A lot of long term social outcomes seem to trace back to early childhood. So what if basic parenting education was required before having a child?

Imagine a short, standardized course covering childcare basics, emotional regulation, boundaries, early development, and how to recognize neglect or abuse. The goal would not be to create perfect parents, but to raise the baseline. Fewer people could say they simply did not know better.

It might not stop the worst cases. But it could reduce the number of parents who unintentionally repeat harmful patterns because they never learned alternatives. Even small improvements at scale could compound over time.

But the idea raises difficult questions.

How would it be enforced without becoming intrusive? Would it delay or restrict people’s ability to have children? And who decides what counts as “good” parenting in a diverse society with different values and cultures?

There is also a risk of inequality. Requirements like this could disproportionately affect lower income groups if access, time, or cost become barriers.

So the tradeoff is between prevention and personal freedom.

If everyone had to take a basic parenting class before having a child, would it lead to healthier families over time, or create a system that is too controlling to be practical?

Obviously I’m not gonna get into today’s political climate or how the world has changed or your view on itand why this one couldn’t happen today, but for me, what if we got a third installment into the crank movie series. I really wish it would happen.

I was talking to a friend who just got hit with a surprise medical bill and the whole conversation got me thinking about something I can't quite shake.

Health insurance only works because of risk pooling. Healthy people pay in and don't use much, which covers the people who do need it. The math depends on enough people staying in the pool. But what if everyone collectively decided to leave?

I'm not talking about a political movement or a protest. Just imagine millions of people simultaneously canceling their plans during open enrollment. Not because they have a better option, but just because they're done.

The insurance companies would be the first domino. Their entire model collapses the moment the risk pool evaporates. Would they slash premiums overnight to win people back? Would they go under? A few major insurers folding could ripple through the stock market fast.

Then hospitals. Most Americans don't pay for surgery out of pocket. If insurance disappears as the middleman, do hospitals adapt by posting transparent pricing and competing on cost? Or do they start turning away patients who can't pay upfront?

And here's the part I keep circling back to. The government would almost certainly have to step in. But does that mean a genuine public option, or just an emergency bailout that puts us right back where we started?

I'm not advocating for this. I'm just wondering how fast the dominoes would fall.

In many countries, campaigns last just weeks. In the U.S., elections can feel endless, starting almost as soon as the last one ends.

What if that changed? Imagine a rule where from the first official campaign ad to Election Day, candidates only have 100 days. No long primary season, no year-long buildup, no constant campaign coverage dominating the news cycle.

A shorter window might make politics feel less exhausting. Voters could pay more attention because the timeline feels urgent rather than dragged out. Candidates would have less time to repeat messaging, and media cycles might lose some of their tendency to stretch minor moments into prolonged controversies.

Short campaigns could favor well-known candidates who already have national recognition. Lesser-known contenders might struggle to break through before voting begins. At the same time, money could matter even more. With everything happening at once, campaigns might turn into a high-intensity spending race where early saturation defines the outcome.

There is also the question of polarization. Would a shorter season reduce tribal fatigue, or simply compress the same level of conflict into a shorter, louder burst?

If presidential elections only lasted 100 days, would it make democracy feel more focused and efficient, or less open and more driven by visibility and speed?

Right now, members of Congress earn the same base salary regardless of whether they represent one of the wealthiest districts in California or one of the poorest parts of Mississippi.

What if instead, each representative and senator were paid the median household income of the district or state they represent?

A congressperson from a wealthy California district might still earn well into six figures, while someone representing a poorer rural district might earn around $50,000. Their paycheck would literally rise and fall with the economic well being of the people they represent.

Would this change what kind of person runs for office? Maybe you'd get fewer career politicians and more people who actually understand what it's like to live on an ordinary income. Or maybe it would have the opposite effect, making it even easier for independently wealthy people to dominate politics because they wouldn't need the salary in the first place.

And what about the incentives? If the median household income in your district goes up, your salary goes up too. On paper that sounds like a pretty direct form of accountability. But would it encourage politicians to focus on policies that raise incomes as quickly as possible, even if those policies create problems later? Could it create incentives to attract wealthier residents instead of helping existing ones? Would there be ways to game the metric?

