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True & Honest Fan
'Final response - SCREW YOU': Doctor struck off over paranoid husband

A doctor accused of running an unusual nocturnal practice has been struck off after a court found she was under the influence of her "paranoid" and "delusional" husband.

Gina Windsor, a general practitioner, came to the attention of the Health Care Complaints Commission following an anonymous complaint that she was sleeping in her car or the nursing homes where she practised, eating dinner at those homes, wearing the same clothes for a week and working all through the night.

It was alleged that she sometimes saw nursing home patients late at night when they were asleep.

But it was her response to the complaint that prompted the health watchdog to seek her deregistration.

According to a judgment in the NSW Civil and Administrative Tribunal, Dr Windsor responded by letter to the HCCC that the complaint against her was based on "blatant lies and malicious libels written with spiteful intent".

But in a follow-up phone call she largely confirmed aspects of the complaint, explaining that she was on call 24-hours and sometimes slept in her car or at a nursing home if she was too tired to drive, the judgment said.

The Medical Council then requested that she attend a health interview with a panel that included two psychiatrists. She brought along her husband Neil Windsor who, the panel would later report, "answered questions on her behalf, spoke over her and refused to allow her to speak".

However, before he terminated the interview - striking his wife on the shoulder in order to make her stand up and leave - the panel learned that he had written Dr Windsor's response to the complaint, which he believed was part of a larger plot against him because he had written about "Atlantian genocide" on his web page.

He believed that his phone, and those in the interview room, were bugged.

"Mr Windsor was belligerent, paranoid and angry," the panel reported. "He raised his voice and seemed preoccupied by the persecutory and somewhat bizarre beliefs outlined above, which appeared to be of a delusional nature."

The panel raised concerns that Dr Windsor was "unduly influenced" by her husband and that this could place the public in danger if she acted on his delusional beliefs. She appeared to share his belief that her phone was bugged.

A psychiatrist given access to interview transcripts and letters formed the opinion that there was a strong suggestion of a severe mental illness in Mr Windsor, and recommended that Dr Windsor not practise medicine until she could be interviewed separately from her husband to ascertain what was going on. The panel suspended her registration in September 2016 after a hearing she declined to attend, and referred the matter to the HCCC.

Mr Windsor sent an email to the Medical Council. "Final response: SCREW YOU," it read. "All 19 members of the Medical Board of NSW, all employees, all contractors ... are on a WATCH LIST! ... Enjoy life while you still can."

Police were notified, but formed the opinion that he was not capable of carrying out violence against the board.

The HCCC prosecuted Dr Windsor in the NSW Civil and Administrative Tribunal, alleging that she had a mental impairment that affected her ability to practise medicine, that she had diminished control over her autonomy and a lack of insight into the effects of her relationship with her husband.

The tribunal was unable to find that she suffered from a mental impairment because she had not been assessed by a psychiatrist, but it found last week that she was not competent to practise as a general practitioner and ordered her registration to be cancelled.


True & Honest Fan
President Trump's only crime - winning the 2016 election. Hanson hits yet another home run.


The Madness of Progressive Projection

The only Trump “crime” was in his winning an election he was not supposed to win. So after the election, prior illegal acts were redefined as legal, and legal ones as illegal.
Victor Davis Hanson October 6, 2019

Strangest among all the many melodramas of the last two weeks were the blaring headlines that President Trump had dared to talk with the Australian Prime Minister—and referenced the role of foreign governments and in particular Australia in U.S. electoral politics in 2016.

Given the hue and cry of Democrats in the last three years, they should have been delighted that the president was peremptorily warning foreign nations to cease to currying favor with presidential candidates and asking them to hand over what information, if any, they had of past “collusion.” In fact, they were outraged and once again returned to “collusion” charges, as if Trump were subverting the 2020 election.

I Accuse You of Doing What I Did!
Unfortunately, projection is now an encompassing explanation for almost everything the Left alleges. After all, the Australian government’s own connection with U.S. elections is only on the American political radar because in 2016 its former foreign minister, Alexander Downer, who had steered a large Australian donation to the Clinton Foundation, may have colluded with intelligence agencies to entrap George Papadopoulos, a minor and transient Trump campaign employee, to find dirt on the Trump campaign. Bringing up Australia is like the Left leaving a scented trail to its own past miscreant behavior.

Take the Ukraine. It would be hard for any Democrat politico to argue that Ukraine was not involved in 2016 to feed faux-charges of “collusion” to Hillary Clinton—a fact even the liberal press once repeatedly conceded. Ukrainians were only too happy to meet and consult with U.S. intelligence officials when they assumed Hillary Clinton was to be elected, and their yeoman service in frying the sure loser Trump would somehow be appreciated and awarded.
When Joe Biden makes the accusation that Trump was colluding with the new Ukrainian president to reopen investigation of the Biden influence-peddling conglomerate, naturally we knew that Ukraine in general had been leveraged in the past to help the Clinton campaign, and by Biden himself in particular to enrich his own son. Poor contorted Ukraine now backpedals as fast as it can—from trying to help destroy Trump in 2016 to suggesting in 2019 that it regrets having done so. And soon it will hedge its cooperation in 2020—unsure whether the Democrat colluders of 2016 will return to power and it can expect to be punished for renouncing them in 2019.

In surreal fashion, every charge that Biden levels against Trump’s supposed thought crimes amounts to more evidence of his own real wrongdoing in using threats to cut off aid to a foreign nation in exchange for dropping investigation of his wayward son. The latter’s only apparent qualifications for employment are shameless readiness to play on his father’s position.

Projection as a Leftist symptom came to the fore during the Mueller investigation when Mueller’s dream team of progressive attorneys began pressuring a number of minor Trump former campaign officials, and eventually his national security advisor, on trumped up charges—from leaking sensitive documents, to obstruction of justice, to lying to federal officials, to collusion (whatever that non-legal term denotes) with foreign governments and in particular Russia. In each case, Mueller ended up hunting down possible misdemeanors while ignoring likely felonies.

