Interview with Nick Hudson

Scam-spotting, the failure of central control, and why the local will outlast the global

Nick Hudson’s rule for spotting a scam runs as follows. If a problem is presented as a global crisis, if the only permitted solutions are global ones requiring global authority, and if dissent is censored, you are looking at a scam. Global problem, global solution, censorship. You don’t need the who, the how, or the why. The fact-pattern is the proof. I built a short piece around a clip of him explaining it in May 2023. Until then he had sat in my peripheral vision, a name attached to PANDA, a South African voice that kept saying the unsayable about COVID. That clip changed things.

Scam Spotting

In the years since, I have watched a great many people try to teach scam recognition, and nobody has produced anything cleaner. Most frameworks demand that you first untangle motives and mechanisms before you are permitted to conclude you’ve been had. That is the trap. In the fog of a well-run operation those answers are withheld by design. Hudson’s formulation inverts the problem. It hands you a diagnosis you can reach in real time, while the operation is still running, without waiting for permission from people who have every incentive never to grant it.

Hudson is an actuary by training and a private equity investor by trade. He went deep on financial and economic models early, became underwhelmed by all of them, and ended up marketing himself as a model-slayer, hired by CFOs to read the pitch books investment banks put in front of them and expose the sleights of hand buried inside. By the time COVID arrived he was already immune to anyone bearing a model. He is not a doctor or a virologist but a generalist who reasons from first principles.

He co-founded PANDA in the first months of 2020 and assembled a scientific advisory board: Bhattacharya, Gupta, Kulldorff, Levitt, Atlas, Yeadon, Jensen. He paid for it. Smear campaigns ran across three continents, the advisory board collapsed overnight under coordinated pressure, and trumped-up charges followed from both his professional bodies. He came out the other side with his account of how dissent is managed intact, and his attention turned from platforms that suppress reach toward the local, the real, and the in-person.

It is a privilege to put these questions to him, and I am grateful for what he did during the Operation Lock Step years, when saying the obvious out loud carried real professional and personal cost, and for everything he has done since. He answered at length and without hurry. Read him the same way.

With thanks to Nick Hudson.

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1. You grew up moving between countries and schools — three cities in America, two in Europe, four in South Africa, ten schools in all. Most people describe that kind of childhood as unsettling, but you’ve credited it with making you skeptical from a young age. What did constant displacement teach you about how people arrive at what they believe?

My childhood and early adulthood were very mobile. From as young as 8, I was noticing that people operated with different assumptions, and with little awareness about the extent to which their lives are governed by narratives, the sources of which were largely unexamined. I had early experience of this during my first move to the United States in the early 80s. South Africa was still under the grip of Grand Apartheid. There were plenty of bad things that could accurately be said about that, but media in the US disseminated a very unrepresentative picture, and I would occasionally be accosted by a teacher to defend some or other purported outrage by the SA security apparatus.

I had by then been made aware by my parents and, in particular, my maternal grandmother, who was a political activist, that South African media was fiercely censored. So by the time I was 10, I felt a certain embarrassment on behalf of people who took newspapers and TV news seriously, and I was also pretty sure that there was a wide gap between the extent to which people believed they were in touch with reality and the extent to which they actually were. By my late teens I was attracted to epistemology—the theory of knowledge—and beginning to think hard about what I “knew” that just wasn’t so.

My undergraduate studies in actuarial science and corporate finance work in Johannesburg, Zurich and Wall Street all brought me in touch with a wide variety of financial and economic models. I went deep on the theory and application of these, becoming inexorably underwhelmed by them and skeptical of anybody who arrived bearing a model.

Borrowing from Iain McGilchrist, my friend Mike Driver and I have spun up a thought experiment that describes the world in terms of linear thinkers, and lateral thinkers or mavericks. Linear thinkers tend systematically to underappreciate complexity, losing sight of the extent to which the axioms in their models limit the usefulness of their results. This extends to their conception of society. I remember studying the Jensen & Meckling paper, The Nature of Man, the year after it was published. They argued that human behaviour was best modelled by assuming that individuals were “resourceful, evaluative, maximizing agents”. Though the ensuing analysis was elegant, and the general gist of the results chimed with me back then, it seemed to me that it would all be quite useless in practice.

