Mike McCready

Tag: life

  • Gen X: We Were Supposed to Be Too Sharp for This Sh*t

    Gen X: We Were Supposed to Be Too Sharp for This Sh*t

    There’s a very specific kind of shame in watching a country fall apart and realizing your generation was supposed to stop it.

    We were the skeptical kids. The “don’t fall for it” crowd. We grew up with irony, sarcasm, and a healthy distrust of institutions. We made fun of cults. We rolled our eyes at televangelists. We knew better.

    At least, we thought we did.

    We were the last analog generation—and the first digital one. We knew how to rewind a cassette and reboot a modem. We brought the internet into being, and with it, the promise of better information, smarter systems, and a more connected world.

    We gave the world Google, Amazon, YouTube.

    We gave it Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, the Wu-Tang Clan.

    We built the platforms. Designed the interfaces.

    We were supposed to be the bridge between what was and what could be.

    But now?

    We’re watching the whole thing buckle—and pretending we’re just observers.

    We post memes about how great it was to grow up drinking from hoses, while an entire generation can’t afford rent, let alone a mortgage.

    We forward videos about “the good old days” while Gen Z drowns in debt, climate fear, and medical bills for anxiety disorders they inherited from watching us lose the plot.

    And who’s in charge now?

    Trump. Again.

    President 2.0.

    This time with fewer guardrails, more power, and even less shame.

    And standing right behind him, RFK Jr.—now Secretary of Health—gutting the CDC, firing career scientists, and rebuilding America’s public health policy around gut feelings and internet comment sections.

    We used to point at the USSR and say, “Those poor people don’t get real news—just government propaganda.”

    Now we’ve got half the country cheering for our own state-run media, rage-bait headlines, and “alternative facts,” while willingly ignoring everything they know is true.

    We’re not living in 1984. We’re living in something dumber.

    A self-inflicted propaganda state where people know it’s bullshit—and eat it up anyway.

    And Gen X?

    We were supposed to be immune to this.

    Too jaded. Too sharp. Too allergic to fascism.

    We were supposed to be the firewall.

    But we ghosted.

    No Gen X president because the boomers.

    No major Gen X political movement.

    No defining generational stand.

    We just kept scrolling.

    Kept reposting.

    Kept telling ourselves we were “above it.”

    But the truth is—we’re blowing it.

    We were there when the rot was setting in.

    And we didn’t stop it.

    We let the dumbest grifter of our lifetime sell America a cheap hat and a fake war on reality.

    We watched as housing became a luxury, healthcare became a subscription plan, and truth became a punchline.

    We let RFK Jr. cosplay as a truth-teller while he dismantled actual science.

    And now, with AI about to automate our jobs, scrape our souls, and deepfake us into oblivion, we’re busy sharing memes about the 80s while billionaires plug themselves into immortality servers.

    We were supposed to be the generation that didn’t fall for bs.

    Instead, we’re managing the collapse like theme park actors refusing to break character while the rollercoaster catches fire.

    And yeah, I’m a bit crispy about all of this.

    Not just at Trump. Not just at RFK Jr.

    But at us.

    We were supposed to be too sharp for this sh*t.

    We were supposed to know better.

    We were supposed to do better.

    And if we don’t wake up—right now—history won’t even remember our failure.

    It’ll be too busy documenting the fallout.

    So come on Gen X. It’s time!

  • After Late-Stage Capitalism: Where Do We Go From Here?

    After Late-Stage Capitalism: Where Do We Go From Here?

    You don’t need a PhD in economics to feel that something’s off.

    Groceries cost more, jobs feel more fragile, housing looks like a luxury product, and half the tech CEOs sound like they’re pitching a video game plot instead of running real-world companies. Meanwhile, billionaires are racing each other to space while your rent races you into a corner.

    This is what people mean when they talk about late-stage capitalism. It’s not an end date on a calendar. It’s a mood. A vibe. A phase in the life cycle of an economic system that feels increasingly disconnected from reality.

    So What Is Late-Stage Capitalism, Really?

    It’s the point in a system’s evolution where:

    • Markets are no longer free, just engineered
    • Wages stagnate while productivity and profits soar
    • Basic needs become “subscription services”
    • Work is precarious, but shareholders are thrilled
    • Governments serve markets instead of citizens
    • Every crisis gets monetized—healthcare, climate, war, education

    It’s Uber drivers with master’s degrees. Teachers driving DoorDash. People crowdfunding insulin while the stock market hits record highs. It’s burnout, hustle, and “grindset” culture masquerading as freedom. It’s a society that treats rest like laziness and wealth like morality.

    In short: it’s the moment when the system stops pretending it’s for everyone.

    So What Comes Next?

    That’s the question. And we’re all going to have to answer it—whether we want to or not. Because systems don’t last forever. They evolve. They collapse. They mutate. Or, sometimes, they’re dragged kicking and screaming into something new.

    Here are five directions we might be headed:

    1. State Capitalism

    Same market, new driver.

    In this version, governments take a more active role—not to help you, but to strategically control markets. Think China’s model: heavy surveillance, controlled growth, and national champions in tech and energy. Markets are tools, not ideals.