Leaking? By James Comey’s own admissions he had leaked confidential presidential memos he composed for the expressed purpose of later using them as insurance policies against Trump, some of which material was classified as secret.

As far as lying to federal officials, Mueller simply ignored that Andrew McCabe was under federal referrals for lying to investigators about his own strategic leaking of FBI investigatory material. Both McCabe and Comey likely lied to a FISA court by not apprising judges that their prime evidence, the Steele dossier, was not verified, its foreign author severed from FBI contractual employment, and many of its assertions known to be demonstrably untrue.

The Left has accused critics of Biden of indulging in supposition and hearsay and using unnamed sources—despite the fired Ukrainian prosecutor’s insistence that he was dismissed due to Biden’s interference and demands to end the investigation into the likely criminality of Biden’s own son Hunter. Yet, the so-called “whistleblower” complaint admittedly is without any firsthand evidence, and rests entirely on two nothings—second and third-hand information the complainant claims he heard, and sources within the White House for such rumors that remain anonymous, in other words accusers of the president who refuse to identify themselves.

In truth, the “whistleblower” is no such thing. He or she is a disgruntled and partisan intelligence bureaucrat, who violated the whistleblower statutes by first going to Rep. Adam Schiff’s (D.-Calif.) staff on the House Intelligence Committee to get help in translating his narrative into Mueller/Steele dossier legalese, and in strategizing the timing of his accusations. Expect a series of John Brennan-surrogate intelligence agency whistleblowers to follow once it is established that now hearsay is admissible and there is no downside to violating the statutes by first conferring with Adam Schiff’s staff.

Conflict of What?
Conflict of Interest? We are hearing allegations that Attorney General Barr cannot investigate any of the whistleblower’s accusations because he is mentioned as interested in learning from the Ukraine any information available concerning 2016 interference into the U.S. election—this coming at a time when a nondescript, mostly unethical and quite disturbed Hunter Biden parlayed his ignorance about foreign affairs, the oil business, and Ukraine into a lucrative “consultantship,” predicated on the wink and nod reality that his dad, who knew quite well what his heretofore miscreant son had landed upon, was overseeing U.S.-Ukrainian aid.

But conflict of interest is in fact the entire basis of the last three years of endless investigations of the 2016 election and purported Trump “collusion.” Do we remember the contortions taken by Andrew McCabe to ignore the fact that he was “investigating” Hillary Clinton emails, shortly after Clinton-related funds were given to his own wife, a candidate for the state legislature in Virginia?

A blatant conflict of interest was the intertwine of Lisa Page and Peter Strzok, two of Mueller’s investigators and previously at the nexus of investigating almost every alleged wrongdoing of Trump. Neither disclosed that they were conducting FBI business as supposed independent investigators while conducting an affair.

Neither disclosed that they were investigating supposed Trump crimes while communicating daily their disgust for Trump, their disdain for his supporters, and their boasts about stopping the Trump candidacy and later his presidency. Neither disclosed why and when they were fired from the Mueller team, perhaps in deference to Robert Mueller’s unethical gambit of staggering their departures, claiming each was merely “reassigned,” and not disclosing their absences until weeks after they left.

Their conflicts of interest turned to farce when we learned that the two helped reclassify their former boss James Comey’s secret memos of presidential conversations as non-felonious “confidential”—a sort of replay of Strzok’s earlier rewording of the Comey assessment of the Clinton email scandal to ensure she would not be charged with a felony.

The locus classicus of conflict of interest was the Loretta Lynch/James Comey investigation of candidate Hillary Clinton. Comey has admitted he handled the Clinton examination in expectation she would win the presidency (and thus become his new boss). Lynch has confessed (but only after being caught by the media) that she met secretly with Bill Clinton at a time when the Justice Department was supposedly investigating his wife. We are asked to believe that their respective private jets actually bumped into each other on the Phoenix tarmac (someone should count the nation’s average daily landings of private jets and compute the possibility of such a happenstance meeting) and that they suddenly decided to have a chat about their grandchildren and other mutual family gossip.

The Collusion Boomerang
Collusion? Mueller found no proof that Trump colluded with Russian officials. But to come to such a conclusion, by needs he had to ignore all the evidence leading to an open and shut case, that Hillary Clinton used three firewalls—the Democratic National Committee, the Perkins Coie legal firm, and Fusion GPS opposition research team—to hide her payments to British national Christopher Steele, an admitted Trump-hater, who hired Russian fabricators to find dirt on Trump, and then created a mostly mythical “dossier” on Clinton’s opponent.

In turn, the dossier was seeded among fellow traveler Trump haters in the DOJ, FBI, DNI, and CIA like Bruce Ohr, John Brennan, James Clapper, James Comey, and Andrew McCabe. These partisan allies of the Democrats working in government made sure that it was leaked to the media before the 2016 election.

Obstruction? Trump was not referred for wrongdoing on obstruction, because even the partisan Mueller team believed that they could never indict him after his tenure was over, given the paucity of actionable evidence. After all, it is hard to obstruct justice if a crime did not take place. But given that a FISA court was deluded, classified documents leaked, government officials caught lying, and foreign governments found to have compiled dirt on a presidential candidate, and no one yet has been charged—the question arises, “Why?”

Who made the decision to quash the investigation of Hillary Clinton after she destroyed over 30,000 emails under subpoena? Who excused Obama officials after they knowingly misled federal FISA court justices? Who leaked information about a surveilled phone call between Michael Flynn and the Russian ambassador? Who decided that it was acceptable for Samantha Power to request over 260 times the unmasking of names of American citizens swept up in government surveillance, many of which were illegally leaked to the press and most of which Power denied requesting and alleged others had used her name to do so? Somewhere, somehow there was a great deal of obstruction and distortion of justice that so far has prevented the pursuit of these criminal acts.

