#crude oil news today

[batboyblog]

The United States is experiencing scorching new levels of heat fueled by climate change this summer, with dozens of people dying in the West, millions sweating under heat advisories and nearly three-quarters of Americans saying the government must prioritize global warming.

But as the Republican Party opens its national convention in Milwaukee with a prime-time focus on energy on Monday night, the party has no plan to address climate change.

While many Republicans no longer deny the overwhelming scientific consensus that the planet is warming, party leaders do not see it as a problem that needs to be addressed.

“I don’t know that there is a Republican approach to climate change as an organizing issue,” said Thomas J. Pyle, president of the American Energy Alliance, a conservative research group focused on energy. “I don’t think President Trump sees reducing greenhouse gases, using the government to do so, as an imperative.”

When former President Donald J. Trump mentions climate change at all, it is mockingly.

“Can you imagine, this guy says global warming is the greatest threat to our country?” Mr. Trump said, referring to President Biden as he addressed a rally in Chesapeake, Va., last month, the hottest June in recorded history across the globe. “Global warming is fine. In fact, I heard it was going to be very warm today. It’s fine.”

He went on to dismiss the scientific evidence that melting ice sheets in Antarctica and Greenland are causing seas to rise, threatening coastal communities around the world. He said it would result in “more waterfront property, if you’re lucky enough to own.” And he lapsed into familiar rants against windmills and electric vehicles.

At the televised debate with Mr. Biden in June, Mr. Trump was asked if he would take any action as president to slow the climate crisis. “I want absolutely immaculate clean water and I want absolutely clean air, and we had it,” Mr. Trump responded, without answering the question.

Mr. Trump’s spokeswoman, Karoline Leavitt, later declined to clarify the former president’s position or discuss any actions he would take regarding climate change, saying only that he wants “energy dominance.”

The United States last year pumped more crude oil than any country in history and is now the world’s biggest exporter of natural gas.

A clear majority of Americans, 65 percent, wants the country to focus on increasing solar, wind and other renewable energy and not fossil fuels, according to a May survey by the Pew Research Center. But just 38 percent of Republicans surveyed said renewable energy should be prioritized, while 61 percent said the country should focus on developing more oil, gas and coal.

“Their No. 1 agenda is to continue producing fossil fuels,” said Andrew Dessler, a professor of atmospheric sciences and the director of the Texas Center for Climate Studies at Texas A&M University. “Once you understand their main goal is to entrench fossil fuels regardless of anything else, everything makes sense.”

The party platform, issued last week, makes no mention of climate change. Instead, it encourages more production of oil, gas and coal, the burning of which is dangerously driving up global temperatures. “We will DRILL, BABY, DRILL,” it says, referring to oil as “liquid gold.”

By contrast, Mr. Biden has taken the most aggressive action of any president to cut emissions from coal, oil and gas and encourage a transition to wind, solar and other carbon-free energy. He has directed every federal agency from the Agriculture Department to the Pentagon to consider how climate change is affecting their core missions.

If Mr. Biden has taken an all-of-government approach to fighting climate change, Mr. Trump and his allies would adopt the opposite: scrubbing “climate” from all federal functions and promoting fossil fuels.

Mr. Trump and his allies want to end federal subsidies for electric vehicles, battery development and the wind and solar industries, preferring instead to open up the Alaskan wilderness to oil drilling, encourage more offshore drilling and expand gas export terminals.

Project 2025, a lengthy manual filled with specific proposals for a next Republican administration, calls for erasing any mention of climate change across the government. While Mr. Trump has recently sought to distance himself from Project 2025, he has praised its architects at the Heritage Foundation, a conservative research organization, and much of the plan was written by people who were top advisers during his first term and could serve in prominent roles if he wins in November.

When pressed to discuss climate change, some Republicans say the country should produce more natural gas and sell it to other countries as a cleaner replacement for coal.

While natural gas produces less carbon dioxide than coal when burned, it remains one of the sources of the greenhouse gases that are driving climate change. Scientists say that countries must stop burning coal, oil and gas to keep global warming to relatively safe levels. Last year, at the United Nations climate summit in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, the United States and nearly 200 countries agreed to transition away from fossil fuels.

But if elected, Mr. Trump has indicated he would pull back from the global fight against climate change, as he did when he announced in 2017 that the United States would be the first and only country to withdraw from the Paris Agreement to limit greenhouse gas emissions. (The United States subsequently rejoined under Mr. Biden.)

And it’s possible he would go even further. Mr. Trump’s former aides said that if he wins in November, he would remove the country altogether from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the international body that works on climate policy and created the 2015 Paris deal.

When it comes to international relations, Project 2025 calls for an end to spending federal funds to help the world’s poorest countries transition to wind, solar and other renewable energy.

The blueprint also calls for erasing climate change as a national security concern, despite research showing rising sea levels, extreme weather and other consequences of global temperature rise are destabilizing areas of the world, affecting migration and threatening American military installations.

Federal research into climate change would slow or disappear under Project 2025, which recommends dismantling the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which conducts some of the world’s leading climate research and is also responsible for weather forecasting and tracking the path of hurricanes and other storms.

NOAA, according to the authors of Project 2025, is “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry and, as such, is harmful to future U.S. prosperity.” At the agency’s research operation, which include a network of research laboratories, an undersea research center, and several joint research institutes with universities, “the preponderance of its climate-change research should be disbanded,” the blueprint said.

Project 2025 also calls for the president to issue an executive order to “reshape” the program that convenes 13 federal agencies every four years to produce the National Climate Assessment, the country’s most authoritative analysis of climate knowledge. The report is required by Congress and details the impacts and risks of climate change to a wide range of sectors, including agriculture, health care and transportation. It is used by the public, researchers and officials around the country to inform decisions about strategies and spending.

Project 2025 also calls for the elimination of offices at the Department of Energy dedicated to developing wind, solar and other renewable energy.

Waleed Abdalati, a former NASA chief scientist who is now at the University of Colorado Boulder, said downgrading climate science would be a disservice to the nation. “That’s a loss of four years in pursuit of creative solutions,” he said.

As president, Mr. Trump tried to replace top officials with political appointees who denied the existence of climate change and put pressure on federal scientists to water down their conclusions. Scientists refused to change their findings and attempts by the Trump administration to bury climate research were also not successful.

“Thank God they didn’t know how to run a government,” Thomas Armstrong, who led the National Climate Assessment program under the Obama administration, said at the end of Mr. Trump’s presidency, adding, “It could have been a lot worse.”

Next time, they would know how to run the government, Mr. Trump’s former officials said. “The difference between the last time and this time is, Donald Trump was president for four years,” Mr. Pyle said. “He will be more prepared.”

[regina-bithyniae]

Twitter, 2024

@RobinHanson: Poll: Do you find women annoying, just in general? (Yes: 72%; No: 17%, Undecided: 11%)

@RichardHanania: Interesting new study. Gay men probably have higher IQ than most of my readers. But lesbians? Not so much.

@BestCombatVids: wounded Ruzzian mobik begs for mercy from UA drone pilot, doesn't get it 😂😂😂

@AellaGirl: my year in numbers: 39 sexual partners, 27 showers

SPONSORED: Albertan Crude Oil is VITAL for fighting climate change, voice your support for Canada-Myanmar deal today!

@cremieux: Test anxiety? Your real problem is probably a low IQ. See more in my latest article!

@RealRawTakes: The Democrats' despicable back-door nomination of Tim Walz puts into stark relief their utter abrogation of all principles and their machine's lacuna of (1/126)

@HBDbro: NEW EVIDENCE for Hobbit race on Indonesian island 70,000 BC?

[universal-casey]

Act One: Soviet (Chapter 2)

Check it out on AO3!

Do not expect me to have chapter 3 out nearly as quickly lmao. But I was DESPERATE to write more than the little blurb from before

1894

The wayward Prince was avoiding his responsibilities yet again, chuckling to himself as he managed to slip past the gaze of his father’s royal guard. It was always easy. Toss a little rock in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go, and Soviet could easily escape the palace without having to explain every detail of where he planned to go.

Details that would do him well to keep hidden, for the moment.

Today, though, unlike the many other times he’d snuck off, it wasn’t to spend his time knocking the teeth out of other boxers in the area. His knuckles would remain unbruised, and both of his golden eyes would remain wide open.

Today, Soviet mused in his thoughts, bright eyes scanning his father’s courtyard, Today, I’m going to find her.

The Prince had heard many a rumor in St. Petersburg. Rasputin getting cozy with the Romanov Queen, dissent rumbling among the lower class, tensions between Austria-Hungary and Serbia: all of it senseless dribble that his father was certain was just baseless rumors. No, the only rumor Soviet was interested in, was another Earthborn around his age.

According to rumor, not long before Soviet himself was thrust upon his father as an earthen gift, the rumblings that marked his own arrival had been happening throughout St. Petersburg. Cobblestone roads shuddered. Diamonds sprouted in gardens. Foundations came loose. Crude oil seemed to run between cracks in the road. Then, amidst a gathering of peasants protesting something stupid Soviet couldn’t bother remembering, she had sprouted from the very roads of St. Petersburg. An Earthborn given to peasants, of all things!

She would be around nineteen at this time, if the rumors were to be believed. Her very existence fascinated Soviet. What would a Country, an Earthborn Country, raised by peasants be like? Rude and dirty, like his father oft compared Soviet to? Or prim and proper, a true showing of Earthborn nature?

***

Soviet was now long past the courtyard gates of Russian Empire’s palace. He slipped by the Winter Palace, avoiding the eyeline of as many Romanov guards as he could. Though he technically outranked the Romanovs in royal status, Soviet had no doubt they would relay news of his whereabouts to his father.

A chuckle left the Prince. Russian Empire would kill him if he knew where Soviet planned to go.

He slid into place amongst the crowds and pulled a hood over his scarlet face. There was little he could do to hide his true nature, that of being a Country, but he had discovered that if he put in an effort to hide his face, few would question him.

The sound of hooves against the cobblestone roads approached, and a blood-red hand reached out from Soviet’s cloak as he waved down a taxi. He climbed in, pressing his back into the seat as the hardest part of his little journey was behind him.