In my last few years in corporate finance, I actually marketed myself as a sort of model-slayer. CFOs would hire me to read through the pitch books presented to them by investment banks, and I would spot and explain all the tricks and sleights-of-hand to them. This would generally stop the investment banks dead in their tracks. One Wall Street firm worked out that I was making their lives difficult with some prime clients, and spent a good few months trying to bribe me into their world with increasingly elaborate and exorbitant pay packages. But that was the last shake of a tail of what to me had become a dead dog. It coincided with what was to be the end of my itinerant period, by which time I was 31. When I returned to South Africa, quite possibly for the last time, I had largely abandoned viewing and reading media, and had come to regard models of all varieties with a skepticism bordering on animosity. I quite quickly found my way into practicing private equity in a generalist, lateral-thinking and largely model-free fashion that has worked very well for me for more than two decades.

Over time my personal network has evolved to a very interesting point. I recognize those mavericks quite quickly and have incorporated many into my inner circle. My itinerant life, and the strange connections that arose from my prominence in fighting lockdowns and the intense malarkey of all things covid, has given that network a markedly international flavour, and I devote quite a lot of time and resources to traveling to meet up with these friends and engaging in extended conversations about life in a complex world.

2. You were living in New York on September 11, 2001. You’ve said that your Eastern European friends refused to accept the official account almost immediately — within 48 hours — while you were still processing the event at face value. What was it about their background that let them see something you couldn’t yet see, and how did that experience change the way you evaluated public narratives going forward?

They grew up under the Soviet system, which routinely and obviously propagandized the citizenry. They could smell the surveillance state aspects of the Patriot Act and the War on Terror that the 9/11 false flag event was designed to promote. Their reaction was not merely one of skepticism. I remember them being very upset that the system and culture, from which they saw themselves as having worked very hard to escape, was now encroaching on them in the Land of the Free. You could characterise their response with words like “alarm” and “disgust”. It was very impressive.

I suppose that experience set me up to see through the covid hoax immediately, but it took a deep dive into antecedents of the spectacular nonsense of the “response” and its related propaganda for me to fully cotton on to the extent to which we live in a sea of propaganda. I now believe that if a news event is permitted salience, it is either a hoax or a real occurrence publicized in support of a greater lie. The political antics of so-called democracy and media are aspects of the world to be avoided and mocked. I’ve gotten to the point where voting is a vice. Candidates with realistic chances of holding material office are in one way or another sell-outs to the Borg.

3. When COVID arrived in early 2020, you had an investor conference coming up and decided to look into the claims being made in media. You’ve said you found nothing — not fabricated data, but literally no data at all behind the headlines. A friend then told you that knowing what you know and saying nothing was incompatible with a good night’s sleep. Take us through that period — from the first research to the decision to go public.

Data in the early months was indeed scant. The first thing I got my hands on that seemed somewhat hard was a list characterizing official covid deaths in Hungary. I tried relocating it a few months ago without luck. If I remember correctly, the average age of death was in the late 80s and the average number of co-morbidities was north of three. I suspected then that an ordinary and already widespread cold virus was being used to label ordinary course deaths as covid deaths. I was almost, but not quite, right.

There was one hard fact that I think I was the first to notice. The “falling man” videos were quickly seen to be obvious fakes. But their widespread dissemination, represented as emanating from Chinese sources, was unchecked in a world where intelligence community control of social media was already considerable. That these obvious fakes were allowed to spread in the west implied that the western intelligence community was in on the scam.

4. You co-founded PANDA in the early months of the pandemic, and it quickly attracted a serious scientific advisory board — names like Jay Bhattacharya, Sunetra Gupta, Martin Kulldorff, Michael Levitt, Scott Atlas, Michael Yeadon and Scott Jensen. That also made you a target. You’ve described smear campaigns across multiple countries and coordinated pressure that eventually cost you that advisory board overnight. What did you learn about how dissent is managed — not in theory, but the actual mechanics of how it was done to you?

They go through your laundry, looking for something that can be twisted into scandal or disgrace. In our case, we had for half a year hosted a document authored by Denis Rancourt on our website, arguing that there was no sign of a pandemic. It had picked up a handful of reads. We had hosted it—as a favour to him and because we agreed with it—after it was deplatformed from ResearchGate. That paper contained an objectively true little sentence, “Vaccines are inherently dangerous.” A scurrilous hack masquerading as a science editor at The Times of London, by the name of Tom Whipple, began emailing our advisory board members asking them why they supported an “anti-vaxx” organisation. Though we later took a strong stance against vaccination in general, at this stage our position regarding the covid injections was that there was no sign that they were actually vaccines, that they worked or that they caused egregious harms. I viewed them as akin to holy water. Some members thought the “vaccines” were the way out of lockdowns, and that the whole “over-reaction” would blow over if most people complied. I was not one of them and we never adopted that position.

