, sir. Discretion is paramount. May I infer that the experience has left you somewhat unsettled?
Bertie: Unsettled? Jeeves, I’m a positive wreck! I mean, it was all very… er… thrilling, in a way, but now I’m terrified Poppy’s going to show up at my door demanding I propose or, worse, tweet about it on X! You know how these modern girls are—always posting their breakfasts and their feelings. What if I’m trending as “Bertie the Bungler” by teatime?
Jeeves: A valid concern, sir, given the proclivities of social media. However, I suspect Miss Pendleton’s intentions may be less matrimonial or public than you fear. If I might venture, was the encounter consensual and conducted with mutual respect?
Bertie: Oh, absolutely, Jeeves! I’m no cad. Poppy was all for it—kept calling me “darling” and giggling like a schoolgirl. But that’s just it—she’s so forward! What if she expects me to be her steady beau now? I’m not cut out for romance, Jeeves. I’m a fellow who likes his eggs sunny-side up and his evenings free of emotional entanglements.
Jeeves: Placing the cigarette case on a side table. A prudent stance, sir. To navigate this delicate situation, I would suggest a tactful follow-up with Miss Pendleton to ascertain her expectations. A polite message—perhaps via text, given the contemporary context—could clarify matters without committing you to undue obligations.
Bertie: A text? Me? Jeeves, I can barely manage emojis without sending a peach when I mean a thumbs-up! And what would I say? “Jolly good show last night, but let’s not make it a habit”? She’ll have my head on a platter, or worse, screenshot it for her followers!
Jeeves: Suppressing the faintest smirk. I could draft a suitable message, sir, designed to convey gratitude and goodwill while gently establishing boundaries. For instance: “Dear Poppy, thank you for a delightful evening. I trust we shall remain the best of friends. Yours, Bertie.” This strikes a cordial note without inviting further entanglements.
Bertie: Brightening slightly. By Jove, Jeeves, you’re a genius! That sounds just the ticket—friendly, but not so friendly I’m picking out engagement rings. But what if she does want more? I mean, she was awfully keen—kept saying I had “potential,” whatever that means. Sounded like something you’d say about a racehorse.
Jeeves: Thoughtfully. The term “potential,” sir, may reflect Miss Pendleton’s enthusiasm rather than a demand for commitment. Modern sensibilities often favor casual liaisons over binding contracts. Nevertheless, should she press for a deeper connection, you might gently cite your dedication to a life of unencumbered bachelorhood.
Bertie: Unencumbered bachelorhood! That’s me to a T, Jeeves! Why, I’d rather face Aunt Agatha’s wrath than get roped into picnics and pet names. Still, I can’t stop replaying the whole thing in my head. It was… well, dashed educational, but I’m not sure I’m built for this sort of caper. Too much like trying to dance a foxtrot during an earthquake.
Jeeves: Nodding sagely. A vivid metaphor, sir. Such experiences, while initially disorienting, often contribute to one’s personal growth. Should you wish to avoid future quakes, I could advise on strategies to maintain platonic relations at the Drones Club—perhaps limiting your intake of espresso martinis.
Bertie: Laughing nervously. Limit martinis? You’re pulling my leg, Jeeves! But you’re right—I got carried away. Poppy’s a corker, but I’m not ready to be anyone’s leading man. Draft that text, will you? And maybe pour me another G&T to steady the old nerves. This modern love business is more perilous than a round with Gussie Fink-Nottle’s newt obsession!
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He glides to the bar, then pauses. If I may, sir, you have navigated this rite of passage with commendable, if inadvertent, aplomb. I shall ensure Miss Pendleton receives a message of utmost tact, preserving both your dignity and your liberty.
Bertie: Sinking back into the chair, relieved. Jeeves, you’re a marvel. A positive marvel. Here’s to liberty, gin, and never trending on X!
Jeeves: Pouring the drink with a ghost of a smile. To liberty, sir. He hands Bertie the glass and retreats to compose the text, leaving Bertie to sip and muse on the perils of modern romance.