“Where to, sir?” the driver’s voice was low and rumbling, the result of years of cigars. His horses whinnied impatiently.

“Do you happen to know the whereabouts of a certain peasant-raised Earthborn?” Soviet’s heart raced as he asked the question. If anyone knew of where she could be, it would be the people. Any of his own, or his father’s, attempts to find her came up fruitless. As if she didn’t want to be found.

The cigar smoke caught in the driver’s breath, and Soviet saw his knuckles turn white on the reins. In a puff, the driver coughed and fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Has… the Imperial Russian Empire not given up on those er… rumors?” the question seemed strained. “Surely you wouldn’t want a better use of his time—”

“Russian Empire has no bearing on what I want to do,” Soviet interrupted. It commanded more authority than he intended, but Soviet hated how often he was compared to his father’s interests. He leaned forward, his eyes catching the light of the golden hour and meeting with the taxi driver’s own.

He cracked a smile and pulled his hood back. That didn’t seem to help the situation, however, as the taxi driver’s face paled further. “I swear I’m not bringing any armies or guards. I just want to see her. I won’t tell anyone you took me here, and I won’t tell anyone who or where she is. Please?” Soviet pleaded. He produced a small jewel from his pocket, a trinket he snatched from his father’s droves of treasures. “I can give you this in exchange. Real ruby!”

It wasn’t a huge offer. A measly jewel worth no more than a ten thousand rubels. But it was the most he wanted to steal.

The taxi driver’s eyes widened at the ruby, and a thousand thoughts seemed to run through his mind at once. Steam left his mouth, rising to the roof of the cab in the cold air. “… Okay. I can take you to her usual spot, your Highness,” there was a defeat in his voice as he took the offered ruby from Soviet’s hand.

“You can call me Soviet, sir,” Soviet could feel his father’s disapproving gaze from where he sat. Calling one lesser than himself ‘sir’ would have been cause for another etiquette lesson. He shook the thought. “And… thank you. Really.”

***

Soviet’s heels clicked on the cobbled street as he hopped from the cab. His hood was back over his head, shadowing much of his blood-red face in the increasing darkness. He turned to thank the taxi driver once more, as friendly a smile on his face as he could muster. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it. You’ll likely find her in the Rumbling Stone. Good luck,” the driver whipped his reins, and the horses began to trot. “You’re going to need it.”

“What an ominous thing to say,” Soviet laughed to himself. How bad could a woman raised by peasants be?

His feet began to take him to his next task: finding out exactly where and what the Rumbling Stone was. Soviet had his fair share of bars he frequented, but he’d never heard of any called “The Rumbling Stone”. Perhaps it was newer? Or dingy, and gross. As many things were in this part of St. Petersburg.

Rotten apples and stale bread lined the un-swept sidewalk, and it took considerable effort to avoid ruining his polished leather shoes. The oil lampposts in this area were dim, many rusted and dingy, and more simply shut off. Did the lamplighters ever get to this area? Or perhaps the lampposts were so old and rusted that oil no longer flowed through them. Soviet rubbed his wrists, subconsciously feeling his own pulse as if he were worried that he was an over-rusted lamppost.

“Our differences aren’t just surface-level, Soviet,” Russian Empire had pulled Soviet in for a lesson. At the age of sixteen, Soviet had noticed the discontent outside the palace gates. He constantly questioned the legitimacy of the Romanovs’ and RE’s rule. “People may try to poison your mind with the thoughts that you don’t deserve the throne. They may try to say that under your scarlet skin, you’re flesh and blood like them. But you’re not.” RE’s finger pressed to the open book detailing human and Country anatomy. “Mineral bones, oil for blood, flesh like clay, we are the furthest thing from the same. Our right to rule is as unbreakable as the diamonds that make our skeletons. They may outnumber us a hundred to one, but they do not have the right to rule like ourselves.”

“What about the Romanovs?” Soviet’s golden eyes flicked to the Winter Palace, the only other palace in St. Petersburg to match his father’s grandiose design. “They’re human. You’ve been here long enough to see a couple generations. Why do they get the same treatment as us, if our divine right is being Earthborn?”

RE’s expression conveyed that of an excited professor. “They’re descended from us. My father, your grandfather, the Tsardom, fathered the Romanov line. They’re a little removed, admittedly, but I see no use in trying to strengthen that relation myself. Their rule is as strong as ever. Remember that. Don’t let the peasantry try and convince you that you’re on their level. Not a drop of the earth is in their veins.”

Soviet was walking amidst his thoughts for so long, he almost didn’t notice the drunkards walking in his direction. They stumbled over the cobblestones, laughing amongst themselves with dirt on their faces and stains on their tattered clothes. Little attention was paid to the hooded Prince, and he kept his head down as he tried to shuffle past them.

“What a beaut, she is!” one sang into the air, breath trailing into the sky like a steam engine.

“White, blue, and red! Colors of the century! Think those’ll be our colors once we get rid of that tacky yellow?” another asked.

Soviet’s ears pricked to the conversation, stopping the momentum of his steps.

The third smacked his companion over the head, and slurred, “Don’t go talking like that! Remember Dmitri? Poor idiot made a whole flag and got himself sent to jail. I heard that ever since, His Royal Highness’s picked up that stupid search again!”

The first snorted. “He’ll have a lot of luck brainwashing her. Never seen a woman as stubborn as her.”

He was close.

Oh, oh he was so close to finding her. Soviet’s golden eyes flicked up to examine the signs, scanning each one to find the “Rumbling Stone”. The drunkards hadn’t gone far. Only a mere two buildings down, amidst the drab of trash, broken barrels, and shattered glass bottles, was a small hanging sign of the very name he was searching for.

His heels clicked as his pace quickened, and Soviet’s princely heart fluttered at the notion of meeting someone like himself that wasn’t his father, or Serbia.

The door of the Rumbling Stone squeaked as he entered, and Soviet felt the eyes of every patron on him. In a moment of weakness, he pulled his hood further over his face to better obscure his scarlet skin. The lights inside were dim, like the lampposts lining the streets. Only these lights seemed to frame everyone’s face in a gaunt, skinny way. Their cheeks appeared sunken in, their eyes seemed dull, and their skin seemed pale and sickly.

Soviet kept his head down, shuffling to the bar as his polished shoes caught the firelight and shined brighter than the eyes of the patrons. His perfectly ironed pants pressed into the grimy bar stool, and his throat cleared. “One… whiskey on the rocks,” his voice lowered an octave, but the uncertainty stood clear.

“If you’re worried about that voice of yours, you could try smoking,” the barmaid’s voice was smooth, light. It carried an airy feel to it that reminded Soviet of his silken sheets back home.

“No, I… I’m not looking for any comment on my… voice,” his cheeks felt warm.

The sound of ice clinking into glass filled his ears. A few seconds later, and a plain whiskey with ice was slid in front of him. “Do you want comments on your outfit, your Highness? Because you’re certainly not doing yourself any favors in that department, either,” the barmaid continued.

Soviet’s breath hitched in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. He knew Countries had trouble disguising their brightly colored bodies, but his outfit? How had that given him away? His eyes flicked up to the barmaid, face considerably paler than before. That’s when he saw it. Saw her. “How did you--?”

“Know it was the Prince? Ignoring the Royal Accent, your pants are ironed and navy blue. And you walk like you’re thinking about it. Not to mention, I’ve heard around town that a certain somebody has been dying to know where I am.”

Her face was round. The word soft came to mind. There was a determined brightness in her eyes, green as Irish pastures. Her long, snow-white hair reminded him of the fluffy clouds in his dreams. Her hands, though delicate in appearance, were rough and calloused on closer inspection. As if she were no stranger to physical labor.

This woman, the unknown and blurry subject of many a dream, was now standing in front of Soviet in true form. She had a full figure, and no doubt was no stranger to dealing with unruly guests. Her gaze held him completely still. Though it was friendly, there was an edge to it. As if she dared him to step out of line.

Her eyes left Soviet’s and moved to a dirty glass. “If you think I’m going to go pretend to be a lost princess or whatever, you’re severely mistaken. I don’t care what the rules are. Or what your pops has to say about it. Nobody stole me from my ‘rightful place,’ and I am definitely not telling you where my parents are,” her words remained succinct, hardly allowing room for argument. “So, you can go ahead and leave that train of thought at the station.”

Soviet’s mind was swimming. Here she was. Right in front of him. And better than he could have ever imagined her being. He held onto his glass of whiskey, his eyes never leaving her as he sat there in complete silence.

“I just hope whatever bribe you paid was worth it. Because you’re not going to find me again,” she continued.

That jolted Soviet out of his stupor. As if on instinct, he downed the entire glass of whiskey and shook his head. “No!” it came out louder than he meant it. Her green eyes fell on Soviet again. “I mean—no, you don’t have to worry about me telling my father. I… I think we started off on the wrong foot, here. I’m Soviet, Prince of the Imperial Russian Empire, heir to the—”

She cut him off. “Don’t need your whole life story.”

“… Ah. S-sorry. I just—”

Second interruption. By the third, Soviet’s father would have someone hanged. But Soviet kept himself in check.

“Mother Russia, okay? That’s my name. Don’t go shouting it to the rooftops, I’m trying to keep this on the downlow.”

“That’s a rather…”

“American way of saying things? Yeah, I’m aware. I know your dad’s got this whole healthy caution of the guy who beat The Great British Empire’s ass, but I think he’s got some good points.”

Soviet couldn’t help the look on his face, seeing a lady curse like that. A grin cracked on Mother Russia’s lips. “Well, go on,” she prompted. “Get back to what you were saying.”

“I…” Soviet waited for a moment. Mother Russia gestured for him to continue. “I just wanted to… see you. I didn’t… know Earthborn could be raised by humans. I’ve got so many questions to ask. So many things I want to know.”

“Well, would you look at that. A prince who wants to know something. Maybe you’re not as bad as your father.”

***

The night was long, and the moon was high. Mother Russia had long since closed the Rumbling Stone for the night; Soviet had since learned that her human parents owned it and named it after her birth.