Destruction of evidence? House Democrats are demanding that the supposed transcript of the Trump phone call to the Ukrainian president be kept safe, as if it might “disappear.” This in the aftermath of revelations that Hillary Clinton bleach-bitted over 30,000 of her emails under subpoena, and had her mobile devices crushed. This in the aftermath of the Mueller teams and FBI sheepishly conceding that hundreds of text messages between Lisa Page and Peter Strzok simply “disappeared.” This in the aftermath of the hard drives of the supposed hacked DNC computer never being turned over to the FBI but instead to the Ukrainian connected Crowdstrike, and whose current whereabouts are not really known to this day.

Recently David Gergen warned that if the “whistleblower” were injured, it would be Trump’s fault. I am assuming Gergen knows that three presidential candidates have boasted of their desires to beat up the president or see him disappear for good in an elevator. Rhetorically killing the president is a favorite pastime of Hollywood celebrities. Does Gergen remember the fate of Rep. Steve Scalise (R.-La.) and the attempted take-out of the many Republican congressional leadership by an unhinged Bernie Sanders zealot? Or the threats issued by Rep. Maxine Waters (D.-Calif.) to hound and harass Trump officials throughout their daily routines?

The Nature of Projection
A cynic might conclude that the last past wasted three years were really not about Trump at all. He was entirely irrelevant, and was referenced largely as a means to preempt investigation of massive Obama-era illegality in 2016, which centered on warping the law to destroy his supposed widely detestable and dangerous campaign that threatened Democratic control of the government. As a result, in almost every instance of alleged Trump wrongdoing the accusers only bring attention to themselves and their own actual wrongdoing.

What is behind this strange collective psychological condition of projecting one’s own guilt on to another? In part, out of embarrassment that Hillary Clinton blew an election despite having the edge in money, the media, and the popular culture, Trump was recalibrated as a cheater. Otherwise it was impossible to accept that the Manhattan wheeler-dealer had outsmarted, out-campaigned, and out-hustled the progressives’ best and brightest—and worse yet might have every intention of keeping his campaign promises to undo the entire Obama agenda.

For tens of thousands of government careerists, by and large political partisans of the Democrats, using any means necessary was justified by the supposedly noble ends of ending the coarse Trump. Groupthink ensued that led to mass hysteria, as the fantasies needed to invoke the 25th Amendment, the Logan Act, and the emoluments clause, meant that their own “collusion” and “obstruction” simply no longer mattered. One would have thought Trump got caught on a hot mic offering a quid pro quo to Vladimir Putin or monitoring the communications of Associated Press reporters.

Instead the zeal and loudness with which one advanced Trump collusion narratives brought both careerist and psychological rewards. The old scandals like Uranium One, the shenanigans around the Iran Deal, the hot mic Obama quid pro quos, and the Hillary email fix were shrugged off, as proof of progressive zeal put to a good cause. To raise the question of unequal application of the law is now dismissed as “whataboutism.”

In sum, had Trump just lost the election, the illegal use of the intelligence agencies by Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama’s administration would have been an insider topic of pride. A now defeated and humiliated Trump would never have been charged with collusion and obstruction during the 2016 campaign. Instead, he would be written off a naïf who never understood leftwing warnings analogous to Senator Chuck Schumer’s (D.-N.Y.) later admonition, that Trump was being “really dumb,” given that, “You take on the Intelligence Community, they have six ways from Sunday at getting back at you.” Or Samantha Power’s postelection smirk, “Not a good idea to piss off John Brennan.”

The only Trump “crime” was in his winning an election he was not supposed to win, which then “pissed” off the wrong people and of course amounted to acting “dumb” with the intelligence agencies. So after the election, prior illegal acts were redefined as legal, and legal ones as illegal.

Inflatable Julay

stop posting grandpa

tldr a bunch of queer trust fund kids spit in the face of their parents' efforts to provide for them

Meet the Rich Kids Who Want to Give Away All Their Money
By Norman Vanamee

24-31 minutes

The Loft Meeting, Part One
Sam Jacobs is 24. He is tall and skinny, with brown hair, glasses, and a nose ring. Something inside him told him to give away his money, along with the power that money bestows, so he is sitting at the long, gray dining table in a loft on one of the loveliest streets in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Manhattan, opening a Google doc. The Google doc is because he is the secretary of the group, and everyone else in the loft can follow along as he types notes.
Hyatt, 32, who has curly hair tucked under a baseball cap, helps himself to a glass of water in the kitchen. Something inside him, too, told him to give away his money, along with the power that money bestows, and he will be following along with Sam’s notes during the meeting.
Jessie, whose gorgeous loft this is, takes her seat at the table and asks the group of five people, “Does everyone consent to the agenda?” She wears a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt and gold hoop earrings.


The ceiling is 18 feet high, and three enormous windows provide a pretty view of the street. The walls are painted white, the wood floors black. In a living area near the windows, a green tufted velvet sofa, an Eames chair, and an upholstered stool are arranged neatly on an oriental rug. An archipelago of potted plants fans out from one corner, and a collection of framed paintings leans neatly against the wall on the opposite side. It’s 87 degrees outside at five o’clock in the evening, but a soundless central air system keeps the place cool.
It’s a Sunday in July, and this is the weekly status meeting of the Action Committee of the New York chapter of Resource Generation, an organization founded on the belief that young wealthy people should give away most or all of their inherited money or excess wealth. Or, in the group’s words, “As part of a coordinated strategy to systematically redistribute wealth and repair the harm created by wealth extraction, RG asks our members to take bold action with the resources currently under our and our families’ control, moving toward greater alignment with humanity and the planet.”