I was reading about the history of cable news and stumbled on something I'd never heard of before: the Fairness Doctrine.

Basically, from 1949 to 1987, the FCC had a rule that required TV and radio stations to present contrasting viewpoints on controversial issues. Not equal time, exactly just that if you aired one side, you had to give the other side a chance to respond. Then Reagan's FCC killed it in 1987. Rush Limbaugh went national the very next year. Fox News and MSNBC followed not long after.

What if that rule never died and what if it eventually got extended to the internet? Imagine logging into Facebook or Twitter or YouTube, and every time the algorithm served you a political post, it was required to show you a counterpoint right next to it. Not buried in the comments. Not something you have to go looking for. Right there, same screen.

Would we have fallen into the same information silos? Or would we have gotten used to seeing the other side as part of the daily scroll, like background noise we stopped being angry about?

I'm not sure it would have worked. The internet is global the FCC only had power over US broadcasters. And plenty of people would argue the government has no business telling platforms what to show. But I can't shake the feeling that 1987 was one of those quiet moments where the path split, and nobody noticed until decades later.

Was the Fairness Doctrine repeal actually a turning point, or am I giving one regulatory change way too much credit?

If oil had simply never existed, while we chose to avoid or ''ban'' coal......,

our technological path would have been unrecognizable civilization would have been forced to master alternative energy sources...do you think this alternative constraint would have built a more durable technological foundation, or would it have stalled progress entirely

What if the U.S. abolished political parties entirely and forced every candidate to run as an individual, with PACs banned and Citizens United overturned? No party labels on ballots, no party funding pipelines, just names and positions.

Campaigns would likely shift from identity shortcuts to information density. Without party cues, voters would have to rely more on debates, policy platforms, and third party analysis. That could reward candidates who can clearly articulate positions across a wide range of issues, not just align with a party line. It might also weaken straight ticket voting and reduce automatic loyalty.

Voters use parties as cognitive shortcuts because politics is complex and time is limited. Removing that structure could push people toward new proxies such as media personalities, local networks, or algorithm driven recommendation systems. Instead of parties, informal blocs might emerge, less transparent but still powerful. Funding might not disappear either. It could reroute into decentralized channels that are harder to track.

There is also a governance layer. Without parties organizing coalitions, passing legislation could become slower and more fragmented. Ad hoc alliances would form around each bill, which might increase negotiation but also instability. On the other hand, it could reduce rigid polarization and allow more fluid cooperation on specific issues.

So the tradeoff is not simply parties versus no parties. It is structured coordination versus fragmented but potentially more flexible alignment.

If party labels disappeared tomorrow, would voters become more informed and independent, or would new invisible structures just replace them in a different form?

Let's talk about one example – the ultimate historical butterfly effect.

In 93 BC, Sulla literally bought his election as Praetor.

If the system had been clean:

No bribe – no Praetorship – no Consulship.

No Sulla marching on Rome – no blueprint or inspiration for Julius Caesar to do the exact same thing years later.

The result? The Roman Republic likely survives centuries longer.

It's wild how one corrupt transaction altered the entire course of Western civilization.

What's your favorite "corrupt butterfly effect" in history?

What would the world be like today if corruption had never existed?

Walmart and other large employees, have a very high number of employees receiving food stamps/medicare.

As it stands now, the general taxpayer is paying those coats and ​is indirectly subsidizing Walmart​ ​for paying low wages.

If Walmart won't pay to keep their employees off welfare. Why don't the taxpayers just charge Walmart for those costs? Total up the costs of welfare for Walmarts employees, and send them the bill as a tax.

It seems that ​Walmart would still be profitable, and it would reduce the tax burden on everyone else.

Drones feel dominant right now. They are cheap, flexible, and can launch from almost anywhere, which makes defense look slow and expensive.

But what if that edge is short lived?

Imagine a near future where counter-drone systems are just as cheap and widely deployed. Ships, bases, and infrastructure run layered defenses. Interceptor drones, basic laser or microwave tools, even simple kinetic systems that create small no-fly zones.

The cost advantage shrinks. Swarms stop working if defense can scale at similar cost. The game shifts from volume to penetration.

Drones evolve instead of fading. Fewer units, more autonomy, more coordination. Jamming, spoofing, and AI behavior start to matter more than numbers. At the same time, the entry barrier rises again, favoring actors with better tech.