“Nobody’s seen the earth actually birth something in years, so it was a really impactful event, I’m told,” she sat on the roof of her establishment with Soviet, gazing up at the stars. “Hence why this old place was named the Rumbling Stone. According to my old man, the protesters thought that the earth was going to swallow them up for daring to speak against an Earthborn. But, instead, once the earthquake settled down, a bunch of bricks went flying and there I was. Right at his feet. God, he was so afraid to touch me. One of those ancient rules…”

“Humans aren’t allowed to be the first to touch an Earthborn. He’d be put to death if someone turned him in,” Soviet finished. He was a few whiskeys deep, now. The nerves that wracked his body earlier in the night were gone, instead replaced a deep focus on every one of Mother Russia’s words.

Mother Russia nodded, her expression hardening as she looked out to the low rooftops of St. Petersburg’s poorer district. Russian Empire’s palace, Soviet’s home, stood tall and bright against the drab foreground. “It’s a stupid rule. I won’t even dignify it with calling it a law. It’s just another one of those stupid things used to keep us separated.”

“But we aren’t the same. It’s not just our faces. Your blood is black, no?” Soviet leaned forward to get a better look at Mother Russia’s face. The white of her hair and forehead was stark against the night, and the blue stripe across her eyes made the shamrock green of her eyes ever brighter. “Your bones are diamond. So… separation is inevitable. Why would we be here if not to rule?”

“There’s your dad, again,” a sigh left her chest, and the bags under her eyes seemed to deepen. “We don’t have to be the same physically to be equals. All of us are sentient. We all speak the same language. You and I just… happened to crawl out of the dirt instead of our mothers’ wombs. Besides, if we were born to rule, why are you and I here? There’s no more land left for either of us. And I doubt your father has plans of dying any time soon, so you aren’t an heir to anything. You’re the Prince in the Papers, and I’m the Rumor of the Streets. Hardly seems to be a reason for us to exist.”

Soviet pursed his lips. She had a point. The Romanovs had a reason to have children. They would die eventually. Russian Empire had no reason to have children. He wasn’t going to die unless the Empire collapsed, which was unlikely. So, why was Soviet born? Unlike his father, who came into power as the Romanovs did, Soviet had no reason to believe the Romanov line would end. The earth had no reason to thrust his existence into the world. Empires were strong as ever, only France and America seemed to be blips on the radar. And even then, France was locked in an inner turmoil, and America seemed perfectly happy on his own side of the world.

What was there now? What could be left for him if the world had settled? “Why would the earth create us if there was no reason?” his voice came out quieter than intended. It almost broke. “Humans exist to perpetuate their species, to continue to learn and discover. But us? Me? If there’s no reason… why exist?”

A small smile seemed to creep back onto Mother Russia’s soft lips. “I think there is a reason to be here. Not necessarily to be a Prince. Or, in my case, a barmaid. But… think. Maybe a year before you, I was born in the streets of St. Petersburg, in the middle of a civil protest. And you? A year later, you were born in your pops’ peony garden. Destroying something he’d carefully crafted over… however long it takes for peonies to grow. Those things represent passion. You’re red, like passion, too. Maybe it’s fate we met.”

“Fate?”

“I mean, think about it. You know how hard it is to hide. Every non-noble in St. Petersburg knows of me, but no one would sell me out for a… er… measly ten-thousand-ruble fortune, as you put it. But you found the one guy who would. And managed to get your pretty, manicured little ass through the one part that probably would not hesitate to sell you for ransom if they didn’t kill you. All the way to me. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“You think my ass is pretty?”

Mother Russia snorted and shoved Soviet. Her laugh was loud, full of such a palpable joy that even Soviet couldn’t help himself from joining in. They laughed for a good, long while. Long enough that Soviet’s stomach ached, and his lungs burned. But seeing the joy on her face dulled any pain he felt.

He leaned back, resting his spine on the roof of the Rumbling Stone. The sky was clear. Pitch-black, with stars and constellations dotting it like little holes in fabric. He never wanted this moment to end.

“… Soviet,” Mother Russia’s breath plumed into his view. “That’s just sovet, but with an extra ‘i’. So, your dad just named you council?”

“He said it was because no one would refuse to give council to someone named it. I think he just didn’t want to bother coming up with a name that wasn’t ‘Russian Empire II’,” a dull laugh left Soviet’s chest. “But on the topic of names… Mother Russia. Seems a little weird to name a baby Mother anything.”

“My parents named me after the Motherland, so they named me Mother Russia,” she explained. “They said it’s because they wanted me to be a paragon for the people, more than you or your father. To them, and, well, to everyone, you two represent the Romanovs more than you represent Russia.”

“A lot to put on a baby.”

“Maybe, but at least my name isn’t Council.”

Soviet rolled his eyes, chuckling.

As the moon slowly slid into view, the time became apparent. This excursion had lasted way longer than he intended it to. He suddenly sat up straight, brushing the dirt and grime from his clothes. “Shit—father’s going to kill me. I need to go…” Soviet scrambled to his feet and looked down to Mother Russia. He held out a hand. “Will I… see you again? Or are you keeping to your earlier promise?”

She seemed to think for a moment, moonlight sparkling in the perfect pools of green. Her hand grabbed his, her grip stronger than he thought it would be, and she pulled herself to her feet. “If you keep your promise of not telling the High Tsar or whatever he calls himself, now, then perhaps I’ll stick around for a while longer,” her eyes gleamed, and Soviet’s heart rate picked up.

“Father’s probably going to make his guards follow me for a week so… see you again in a week?” he couldn’t stop the stupid grin tugging at his cheeks.

“See you in a week, Council.”

[tootoomanycats]

Boiling Over

Suguru Geto x Personal Chef Smut

Pairing:

Pent Up Geto Cult Leader x OC Fem

(can also be read as reader insert)

Word Count: 3,576 words

Summary: Geto realizes that his new cook has started to put disgusting notions into his daughters heads. After tucking the girls to bed, he finds holding the lid on his anger challenging and complex. It is time to have a talk with this vile monkey; only things don’t go according to plan.

Warnings:

Language usage refers to non-sorcery users such as monkeys and animals and uses verbiage degrading non-users' ideology. (It's Geto; I am only trying to stick to how I think he would internally speak about us muggle folk.)

Enemies arguing to unexpected smut.

Mentions of premature ejaculation. (we make sure he knows he’s still wanted)

Minor mention of a potential eating disorder for Geto.

Author Notes:

Hello Everyone! I promise I am still working on rewriting Performances, but I had to stop because my brain would not let me get any sleep until I got this little one-shot out and edited. I never planned on writing any JJK content, but this is my lesson in never saying never. Honestly, I don't know if this will be a stand-alone one-shot or if it will develop into a short story. Either way, I hope you'll like it! As always if you like what you have read please remember that fanfic writers live off of likes, comments and reblogs- we wont admit it but we all have praise kinks.

Have you watered your writer today?

Each long stride only allowed more anger to fill his lungs.

That disgusting, foul-breathed cretan. How dare she encourage such thoughts in their minds? To speak of this dementedly wicked world like the Garden of Eden, like it was something worth protecting.

When it is creatures like her that ruined its oasis. This was just more evidence to go through with his plan of wiping them out of existence.

Silence filled the long, winding corridors in the late hour—only the soft shuffles of his steps to be heard. The time spent wandering, stewing in the whirlpool of thoughts, was unknown. Be it subconsciously or with intention, he came to stand before the kitchen door.

Finger paints covered the wood in various colors and shapes and crudely drawn animals. No doubt, the artistic freedom given to the girls by that damn woman. Another distraction put in front of them that should instead be spent studying and growing more substantial for the future, his future.

Fingers massaged at his temple, and that damn under-eye twitch was back. Before turning to continue on the walk of rage, a faint light shined from under the door.

The source’s inconsistent flickering made it obvious it was a flame light, not the usual overhead bulbs. A shadow was moving about, its lines from under the door jam shifting around. Was someone trying to find a late-night snack? Curiosity got the better of him as the door cracked open, the well-oiled hinges making no noise to give away his presence.

There, at the kitchen island, sat the bane of his existence. A single candle was her only light source as she made notes in a thick-bound journal. Books littered across the counter’s surface that she was scanning between.

After spending two hours tossing and turning in bed, Hope had given up on sleep finding her tonight. What time would have been spent dreaming was now used to research and plan instead.

In the short time since coming to the estate, she realized how out of her depth she was. Growing up on a farm had taught her many valuable tidbits that rolled over into the new career of personal cook.

Sadly, though, most of the knowledge of common fruits and vegetation was useless now due to being on foreign soil. Not to mention, all the meals commonly made here were a complete novelty to her.

All day, the worry of not knowing a simple dish to make for the girls if one got sick filled her head.

She felt lucky that it was still summer, but fall and winter would soon come, so it was best to start studying basic soup stocks and how to preserve them now.

Just as exhaustion began to creep its way up her spine, the face of that egotistical man came to mind. She groaned, remembering how he had already refused everything but the boiled, unseasoned chicken breast. A previous warning of how picky her new boss was had first been brushed off, but now she only saw it as something more concerning.

When inquired, the girls only looked at each other before explaining how their father seemed to struggle with food. Something about how things always seemed to taste putrid: Hope made a mental note to inquire if there were meals that would not be so vehemently refused going forward.

“I see I am not alone in burning the late-night oil.” Geto had to hold in the smug smirk at watching Hope almost jump out of her skin when making his presence known.

Stepping closer to the kitchen island, his eyes scanned its counter’s contents. Multiple subjects filled the open pages, text outlining photos and drawings of local flora and fauna in Japan, while another explained cultural customs entwined with particular meals.

“Homework?” he asked, keeping the tone of the question light, almost teasing. Anger still simmered just below the surface, the lid of feigned equanimity keeping it in check.

She quickly closed the notebook, gathered the books, and walked backward while responding. “Just menu planning and figuring out what to plant in the garden first.”

Mirroring his strained smile, she still tried to calm the racing of her heart from being caught off guard by his presence. “W-What has you up so late?” Gulping when the evident anger in his eyes seemed to be barely masked by the smile on his lips.