What caught us off guard in the wake of the Whipple attack was the panicked reaction of the advisory board members. We had not understood quite how strong the grip of the pharmaceutical industry was over academics and public health people. Kulldorff asked us on behalf of a subset of the members to remove the offending article, which we duly did, but he in particular was beside himself. He resigned late that night, which triggered a cascade of resignations by the rest—except for Mike Yeadon, who already had grave concerns about the injections, if I recall correctly.

I also found myself at the receiving end of media attacks as far abroad as the Philadelphia Inquirer. In South Africa a local journalist, Rebecca Davis of Soros-funded The Daily Maverick, teamed up with a suspected intelligence community asset and Club of Rome member called Nafeez Ahmed, who wrote for Peter Jukes’ Bylines Times. A year ago Jukes wrote a chapter for the Fabian Society’s essay collection on press and media reform, Pressing Issues, so you get the picture. Using tortured logic, this article tried to link me to characters such as Nigel Farage and David Icke, who I’d never even heard of at that stage.

When we took them to the Press Ombud in South Africa, Davis lied in her testimony, feeling safe because copies of an interview in which she had contradicted her testimony had been purged from the internet. To our horror, when we presented a recording we had kept of that interview to the Ombud, the Ombud’s lawyer responded by deleting the lie from Davis’ testimony and re-releasing her report exonerating The Daily Maverick without it. Later we established that the Ombud had also been funded by Soros.

I also faced completely trumped up charges from both my professional bodies, the Institute and Faculty of Actuaries, from which I have since resigned in protest, and the Actuarial Society of South Africa, which eventually dropped its case after four years of constant harassment.

And then of course there were the social media bans, later replaced by algorithmic reach suppression, which is now so thorough-going that there is little point in wasting time publishing there.

So I learnt in a very real way that the media landscape involves saturation-level control by the powers-that-be, and now focus my attention on “in real life” actions—among my extensive private equity and commercial network, and at whatever physical attendance conferences I’m invited to speak at, which happens a handful of times a year.

5. You’ve said there was no pandemic in the conventional sense, and you’ve criticised gain-of-function research as a narrative device that sustains the pandemic preparedness industry rather than reflecting what actually happened. What alternative explanation for the events of 2020–2022 do you find most coherent?

To me, the evidence is very strong that what caused excess deaths to occur in the few places they apparently did was a change in treatment protocols for respiratory diseases and harmful protocols adopted for “asymptomatic” patients hospitalized for other causes but testing positive for SARS-CoV-2. This is to say that those excess deaths were iatrogenic in nature. This perspective is buttressed by the absence of ripple and cluster effects in high-resolution epidemiological data, devastating critiques of the PCR and antibody test methodologies and so on.

Data fraud was also rampant. Swapping the definition of a “case” from “a sick person with characteristic symptoms” to a person with a positive “covid test” was one source of fraud. Attributing deaths to covid when there was no respiratory aspect to the cause of death was another. But straight fabrication was also a major story. We exposed several dirty tricks on the part of the South African Medical Research Council, responsible for tracking excess deaths, aimed at exaggerating the threat.

6. You use the phrase “applied epistemology” — the practical skill of distinguishing truth from untruth. In an environment where institutional science, media, and regulatory bodies have all been compromised to varying degrees, what is your actual process for deciding what’s true? When you encounter a new claim, what do you do with it before you accept or reject it?

Strong claims about complex systems are generally false. As I explained previously, anything based on a model is suspect. I go about my commercial life by taking a trial and error approach. For example, sound commercial strategy doesn’t come from a single narrative espoused by the CEO in a glossy, hundred-page PowerPoint, but from testing legion ideas in the real world on the margin and as cheaply as possible. In this way strategy is evolutionary. The trick is to listen to what the real world is telling you about your ideas; then to get off the bad ones fast and move capital in support of the good ones.