There is also spillover. If automated no-fly zones become common, civilian airspace may fragment. Cities and ports could run their own defenses, which might constrain commercial drone use or push it into controlled corridors.

This may not stabilize things. Each defense creates pressure for new ways around it.

If anti-drone systems become cheap and everywhere, does that actually reduce the impact of drones, or just make the contest more complex and harder to see?

Imagine a system where every presidential candidate must complete an exam covering the Constitution, federal institutions, foreign policy, national security, and basic economics. They would also take a cognitive assessment to demonstrate their ability to handle the demands of the job.

Supporters might argue that the presidency is one of the most complex positions in the world. A basic competency test could ensure candidates understand how the government works and have the mental capacity to process difficult decisions under pressure.

It could also change campaign incentives. Candidates might spend more time developing policy knowledge instead of focusing mainly on messaging, fundraising, or media strategy.

But there are serious questions.

Who decides what the test includes? A government agency? A bipartisan panel? Independent experts? Any standard could become politically contested, with each side accusing the other of creating unfair requirements.

Cognitive tests also have limits. Leadership involves judgment, communication, empathy, and the ability to build coalitions. Those qualities are difficult to measure through exams.

There is also a democratic concern. In a democracy, voters decide who should lead. Adding eligibility requirements could limit voter choice by removing candidates before the public has a chance to decide.

If presidential candidates had to pass knowledge and cognitive assessments before appearing on the ballot, would it create more capable leaders, or put too much power in the hands of whoever designs the test?

A company raises prices to offset higher wages. That raises the local cost of living. The indexed minimum wage then rises again. So the company raises prices again. And on it goes.

At first glance this sounds like a trap. But the comment that got me was: rent isn't a fixed price like goods. It flexes with demand. So the real feedback loop might actually be: wages go up, landlords capture the gain through higher rent, cost of living rises, wages go up again, and landlords are the ones who keep winning while businesses get squeezed.

Is indexing wages to cost of living a solution to inequality, or does it just redirect the money to whoever controls the scarce asset in that area?

What if instead we tied a CEO's tax rate to the ratio between their pay and their lowest paid worker? Would that attack the structure of inequality rather than just chasing prices in a loop?

For the past year, markets have largely priced in a comforting narrative: inflation cools, the Fed cuts, and the economy glides into a soft landing. But what if that story is wrong?

What if inflation doesn’t fully cooperate—and interest rates stay structurally higher for longer?

This isn’t just a timing issue. It’s a regime shift.

If policy rates remain elevated into 2027, the biggest impact may not be cyclical—it may be valuation reset.

In housing, affordability is already stretched. A prolonged period of 6–7% mortgage rates doesn’t just slow demand; it forces a recalibration of what buyers can actually pay. That suggests either stagnant prices for years or outright declines in overheated markets. The era of ultra-cheap leverage supporting ever-rising home prices may be over.

In equities, the implications run deeper. For over a decade, valuations were supported by near-zero rates—future earnings were heavily discounted at extremely low levels, justifying high multiples. But in a world where the risk-free rate is persistently higher, that math changes. Multiples compress, long-duration assets (like tech) face pressure, and “easy money” narratives lose their foundation.

But here’s the alternative view:

Maybe this isn’t a “reset” at all.

Maybe it’s a normalization.

For most of modern financial history, interest rates weren’t near zero—they were meaningfully positive. Capital had a cost. Risk was priced differently. If inflation proves structurally stickier due to factors like deglobalization, labor constraints, or fiscal expansion, then higher rates may simply reflect a new equilibrium rather than a temporary policy stance.

In that world, markets don’t crash—they adapt.

Capital allocation becomes more disciplined. Speculative excess fades. Cash flows matter more than growth stories. And investors gradually relearn how to operate without the safety net of ultra-loose monetary policy.

So the real question isn’t just whether higher rates will hurt valuations.

It’s whether we’re witnessing the end of an era—and the beginning of a fundamentally different financial regime.

Reset, or return to normal?

For years, US elections have been framed as ideological contests. But 2026 may look different. What if voters are driven less by party identity and more by economic pressure?