With each step he took further into the space, she took one back-feigning needing to put the books back in their place, on the opposite end of the island. Something deep and primal warned not to turn her back to him.

Hands going back into their usual hiding place in the sleeves of his haori, he stopped where she had just been sitting. Magnanimous in allowing the useless cook her space.

“I just tucked the girls into bed. They were having difficulty falling asleep, and I couldn’t figure out why for a while until they started asking some peculiar questions.” Geto tilted his head, the candle’s light only illuminating one half of his face while the other became shrouded in the darkness of the night.

Even in the dimly lit space, the fear on her face was clear as day. Teeth ground together as realization dawned on him; at first, he had chalked up what she had told his daughters as common monkey ignorance. But now, in the fearful response of shirking away from him, it became apparent that she knew exactly what she had done.

“Oh? What kinds of questions?” Hope’s palms began to sweat, making it hard to hold the books.

She had no shame in introducing the importance of protecting living things, nor held abasement in teaching how the circle of life affected everyone, including Nanako and Mimiko. However, this did not make her oblivious to the potential backlash of such actions.

She laid the books down on the edge of the counter before straightening her posture; if she were to be fired or threatened, then he would have to do it while seeing her head held high.

What was once a simmering pot now started to boil. It was one thing to play stupid with him, but it was another thing entirely to look proud while doing it.

Taking a step forward, he spoke sternly, “Yes. It seems they have these ideas suddenly.” Another step. “Notions I have taught them that will not be allowed in the future I am creating. You wouldn't happen to know where they got those from, would you?”

He now stood only a few short strides from her and the corner she had put herself in. Watching as she stood taller with each step, even puffing her chest out. She was brave; he would give her that. Bravely stupid.

Hope’s eyes dropped down from where he now stood to the books before her. With a deep breath, she calmly spoke the answer he was trying to pull from her. “Yes, I had asked them what vegetables would be best to grow in the garden earlier today. As it turns out, they didn't know, and neither did I. So I found a book, and the three of us took turns reading and learning.”

Wetting her mouth, she continued before glancing up to see the anger on his face build. “The girls started to have more philosophical questions on which I gave my opinions on.”

Fear spread through her bones as he quickly walked into the small space that was left between them. Turning to face the outrage on his face, back facing the island as her hands held onto its edge for the needed stability of what was to come.

“Who are you to fill their minds with such disgusting notions?” The pot's lid danced over the boiling rage held within. The candlelight illuminated both of them clearly, making it possible to watch as shock filled her face at his statement.

At first, her jaw hung open until the feeling of offense had her back to defend herself. “You may think it disgusting, Your Radiance, but like it or not, the reality is that those girls are starting to realize that not everything in this world is horrible. There are things worth enjoying now, not just when you create some theoretical future.” Though her words rang with strength, her body responded in alarm at watching the monster before her shift through so many emotions.

“They are my children! And much too young to be curious about such things.” The lid crashed to the ground as the emotions finally boiled over the pot’s opening. His voice had raised before quieting back down.

“They are growing girls, just three years shy of being teenagers! How can you not see that they are becoming curious about the world around them? Both have questions, yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

Wrath filled his eyes, his usually fake pacifying expression vanishing to show the true nature of his feelings as he crowded her further with a sneer, twisting his lips. “Oh? What questions would be so important that they would go to a vile monkey for answers instead of me?” His tone was dangerous, threatening, and low.

She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise; he did not expect such rage to be mirrored back. “I may be a monkey, but at least they feel safe enough to tell me when they like a boy.”

Shock started filling his face as she took the chance to be the one now leaning in. “Tell me, how do you plan to explain to them that you will cause the death of their crush?”

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his; he was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath across her nose. Blood thrummed in her veins at how hard her heart pounded.

The butcher-block wood creaked under her white knuckle grip, and her back pressed firmly against the counter as he further cornered her in. If this is how she died, then so be it; it will have been worth it to have finally shoved reality into the maniac's face.

Large palms and long arms became caged bars around her, nails scratching groves into the woodgrain. “A crush is a trivial thing.” He leaned further, pressing his chest forward, forcing her spine to bow back uncomfortably. The stiff lip of the wood now bit painfully into her haunches.

Delicate fingers gripped the front of his gojogesa, desperate to have any control of how he continued contorting her upper body. His head tilted to whisper into her ear, “They will learn that a monkey’s place is beneath them.”

Geto hated weaklings and abhorred their very existence. It was revulsion, not excitement, that caused the fluttering in his stomach when their cheeks brushed.

Loathing how it should have been disgust, not pleasure when her breasts pressed against his chest with each shuddered breath she took.

He should have felt repulsed when realizing how perfect the closeness of their height was and how easy it would be to connect further.

It’s because of the years of celibacy that she was so sensitive, Hope told herself.

Why else would such a monster cause the sensation of pooling hot honey to form in her belly? How, when Geto shifted his weight to press the muscle of his hips against hers, a whimper caught in her throat that pride refused to let out.

It must have been the lack of touch for so long that had her eyes fluttering shut when he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

Monsters did not fathom such intimate affection.

Monsters would not wrap such large hands around the back of her neck, gripping the corded muscles of her throat in such a dizzying way.

She would not lift onto the counter and widen the distance of her thighs for a beast to slot between them so perfectly.

Surely, such a creature would not brace his other hand around the center of her back to press further for contact. The sensation of the growl emanating from its lungs shooting to her core.

It was because his nose had become accustomed to the disinfectant spray that he was so sensitive to her smell. Internally berating himself for nuzzling into the hairline above the cook’s ear, lemon verbena, and citrus mixed pleasantly among the uplifting notes of her scent.

Geto couldn’t refrain from pressing firmer into her hairline, gulping in deep breaths of Hope’s scent.

The grip on the back of her neck tightened further; confirmation of the creature’s ability to still breathe came in how she tried and failed to hold back a second low moan.

His own response vibrated from how feminine hands gripped the thick fabric on his back and along his rib cage. Cursing at the way, soft, long legs dragged upward along the sides of his hips before wrapping around to press him closer. Silk robe falling open from the movement to show matching panties.

It was unbelievable how quickly his cock hardened, straining against the white cloth of his momohiki. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, even with the five layers of Buddhist robes between them.

How many years had it been since he had touched himself, let alone such a tempting, vile animal?

Hope bit her bottom lip at the delicious pressure against her core. If she hadn’t been so swept up in the moment’s intensity, she might have been embarrassed about the wet spot that could be felt already in her underwear.

Skin growing hot as her body craved more contact and friction. The hands that previously gripped his clothes now reached up to thread into the long tendrils of the brutes hair.

Fingernails scraped against his scalp before grasping firmly to pull the face away from hiding against her cheek. The strangled gasp he made caused her walls to flutter; what other noises would this monster of a man make?

The site that greeted her was breathtaking: flushed cheeks, eyes wide with shock and pleasure, and an oh-so-tempting pout to kiss.

Gone were the fake smiles, disgusted glares, and angry scowls. Now what stood before her was a desperate mess of a man whose cock was so hard it could be felt through the many layers of clothing.

She felt relief from the sight before her; a previous worry that he was toying with her dissipated. No one would be able to deny his desire from how hard he was breathing, his own hands clinging to her like a lifeline.

Suguru was a man who had faced his fair share of dangerous and terrifying situations in his lifetime. He prided himself on keeping calm and making calculated choices during high-stress moments.

So panic began to set in when he found moving from this frozen position impossible. The way her hands had gripped his hair, forcing them to hold eye contact, had his cock throbbing. Panic rose higher from the sensation.

She kept glancing at his lips; this wasn’t good.

Willing his lungs to work and throat to open, a quiet but hoarse word came out. “No.”

It was Hope’s turn to pout. Her legs locked tighter around him. In reality, he could break free from her so easily; the fact that he wasn’t just proved how much his body languished for contact.

Her eyes pleaded as she took in his image, memorizing it and burning it into her mind. “Please.” she quietly asked in return. Hips rocked gently against his to help emphasize her ask.

All movement paused at hearing an odd sound. Her brow furrowed in question at the noise he made suddenly, his face contorting to one that could be described as painful. Had she hurt him just now?

Geto eyes shut as the sudden climax continued quivering through him. Its shame was felt running down his stomach, legs, and clothing. He refused to look, to see her expression once she realized what had just occurred.

Hope's concern grew as he stayed still and closed off, contrasting how he clung to her a moment ago. The grip in his hair melted into gentle touches on his cheek, cupping his face to see if she could coax him to look at her.

Hormones and endorphins craving the intimacy once more.

When his eyes still refused to open, she scanned more of him to find the source of the sudden change. That’s when she spotted it; instantly, it all made sense.

The relatively sizable wet spot formed on his clothes was proof of what occurred. Warmth spread to her cheeks as sinful thoughts began to race in her mind, the desire for more growing.

Biting her bottom lip, she murmured- “Again.”

His eyes sprung open wide, disbelief shaping the expression. Their eyes met as he processed her expression of hunger.

The gentle touch of her hands on his cheek shifted to clasping the side of his face in place. Hips tilted as she pressed her core to where the wet spot lay on him.

His mouth was agape in shock at the feeling of being nuzzled along his jawbone, the sensation trailing a line to his ear where a whisper was pressed against its shell. “I want another one, please.” The ask was sweet and sincere, even begging.

Words failed him as a hand gently guided his own from the counter across the warmth of a plush thigh to someplace much hotter.

A palpation hit his ribcage when feeling thin satin fabric, saturated and slick. Shuttering when Hopes’s fingers encouraged his own to press more firmly against the spot.

Her resounding whine brought him back from the out-of-body experience.

The overwhelming rage from before shifted into something much more savage and ravenous. Years of repressed urges bled to the surface; sturdy fingers gripped into the base of her hair like a handle to be pulled back from him, the movement forcing her skull to tilt up.

It felt impossible to catch any breath as it heaved erratically between the groaning and growls, responding to how desperate legs clung to him. Any previous control had spilled from the pot that now boiled over.

Another hand raised to cup her face with the same tenderness she had shown him just moments ago, watching how her eyes repeated their glances to his lips again.

Finally, he leaned in.