To help redistribute power along with the money, Resource Generation recommends giving to organizations in which people in the community get to decide how it’s used.
RG has 15 chapters across the country. It’s made up of wealthy individuals between 18 and 35 who are among the top 10 percent in wealth in the U.S., and its primary goal is to “redistribute all or almost all inherited wealth and/or excess wealth to social justice movements.” To help redistribute the power that goes with having money, RG recommends giving to organizations in which people in the target community (in other words, not just the donor), get to decide how it’s used.
In recent meetings the committee has been implementing something called sociocracy. “It’s dynamic governance that allows for everyone to be heard and to make decisions efficiently,” Jessie says, pointing to a worn copy of the manual Many Voices, One Song on the table. She calls the meeting to order. “Okay, first round. Sam, you start.”


“I’m Sam Jacobs,” he says. “My pronouns are he/him. I have been hustling on the Puerto Rico stuff. We’re all just so happy that Ricky [Governor Ricardo Rosselló] resigned. This was a queer and marginalized persons–led movement. But there is still a lot of work to do. Pass left.”
A person attending over FaceTime, late twenties, says they do not want their name or pronouns revealed in the media.
Resource Generation has been around since the mid-1990s, but it has expanded rapidly in recent years. “Basically, since President Trump was elected,” Jacobs tells me later. In the first six months of 2019 it broke an internal record when some of its more than 600 dues-paying members pledged $20 million to a variety of social justice and grassroots organizations.
RGers also participated in numerous protests this year in New York, Washington, Los Angeles, and San Francisco in support of immigration, abortion rights, racial and gender justice, the Green New Deal, Puerto Rican independence, and, most important, higher taxes on the rich. They hosted webinars with titles like “Class Privilege and Activism,” and in November Resource Generation will hold its annual conference, “Making Money Make Change,” in the Hudson Valley.
Next: “I’m Ila, she/her,” says a woman, 28, dressed in shorts, a T-shirt with “Santa Fe” printed on it, and a baseball cap with no logo. “I just got my puppy and it’s been pretty all-consuming.” She holds a squirming three-month-old dog on her lap and periodically reaches into a Ziploc bag full of dog treats on the table. “Pass left.”
Phone Call #1
You start all new memberships with the “money talk”—one on one, in which both people tell their money stories, their backgrounds. Why is this useful?
Iimay Ho [Resource Generation’s 33-year-old executive director. She grew up in Cary, North Carolina, attended UNC Chapel Hill, and worked at several social justice organizations before joining RG. She has assets of about $200,000, much less than many RG members—but, as she points out, it’s enough to put her in the top 10 percent for her age group]: If our whole society can’t talk about money and class, then how do we? So we do that by always talking about money and class.


Iimay Ho.
Resource Generation

I joined Resource Generation in 2013. I had been doing organizing work with, like, Asian-Americans and the LGBTQ community and doing aggressive fundraising work with them—but we never talked about our class backgrounds. I found it strange that I was part of the whole giving project, and we were raising money, but we never actually talked about our own relationship with money and class. I found out about Resource Generation and filled out the form on the website. The first thing they do is find someone in your area to sit down with you for the one-to-one conversation.
T&C: Did you feel flustered answering those questions at first?
IH: It was really not hard. I’m a person of color who identifies as queer, has other identities in which people might assume that I come from a poor, working class background. It was actually a relief for me to just finally be like, “No, actually, I had a lot that was passed down to me.”
T&C: So Resource Generation encourages honesty.
IH: Yes. There are so many myths and lies around the idea of meritocracy in this country. Even Trump’s whole, like, “I got a small loan.” I think we have this pervasive belief: If you work hard and you do the grind and you do the hustle, the American Dream is within reach for anyone. And what I’m trying to show from my stories is that so much of it is also due to systemic racism and who had access to what. Many of our members who are white have multigenerational wealth, because their parents or grandparents went to college on the GI Bill, or their ancestors had access to land ownership before any person of color was ever allowed access to land ownership.
T&C: I read the piece in the New York Times that mentioned Resource Generation, and some of the comments—
IH: I haven’t read the comment thread, so bless you for doing that.
T&C: A lot of it was like, “Oh, the poor rich people feel bad and they want to—”
IH: People have a love/hate relationship with rich people. Like when Mark Zuckerberg said he was going to donate, like, 90 percent of his Facebook stock—but to his own private LLC. We absolutely issued a public statement saying, “Hey, that’s not actually
philanthropy, that’s not cool. You’re still maintaining absolute control.” We got so much pushback, like, “Stop being so hard on Mark Zuckerberg.”
Coffee Shop Conversation #1
Scene: 61 Local, a Brooklyn coffee shop populated by work-from-home types wearing cool T-shirts and typing on new laptops. Late morning.
Sam Jacobs [beneficiary of a $25 million trust fund]: [via e-mail] I’m here, just up at the bar grabbing a bite. [He orders at the counter and then walks to a communal table in back and sits.]
T&C: I didn’t come with a list of prepared questions.
SJ: Cool. I’ll start with the basic outline of my money story. I grew up in San Diego. My grandfather started a company called Qualcomm with six other engineers. Qualcomm’s a cellphone chip—
T&C: I’ve heard of it.
SJ: After my grandfather retired, my dad became the CEO, and was for about 10 years. So, naturally, starting a Fortune 500 company gives you the opportunity to accumulate a shitload of wealth. My grandfather’s a billionaire. My dad, I think, might become a billionaire. At this point in my political development, it’s pretty clear to me that’s not something that is interesting to me. My first moment being responsible for a big pot of money was at 18, when my grandparents gave me and my siblings and cousins donor-advised funds with about $150,000 in them and said, “Go for it.”
[Last year he donated a portion of the growth of his trust fund income, around $750,000. He intends to do the same again next year and eventually to include some of the principal. In the meantime he works as a $115-an-hour SAT tutor for an agency.]