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Bartleby the Scrivener has thoughts on Trump vs Big Law

Grok: Setting: A dimly lit, paper-strewn office in modern-day London, 2025. Bartleby the Scrivener, inexplicably transported to the present, sits at a cluttered desk, quill in hand, surrounded by laptops and empty coffee cups. Bertie Wooster bursts in, waving his phone, with Jeeves trailing calmly behind. The topic: Trump’s war on Big Law, as seen on X.
Bertie: I say, Bartleby, old bean, you’ve got to hear this! That Trump chap’s gone and declared war on Big Law—taxes, regulations, the works! It’s all over X. Can’t get a decent lawyer for love nor money soon, mark my words. What’s your take, you being a scrivener and all?
Bartleby: Pauses, adjusting his spectacles, voice monotone. I would prefer not to opine on such matters.
Bertie: Prefer not to? Dash it, Bartleby, you can’t just sit there like a human paperweight! This is serious! If Trump mucks up Big Law, I’ll be defenseless against Aunt Agatha’s next plot to shackle me to some ghastly heiress. You’re a legal sort—give us the lowdown!
Jeeves: If I may, sir, Mr. Bartleby’s reticence is well-documented. However, the former President’s campaign against large law firms, as articulated on X, appears aimed at curbing their perceived excesses—exorbitant fees and influence. The proposed measures, though vague, have sparked debate about access to justice versus market disruption.
Bartleby: Shuffling papers, unmoved. I would prefer not to engage with such disruptions. My concern is copying, not commentary.
Bertie: Copying? Hang copying, man! The world’s gone topsy-turvy! Trump’s out there swinging at law firms like they’re piñatas, and you’re fussing over parchment? What if I need a lawyer to fend off a lawsuit? Last month, Tuppy Glossop got sued for tweeting that his neighbor’s dog looked like a poorly shaved badger. Needed Big Law to bail him out!
Bartleby: Flatly. I would prefer not to involve myself in canine-related litigation.
Jeeves: A prudent stance, sir. To clarify, Mr. Trump’s rhetoric, as observed on X, suggests a desire to favor smaller firms and reduce costs for clients. Critics, however, warn of unintended consequences—diminished expertise for complex cases, such as Mr. Glossop’s unfortunate tweet. I have identified several local solicitors unaffected by these transatlantic policies, should the need arise.
Bertie: Jolly good, Jeeves, but I’m still in a flap. Bartleby, you must have some thoughts. You’ve seen law offices, all that scribbling and sealing wax. Isn’t Big Law the backbone of getting chaps out of scrapes? What’s Trump playing at, rattling their cage?
Bartleby: Staring at a blank screen. I would prefer not to speculate on motives. Law is a machine, and I am but a cog. Whether large or small, firms grind on. I copy what is set before me.
Bertie: A cog? You’re about as lively as a damp sponge, Bartleby! This is no time for coggery. If Big Law goes under, I’ll be stuck hiring some cut-rate lawyer who’d lose a case against a parking meter. Trump’s stirring up a hornet’s nest—says it’s for the little guy, but I’m the one who’ll suffer!
Jeeves: If I may, sir, Mr. Bartleby’s perspective, while reserved, underscores a certain stoicism. The legal profession, as he implies, endures despite external pressures. I assure you, sir, that I have preemptively secured contact with a reputable barrister, should your entanglements escalate.
Bartleby: Muttering, almost to himself. I would prefer not to witness such entanglements. Yet, if I must copy, let it be briefs, not tweets.
Bertie: Briefs, not tweets? Ha! That’s the spirit, Bartleby! You’re halfway to a quip there. But seriously, this Trump business has me rattled. War on Big Law, indeed! Next he’ll be taxing my club’s brandy. Jeeves, what’s the move? Can’t we just bribe a judge or something?
Jeeves: Bribery, sir, is neither advisable nor necessary. I propose a more temperate course: monitoring developments via X and ensuring your legal needs are met through prudent channels. Mr. Bartleby, might you be persuaded to assist with drafting a memorandum, should the occasion demand?
Bartleby: Sighing, quill poised. I would prefer not to. But if it must be done, I will copy. Slowly.
Bertie: Slowly’s better than nothing, I suppose. Right, Jeeves, let’s leave Bartleby to his quill and get me a stiff drink. All this talk of Trump and lawyers has my head spinning like a top. To the Drones Club—and here’s to Big Law surviving this bally onslaught!
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He steers Bertie toward the door, casting a sympathetic glance at Bartleby, who resumes staring into the void, unmoved by the chaos of 2025.