7. You’ve argued that knowledge creation is the generation of new explanations of reality, and that consensus or averaging cannot achieve this. Why does that distinction matter so much when analysing complex systems — whether pandemics, economies, or the current promises being made about artificial intelligence?

We do not have an algorithm for creativity, defined in this way. The old empirical idea that new knowledge is simply a rearrangement of existing facts is plain silly. It is not only in the domain of science that creativity proceeds by way of a creative spark that we can’t program, but across all domains of human effort—and in no domains of non-human effort. As far as we know, humans are the only creative force in the observable universe. AI models make no effort in this direction. They simply average and to a lesser extent deduce. What people describe as AI “hallucinations” are simply just averages over false human narratives.

When it comes to complex systems, new knowledge of how to manipulate them beneficially is very hard to come by. As I described previously with respect to business strategy, we are confined to evolutionary approaches—to trial and error, or conjecture and criticism. Even then we face the hard truth that perceived benefits might be offset by adverse effects we can’t observe, either because we can’t or haven’t thought of measuring them yet, or because they lie down the line.

I believe that all sorts of experiments on complex society, usually labelled as “reforms” or “progress”, have been adopted wholesale and rapidly over the last century, and that most of them will turn out to have been devastating.

8. You’ve developed what people call “Hudson’s Razor” — the principle that any purported global crisis requiring exclusively global solutions, accompanied by censorship of dissent, is diagnostic of a scam. How did you arrive at that formulation, and how do you apply it beyond covid — to climate policy, financial regulation, public health more broadly?

I asked myself why the Club of Rome had singled out pandemics and climate as areas to prioritise in the project to get people to accept diminished freedoms and consumption—a world without growth, in the interests of “sustainability”, of course. And then the schema simply came to me, and I realized its power and how it relates to the issues of narrative control and complexity I’ve been talking about. Sustaining false narratives means aggressively targeting real dissent. False narratives cannot survive the generation of new explanations for reality, and they cannot survive competing narratives flourishing. So it has to be one-size-fits-all for the problem and the solution, and that requires censorship.

9. A recurring argument in your work is that centralisation is the root problem — that it can’t preserve anything, can’t innovate, and inevitably becomes a zero-sum game. You’ve drawn parallels to the Soviet collapse and cited the Austrian School of Economics as having already demonstrated why. Make the case: why is this body of thought urgently relevant to what’s happening right now?

The rank and file bureaucrats of the emerging control grid have been schooled in the belief that the “this time is different”. Whereas attempts to centralize in the past have been disasters—much worse than zero-sum games—they believe that having more data and faster computers changes everything. But no amount of data or processing speed addresses the Austrian School’s analysis of the “information problem” or the “calculation problem”. I believe the people at the top of the establishment hierarchy are well aware of this catastrophic weakness in their project, but they don’t mind, because they prioritise control over generativity. It is best to think of them as criminal, rather than misguided. And to motivate their apparatchiks they need to market what they’re doing, which they do via people like Tony Blair, Klaus Schwab and so on. And a great many of those people are likely real believers.

Related to this we saw the wholly artificial resurrection of the philosophical detritus that was utility theory, with intellectual minnows like Peter Singer propelled into the limelight to slap some lipstick on the pig. The control grid needs an ethics calculus, although no such thing can exist, and utility theory, a doctrine which collapses upon itself, serves as part of that calculus.

To fight all of this, we need to do what universities now completely fail to do, and teach people the irrefutable reality that complexity is a bitch, and that centralisation is incompatible with human flourishing, for reasons we fully understand, and that this has been proven time after time throughout history.

10. You’ve been skeptical about the promises being made for artificial intelligence, arguing that the models decohere rapidly in the face of real complexity and that the theoretical limits are more fundamental than people assume. Given that AI is being positioned as the backbone of the next wave of centralised control — smart cities, digital ID, predictive governance — what do you think actually happens when these systems meet reality?

It’s already happening. I think the energetic demands of marshalling greater degrees of complicatedness—as distinct from complexity—have already surprised the powers-that-be. That they’re already having to build 4,000-acre data centres in Texas stands as testament to that. When these systems meet reality they will perform terribly. I think the framework could withstand edge cases that generate cruel outcomes without recourse, but I think that what they’ll inevitably generate is widespread cruelty, and that will be their downfall.