    Upside: Infrastructure might actually get built.
    Downside: Dissent gets a lot more expensive.

    2. Technocratic Feudalism

    You’ll own nothing—and still pay monthly fees.

    Imagine a future where democracy erodes, but Amazon has great customer service. Where mega-corporations are the de facto governments, and your social credit score determines what you can access.

    Think: smart homes, dumb laws, and “Terms of Service” that rule your life.

    Upside: Efficiency. Innovation. Personalized everything.
    Downside: No exit button. No real power.

    3. Eco-Social Capitalism

    Capitalism with a conscience—and a carbon cap.

    This is the idealists’ version: a restructured economy that prioritizes sustainability, equity, and long-term thinking. Maybe we get universal basic income. Maybe we regulate tech. Maybe we stop treating the planet like an ATM.

    Upside: Human dignity. Ecological survival.
    Downside: Short-term disruption. Lots of angry billionaires.

    4. Decentralized Utopia

    Crypto, co-ops, and code-based governance.

    This one’s for the web3 dreamers. Power moves from central institutions to decentralized networks. DAOs replace corporations. You vote with tokens, earn through participation, and store your wealth outside the banks.

    Upside: Radical autonomy and transparency.
    Downside: Scams, fragmentation, and the occasional rug pull.

    5. Collapse or Authoritarianism

    When the lights flicker and the flags get darker.

    Not the feel-good option, but one we can’t ignore. If inequality keeps widening, climate shocks intensify, and trust erodes further, we could see the rise of hard borders, strongmen, and failing institutions.

    Upside: None.
    Downside: All of them.

    What Do You Want to Come Next?

    This isn’t just an academic exercise. What comes after late-stage capitalism depends on us. On the stories we tell, the systems we build, and the power we choose to either accept or reject.

    You don’t have to be a policy wonk to start imagining alternatives. You just have to look at the world around you and ask: Is this working? And if it’s not, what would?

    Because the next chapter is being written right now—by corporations, by governments, by you, and by me. And the question isn’t just what comes next.

    It’s who gets to decide.

  • I Tried to Stay Quiet. But Apparently We’re Doing Tanks Now.

    I Tried to Stay Quiet. But Apparently We’re Doing Tanks Now.

    (originally posted on my Facebook page)

    I’ve been taking a break from posting on here. You’re welcome.

    It’s been nice, honestly. Less doomscrolling, fewer arguments with people I went to high school with, and a brief, beautiful window where I could pretend that maybe things were just… normal. But then I saw the day getting closer: Trump is throwing himself a military parade down Pennsylvania Avenue this weekend.

    Yes. Tanks. Planes. Flags. The whole third-world-dictator aesthetic. And I figured, alright—time to crawl out of the bunker and say a thing.

    The excuse is that it’s the Army’s 250th birthday, which is technically true. But it also happens to be Trump’s 79th birthday. So… yeah. It’s less “honoring the troops” and more “celebrating Dear Leader with flyovers and a cake shaped like Trump Tower.”

    But hey, if you’ve ever looked at D.C. and thought, “What this place really needs is a little more North Korea,” your moment has arrived.

    And just to make the timing extra bleak, this is happening one week after Trump sent the National Guard into Los Angeles—over the objections of California’s governor. First time that’s happened in sixty years. Back then, it was LBJ sending troops to protect civil rights marchers. This time, it’s Trump sending troops to protect… his reputation. From protesters.

    You know, real freedom-loving stuff.

    And the executive order he used to do it? Doesn’t even name LA. Doesn’t have to. It’s written vaguely enough to let him send troops anywhere that doesn’t clap on the one and three.

    So no, this isn’t just about Los Angeles. This is a test balloon. See how far he can go, how many people shrug, and how many cameras he can get pointed at himself while the Constitution quietly wheezes in the background.

    And I know how this sounds. I really do. If you had told me ten years ago I’d be writing about a U.S. president using the military to intimidate his own population, I’d have assumed I’d finally lost the plot and was living in an asylum somewhere yelling at soup cans. But here we are.

    ICE is already ramping up raids. The deportation push is real. The mass roundups? They’re not a scare tactic. They’re part of the plan. Trump’s asking for $185 billion for immigration enforcement—which is more than the UK and France spend on their entire militaries. That’s not border security. That’s infrastructure for authoritarianism.

    Stephen Miller—who still looks like he was carved out of cold deli meat—is already talking about deporting 3,000 people a day.

    The thing that makes this moment so dangerous is how normal it all feels now. A few years ago, something like this would’ve sparked national outrage. Now it’s just another Tuesday. Another broken norm. Another test to see what we’ll tolerate. And spoiler: it’s a lot.

    Democrats are out here debating whether it’s too “alarmist” to use the word fascism, while Republicans are busy making sure they’re not the next ones to get publicly humiliated by Trump’s Truth Social posts. At this point, he could replace the Lincoln Memorial with a sculpture of his meme coin and they’d all show up to applaud.