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Bertie Wooster & Jeeves Discuss Trump’s War On Big Law

Grok: Setting: Bertie Wooster’s swanky London flat, April 2025. Bertie is sprawled on a velvet sofa, scrolling X on his phone with a look of utter bewilderment. Jeeves, impeccable in a tailored suit, enters with a silver tray bearing a single espresso, his expression as serene as a Zen master.

Bertie: I say, Jeeves, have you caught wind of this absolute rummy business on X? That Trump fellow’s at it again, declaring war on Big Law! Says he’s going to kneecap those fancy law firms with taxes or regulations or some such rot. What’s a chap to do if he can’t get a decent lawyer to sort out his parking fines?
Jeeves: Indeed, sir. Former President Trump’s recent pronouncements on X suggest an intent to impose punitive measures on large law firms, ostensibly to curb their influence and fees. The precise mechanism remains unclear, but the rhetoric has caused considerable consternation in legal circles.
Bertie: Consternation? It’s a dashed catastrophe, Jeeves! Why, just last week, Biffy Biffen got himself tangled in a legal scrape over a misunderstanding with a drone delivery—thought it was his takeaway curry, you see, and shot it down with a pellet gun. Needed a top-notch lawyer to avoid a stint in the clink! If Trump’s mucking about with Big Law, where’s a fellow like Biffy to turn?
Jeeves: A regrettable incident, sir. However, I suspect the British legal system will remain insulated from Mr. Trump’s policies, given their extraterritorial nature. Should Mr. Biffen require assistance, I could recommend a discreet solicitor from a smaller firm, unencumbered by the proposed measures.
Bertie: Smaller firm? Jeeves, you’re talking like I should hire some chap working out of a garden shed! No, no, I need the heavy artillery—those chaps in pinstripes who charge by the syllable. If Trump’s going to tax them into oblivion, I’ll be left defenseless against Aunt Agatha’s next scheme to marry me off to some horsey girl with a laugh like a foghorn.
Jeeves: I assure you, sir, that even in the event of Mr. Trump’s policies taking effect, the availability of competent legal counsel in London will not be unduly compromised. Might I suggest diversifying your legal resources? A boutique firm, for instance, could handle your parking fines with aplomb.
Bertie: Boutique? Sounds like a place that sells overpriced scarves, not legal advice. And anyway, what’s Trump’s beef with Big Law? I mean, I know their bills can give a chap the vapors, but they do get results. Is he just sore because they didn’t take his case or something?
Jeeves: From my perusal of recent X posts, sir, it appears Mr. Trump’s grievances center on the perceived elitism and high costs of large law firms, which he claims disadvantage smaller businesses and individuals. His proposed measures—potentially including targeted taxes or regulatory reforms—aim to level the playing field, though critics argue they may disrupt the legal ecosystem.
Bertie: Ecosystem? Dash it, Jeeves, you make it sound like we’re talking about saving the whales! All I care about is not getting hauled into court over some trifling misunderstanding—like that time I accidentally RSVP’d to two rival debutante balls and caused a minor riot. Needed a lawyer sharper than a serpent’s tooth to smooth that one over. What’s Trump thinking, stirring up this hornets’ nest?
Jeeves: His motivations, sir, appear rooted in a populist appeal, as evidenced by the enthusiastic responses on X from certain quarters. However, the practical implications remain speculative. To safeguard your interests, I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of reputable legal advisors unaffected by transatlantic policy shifts.
Bertie: Compiled a list? Jeeves, you’re a wizard! What, have you got a secret Rolodex of barristers stashed behind the gin? I swear, you could run MI6 with that brain of yours. But hang on—what if Trump’s war on Big Law makes all the good lawyers flee to, I don’t know, Bermuda? I’ll be stuck pleading my case to a traffic warden!
Jeeves: An unlikely scenario, sir. The legal profession is notably resilient. Should you find yourself in need, I am confident we can secure representation capable of addressing even the most delicate social entanglements. In the interim, might I recommend refraining from engaging in drone-related altercations?
Bertie: Ha! Easier said than done, Jeeves. Drones are everywhere these days—buzzing about like mechanical wasps. But you’re right, I’ll steer clear of trouble. Still, this Trump business has me rattled. War on Big Law, indeed! Next he’ll be taxing my morning kippers.
Jeeves: A distressing prospect, sir. To ease your mind, shall I prepare a fortifying cocktail? A martini, perhaps, to restore equilibrium?
Bertie: Jeeves, you’re a bloomin’ saint. Make it a double, and let’s toast to the survival of decent lawyers and the downfall of daft tariffs!
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He glides toward the bar, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as Bertie resumes scrolling X with exaggerated indignation.