“Shhh, I know where she hid the cookies from earlier.” Multiple footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer outside the door. Mimiko and Nanako both telling the other to be quiet, annoying the other with each repeated response given back and forth.

Hope and Geto’s eyes widened as the reality of their situation quickly sunk in. Her mouth opened and closed like the koi fish in the pond outside, and before she could say a word, the maniac was gone.

Her brain struggled to process his disappearance, the movement inhuman in its speed. The limbs that once were held up against the other body flopped from no longer having something to grip onto.

As the kitchen door slowly opened, she scrambled off the counter and ripped open one of the fridge doors to hide her overtly flushed face. Praying that its cold air would help calm down her heart rate.

She was panicking as she quickly fixed the front of her silk robe back in its proper place.

Hidden outside the kitchen’s veranda, Geto stood in horror as the events that had just transpired replayed in his mind.

Dismay that the truth about who started the whole situation was him. What was worse was that as hard as he tried to feel the disgust he so proudly touted for her kind, he could only feel how hard he was--again.

Realization dawned on him of how dangerous the cook was as he shifted Hopes’s title from monkey to succubus.

[mariacallous]

Throughout the 1980s, and into the early 1990s, the New York real estate developer Donald Trump exchanged fan letters with disgraced ex-president Richard Nixon. In 1982, not quite eight years after Nixon’s resignation, Trump described him as “one of this country’s great men.”

Why was Trump such a fan? It might have had something to do with Nixon’s vengeful approach to politics, or their mutual closeness to McCarthyite prosecutor Roy Cohn. But the famously deal-seeking Trump was also an admirer of Nixon’s most famous diplomatic coup: the 1972 visit to China.

Today, the ghost of Nixon is haunting American foreign policy as well, thanks to the administration’s declared intention to strike a grand bargain with Russian President Vladimir Putin that would reorder global politics by sidelining the Europeans and leaving Kyiv in the cold.

Keith Kellogg, Trump’s Ukraine war envoy, revealed the underlying logic for such a move during a presentation at the Munich Security Conference. The Trump administration, he said, will try to “break” Putin’s alliances with China, Iran, and North Korea—apparently by offering Russia a deal better than anything it can get from them.

It’s an approach that strikingly mirrors Nixon’s masterstroke in 1972, when the president who had made his reputation as a diehard anti-communist stunned the world by becoming the first U.S. leader to travel to the People’s Republic of China. By meeting Mao Zedong, Nixon created a new diplomatic relationship that put the Soviet Union on the back foot—giving the United States leverage it used to push Moscow into negotiating a new strategic arms treaty. Now Trump is apparently contemplating a “reverse Nixon”—a dramatic rapprochement with Moscow that would leave Beijing out in the cold.

This doesn’t come as a complete surprise. Trump and his followers have often expressed their eagerness to engineer an end to the war, usually in terms that allow little input from the Ukrainians themselves. At the same time, MAGA loyalists—including Vice President J.D. Vance—have suggested that leaving Ukraine and the Europeans to fend for themselves would free up Washington to focus on countering China.

The anti-China camp inside Trumpism has not been doing well recently. Trump himself has recently made conciliatory sounds about Beijing, even touting his “very good relationship” with Chinese President Xi Jinping, and much U.S. government work targeting China has been frozen by Elon Musk’s government efficiency cuts, to Chinese nationalists’ delight.

Yet undermining China has been one of the consistent themes of MAGA foreign policy ever since Trump rode down that golden escalator in 2015. Cozying up to Putin, in Trump’s mind, might be just the way to box in the Chinese.

This logic is deeply flawed. Nixon’s visit took place at a time when Beijing and Moscow were already enemies, three years after a deadly exchange of fire over a disputed island on the Ussuri river had brought the two close to all-out war. Today, in contrast, Russia and China are closer allies than ever.

Russia is deeply dependent on China in just about every way that matters. China is the biggest customer for Russia’s coal and crude oil—a market that Putin would be ill-advised to jettison at a time when his economy is struggling. Western sanctions and the spiraling war costs have hit the Russian economy hard, driving up inflation, which in turn is fueling predictions of a devastating wave of corporate bankruptcies).The two countries share an often-contested border where they resolved long-standing disputes through a complex series of negotiations in the 1980s and 1990s; neither has any desire to relitigate the issue, or to have to use troops and money to refortify their frontiers.

Beijing has been giving the Russians vital military and technological support; by one estimate, China supplies roughly 90 percent of the computer chips currently used in Russian industry. Moscow and Beijing have developed overlapping interests in a variety of diplomatic and political realms, motivated by their deeply held desire to oppose the U.S. wherever they can. Russian and Chinese propagandists promote each other’s disinformation narratives across the world.

They agitate against the West using joint fora such as the BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. They have been holding joint military exercises (with a notable emphasis on the Indo-Pacific region) and sharing military technologies. Along the way, China has also been tacitly and not-so-tacitly abetting the war in Ukraine. There’s a reason why Xi declared in 2022 that their countries’ partnership had “no limits.” If the U.S. were to persuade Putin to abandon this relationship, the price would have to be exceedingly high.

And why in the world should the United States pay it? Despite MAGA talk of American decline, the U.S. economy is thriving, and its military remains strong. Russia, by contrast, is shockingly weak. Over the past three years, Putin’s empire has struggled to subdue a foe that has less than a third of its population and merely a fraction of its natural resources.

The economy is in deep trouble. The ruble has lost more than half its value over the past decade; ordinary citizens are struggling to cope with runaway inflation. His central bank recently had to hike interest rates to an eye-watering 21 percent, prompting some experts to warn of a coming wave of corporate bankruptcies.

For most Russians, their country—sapped by corruption and backwardness—is little better than one of Trump’s proverbial “shitholes.” Sanctions have cut off Russians from foreign travel to many countries , international money transfers, and global credit cards. Russia’s GDP, despite its population of 144 million, is smaller than that of Texas or California; if Putin is the leader of a superpower, then so is President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil, whose economy is now slightly larger than Russia’s.

Trump’s half-assed proposal to pressure the Kremlin by imposing tariffs vividly reveals his funhouse-mirror view of Moscow’s global significance. It’s been a long time since Russia has exported anything in significant quantities to the United States, so the effect of trade barriers would be virtually nil.

Meanwhile, U.S. allies from the United Kingdom to South Korea are unified in their desire to thwart Putin’s Ukrainian ambitions, since they know perfectly well that a Russian victory represents a massive threat to their own security. (The aggregate EU economy, by the way, is 10 times the size of Russia’s.) This constellation of forces makes this the perfect moment to pressure Russia into concessions at the negotiating table. Yet instead Trump is contemplating giving Putin a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Putin has made his own strategic priorities eminently clear. He wants to keep the territory he has illegally occupied in Ukraine; he wants to control the government in Kyiv; and he wants to keep Ukraine neutral (making its security de facto subject to Russian dictates). Putin recently refused to take part in direct talks with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, whom he called “illegitimate.” (It’s worth noting that Zelensky was elected president in a competitive election, while Putin has retained power through a series of sham votes engineered by his own minions.) And, above all else, he wants to negotiate one-on-one with his American counterpart, serving his desperate need for status. The Biden administration stuck with admirable consistency to the slogan of “Nothing about Ukraine without Ukraine.” The current American president’s version so far sounds more like “Trump to Kyiv: Drop Dead.”

For the West to agree to such terms would be both scandalous and stupid. Rewarding the most blatant act of territorial aggression in Europe since World War II would strike a huge blow to the postwar rules-based order that has kept much of the world at peace for decades. It would establish a disastrous precedent—one that would signal to Beijing, above all, that there is no price to be paid for the armed conquest of weaker neighbors, such as Taiwan.

Until now, despite many shortcomings, the Europeans have done a surprisingly competent job of helping Kyiv militarily and financially. But a Trump-Putin deal, forged over the heads of the Europeans, would almost certainly mean the death of NATO—a massive gift to China, Iran, and other anti-Western tyrannies. There is reason to fear that Putin will make some sort of shallow concessions designed to give Trump a publicizable win.

Russian sources have said that they are aware of Trump’s desire for an achievement he can depict as a victory over China, and they are almost certain to provide him with one. Whatever that may be, there is little reason to think that Putin will see a need to scuttle his alliance with Xi. He simply needs it too much, regardless of what the Americans will give.

No one should be holding the fate of a European democracy hostage over the alleged benefits of a treaty with Putin’s wobbling empire. The Russian dictator has painted himself into a corner. Trump would be a fool to help him out of it.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 4, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Apr 05, 2025

The stock market rout continued today. As expected, China announced retaliatory tariffs in response to those President Donald Trump announced on Wednesday. Chinese leaders say they will impose a 34% tariff on all U.S. goods imported into China next Thursday. Apparently, Trump did not think China would respond to his tariffs, and tried to sound as if he was still in control of the situation.

Trump is spending a long weekend in Florida, where he is attending the LIV golf tournament at his Doral club. But at 8:25 this morning, he reposted on his social media channel a video in which the narrator claimed that Trump is crashing the markets on purpose. The video claimed that legendary investor Warren Buffet “just said Trump is making the best economic moves he’s seen in over fifty years.” It went on to explain how “the secret game he’s playing” “could make you rich.” Buffett’s conglomerate Berkshire Hathaway quickly denied Buffett had said any such thing as the video claimed. “All such reports are false,” it said. In March, Buffett called tariffs “an act of war, to some degree.”

Then, about an hour before the U.S. markets opened, Trump posted on his social media channel: “CHINA PLAYED IT WRONG, THEY PANICKED—THE ONE THING THEY CANNOT AFFORD TO DO!” About twenty minutes later, he posted: “TO THE MANY INVESTORS COMING INTO THE UNITED STATES AND INVESTING MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF MONEY, MY POLICIES WILL NEVER CHANGE. THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO GET RICH, RICHER THAN EVER BEFORE!!!”

When the markets opened, they plummeted again. During trading today, the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell 2,231 points, or 5.5%, on top of the 1,679 points it fell yesterday. The S&P 500 fell 5.97% following the 4.84% it lost yesterday. The Nasdaq Composite dropped a further 5.8% after yesterday’s drop of nearly 6%. Oil prices also fell sharply despite the fact that Trump had exempted the U.S. energy industry from tariffs, as traders anticipate lower economic growth and thus less demand for gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel.

