Took forever to get this bad boy through the editorial process... but as always Stackers had some advance warning as to where my mind was at (#929023)
I recently stayed in an incredible house—a high-ceiling, high-quality, high-tech, mansion-type property that isn’t even in my wildest dreams to ever own. No matter how well I do in my working life—plus my parents’ inheritance on the sad day they die, plus bitcoin doing its things in rearranging the monetary premia of the world—I’ll never land in this astonishing villa
(Dope caption pic... looks AI, but also suspiciously like Avicii's flashy old house in LA.)
The couple who owns this house was definitely assisted by a property market that, for decades, propelled their net wealth upward and upward, in what will one day be considered the worst wealth redistribution scam of our age.
What was most stunning to me wasn’t the difference in wealth between them and me, but how little it mattered to me. I have no aspirations to live in such a grand, stunning house. Moreover, it was shocking how quickly life here became quotidian—eat, sleep, work out, bathroom breaks, play chess on my phone. The human universals are the same.
Maybe Undisc et al assembled enough to buy The Economist... but will they buy fancy houses?!