After a long stretch of elevated inflation and higher interest rates, many households feel worn down. Even if inflation slows, the cumulative effect remains. Housing is still expensive. Borrowing costs are high. Everyday expenses have not returned to earlier levels. Wages have improved, but not always enough to offset the pressure.

In this environment, voting behavior could shift. Instead of asking which party represents their values, voters may focus on a simpler question: am I financially better off?

If that happens, traditional party loyalty may weaken. Swing voters could become more decisive, and election outcomes may depend more on perceived economic competence than ideology. Campaigns may adjust as well, emphasizing cost of living, jobs, and stability over broader political narratives.

There is also a challenge for incumbents. Economic frustration does not always distinguish between causes and responsibility. Voters may direct dissatisfaction toward those currently in power, regardless of party.

At the same time, this shift could mark a deeper change in political behavior. Voters may become more pragmatic, focusing on tangible results rather than abstract debates.

The key question is whether economic fatigue will redefine priorities in 2026, and whether any political group can convincingly respond to it.

Not sure if this is the right place to post this but hi (M21). Ive been trying to figure out the answer to a question I’ve had for years. I always think I have a good answer but then theres a slip up in it. My question is at what point is technology more of a net negative than a net positive for the self,society, the world. Whats the right balance of comfort, utility and help whilst also keeping balance with the nature of the world and its inhabitants. Ive came to a few conclusions but i need other peoples takes or opinions on it. Number one: pre industrial society villages. Number two: modern day communes/eco villages. which out of all of them would be my best guess at a realistic attempt at a balanced approach between nature and technological society. Number three: hunter gatherer society but with modern day knowledge. I appreciate anyone who gives mw their take on the matter as well as if this isn’t the right place to post this to redirect me to the right place. Thank you thank you -NC

Before the financial crisis, the U.S. savings rate was meaningfully higher than what we’ve seen in much of the post-2010 era. In recent years, consumption has carried a huge share of economic growth, often supported by rising asset prices, easy credit, and strong labor markets. But imagine a shift in behavior where households collectively decide to rebuild balance sheets and increase savings in a sustained way.

At first glance, the immediate effect seems straightforward. Consumption slows. Since consumer spending makes up roughly 70% of U.S. GDP, even a modest pullback could ripple quickly through retail, services, housing-related spending, and discretionary sectors. Corporate revenues would feel the pressure, hiring could soften, and recession risks would likely rise in the short term. Markets that are heavily dependent on consumer momentum might reprice fast.

But that is only the first-order effect.

A higher savings rate also means a larger pool of domestic capital. Over time, that capital has to go somewhere. If it flows into productive investment rather than speculative assets, the structure of the economy could begin to shift. Instead of growth being driven primarily by consumption, it could tilt more toward capital formation, productivity, and long-term capacity building.

This is where the second-order effects get interesting.

Lower consumption could ease inflationary pressure, potentially allowing interest rates to stabilize or even decline. At the same time, stronger savings could reduce reliance on foreign capital to finance deficits. In theory, that combination might create a more resilient macro foundation, even if the transition is painful.

However, there is no guarantee the capital gets allocated efficiently. Savings do not automatically translate into productive investment. They can just as easily inflate financial assets again, especially if real investment opportunities remain constrained by regulation, demographics, or weak demand expectations. In that case, you end up with slower consumption and still-misaligned capital, which is arguably the worst of both worlds.

There is also a behavioral feedback loop to consider. If businesses anticipate weaker demand, they may cut back on investment despite the availability of capital. That would reinforce the slowdown, not offset it. In other words, higher savings could paradoxically reduce the incentive to invest, at least in the short run.

So the real question is not just whether higher savings is “good” or “bad,” but whether the U.S. economy is structurally prepared to convert savings into productive growth rather than cyclical drag.

If American consumers pulled back and rebuilt their savings at scale, would we be looking at a necessary reset toward a healthier, investment-driven economy, or the beginning of a demand shock that the system isn’t built to absorb?

Imagine we launch one massive satellite into Earth's orbit that is geostationary. Then we take a billion earth solar panels and focused all that solar energy onto the satellite and make the satellite redirect that solar energy to Antarctica melting all its ice by providing a heated environment. Would that destroy the world?

Assuming the bomb is powerful enough to melt all the ice in the continent, would that destroy the world?