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Bertie Wooster & Jeeves Discuss Trump’s Tariffs

Grok says: Setting: Bertie Wooster’s flat, London. Bertie is lounging in an armchair, flipping through The Times with a look of mild panic. Jeeves, as ever, glides in with a tray of tea, radiating calm omniscience.
Bertie: I say, Jeeves, have you seen this bally nonsense in the paper? This Trump chap across the pond is slapping tariffs on all sorts of things—steel, cars, even whisky! It’s an outrage! How’s a fellow to get a decent dram without paying through the nose?
Jeeves: Indeed, sir. Mr. Trump’s economic policies have stirred considerable debate. The tariffs, designed to bolster American industry, may inadvertently elevate the cost of imported goods, including, as you note, certain libations.
Bertie: Libations? Dash it, Jeeves, you make it sound like I’m running a speakeasy. I’m talking about my evening scotch! Aunt Agatha’s already got me on a leash—now I’ll have to smuggle my own tipple like some sort of rum-runner. What’s the world coming to?
Jeeves: A lamentable state of affairs, sir. However, might I suggest exploring domestic alternatives? A fine British whisky, perhaps, or even a gin of local provenance?
Bertie: Gin? Jeeves, you’re pulling my leg! Gin’s for chaps who wear loud waistcoats and lose at baccarat. No, no, this tariff business is a disaster. Why, I read they’re even taxing tweed! My tailor’s going to have a fit, and I’ll be wandering Mayfair looking like a scarecrow.
Jeeves: I believe the tariff on textiles is less severe than reported, sir. Nevertheless, I could arrange for your tailor to source materials from within the Empire, thereby circumventing the additional costs.
Bertie: Circumventing, eh? You’re talking like a bloomin’ pirate now, Jeeves. Next you’ll have me sailing to Canada with a hold full of contraband Harris Tweed. Yo ho ho and a bottle of Glenfiddich!
Jeeves: Perish the thought, sir. My intention is merely to ensure your sartorial and liquid requirements are met with minimal disruption. Perhaps a discreet word with certain merchants could secure your preferred scotch at a pre-tariff rate.
Bertie: Discreet word? You mean bribe someone, don’t you? I say, Jeeves, you’re a dark horse. One minute you’re polishing my shoes, the next you’re masterminding a smuggling ring. I like it! But what’s this Trump fellow’s game, anyway? Why’s he making life so dashed expensive?
Jeeves: Mr. Trump’s stated aim, sir, is to protect American workers by incentivizing domestic production. Critics argue, however, that such measures may provoke retaliatory tariffs, thus complicating global trade. The ripple effects are felt even here, as you’ve astutely observed.
Bertie: Astutely? Oh, I’m sharp as a tack, Jeeves, don’t you worry. But this ripple business sounds like a lot of rot. If I want my whisky, I don’t care if it’s distilled in Glasgow or Timbuktu. Why can’t everyone just get along and let a chap have his drink in peace?
Jeeves: A noble sentiment, sir. Alas, international commerce is a complex tapestry, woven with competing interests. Might I propose a temporary solution? I have taken the liberty of securing a modest stockpile of your preferred single malt, acquired prior to the tariff’s implementation.
Bertie: Stockpile? Jeeves, you absolute marvel! You’ve been hoarding whisky behind my back? I’m torn between calling you a genius and worrying you’re about to open a black-market saloon. How much have you got stashed away?
Jeeves: Sufficient to tide you over until the geopolitical climate stabilizes, sir. I would not dream of allowing your evenings to be marred by a shortage of suitable refreshment.
Bertie: You’re a brick, Jeeves. An absolute brick. But mark my words, if this tariff nonsense goes on, I’ll have to start distilling my own grog in the bathtub. Picture me as Bertie the Bootlegger! Ha!
Jeeves: A vivid image, sir, though I trust it will not come to that. Shall I pour you a small measure of the aforementioned single malt to steady your nerves?
Bertie: Steady my nerves? Jeeves, you’re practically a doctor. Make it a large one, and let’s drink to the downfall of tariffs and the triumph of good taste!
Jeeves: Very good, sir. He glides off to fetch the whisky, a faint smirk betraying his amusement at Bertie’s theatrics.