11. Your X bio reads “Thumos is required, not a Great Reset.” You’ve also written frequently about telos — purpose — and the hollowing out of meaning, love, and agency in modern life. How do these philosophical ideas connect to the practical fight against the trends you’re describing? Why spirit and purpose rather than better policy or better information?

A modern tendency is to conceive of Man as machine. In this vision, our brains are simply computers—“wetware” running the algorithms that constitute our minds. That view relates to the silly expectation I referred to earlier—that creativity is caused by rearranging existing knowledge. It is also archly reductionist. No satisfactory account of any person, or of Man in general, can take place in such reductionist terms. Creativity, by which I mean the creation of new and good explanations for reality, requires freedom. Freedom entails agency. Agency is bent towards the good, not by some utilitarian calculus, but by love and wisdom, from which virtue may be distilled. In the same way that creativity doesn’t emerge by rearranging existing knowledge, and has never been reduced to algorithmic form, morality is not reducible to policies acting on data. We know good moral judgement when we see it. It is really the ability to make context-specific trade-offs between competing virtues, and the information and calculation problems of economics are even more relevant in the ethical domain.

So creativity and righteousness both evade analytical solution and the globalist’s domain of systems theory is unable to encompass them. Instead, it is proper and eminently sensible to operate in the more literary domains of love, spirit, intuition and purpose. The fact that these ideas are shrouded by a great deal of mystery should not surprise us. Embracing that mystery is part of living with thumos.

12. You’ve described the Hanseatic League — a medieval network of merchants who operated across borders through voluntary association, shared codes of conduct, and no formal membership — as a model for what’s needed now. A modern, decentralised network built on trust rather than institutional authority. What would that actually look like in practice, and what’s stopping it from forming?

The early internet showed us exactly what that would look like, with spontaneous formation of groups and spontaneous virality of new ideas and refutations. But the establishment has succeeded in terminating the freedom of the internet, so the generativity has been stopped in its tracks. So it’s no surprise that the Malthusians over at the Club of Rome and World Economic Forum are speaking more and more about “degrowth” and “a sustainable future”, and migrating away from measures of actual improvement in the human condition and towards such nebulous aspirations as “impact” and “diversity”. This is all ghoulish jargon, inverting meaning and euphemising what amounts to the abolition of problem-solving and human flourishing.

People have also too easily accepted the convenience of online meetings, but these are spiritless affairs that can’t foster the connection necessary for creative co-operation and innovation to flourish. I avoid people who demonstrate reluctance to meet in real life. They’re already sacrificing their humanity. Why would you trust someone who would do that?

A local network, ignoring the bonfire of false narratives and kleptocracy, is quite difficult to prevent forming—at least not without quite extreme curtailment of liberty of the kind associated with slavery or maybe feudalism.

13. In a widely shared post, you outlined practical steps people can take: ignore mainstream media, reduce spending with large corporations, speak out, act locally, recover meaning and agency. In a world of increasing database integration and algorithmic control — justified by climate, health, or speech — how can individuals and communities build genuine resilience? Which of those steps do you see as most impactful right now?

When young people come to me seeking career advice, as they often do, I tell them to adjust their thinking around independence. I explain that it is worth enduring considerable relative penury or hardship to obtain a degree of independence. This is almost impossible in the world of the large corporation or government. Quite small personal networks with similarly independent people can become powerful very quickly. In our private equity firm, we favour working with professional advisers who are independent from the big banks, law practices and accounting firms. This gives us efficiency and reliability in execution that our competitors, who are for the most part Davos men, struggle to contend with.

People need to get off the idea that a neighbourhood or school committee is an embarrassingly small target for an intelligent person’s efforts. It’s the other way round—that it’s what the smartest people do, and where future success will come from. Jumping into the large-scale institutions is a ticket to slavery.

A similar approach needs also to be taken by parents with respect to their children’s education. We need to upend the notion of kids having concentration problems, pathologized as ADHD. Instead, we need to see that teachers, in part because of the way education is structured into rigid syllabi, emphasising rote learning, but also because they no longer perceive curiosity in children, have a tedium problem. It is natural and right that children, especially boys, should respond to tedium by becoming unruly and distracted. The solution is not to hit them with stimulants like Ritalin and Concerta, which are basically slow-release cocaine. What the stimulants do is to replace the missing reward responses to interest and curiosity with artificial dopamine hits that enable the child to stay focused on the boring work. No child should ever be given these drugs, even if they didn’t lead in so many cases to addictions that rule out having healthy relationships of any sort, and we need to become robustly, thumotically intolerant of the parents, teachers and doctors who hand them out like candy. There is no concentration problem. There is a tedium problem. Recognising that will arm our children with resilience.