Washington Post

I really appreciated the trust that they put in us. I feel a really, really, really strong imperative to redistribute wealth. And I wish it wasn’t something that I had to do voluntarily. But given that it is, that’s no reason not to.
T&C: If you would, talk to me about the things that seem most radical to people you encounter and how you talk them through it.
SJ: One of the things we really harp on a lot is not just giving money away but also redistributing power. Philanthropy, broadly, lacks a real accountability mechanism, right?
T&C: The prurient part of this is: well, how much? Do you leave yourself destitute?
SJ: We have giving guidelines. [From the guidelines: “If you’re already giving more than 10 percent of your assets or income, set a goal to double your giving in the next one to three years—being willing to change our personal standard of living so that our collective standard of living improves.”] The way I think about it personally is, when you talk to a financial adviser, their orientation to thinking about capital is the more risk you take, the more reward you can get.

My dad might become a billionaire. At this point, it’s pretty clear that's not interesting to me
And to me that seems strange, because it doesn’t feel risky to put millions of dollars into a hedge fund when I know that I have other millions of dollars to back that up, right? That doesn’t feel, to me, risky in the same way that when someone in New York who is a delivery person gets on their e-bike, it might get hit by a car trying to deliver someone’s burrito.
T&C: It really is the most dangerous job that anybody can have.
SJ: It’s wild. I think we in RG think about risk on that level—something that feels like we have skin in the game.
T&C: Do you worry about passing on what you’ve inherited to, if you have kids, that generation? When I look at my two daughters, I’m like, “I want to be able to do all this stuff for them.”
SJ: That’s a really good question. If I’m doing this work in the right way, it will be clear to my kids and my partner, my family, that by moving this money into communities, it actually makes us more safe and more secure. I think of it as a trust fall into the movement.
T&C: In other articles about you guys, the comments have been—do you read any of them?
SJ: Yeah.
T&C: Super-vitriolic.
SJ: As they tend to be on the internet.
T&C: In particular, they were extremely critical of RG. “Oh, shut up” or “Poor little rich people.” I imagine that’s something that you expose yourself to—and you’re exposing yourself to now. Do you ever feel like, Oh, god, this is going to hurt?
SJ: [Hesitates a full 10 seconds, really for the first time in the conversation, before he speaks] Of course. Like everyone, my skin is not nearly as thick as I would like it to be or pretend that it is. And I think that, honestly, the kind of populist fervor against rich people is something that broadly I’m totally okay with.
T&C: Do you think there’s any chance there will be a revolution here in the United States? A violent one?
This is something I’ve thought about a lot. I think if there were an attempt to have a violent revolution, that shit would get put down so hard and so fast. I think people know that. I think part of that is the colonial structures that we have embedded in our minds. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I don’t want anyone to die. But people are getting hurt and are dying now. I think the average life expectancy of working class people is declining, as it’s getting longer for wealthy people. That’s a redistribution of not just of wealth but of life—of literal life force from the lower classes to the upper class. So I guess I would call this current moment a violent revolution.
The Loft Meeting, Part Two
Sam hammers away at his laptop, and the other attendees read his notes as they appear on their phones or computer screens and occasionally murmur, “I like how you phrased that,” or, “I think you can leave that out.”
“I’m Hyatt, he/him,” says Hyatt. “I just got back from Detroit and CPB”—the Center for Popular Democracy’s People Convention, a gathering of more than 1,700 grassroots organizations. “We did some outreach to Movement for Black Lives and agreed to try to make some connections on actions. Our next meeting will be relationship building and power mapping. Pass left.”


Institute for Policy Studies
Jessie: “Okay, it’s time for report-back. I’ll start. We had an outreach meeting for new members here this week. I counted 20 people including us, and everybody was really engaged and interested. We need to do followups in 24 to 48 hours.” Two members pass, and then Hyatt speaks about how, at protests at corporate headquarters, undocumented immigrants are often endangered: “I went to a workshop on how we, as people of privilege, can be helpful in actions. We talked about how we should be the people who go inside lobbies and undocumented people should stay safe outside.”
Jessie mentions that she celebrated her 25th birthday that weekend on Coney Island. “It was my first time there.” Then she looks at her watch. “Sam, upcoming events?”
“There’s an anti-ICE event, and a lot of great organizations will attend. We want to get 100 people who will take arrests. I’ll pitch it on Wednesday,” he says.
“Are there going to be partnerships coming out of this?” Ila asks.
Sam quickly makes a note on his laptop and says, “Good question.”
Coffee Shop Conversation #2
Scene: Muse, a brightly lit café in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
“Bananas rich girl gives away her money!” says Karen Pittelman, waving her hand. “The narrative is always about the person giving away the money—in this case me—and not the idea behind it.”
She is drinking iced mint tea and describing the way people react when they learn that she dissolved a $3 million trust fund set up by her grandfather when she was 25 and transferred the money to a private foundation that supported grassroots organizing. “The point is to turn over the power that comes with the money, too.”


Karen Pittelman
Karen Pittelman

“My family were worried,” she says. She is wearing cat’s-eye glasses, a black peasant blouse, and a neatly pressed flower-print skirt. “They made the condition for dissolving the fund that I set up a foundation, but I handed over power to redistribute the funds over the course of nine years, to an activist women’s board.”
One of Resource Generation’s missions is to get rich people to examine the visible and invisible ways they have benefited from their wealth. “My whole life I was taught, ‘You are the future leaders of America. You should always be in charge. You know best,’” Pittelman says, referring to her experience at Horace Mann, one of New York’s top private schools. “I’ve got news for you and everybody else: I grew up around those people, and plenty of them were not smart. But everybody I came up with is at least a doctor, lawyer, hedge fund manager, or corporate executive—and that has everything to do with how class privilege works and almost nothing to do with merit.”