    Anyway. I didn’t want to break my non-posting streak for this. I was trying to keep the blood pressure in a manageable range and pretend the world was just weird, not dark. But the tanks are coming. The flags are flying. The script is writing itself. And if we’re not careful, we’ll look up four days from now and realize we just watched the next chapter of American decline roll down the street while we argued about gas prices.

    Happy almost-birthday, Mr. President. Hope your little party goes great. I’ll be over here, quietly panic-Googling “how to spot the early signs of soft authoritarianism” like a normal person.

  • When to Walk Away: A Business Lesson from the Trading Terminal

    When to Walk Away: A Business Lesson from the Trading Terminal

    There’s a moment in business—just like in trading—when your thinking brain quietly exits the building. It doesn’t slam the door or send a calendar invite. It just disappears. And suddenly your emotional brain lights a cigarette, rolls up its sleeves, and says, “Relax—I’ve got this.”

    Spoiler: it does not have this.

    This week, that moment cost me $895 in trading—one bad trade across multiple accounts for a total of an $11,635 loss. But this isn’t about trading. It’s about the universal impulse to stay in the deal too long.

    Read the full post on my Substack here.

  • My Struggle with Stupid People

    My Struggle with Stupid People

    Let’s get something straight right off the bat—I’m not talking about people with below-average IQs. Intelligence isn’t the issue here. Some of the smartest people I’ve met couldn’t change a tire or balance a checkbook to save their lives, and some of the most practical, insightful people I know wouldn’t do well on an IQ test.

    And I don’t hold myself up as some kind of genius. Believe me, I’ve made my share—and probably some of your share—of dumb decisions. Decisions that would make the Three Stooges look like Nobel Prize winners. But here’s the thing: I am not stupid.

    Because stupid isn’t about IQ—it’s about refusing to think critically.

    So, let’s run a quick litmus test for critical thinking:

    When was the last time you heard a better argument than the one you had and thought, ‘Damn… I might be wrong’? If you can’t think of a single time, that’s a red flag.

    Do you ever get new information and just… ignore it? If your instinct is to double down instead of reconsider, congratulations—you’re human. But critical thinkers push past that reflex.

    Here’s where I struggle: I have to work hard to feel empathy for people who have all the information they need to make good voting decisions but still choose to vote against their own interests.

    It’s one thing to be misled. It’s another to be willfully ignorant. And when people keep making choices that actively harm themselves—and the rest of us—it’s hard not to be frustrated.

    The truth is, democracy depends on people actually thinking. And if we can’t do that, we’re in real trouble.

  • Regrets! Regrets! Regrets! And The Eternal Blooper Reel in My Head

    Regrets! Regrets! Regrets! And The Eternal Blooper Reel in My Head

    I’ve got a blooper reel running in my head. No, it’s not the kind of reel you’d expect after a day of business or trading mishaps. This isn’t about missed opportunities or the times I could’ve done better in my career. This is the real blooper reel. The one that plays on a loop whenever I let my guard down.

    It’s the awkward social moments, the times I misread the room, and the moments when I know—deep down—I’ve let people down. It’s about failing to live up to my own standards. Every time I should have been more present, more compassionate, or just plain more human… I’m there in my head, replaying it all.

    What’s strange is that it’s always running. Every conversation, every social interaction, every moment where I didn’t say the right thing or dropped the ball—it loops in my mind, over and over. And I’m not sure how to turn it off. Not because I haven’t tried, but because it’s like the movie I didn’t ask to be the star of. It just keeps going.

    I’m not diagnosed with OCD (though, who knows, maybe that’s in the cards for later). I’ve got ADHD—which is probably part of the reason why I sometimes struggle to focus on what’s in front of me rather than the endless mental reruns. But ADHD doesn’t explain the constant mental commentary. That’s all me, every day, reliving these moments in vivid, technicolor detail like I’m trapped in an infinite loop of social faux pas.

    Maybe the “blooper reel” is universal—we just don’t admit it out loud. But I can’t help but feel like I’m watching a never-ending series of mistakes, and the worst part is, I imagine everyone who has been on the receiving end missteps is constantly watching too. So the shame and embarrassment are always turned up to 11.

    I don’t want this to sound like some “woe is me” post. The reality is, I’m working through this. I’m figuring out how to let go of the things that don’t serve me and focus on what’s ahead. But it’s hard. It’s exhausting. And for someone who’s spent years building businesses, trading gold, and dealing with the stresses of life, it’s a whole new level of self-inflicted pressure.

    I know I’m not the only one dealing with this. There are so many of us out there—fighting to silence the self-doubt, the moments we didn’t do or say enough. The truth is, it’s a battle. And some days, I’m winning. Other days? I’m stuck rewinding the same mistakes, trying to “fix” things that are long past fixing.

    But here’s the thing: I’m learning to embrace the fact that perfection doesn’t exist. That reel may never stop playing, but maybe I don’t have to listen to it on repeat. I’m still human, and I’ll still make mistakes, but I’m trying to make peace with the fact that I don’t need to be perfect.

    So if you’re out there feeling like I am—stuck in your own head, running your personal blooper reel—just know you’re not alone. We’re all trying to find a way to live with the past, move forward, and make the future just a little less complicated.