Twenty-five minutes before the market closed, Trump posted: “ONLY THE WEAK WILL FAIL!”

After-market trading continued downward.

Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell said today that Trump’s tariffs are “highly likely” to increase inflation and risk throwing people out of work. Economists at JPMorgan now place the odds of global recession at 60% unless the tariffs are ended.

Natalie Allison, Jeff Stein, Cat Zakrzewski, and Michael Birnbaum of the Washington Post reported how Trump came to impose the tariffs. After aides from a number of different government agencies came up with options for Trump to review, he decided instead on a different option, one that has drawn ridicule because it is crude and has nothing to do with tariffs at all. He reached the amounts of tariff levies by dividing the trade deficit of each nation (not including services) by the value of its imports and then dividing the final number by 2.

The reporters note that Trump didn’t land on a plan until less than three hours before he announced it, and made his choice with little input from business or foreign leaders. Neither Republican lawmakers nor the president’s team knew what Trump would do. “He’s at the peak of just not giving a f*ck anymore,” a White House official told the reporters. “Bad news stories? Doesn’t give a f*ck. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. He’s going to do what he promised to do on the campaign trail.”

While right-wing media and Republican lawmakers have worked hard to spin the economic crisis sparked by Trump’s tariffs, Financial Times chief data reporter John Burn-Murdoch used charts on social media to show that Americans are not happy. Consumers give Trump’s economic plan the worst ratings of any administration’s economic policy since records began. He has had the same impact on economic uncertainty as the global coronavirus pandemic did. Almost 60% of Americans expect the economy to deteriorate over the next year, and they are very worried about job losses.

Burn-Murdoch noted that despite the attempt of right-wing media to hide the crisis, more than half of Americans have heard unfavorable business news coverage of the government’s policies. While MAGA continues to approve of Trump, he’s rapidly losing support among the rest of the coalition that put him into office.

The administration apparently doesn’t care much more about the law than it does about the reactions to the tariffs that are crashing the economy. Today, U.S. District Court judge Paula Xinis ordered the government to bring back to the United States no later than 11:59 p.m. on April 7 a legal resident it mistakenly sent to a notorious prison for terrorists in El Salvador. On Monday, administration lawyers told the court that the government had swept up Kilmar Abrego Garcia because of an “administrative error” but that it could not bring him back because he was outside the reach of American laws.

Priscilla Alvarez and Emily R. Condon of CNN note that in a hearing about the case, Xinis said that Abrego Garcia, who was in the U.S. legally and was not charged with any crimes, was arrested last month “without legal basis” and was deported “without justification of legal basis.” “This was an illegal act,” Xinis said. “Congress said you can’t do it, and you did it anyway.”

Trump’s deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller, responded to the judge’s order by calling Xinis a “Marxist judge” who “thinks she’s president of El Salvador.” The White House responded to the judge’s order by saying, “We suggest the Judge contact President Bukele [of El Salvador] because we are unaware of the judge having jurisdiction or authority over the country of El Salvador.”

Legal analyst Steve Vladeck responded that while a U.S. federal court cannot order the Salvadoran government to release Abrego Garcia, the U.S. government should be able to secure his release. If it can—and in this case it should be able to—the court can order it to do so.

If that were not the case, the administration could simply get rid of anyone it wanted to by sending them to a prison outside the jurisdiction of the United States and then claiming it had no way to get them back.

Tonight, as the economy is in turmoil, Trump is speaking at a $1 million-per-person candlelight fundraising dinner at the Trump Organization's Mar-a-Lago property for the super PAC, MAGA Inc., that supports Trump. By law, MAGA Inc. can’t coordinate with Trump’s campaign organization, so the invitations for the dinner say that Trump is simply a guest speaker and is not asking for donations.

The terrible storms in the middle of the country continue. Authorities have issued flash flood emergencies in parts of Missouri, Texas, and Arkansas, and heavy rains are also expected in Kentucky.

Finally, four soldiers who died when their military vehicle sank in a deep swamp in Lithuania during a training exercise came home to Dover Air Force Base, in Dover, Delaware, today. Their recovery took about 200 U.S., Polish, Estonian, and Lithuanian personnel a week and required drones, search dogs, Navy divers, and ground-penetrating radar, as well as 70 tons of sand and gravel.

“We consider US soldiers in Lithuania as our own,” the Lithuanian Defense Ministry said after thousands of people joined Lithuanian president Gitanas Nausėda and other dignitaries in a dignified departure ceremony of the soldiers from Lithuania. “The farewell ceremony once again demonstrated our society's solidarity, respect, and gratitude to the Americans.”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[pumpkinsy0]

even more TO characters as things from my school(this years been boring af)

twobit: me cooking up the most diabolical lunch combinations. mozzarella sticks w blue pop rocks💖

dally: the several holds(less intense lockdowns) in a week and general safety threats. also just general unruliness + kids swearing at the art teacher. i feel bad for her bc shes constantly getting cussed out and im pretty sure she's senile

johnny: there being so many crickets in the fine arts hall. like multiple have to be dealt with within 30 minutes. also getting "What duh heeeaal" yelled at me while i was minding my own beeswax.

darry: english teacher wearing a "human by chance alpha by choice" shirt. a student lent it to him idk why. twas funny tho.

steve: i forgot like last year there wuz a cupcake in my bag and it turned to dust like today n spilled everywhere + the inside joke "THEY TURNED HIM INTO CRUDE OIL!!!!! THEIR REFINING HIM STOP!!!!!!!"

pony: this one kid having the most loud ass diabolical elderly man cough EVER. to give you an idea of how bad it is the teacher said to him "if you cough like that one more time we're sending you to the nurse" im kinda concerned for his health atp because this has been happening for a week

+ some girl during art screaming "STOP!!!!!" when it was silent bc a boy threw like a sheet of paper at her. it was like an ear piercing scream 2

soda: me flunking out of math within the first three weeks of school. i didn't even get consulted about it at all?? like they were just "oh yeah u failed anyways bye bye effective immediately get out" + boys yelling out the lyrics to "last christmas i gave you my heart" really loud down the hall

i mean expand on these if u want?? idk what this is doing in ur inbox I'm sorry. but something compelled me to to this

nonono this gives me the perfect opportunity to add on the shepards and my own stories in general

curly: me laying down and watching adventure time but my cousins came in running and one jumped over me but the other, i shit u not, TRIED to jump over me but put his whole body weight on my one knee🙎🏽‍♀️🙎🏽‍♀️

angela: me SWEARING my aunts house was haunted bc she had these scary masks on the wall and apparently, someone died??? in her living room once???? and the ppace where me and my cousins and sister would sleep just scared the shit outta me i was so scared to get up to use the bathroom at night 😭

tim: my sister catching me kissing the tv when i saw kuzvo from emperors new groove

bonus pony: my cousins laughing at me bc they found me on wattpad</333

[octuscle]

I know this is a huge ask but you wouldn’t happen to have two suitcases for Lagos would you? My coworker and I are here on business and lost ours. The big meeting is coming’s up and we smell like sweat. Please help if you can. 😅

Lagos… Exotic… No, I don't have a suitcase, but I can offer two large duffel bags. They look very robust. And smell like Lagos smells… Like crude oil and car exhaust. Like market hall and harbor. Sorry, them. Or none.

What are you going to do? It's the middle of the night. All the stores are closed, so you try your luck with the duffel bags. But you have no luck. The contents are clean, everything neatly folded. But unfortunately, they are completely unsuitable for your meeting. Hi-Viz clothing. Work boots. T-shirts, jockstraps. Rough socks. Nothing that goes with a suit. And everything is way too big for you. Well, at least the boxer shorts for sleeping fit to some extent. And you have a clean t-shirt as an undershirt now, too. The rest you will have to see tomorrow, when the stores downstairs in the lobby and in the shopping mall are open.

You sleep restlessly. Very restless. You wake up several times because you have an almost painful hard-on. At 06:00 you can't take it anymore. You have to jerk off. And that goes fast. Because your reflection in the bathroom knocks you out. You are a Nigerian giant. With a huge cock. And you cum loads of cum into the sink.

Nice! You just look very nice. You can hardly get enough of your reflection. Your cell phone vibrates. A message from your colleague "Dan uwa kana ina? Ba mu hadu a dakin motsa jiki ba?" That's Hausa. Your native language is actually Igbo, but you understand it quite well. Still, you answer in English "Bruh, give me five more minutes and I'll be with you."

Akono is a freak. He was at the gym on time at 06:00 and warmed up on the cross trainer. You have to skip the warm-up today. At 08:00 you'll meet the two white guys from headquarters in London. And then it's off to the oil fields. Hopefully this time there will at least be fellows to have fun with. It can be lonely in the evening on the oil rig. Good to know that at least Akono can handle the beast between his legs.

The pics of your new Nigerian you found @blackmusclecake

[allthetropes]

The Butterfly Effect: a short essay

In the year ~535AD, the Indonesian volcano now known as Krakatoa blows. It blows hard, creating a rift in the island that has formed over the years of previous eruptions, that allows the seawater to enter the magma chamber, creating a much bigger explosion. The sound of the crack is so loud, it's heard all the way in Beijing. It throws enough ash and dust into the atmosphere of the earth that it blocks the sun for two years.

In Africa, a flea that primarily lives on the hairy backs of animals lives in its peace and tranquility. When the ash cloud hits the sky, the global temperature drops. As the flea continues to consume off its hosts, it ingests a bacteria it usually does. Now that the air is colder, however, the bacteria can no longer pass through the flea's intestines. This causes a blockage, and the fleas become ravenously hungry, unable to get their nutrients. In their desperation for food, the fleas jump to humans, carrying the bacteria with them. It causes sickness and death.

Humans carry it from other parts of Africa to the Nile, from the Nile to the Mediterranean Sea, and from the Med to the rest of Europe. The Black Plague decimates Europe every time it spreads.