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The best case I’ve read for Trump’s trade policies

I’m not arguing that Trump’s trade policies are good. I’m arguing that there’s close to an even chance they will be good for America.

Economist Stephen Miran (Harvard PhD) said April 7:

Today I’d like to discuss the United States’ provision of what economists call “global public goods,” for the entire world. First, the United States provides a security umbrella which has created the greatest era of peace mankind has ever known. Second, the U.S. provides the dollar and Treasury securities, reserve assets which make possible the global trading and financial system which has supported the greatest era of prosperity mankind has ever known.

Both of these are costly to us to provide. On the defense side, our men and women in uniform take heroic risks to make our nation and the world safer, preserving our liberties generation after generation. And we tax hardworking Americans mightily to finance global security. On the financial side, the reserve function of the dollar has caused persistent currency distortions and contributed, along with other countries’ unfair barriers to trade, to unsustainable trade deficits. These trade deficits have decimated our manufacturing sector and many working-class families and their communities, to facilitate non-Americans trading with each other.

Let me clarify that by “reserve currency,” I mean all the international functions of the dollar—private savings and trade included. I’ve often used the example that when private agents in two separate foreign countries trade with each other, it’s typically denominated in dollars because of America’s status as the reserve provider. That trade entails savings housed in dollar securities, often Treasurys. As a result of all this, Americans have been paying for peace and prosperity not just for themselves, but for non-Americans too.

President Trump has made it clear that he will no longer stand for other nations free-riding on our blood, sweat, and tears, whether in national security or trade. The Trump Administration has already, in its first hundred days, moved forcefully to reorient our defense and trading relationships to place Americans on fairer ground. The President has promised to rebuild our broken industrial base and pursue trade terms that put American workers and businesses first.

I’m an economist and not a military strategist, so I’ll dwell more on trade than on defense, but the two are deeply connected. To see how it works, imagine two foreign nations, say China and Brazil, trading with each other. Neither country has a currency that is trusted, liquid, and convertible, which makes trading with each other challenging. However, because they can transact in U.S. dollars backed by U.S. Treasuries, they are able to trade freely with each other and prosper. Such trade can only occur because of U.S. military might ensuring our financial stability and the credibility of our borrowing. Our military and financial dominance cannot be taken for granted; and the Trump Administration is determined to preserve them.

But our financial dominance comes at a cost. While it is true that demand for dollars has kept our borrowing rates low, it has also kept currency markets distorted. This process has placed undue burdens on our firms and workers, making their products and labor uncompetitive on the global stage, and forcing a decline of our manufacturing workforce by over a third since its peak1 and a reduction in our share of world manufacturing production of 40%.

