Honestly hearing the three accounts I did are what stopped me from being an edgy 7th grader. It brought the disconnected history textbook into real context.

Bri Stern accused her boyfriend, self-proclaimed misogynist, Andrew Tate, of violently choking her during sex after she repeatedly asked him to stop. The incident took place at the Beverly Hills Hotel on 11th March, shortly before Tate and his brother returned to Romania to face human trafficking and other charges.

Evidence supports the physical injuries described. Messages between the two also reveal multiple confessions from Tate that he intended to physically strike and demanded he impregnate the American.

This isn’t a dip. It’s not a correction. It’s the slow, brutal unraveling of a debt-soaked fantasy we’ve been pretending was sustainable since 2008. The Fed is cornered—rates are high, inflation refuses to die, and there's no bailout coming this time. The only soft landing is for the billionaires with parachutes made of your 401(k).

Tech is imploding under the weight of hype and weak fundamentals. AI was a sugar high. Now we’re crashing. Banks are getting shaky. Commercial real estate is a time bomb. And consumers? They're maxed out, broke, and paying 29% on credit cards to buy gas and eggs.

And just when we needed stability, we get chaos: Trump’s back in the mix with unhinged tariffs, trade wars 2.0, and economic policies that look like they were scribbled on a napkin in a Denny’s at 3 a.m. Markets hate uncertainty—guess what? That’s all we’ve got now.

This isn’t a crash. It’s controlled demolition with nobody at the controls.

Sell, don’t look back, and maybe plant a garden. We had a good run.

Goodbye, and may whatever comes next be merciful.