In the 1300's, it kills nearly 1/3rd of England. Unfortunately, England has rather a shitty King (Richard II), who thinks he should be getting the same amount of taxes bottom dollar, even though he has less people living. His crackdowns on taxes are one of many things that leads to his cousin, Henry IV, eventually deposing him and taking the throne for himself.

Henry IV's son, Henry V, wins the battle of Agincourt in 1415 against all the odds, and essentially takes over France, disinheriting the Dauphin and marrying the Princess of France. When he dies and his infant son Henry VI becomes King, the French nobles and dauphin rebel against their English overlord and effectively take back their country. It's the first time the French nobility have worked together on this scale, so it instills a sense of patriotism in France that is directly related to war, and bonus points for war against the English.

Because this sense of patriotism is the best way to keep the nobles under the King's thumb, the Kings of France now continues to encourage wars (especially against England wherever possible), regardless of how much the Royal French coffers may dwindle. When American colonists come knocking for troops, ships and weapons with which to defeat the English, the French agree, and deliver much-needed resources to fund the American War of Independance.

When it's won, it invites a sense of patriotism in America, too, and a sense of superiority that the American people still flaunt today. What patriotism means in America, however, fluctuates over the years. In the beginning of the 20th century, patriotism drives a sense of isolationism that means America is withdrawn from the world stage. This is eroded by the first world war, the wall street crash, and the second world war, especially, during which the American economy booms with their war efforts.

When the second world war is over, America starts to lose its advantageous economic position as arms dealer, and its control on people, as their patriotism is no longer necessary to advance the war effort. The politicians invest in finding new enemies to unite the people against. The capitalists find new places to sell their guns, and if those places just so happen to give greater access to crude oil or other raw materials, so be it.

Rogue elements in the middle-east, such as the Taliban and Al-Quaeda, make great use of this avenue, and acquire weapons with which they are able to fund small wars in their area of the world. As war becomes less and less popular to the average American, Al-Quaeda target the twin towers, reigniting a sense of patriotism that was starting to wane after the fall of the Soviet Union.

Gerard Way, after witnessing the catastrophic fall of the twin towers, forms the band My Chemical Romance, which goes on to win popularity along other bands that rail against the Powers That Be. The song I'm Not Okay is released in 2004, and is heard on radios, including the radios in shops.

I, at the ripe age of 10, hear this song, and look it up online. I come across an AMV, featuring I'm Not Okay with clips of Sailor Moon. I've never seen Sailor Moon. I find a questionably shady website and start watching Sailor Moon over the course of many many months. The website has a shoutbox. In the shoutbox, I find several people are debating the 'brand new boy group'. I decide that now, at the age of 11, I am at the right age to get into boy bands. I wait for them to say the name of the group. It's Super Junior.

In what could still be considered a formative years, I am thrust into the world of K-Pop. Groups come and go, as is the case in the industry. I like Nu'ests debut song. Nu'est have what is considered a 'little brother' group, a bunch of trainees that haven't debuted yet, but they have their own livestream show. I start watching it. Two years later, Seventeen are finally given the green light to debut (and I sob about it for 70 minutes, interrupting my professor mid-lecture in college, but that's another story). They have a long and illustrious career and are now (2025) enjoying their 10th anniversary.

It's been 1490 years since Krakatoa, but it's the reason I'm sitting here trying to be really really brave about a Tall Handsome Asian Man in Tight Pants Who Lives on the Other Side of the World and Doesn't Know I Exist going into his mandatory military enlistment this year.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

Amid the corporate events pervading New York’s “Climate Week,” an international people’s tribunal held an emotional hearing that spotlighted the ecosystems and people living in the shadow of fossil fuel projects. 

Representatives from communities around the world, scientists and advocates told stories of human and nonhuman forced displacement, degraded heath, ruined economies and lost histories to the International Tribunal on the Rights of Nature on Sunday. 

In India, coal mines are degrading the habitat of endangered elephants sacred to Adivasi Indigenous people. In Louisiana, petrochemical facilities are being built on sacred grave sites. In East Africa, construction of a new oil pipeline is displacing communities and slicing through the homes of giraffes, lions and hippopotamuses. And in Peru, communities that have endured decades of crude oil production and more than 1,000 oil spills are facing down installation of a new refinery and expanding operations.

The testimonies, sweeping in both their global reach and in the harms alleged, were gathered to create a repository of evidence linking the “fossil fuel era” to violations of humans’ and nature’s rights. 

The tribunal, now in its sixth session since 2014, is designed to probe alleged violations of the 2010 Universal Declaration on the Rights of Mother Earth, which recognizes nature as a living being with inherent rights, including the rights to exist and evolve.  

“Just as human beings have human rights, all other beings also have rights which are specific to their species,” the nonbinding declaration says. The declaration was written during a 2010 people’s conference in Cochabamba, Bolivia, following a disappointing United Nations climate summit in Copenhagen a year earlier.

The tribunal is part of the growing “rights of nature” movement, which since 2006 has also created binding laws and judicial precedent recognizing nature’s rights. Today, more than a dozen countries have such laws on the books, including Ecuador, Panama, Spain, New Zealand, Brazil, Colombia and Uganda. But few countries have taken steps to enforce the laws. 

The advocacy group Global Alliance for the Rights of Nature created the tribunal to showcase how a legal system recognizing nature’s rights might work. Past hearings have taken on cases like the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill, lithium mining in Chile’s Atacama Desert and the impact of free trade agreements on the environment. In each case, “defendant” companies and governments are invited to participate but generally decline to do so. Though the rulings are nonbinding, the tribunal’s website says its work pressures governments by drawing international attention to issues. 

[beardedmrbean]

CHANCAY, Peru (AP) — On the edge of Peru’s coastal desert, a remote fishing town where a third of all residents have no running water is being transformed into a huge deep-water port to cash in on the inexorable rise of Chinese interest in resource-rich South America.

The megaport of Chancay, a $1.3 billion project majority-owned by the Chinese shipping giant Cosco, is turning this outpost of bobbing fishing boats into an important node of the global economy.

From the presidential palace in Lima, 60 kilometers (37 miles) south of the port inauguration ceremony, China’s President Xi Jinping watched a livestream of the ribbon-cutting alongside his Peruvian counterpart, Dina Boluarte, late Thursday.

The leaders' faces appeared on a giant screen in Chancay, where engineers in bright orange safety vests declared the port operational to the swell of string instruments. Chinese dancers with red dragon-costume heads seemingly burst out of nowhere to prance around the docking station as a crane lowered the first aluminum containers onto a berthed cargo ship.

“Considerable income and enormous job opportunities will be generated for Peru,” Xi said from Lima, where world leaders were preparing to gather for the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation forum. “This will generate tangible results for the people of the region.”

But the development — expected to encompass 15 quays and a large industrial park drawing more than $3.5 billion in investment over a decade — has met a skeptical response from impoverished villagers, who say it is depriving them of fishing waters and bringing no economic benefit to locals.

“Our fishing spots no longer exist here. They destroyed them,” said 78-year-old fisherman Julius Caesar — “like the emperor of Rome” — gesturing toward the dockside cranes. “I don't blame the Chinese for trying to mine this place for all it's worth. I blame our government for not protecting us.”

The Peruvian government hopes the port will become a strategic transshipment hub for the region, opening a new line connecting South America to Asia and speeding trade across the Pacific for Peru's blueberries, Brazil's soybeans and Chile's copper, among other exports.

Officials cite the port's potential to generate millions of dollars in revenues and turn coastal cities into so-called special economic zones with tax breaks to lure investment.

“We Peruvians are focused primarily on the well-being of Peruvians,” Foreign Minister Elmer Schialer told The Associated Press.

But many of Chancay's 60,000 residents are unconvinced. Fishermen returning to port with smaller catches complain that they have already lost out.

The dredging of the port — which sucked sediment from the seabed to create a shipping channel 17 meters (56 feet) deep — has ruined fish breeding grounds, locals said.

“I’ve been out in the water all day and I’m always needing to venture farther,” said Rafael Ávila, a 28-year-old fisherman with sand in his hair, returning to shore empty-handed and exhausted.

“This used to be enough,” he said, pointing at his painted dinghy. “Now I need a larger, more expensive boat to reach the fish."

To make extra cash, Ávila started offering occasional joyrides to selfie-taking visitors wanting to get a glimpse at the hulking Chinese ships.

With some of the world's largest container ships to berth at Chancay Port in January 2025, residents also fear the arrival of pollution and oil spills. In 2022, a botched tanker delivery at La Pampilla refinery nearby sent thousands of barrels of crude oil spilling into Peru's famously biodiverse waters, killing countless fish and putting legions of fishermen out of work.

Today a glance at the moribund town center, featuring mostly empty seafood restaurants, tells the story of diminished fishing stocks and decimated tourism even without the port being operational.

The port's breakwater changed the currents and destroyed good surfing conditions, locals said, affecting everyone from ice vendors to truckers to restaurant owners. “No to the megaport” is spray-painted on a wall overlooking the waterfront.

“This port is a monster that's come here to screw us,” said 40-year-old Rosa Collantes, cleaning and gutting slimy drum fish on the shore. “People come to the port and they say ‘Wow, tremendous!' but they don't see the reality.”

Port authorities say they're aware of the stark contrast between the sleek modern port and the surrounding village of Chancay, where many live on unpaved roads lined with ragged shacks and littered with trash.

“You cannot build a state-of-the-art port and have a city next to it that has no drinking water, no sewage, a collapsing hospital and no educational centers,” said Mario de las Casas, a manager for Cosco in Chancay, adding that the company had already launched studies to determine how the port could help reduce inequality and spur local growth.

“The port should not be a blemish,” De las Casas said.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

A new way to make an important ingredient for plastics, adhesives, carpet fibers, household cleaners and more from natural gas could reduce manufacturing costs in a post-petroleum economy by millions of dollars, thanks to a new chemical reactor designed by University of Michigan engineers. The reactor creates propylene, a workhorse chemical that is also used to make a long list of industrial chemicals, including ingredients for nitrile rubber found in automotive hoses and seals as well as blue protective gloves. Most propylene used today comes from oil refineries, which collect it as a byproduct of refining crude oil into gasoline. As oil and gasoline fall out of vogue in favor of natural gas, solar, and wind energy, production of propylene and other oil-derived products could fall below the current demand without new ways to make them.