Resilience and having useful knowledge are overlapping constructs. I forget who coined the metaphor, but we should think of a sound education as being like a cathedral, in having a broad base that covers much ground, with a spire that represents effort to obtain deep insight that necessarily concentrates on a narrower domain. Our institutions have become so balkanized that they force people into building the spire with no church beneath it. Such people are not merely useless. They’re a danger to themselves and society. I encourage youngsters to locate their curiosity and to become life-long learners, unafraid to explore and discuss domains where they have no formal education. The world is full of false dichotomies, and generalist-specialist is one of them. You need a broad, eclectic education, AND the experience of going deep.

Judgment and the ability to make sound decisions in the real world come from recognizing its complexity. A consequence of complexity is that we can only assess the quality of ideas in action, which means considering their survival and effects over time. Ideas can’t be tested in models. For this reason, a good education should concentrate on books and works of art that are old. I try to make sure that three out of four books I read were published more than half a century ago. If they’re still being read, that speaks volumes in their favour, whereas most of the last decade’s headline bestsellers have already been forgotten, and for good reason. Ignoring pretty much all content that is pop, fad, fashion, spirit-of-the-time, invented yesterday, not around when you were a child … that’s the way to go. Similarly, there is little to be gained by obsessing over the news and current events. All important truths are timeless.

Linking to my earlier remarks on business strategy, life strategy can be the same. Isaiah Berlin used to contrast the fox—the man who knows something about many things—with the hedgehog—the man who occupies himself around one big idea. Foxes can manage with complexity, while hedgehogs assume it away and fail in the real world.

As far as things invented yesterday go, one I’m particularly wary of is the double-income household. People trip over themselves to put their children into flashy schools that actually provide terrible and boring educations, both from an intellectual and an ethical perspective, at the cost of being unavailable to their children and spouses. In doing so they set themselves up for trouble in negotiating healthy familial relationships. I have sacrificed a lot in terms of comfort and niceties to avoid that, and am glad I did so.

14. You’ve expressed frustration with people who frame the problem primarily in terms of race or religion, arguing instead that the real adversary is an elite that knows no creed or culture and seeks to divide and polarise everyone else. What patterns have you observed in how that division is manufactured and maintained across different countries and crises?

I love the “divide and conquer” meme of a king on the castle wall, surveying a riotous crowd, saying to his anxious queen, “It’s OK. All we have to do is tell the torch people that the pitchfork people are here to take their torches.” This kind of polarisation is effective because people are attracted to simple narratives. They want the answer to be that the bad guys are the Jews, or the Muslims, or the Nazis, or the Russians, or the conservatives, or the libtards. But reality is more complex than that, and power occupies a shifting, contended-for space, replete with overlapping hierarchies and relationships, conflicting priorities and ambitions, and fluctuating alliances. Global false narratives require the fabrication of new, global dichotomies—for example, the covidians versus the “far-right” anti-vaxxers. These aren’t maintained by effectiveness of argument or content, but by the sheer volume of resources thrown at their maintenance.

My experience of South Africa has been salient in this regard. If you read social media and the news, you’d be forgiven for believing that we live in an environment of universal racial conflict. But on the ground, you mostly encounter an easy, warm and often humorous co-existence. There are always freaks who will inflame and hate, but I’ve never encountered a place, anywhere in a world I’ve widely traversed, where they were in the majority, or even a substantial minority. Propaganda may be able to shift more people into the minority, and we must be mindful of that.

15. You started PANDA, you run a private equity firm, and you’ve become one of the more prominent voices in this space — speaking at conferences, appearing on programmes like GB News, writing and publishing regularly. What are you focused on right now, what’s ahead, and where can people find your work and follow what you’re doing?

I’m listening to my own advice and focusing on the local. So I decline virtual invitations in favour of IRL ones. For a minority of my time, I’m in the process of moving efforts from X, which has become even more outrageously censored since Musk’s takeover, to substack, simply because it provides a better framework for laying out a world view. I’m off to a slow start. My handle for both is @NickHudsonCT.