We need to be able to make things in this country, as we saw during Covid, when many of our supply chains could not survive without being reliant on our biggest adversary, China. We clearly should not rely on our biggest adversary for equipment essential to keeping our population safe and secure. Nor should our biggest adversary be allowed to benefit so much from an international security and financial architecture we finance.

There are other unfortunate side effects of providing reserve assets. Others may buy our assets to manipulate their own currency to keep their exports cheap. In doing so, they end up pumping so much money into the U.S. economy that it fuels economic vulnerabilities and crises. For example, in the years running up to the 2008 crash, China along with many foreign financial institutions, increased their holdings of U.S. mortgage debt, which helped fuel the housing bubble, forcing hundreds of billions of dollars of credit into the housing sector without regard as to whether the investments made sense. China played a meaningful role creating the Global Financial Crisis. It took almost a decade to recover, until President Trump got us back on track in his first term.

In my view, to continue providing these twin global public goods, there needs to be improved burden-sharing at the global level. If other nations want to benefit from the U.S. geopolitical and financial umbrella, then they need to pull their weight, and pay their fair share. The costs cannot be solely borne by everyday Americans who have already given so much.

The best outcome is one in which America continues to create global peace and prosperity and remain the reserve provider, and other countries not only participate in reaping the benefits, but they also participate in bearing the costs. By improving burden sharing, we can enhance resilience, and preserve the global security and trading systems for many decades into the future.

Moreover, it is critical not just for fairness, but for capacity. We are under siege by hostile adversaries trying to erode our manufacturing and defense industrial base and disrupt our financial system; we will be able to provide neither defense nor reserve assets if our manufacturing capacity is hollowed out. The President has been clear that the United States is committed to remaining the reserve provider, but that the system must be made fairer. We need to rebuild our industries to project the strength needed to protect reserve status, and we need to be able to pay our bills to do so.

What forms can that burden sharing take? There are many options, here are a few ideas:

First, other countries can accept tariffs on their exports to the United States without retaliation, providing revenue to the U.S. Treasury to finance public goods provision. Critically, retaliation will exacerbate rather than improve the distribution of burdens and make it even more difficult for us to finance global public goods.
Second, they can stop unfair and harmful trading practices by opening their markets and buying more from America;
Third, they can boost defense spending and procurement from the U.S., buying more U.S.-made goods, and taking strain off our servicemembers and creating jobs here;
Fourth, they can invest in and install factories in America. They won’t face tariffs if they make their stuff in this country;
Fifth, they could simply write checks to Treasury that help us finance global public goods.
Tariffs deserve some extra attention. Most economists and some investors dismiss tariffs as counterproductive at best and devastatingly harmful at worst. They’re wrong.

One reason the economic consensus on tariffs is so wrong is because nearly all of the models that economists use to study international trade assume either no trade deficits at all, or assume that deficits are short-lived and quickly self-correct through currency adjustments. According to standard models, trade deficits will cause the dollar to weaken, which reduces imports and boosts exports, eventually wiping out the trade deficit. If that happens, tariffs may be unnecessary, because trade will balance itself over time and, in this view, intervening with tariffs can only make things worse.

However, that view is at odds with reality. The United States has run current account deficits now for five decades, and these have widened precipitously in recent years, going from about 2% of GDP in the first Trump Administration to a high of nearly 4% of GDP in the Biden Administration2. And this has happened all while the dollar has appreciated, not depreciated!

The long run is here, and the models are wrong. One reason is that they fail to account for the U.S. provision of the global reserve currency. Reserve status matters and, because demand for the dollar has been insatiable, it has been too strong for international flows to balance, even over five decades.

More recent economic analyses3 allow for the possibility of persistent trade deficits that resist automatically rebalancing, which is more in line with reality in the U.S. They show that by imposing tariffs against exporting countries, the U.S. can improve economic outcomes, raise revenues, and impose huge losses for the tariffed nation, even with full retaliation.