Read more.

[darkmaga-returns]

Wednesday, March 5th, 2025

Bill Bonner, writing from Baltimore, Maryland

‘All government spending is taxation.’ -Elon Musk

Elon is right about that. Every penny spent by the feds must come from ‘The People’ via some form of taxation. One of them is in the news today. Tariffs. Yesterday, the Trump team put in place new tariffs against China, Mexico and Canada.

And last night, Trump promised an even more aggressive barrage: reciprocal tariffs. Other nations punish their own citizens by denying them quality imports at competitive prices; now, we’ll do it too!

Warren Buffett, as interpreted by Investment Insider:

Tariffs are "an act of war, to some degree," Warren Buffett said. The Berkshire Hathaway chairman and CEO told CBS, "Over time, they are a tax on goods."

And now, the trade war has begun. Newsweek:

Ontario Premier Doug Ford said on Monday that he would block energy exports to the United States "with a smile" if U.S. President Donald Trump moved ahead with plans for a 25 percent tariff on Canadian goods. The U.S. imposed tariffs of 25 percent of Canadian goods—except for energy products, which face a 10 percent tariff. It also put a 25 percent tariff on imports from Mexico and an additional 10 percent on Chinese goods. According to figures from the U.S. Energy Information Administration, Canada is by some margin the largest source of American energy imports, with 59 percent of all crude oil imported into the U.S. in 2019 coming from the country.

Associated Press:

Mexico President Claudia Sheinbaum said Tuesday that Mexico will respond to 25% tariffs imposed by the United States with its own retaliatory tariffs on U.S. goods. Sheinbaum said she will announce the products Mexico will target on Sunday in a public event in Mexico City’s central plaza, perhaps indicating Mexico still hopes to de-escalate the trade war set off by U.S. President Donald Trump.

[primexalgo]

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[mariacallous]

The outgoing Biden administration threw the proverbial kitchen sink at Russia’s energy sector on Friday with a sweeping slate of sanctions meant to curtail Moscow’s still-resilient energy earnings and potentially weaken its war-making power in a critical year for Ukraine’s survival.

The measures announced Friday do all and more that the Biden administration had shied away from since the start of the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022: going after the production, distribution, sales, and financing of Russian oil and gas, long the mainstay of Moscow’s war chest and still the most vulnerable part of its creaky economy.

The moves include sanctions on two Russian oil majors, Gazprom Neft and Surgutneftegas, as well as more than 180 shadow fleet tankers, natural gas producers, energy traders, and oil field service providers. 

“Russia is now in the penalty box,” said a senior administration official who spoke on background under conditions set by the White House. 

Senior administration officials expect that the new measures will cost Russia billions of dollars a month in foregone energy revenues—no small achievement when the Kremlin banks on the order of about $20 billion a month by fueling the world at war. The idea is that Russia is going to now have to seriously choose not between guns and butter but between oil tankers and military tanks.

“Today’s actions build on recent steps that reinforce an economic trajectory along which Russia will face hard choices,” U.S. Deputy National Security Advisor Daleep Singh said in a statement. Singh described the measures as the “most significant sanctions yet” on Russia’s energy sector. 

The question of why the White House decided to make these moves now is both easy to answer and surprising. For years, President Joe Biden has avoided taking the necessary and hard steps to fully go after Russia’s cash cow because that would have meant higher oil prices (and gas prices) and higher inflation for Americans. That was a particular concern during the 2022 midterm elections and especially in the recently concluded presidential contest. That is not a concern for the Biden White House now.

Officially, the White House says it is unleashing the kraken now because oil markets are relaxed and the costs will be bearable. Indeed, benchmark global crude prices have been languishing in the $70 per barrel range, which gives the administration and the United States plenty of room to run before worrying about triple digits.

Unofficially, the Biden White House is packing boxes, and this slate of sanctions is a way to kneecap Russia before handing off control to the incoming Trump administration. Given the ambivalence shown by President-elect Donald Trump and many of his officials to continue U.S. support for Ukraine, aggressive action now to further constrain Russia’s war chest gives Ukraine one last lifeline that might have not materialized otherwise. Given the stakes for Ukraine, Europe, and ultimately for the United States, buying time in 2025 makes sense.

But Friday’s measures aren’t a restraint on the incoming administration or a Parthian shot but quite the opposite.

“I view it as a gift to the Trump administration—Biden is doing the dirty work, giving the next administration more leverage to get [Russian President Vladimir] Putin to the table,” said Edward Fishman, a former senior U.S. sanctions official now at the Center on Global Energy Policy at Columbia University. “The Russian economy is already bad, so this gives the incoming administration a lot more leverage over Russia without starting on the wrong foot.”

Even those countries that might be expected to bristle at restrictions on Russian oil trade—China, India, and Turkey have outdone themselves by snapping up cheap Russian crude oil and oil products during the war—have little to fear from the latest U.S. moves. Reuters reported this week that a major Chinese port had already moved to ban U.S.-sanctioned oil tankers. India has even less to fear because the more untouchable Russia’s oil exports become, the cheaper they potentially are.

“Traders love this: ‘You guys are toxic. I need a bigger discount.’ Anybody who understands oil trading understands that India has been one of our best assets in constraining Russian oil revenue, because they can demand big discounts,” said Craig Kennedy, an expert on Russia’s energy sector at Harvard University’s Davis Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies. “India’s constantly been looking for pretexts for deeper discounts, and here we have it.”

The nitty gritty of the latest U.S. measures is where things get interesting. They go soup-to-nuts on all aspects of the Russian energy trade, which even three years into war brings in about $665 million a day to Putin’s coffers. The good news is that before the war, that was closer to $1 billion a day. The bad news is that for the last two years, sanctions have hardly budged those Russian revenues. What the latest sanctions target is everything. Much of the attention is on the designation of 183 Russian tankers, since the whole point of Russia’s sanctions-skirting exercise for the last two years has hinged on a shadow fleet of oil tankers that are entirely outside the remit of Western whipsticks. 

Russia can’t trade energy much these days except by sea, so tankers are ground zero in this fight.

“Sanctioning 183 vessels will be a huge hit to Russia’s seaborne crude oil exports—it will be really huge,” said Petras Katinas of the Finland-based Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air (CREA), where he tabulates Russian fossil fuel earnings. 

Utilizing the dominance of the dollar, Biden administration officials now expect that ports and insurance companies will balk at doing business with the tankers, fearful that they may too find themselves in the crosshairs of secondary sanctions, which could cut off access to U.S. financial institutions. The preemptive ban by China’s Shandong Port Group this week spoke volumes.

Russia’s shadow fleet includes both officially Russian-flagged vessels that have fled Western insurers and a greater host of aged ships bought on the sly to ferry illicit goods. Together, that fleet carries more than 80 percent of Russia’s seaborne oil exports, according to CREA. U.S. sanctions, as have been levied piecemeal in the past, have kept those ships idling, cutting their oil transport by more than 90 percent. With the new steps, that could be a billion dollars monthly gone right there, if not more.

But the ultimate goal of curtailing what effectively amounts to between one-third and one-half of the active Russian shadow fleet is not to chase those ships from the sea entirely or to remove those barrels of Russian oil from the market. Rather, it is to herd those illicit vessels back into the confines of the Western-led, -insured, and -regulated maritime market, which includes a price cap on Russian oil that, at $60 a barrel, remains lower than what some rogue traders can still get.

“This is a long overdue step in terms of making the oil price cap binding,” Fishman said. Russia can either forgo shipping oil (and lose money) or ship oil through regulated tankers (and lose money). “This is an attempt to put real teeth into the price cap,” he said.

Depending on whom you talk to, each and every bit of the latest sanctions package is especially powerful. For Fishman, it is the United States going after two of Russia’s five major oil producers with straight-up sanctions that could potentially remove up to 2 million barrels a day of oil from global markets.

“We have not ever seen blocking sanctions on a Russian oil company directly. This is more than we ever did since 2014,” when Russia first invaded Ukraine, he added.

For Kennedy, it’s the future of Russia’s tired oil fields: The restrictions on oil field services companies mean that the Kremlin will be hard-pressed to squeeze more oil out of old fields that require world-class expertise to manage geriatric reservoirs, aided even during the war and sanctions years by Western firms such as SLB.

“Maybe not tomorrow, but they’ll lose access to the capabilities, and that will make it riskier and costlier to maintain current production levels,” Kennedy said.

And there are additional restrictions on Russian liquefied natural gas exports, which have been a life vest for the Russian gas industry and one rare growth area, especially in exports to Europe. The U.S. State Department went after a couple of minor Russian LNG projects and continued pressure on a marquee Arctic LNG project, all of which will make Russian tanked gas less appealing and U.S. natural gas exports even more so. That is likely music to Trump’s ears.

Senior administration officials fully expect that Russia will try to evade the new sanctions. Following the 2022 invasion, Russia became the most sanctioned country in the world, with more than 16,000 people and companies subject to a patchwork of international sanctions and export control orders intended to deprive it of the resources and technology to fuel its defense industrial base. 

These measures have forced Moscow to seek out new and cumbersome routes to sell its energy and acquire advanced technology. This has come at a steep cost but does not appear to have persuaded Putin to climb down from his maximalist aims of subjugating Ukraine. 

The senior administration official compared U.S. sanctions to sand being poured into the gears of the Russian war machine. 

The ultimate point of the belated sanctions, like the belated arms deliveries or the belated lifting of targeting restrictions, is to make it harder for Putin to continue waging a war on Ukraine that has cost him hundreds of billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of men. 

“For every tanker they have to buy, that’s fewer tanks they can buy for their war of choice in Ukraine,” a second senior administration official said ahead of the announcement.

Russia remains nonplussed by the latest moves, as one does with a currency measured in wheelbarrows and interest rates in double digits. 

“Some manage to leave a mark on history, while others only manage to leave a mark,” Russian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maria Zakharova said in response to Biden’s new sanctions.