Everybody I grew up with is at least a doctor, lawyer, hedge fund manager, or corporate executive—and that has everything to do with how class privilege works and almost nothing to do with merit.
Pittelman joined RG in 1998, around the time she dissolved her trust fund. “I had already decided to give away my money, but it was a relief to find other people in similar situations.” Back then the group, called Comfort Zone, mainly encouraged young people with wealth to donate their money (the name change came in 2000). Pittelman became RG’s program coordinator and focused on expanding ways the members could use their privilege—social access as well as money—to fight for social justice causes.
Now 44, she has aged out of RG, so she advises young people with wealth on how to use their money to support causes they believe in. Often this includes negotiating with families. “You’re not necessarily going to convince your died-in-the-wool Republican grandma that… Well, anything, probably. But you probably can move the needle a little bit.”
Coffee Shop Conversation #3: A Concerned Parent
Scene: Le Pain Quotidien at East 64th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. We enter midconversation.
Melissa Fetter [serves on the board of NPR and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston; chair of the Stanford University Arts Advisory Council; wife of the former president and CEO of Tenet Healthcare]: It’s my understanding that one thing Resource Generation is very focused on is empowering people in the underserved communities to create the change. I think that’s an important distinction. [She sets her latte down.]
T&C: Yes, one of the fundamental things is the notion of giving away power.
MF: They seem dialed into this idea that, I’m not sure—is it relinquishing power? Or is it acknowledging, “I have the influence to change things, and I’m going to bring others in on this to work with me.” Empowerment versus saying, “I’m going to give all my power to you.” I mean, I think it’s in the trillions, the transfer of wealth from my generation to the next generation that’s going to occur in the next 20 years. It’s notable that this group of young people with influence and resources—they want to do everything they can to try and use that to fix what needs to be fixed in this country. I admire what they’re doing.
Maybe I should wait for your questions. But kind of top-of-mind is that when young people have grown up without ever having wanted anything, it’s very easy, I think, to be overly optimistic and not realize how much it takes to achieve the baseline things of being able to have a comfortable home and put your kids in a good school, and give them experiences that you had as a child.


People's Policy Project
T&C: Yes.
MF: Right? And so part of me—and I think my husband will share this view—thinks, Don’t be so quick to give away what you have right now, because, yes, eventually you’re going to inherit more when we pass. But you just never know what’s going to come up in life.
T&C: I’ve got a nine-year-old and a seven-year-old. I’m looking into the barrel of a gun: How am I going to get these kids through college?
MF: Exactly.
T&C: A lot of the Resource Generation members I’ve spoken to have talked about fixing the system.
MF: My children and their friends—I can’t make a general comment about all people ages 20, 24, and 28—seem to be so much more genuinely concerned about the world around them and being content in their work, and less concerned about just acquisition of assets and making money. I find it heartening. We’ve handed this generation kind of a messed-up country, and I can see how they wake up and say, “Wait a minute, something really big has to change here.”
T&C: Has your daughter’s involvement made you and your husband rethink the notion of passing on money to her and her siblings?
MF: I don’t think so. I think that whether she was interested in this field or not, we would still be somewhat cautious about giving too much too soon.
Phone Call #2: Her Daughter
T&C: Can you hear me okay?
Holly Fetter [28, a student at Harvard Business School, from an unspecified airport]: Yep.
T&C: I had a really nice time with your mom.
HF: Yeah, she said she had a really nice time with you.
T&C: Could tell me how you heard about Resource Generation, and why you joined?
HF: [sounding apologetic] Yeah, yeah. Just also, quickly, I’m boarding this flight in around 20 minutes.
T&C: [sounding accommodating] Okay.
HF: So, let’s see. I kind of grew up knowing that I was wealthy, but I didn’t totally understand it. And then when I was in college, Occupy Wall Street started happening. I went to a rally one day in San Francisco where a bunch of activists had constructed a giant caricature of a CEO. It was, like, pinstripe suit, pot belly, mustache—like the Monopoly man. And everyone in the crowd was invited to pull down the CEO cardboard cutout. I’m not sure if my mom mentioned this, but my dad was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. So it was this crazy moment where I was like, “Oh shit.” I went home and frantically Googled “rich kids social justice.”
T&C: Did you talk about it with your parents?
HF: It’s funny, because I’m gay, so I had to come out to my parents as gay, but I think coming out to my parents as left-wing was actually harder. I think sometimes my parents perceive my politics as a rejection of them and who they are, and I really strive to help them understand that I wouldn’t be involved with Resource Generation if I didn’t care deeply about them and care deeply about honoring my relationship with them and the truth of my family story.

I had to come out to my parents as gay, but I think coming out to my parents as left-wing was harder.
I fundamentally believe my family, and families like mine, will be a lot happier when we don’t have this sort of burden and… Sorry, burden is the wrong word, but the… I guess I’ll say it: the burden of feeling responsible for a lot of the pretty serious injustices and inequities that we see manifested. And I don’t mean to say that as, like, “Oh, it’s so hard to be wealthy.”
T&C: Like, we need to be able to talk about money.
HF: I think that’s a big part of it: trying to shift the conversation around wealth in this country. [Pauses] So, I’ve got to board this flight. But please feel free to call me. I’m around this weekend.
The Loft Meeting, Part Three
The rest of the meeting, Jessie explains as the evening wears on, will be dedicated to hashing out some questions about process. Process is very important to Resource Generation. Look at their website, resourcegeneration.org (if you haven’t already by this point in the story). It’s full of advice, resources, and facts. The “RG’s Giving Guidelines” section offers statistics meant to help users determine where they fall on the economic spectrum. A giving pledge has five levels, from “Start the Journey” to “Return the Wealth.”
You could spend hours in the Resource Library, which offers everything from a financial adviser database to definitions of the group’s main advocacy goals to articles and studies on how wealth is divided by racial and generational lines in the United States. The site has bios of RG’s 15 full-time staffers and its 13-person National Members Council, and the affiliations of its 11-member National Board of Directors, all of whom are on the staff or boards of other national nonprofit action groups and giving funds.