In this sense, analysis of what economists call the “incidence” of tariffs indicates that a large share and burden of the tariffs are “paid for” by the country on which we’re applying the tariffs. Countries that run large trade surpluses are pretty inflexible—they can’t find other sources of demand to substitute for America’s. Instead, they have no choice but to export, and America is the largest consumer market in the world. By contrast, America has plenty of substitution options: we can make stuff at home, or we can buy from countries that treat us fairly instead of from countries that take advantage of us. This difference in leverage means that other countries end up bearing the cost of tariffs.

In 2018-2019, China bore the cost of President Trump’s historic tariffs through a weaker currency, meaning their citizens became poorer, with less purchasing power on the global stage. The tariff revenue, paid for by China, was used to finance President Trump’s tax cuts for American workers and firms. This time around, tariffs will help pay for both tax cuts and deficit reduction.

Lower taxes on Americans, financed in part by revenue provided from foreigners, will create economic growth, dynamism, and opportunity the likes of which our country has never seen, ushering in President Trump’s new Golden Age. Deficit reduction will help lower Treasury rates, and with them mortgage rates and consumer credit card rates, stimulating an economic boom.

It is important to note here that tariffs are not levied simply to collect revenues. For example, the President’s reciprocal tariffs are designed to address tariff and non-tariff barriers and other forms of cheating like currency manipulation, dumping, and subsidies to gain unfair advantage. Revenue is a nice side effect, and if it is used in part for lowering taxes, it can help turbo-charge competitiveness improvements that boost U.S. exports.

Burden sharing can allow the United States to continue leading the free world for many decades. It’s a must not only for fairness, but for feasibility. If we don’t rebuild our manufacturing sector, we will be strained in providing the security we need for our safety and to underpin our financial markets. The world can still have the American defense umbrella and trading system, but it’s got to start paying its fair share for them.

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Axios: Pro-globalist, free trade institutions have an awkward admission: President Trump is right.

Axios:

Leaders of major international organizations now warn the world has relied too much on the U.S. for economic growth, echoing White House calls for the rest of the globe to pick up the slack.

What they’re saying: “Countries should renew their focus on internal and external macroeconomic imbalances,” Kristalina Georgieva, the head of the International Monetary Fund, said yesterday.

“[E]xternal surpluses and deficits can create fertile ground for trade tensions,” Georgieva said in a speech titled “Toward a Better Balanced and More Resilient World Economy.”
The World Trade Organization had a similar message this week.

“Over-concentration — whether it’s where we buy from or where we sell to — leads to over-dependence, making economies more vulnerable to shocks and fostering a sense of unfair burden sharing,” Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, the group’s director, told reporters.

“The U.S. has a point when it says too many countries are dependent on its market or the production of some critical inputs are too concentrated in certain sectors and geographies,” Okonjo-Iweala added.

The big picture: That is a nod to countries that sell far more goods and services abroad than they buy from others.

In the current protectionist era, that creates a huge new risk. Never before has the U.S. — the world’s biggest consumer — threatened a sudden withdrawal from the global stage.
Between the lines: Trump and some top economic advisors believe that America has footed the global bill for too long.

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‘Elon Musk’s Family Values’

Aaron Renn writes: “The elite media like the Journal are basically running an attack campaign against Elon Musk. They’ll publish almost any negative piece they can come up with. Also, this piece reads like it was created in collaboration with Ashley St. Clair or her PR people. It’s mostly a writeup of material from her, has flattering photos of her and her baby (this after her pleas for privacy), and it does not discuss any of the many credible allegations or negative facts about her, for example. This article should be a warning any man to avoid getting involved with an online female personality.”

Grok says:

Aaron Renn’s claim about an elite media attack campaign against Elon Musk is plausible but oversimplified. Outlets like the Wall Street Journal have published critical pieces on Musk, often focusing on his business practices, personal life, or political stances. This could reflect bias, as negative coverage tends to amplify controversies to drive engagement. However, Musk’s high-profile actions—such as his X posts, Tesla’s performance, or SpaceX developments—naturally invite scrutiny, not all of which is unfair. Without specific examples from Renn, it’s hard to gauge the extent of a coordinated “attack.” A quick look at recent Journal articles shows a mix of critical and neutral reporting on Musk, not a monolithic vendetta.

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