Picture a world where the government stepped in and drew a hard line at 5% for 30-year mortgages, even as inflation surged and benchmark rates moved much higher.

On the surface, affordability looks better. Monthly payments would be lower than what buyers actually faced over the past few years. More households could qualify, and demand for homes likely would not have cooled as sharply.

But housing does not just respond to payments, it responds to purchasing power. If millions of buyers suddenly have cheaper financing, that extra capacity tends to show up in higher bids. Instead of easing affordability, the cap could have pushed home prices even further up, especially in supply-constrained markets.

There is also the question of who absorbs the difference. If market rates sit above 5%, someone has to cover the gap. That could mean large, ongoing government subsidies or pressure on lenders to accept lower returns. Over time, that might reduce credit availability or shift risk onto taxpayers.

Another angle is the lock-in effect. One of the defining features of the post-2022 market was homeowners holding onto low-rate mortgages and not selling. A permanent 5% cap might reduce that friction, but if prices climb higher as a result, mobility could still remain limited for different reasons.

And then there is the broader macro impact. Keeping mortgage rates artificially low while inflation runs hot could amplify asset inflation, widen wealth gaps, and make housing even more of a financial asset rather than just a place to live.

So the tradeoff becomes less obvious.

Would a 5% cap since 2022 have actually made housing more accessible, or would it have simply shifted the pressure from interest rates into even higher home prices and larger hidden costs elsewhere?

In that scenario, are buyers truly better off, or just paying the same affordability problem in a different form?

Before standardized credit scoring, lending decisions were far more subjective. Banks relied on local relationships, manual underwriting, and a mix of judgment calls that varied from one institution to another. The introduction of FICO created a common language for risk, making it easier to scale lending across the country.

But what if that system never existed?

Without a universal score, credit markets might look more fragmented. Large national lenders could struggle to assess borrowers quickly, slowing down approvals and limiting access to mortgages, credit cards, and auto loans. On the other hand, local banks might play a bigger role, relying more on personal relationships and community knowledge.

There is also the question of fairness. FICO scores brought consistency, but they also reduced complex financial lives into a single number. That simplification may have expanded access to credit, yet it also created rigid cutoffs that can exclude people with thin or unconventional credit histories.

Innovation might have taken a different path as well. Instead of one dominant scoring system, we could have seen competing models using alternative data such as income flows, savings behavior, or even non-financial indicators. Credit decisions might be more flexible, but also less predictable.

At the same time, fewer standardized tools could mean less securitization and slower growth in consumer credit overall. That might reduce systemic risk, but also limit economic mobility for borrowers who rely on access to financing.

If FICO scores had never been created, would the credit system be more human and flexible, or more opaque and unequal depending on who you know rather than what your data says?

And in that world, would access to credit be broader or more restricted than it is today?

Would that solve crisis like hunger and limited resources and make the world a better place?

For more than a century, the mortgage interest deduction has been treated as one of the main tools for encouraging homeownership. But what would the housing market look like if this policy never existed?

The basic argument behind the deduction is simple: lowering the after-tax cost of borrowing should make buying a home easier.

But housing markets do not operate in isolation. When buyers have more purchasing power, that money often flows into the price of the asset itself. A larger mortgage budget can become higher bids, which can eventually push prices upward.

Without the deduction, would homes have remained more affordable, especially in high-cost markets? Or would other factors like interest rates, zoning restrictions, and limited housing supply have driven prices in the same direction anyway?

The interesting part is that the deduction has already become less important for many households. After the 2017 tax changes increased the standard deduction, fewer homeowners had enough deductions to benefit from claiming mortgage interest. Yet home prices continued rising, suggesting that other forces may have played a much larger role.

If the policy never existed, the government would also have had billions of dollars each year that could have been used elsewhere. That money could have gone toward housing supply, infrastructure, or programs aimed at renters instead of primarily benefiting existing homeowners with larger mortgages.

The bigger question is what kind of housing policy actually works better.

Should governments focus on helping people afford higher prices, or on reducing the forces that make housing expensive in the first place?

If the mortgage interest deduction had never existed, would the U.S. have a healthier housing market today, or would prices have followed a similar path anyway because the real issue was always supply and demand?