I fundamentally believe my family, and families like mine, will be a lot happier when we don’t have the burden of feeling responsible for a lot of the pretty serious injustices and inequities that we see manifested.
And while it’s easy to smirk at a bunch of privileged youths meeting in a fancy loft, being really serious about who says what, when, and how, here’s the thing: The July 2019 meeting of the Action Committee of the New York Chapter of Resource Generation is the most productive meeting I’ve ever attended. They accomplish things. They navigate interpersonal issues. They set goals. They’re a lot more organized, not to mention civic-minded, than I was when I was in my twenties.
“Let’s start with a picture-forming round,” Jessie says, and the members take turns asking questions: “How do we decide what things need to be their own circle?”
“What’s the difference between a project circle and child circle?”
“Who takes lead on project circles?”
At 10-minute intervals Jessie moves the meeting to a new stage: proposal-forming round, synthesis round, clarifying round, feedback round, consent round, and closing round.
Toward the end, the person who does not want to be named says, “This process is interesting, but I can’t say I love it. It doesn’t feel like a conversation. It could be a little more fun.”
“I agree,” Sam says. “This felt long and arduous. We need to spend more time with book. Hyatt, I feel like I snapped at you. I’m sorry about that.”
“I realize this part is boring,” says Hyatt. “But I’d like to offer that, as people of privilege, I feel like this work is the most important thing we’re doing.”
Everyone nods in agreement. As efficiently and swiftly as it was conducted, the meeting concludes, and the Action Committee files out onto the street, past the flowerboxes and taxis and bikes, each returning to his/her own corner of the city.


I'll get my humanity and my sanity back.


Vivere Militare Est.


A view of the fields and houses on the tiny Estonian island of Kihnu, which is nearly seven square miles.

ESTONIA — In the Kihnu Museum on a tiny Estonian island, the elders, dressed in matching striped skirts, pondered a favourite question over coffee. What hasn’t a Kihnu woman done?

They kept a running list of all of the necessary jobs they remember Kihnu women doing in the absence of men, from fixing tractor engines to performing church services when the Russian Orthodox priest wasn’t available.

So far, there has been only one job no one can claim.

“Digging a grave,” Ms Maie Aav, the museum director, said, “but even that is questionable.” Like the elders, Ms Aav, who is in her mid-40s, was also wearing a traditional skirt (called a kort), but hers had a slight color variation to represent her younger age.

Visitors to this peaceful isle in the Baltic Sea are struck by its windswept beaches surrounding pristine forests and the occasional brightly colored farmhouse. At nearly 7 square miles, Kihnu is the seventh largest of Estonia’s more than 2,000 islands.

Many Estonian islands have remained unspoiled and untouched since they were last inhabited centuries ago. In contrast, Kihnu stands out precisely because of its inhabitants. The island is known for its abundance of women.

Men began to fade from everyday life on Kihnu in the 19th century, thanks to their jobs at sea. Fishing and hunting seals took them away from home for months at a time. In response, Kihnu women stepped in and ran the island.

Otherwise traditional female roles expanded to include anything their society needed to thrive and function. Eventually, this became ingrained in Kihnu heritage, as Unesco noted when it inscribed aspects of the culture on its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2008.

But tiny, traditional Kihnu has a growing modern problem. The population is shrinking as islanders move away because of a lack of jobs.

On top of that, changes in the fishing industry are bringing a new stress: The men are coming home for longer periods of time. Some have even stayed.

“We will have to commercialise eventually, but the question is which way is best for us,” said Ms Mare Matas, president of the Kihnu Cultural Space Foundation, which is dedicated to promoting and protecting the islanders’ history and traditions through events, festivals and educational initiatives.

Like many Kihnu women, Ms Matas is a multitasking dynamo who is fiercely passionate about preserving her heritage. In addition to managing several homestays on the island (including one at her own home), she is also the current lighthouse keeper and an island tour guide.

Her yellow house near the coast was a flurry of activity on the March afternoon I arrived by ferry from Munalaid Port, a harbour outside of Parnu, Estonia’s fourth-largest city, roughly 27 miles away.

Her oldest daughter, Liis, then 18, was home from the mainland, where she lives during the week while she attends high school in Parnu. (There is no high school on Kihnu.)

Anni, 12, and Maria, 9, were rushing to get ready for the school talent show that evening. (Her son, Martin, 21, attends college in Tallinn, Estonia’s capital, about 110 miles away.)

Like their mother, they all have flaxen blond hair and piercing cornflower blue eyes.

At first glance, the petite, 43-year-old mother of four would fit in anywhere with her sleek, chin-length bob, trendy black glasses and delicate gold hoop earrings. However, her closet is full of an everyday uniform of sorts: hand-woven skirts and custom paisley aprons.

An apron worn over a Kihnu skirt signifies a married woman. Ms Matas’ husband, a fisherman, was away at sea.

When asked how many of the island’s estimated 300 year-round residents are men, Ms Matas paused to count in her head.

“Maybe five,” she offered. During my visit, I encountered only two: a visiting documentary filmmaker and a builder fixing a house.

Kihnu society functions as a large, tight-knit family — and with that comes all of the typical big family behavior. At the school talent show, knowing looks volleyed from blond head to blond head as the women scooted their chairs closer to friends to gossip in low voices or exchange pleasantries in louder ones. A toddler roamed around the schoolhouse gym freely, picked up and cuddled by unrelated women.

There is a clear hierarchy in Kihnu: children, community and, lastly, men.

“We have totally different mentalities than people on the mainland. Kihnu women always want to do what is best for the family, especially the children,” Ms Aav told me during a visit to the Kihnu Museum, which displays the history and culture of the island and its important artifacts.

The island is not for everyone — nor do the women want everyone to visit. Kihnu women are known for their candor, and the island is not for the easily offended.

“Mass tourism is not good for Kihnu,” Ms Aav said. “We want cultural tourism; people who are really interested in our culture, our lifestyle, how we are living. If they’re interested, they’re welcome, but they must accept it.”

In fact, Kihnu’s charm is that it is in no way set up for mass tourism. A large tree branch propped against a house’s front door means nobody’s home. The only street signs are for the island’s four villages: Lemsi, Linakula, Rootsikula and Saare.

There are no lines on the road — and very few paved roads to paint a line on. There are no chains and no commercialisation. There is no ATM, no restaurant open year-round, and the first police station is currently under construction. Here, visitors are guests, not tourists.

I stayed in Ms Matas’ homestead property and was quickly incorporated into her daily life, including meals, chores and island events.

“How do you welcome in the modern world, but keep this ancient culture alive? They’re in this limbo state of trying to find the balance,” Ms Silvia Soide, a folk dance teacher and photographer, said.

Ms Soide moved from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Kihnu in December 2008 in honor of her Estonian grandmother who fled the island during World War II.

“The older generation wants to keep the traditions and culture alive, so they’re teaching what they were taught. It should stay alive; it’s a beautiful culture, but I know that younger people feel frustrated. They’re welcoming in the outside world because it offers them a way of survival. It’s a really great opportunity for Kihnu women to earn money during the tourism season,” said Ms Soide, imagining jobs such as cooking, inn-keeping, sales and waitressing.

Kihnu can feel much larger than its 4-mile length and 2-mile width, as I found out on a walk to the rocky coast and back one morning. The only signs of life I encountered were a hound dog, fast asleep on a sun-warmed road, and a curious seal bobbing in the waves off the jagged coast.

I turned off the beach down one of the many unmarked sandy roads that cut through the towering forests. Behind me, waves from the Gulf of Riga crashed against rocks. An occasional tree branch creaked or snapped in the wind. The forest grew wild, allowed to do what nature intended it to.

I thought of the way Ms Soide described the island. “Everybody from Kihnu really loves Kihnu. It grows roots around your feet.” The forest had a fairy-tale quality that made this seem plausible.

Much like Estonians at large, Kihnu’s residents have all been through significant changes in their lifetimes — often political (including Soviet and German occupation) and often out of their control. When asked about the island’s biggest changes, the answers vary wildly.

“Trousers,” said the shy Roosie Karjam, 83, sitting in the museum’s community room, after much thought and cajoling. Ms Karjam, Kihnu’s most famous weaver and a beloved elder, nodded her kerchiefed head firmly, her fingers twisting and untwisting as if weaving air. “Women never used to wear trousers.”

That afternoon, armed with gifts of apples and schnapps, Ms Matas and I went to visit 91-year-old Virve Koster at her log cabin in the woods. When asked what has changed during her lifetime, she laughed. “Oh, everything,” she declared.

Better known as “Kihnu Virve,” she had reinvented herself in her 70s, going on to become one of Estonia’s top-selling female folk singers.

As a woman on Kihnu, there is a strong sense that everything is possible. If something needs to be done, a woman on Kihnu has done it, and another woman will probably do it again soon.

The conversation inevitably turned to the uniqueness of the island. While sitting across from Ms Koster, Ms Matas pondered the concept of feminism, often met with bewilderment here. The reasoning: Of course, women are capable. Of course, women are competent. But no, men and women aren’t equal — women have proven they can do everything men can, but men can’t do everything women can.

“People think we are making some statement with the women being in charge, but that’s our culture,” she reasoned. “It works. We can’t imagine it any other way.”

“Mass tourism is not good for Kihnu,” Ms Aav said. “We want cultural tourism; people who are really interested in our culture, our lifestyle, how we are living. If they’re interested, they’re welcome, but they must accept it.”
Sounds like that island could definitely use some diversity...



Vivere Militare Est.
All those women, talking about caring about their homesteads and families and culture. Don't they know it's current year+3‽ Such sexism shouldn't be allowed to exist anymore.
Don't forget the most terrifying part:
Like their mother, they all have flaxen blond hair and piercing cornflower blue eyes.
WHITE women.

Turns out that this island is the last bastion of white supremacy in the world, uncovered by NYT.

Botchy Galoop

I see.
Not gonna lie, it sounds like a bit of paradise, that sadly will be absorbed into the modern world. It is not so different from some Native American cultures of the recent past, I know the Canadian Cree and some Montanan Crow tribes where the women were very similar due to the men of the tribe being absent for long periods of time hunting and scouting and raiding. The women and men had very traditional roles (it would make modern feminists crazy) but each, by necessity were totally capable of providing for themselves and their families.

I fear with the publishing of an article like this they will soon be overrun with lesbian feminazi's looking to fulfill their fantasy of being Amazons. The thought of that makes me sad.


Vivere Militare Est.
Five men? So in a generation or so their culture will be extinct.
Not only that, I reckon that there might not be enough young chicks to sustain their culture either - then again, all you have to do is fuck harder and faster. If anyone knows how to bypass the NYT article paywall, you can see some screenshots.


Your an ignorant idiot
Not only that, I reckon that there might not be enough young chicks to sustain their culture either - then again, all you have to do is fuck harder and faster. If anyone knows how to bypass the NYT article paywall, you can see some screenshots.
Even a downturn in fishing industry would be enough to irrevocably destroy such a tenuous culture. Even if they birthed children at above replacement rate and were able to convince all these children to settle in community once coming of age it is economy that created the conditions in which they live and it would be rapidly transforming world which would undo it.

Elwood P. Dowd

President of the Maxliam Fan Club.
I'm far more offended by the fact that they named a badass killing machine "Sue" then anything else here tbh, that's some gay ass naming scheme shit.
Isn't there a school of thought that thinks T.Rexes were largely scavengers? As in, too big to hunt small dinosaurs, too small to hunt the really big dinosaurs, but a perfect size to eat rotting corpses without worrying about other meat eaters hassling them?

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