Alex Karp wants your children to go to war. He is very passionate about this. He has published a whole book about it — The Technological Republic — which is the kind of title that tells you immediately this guy has never had to parallel park, do his own laundry, or explain to a draft board why his knees don’t work.

He and his co-author slapped together a 22-point manifesto, dropped it on X on a Sunday like a flaming bag of dog poop on the nation’s doorstep, and among those 22 radiant points of visionary insight was a crystal-clear call: universal national service. A draft. The whole deal. Everyone goes. Everyone shares the risk.

Everyone, that is, except Palantir Technologies, which paid:

Exactly zero dollars — none, zip, goose egg, the big donut, not a thin dime — in federal income taxes in 2025, despite reporting a cool $1.5 billion in U.S. income.

They used a provision in something actually, genuinely, sincerely called the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” — which sounds like the title of a Schoolhouse Rock episode written by a defense contractor — to deduct their research expenses down to approximately nothing. So your kids can share in the risk and the cost, and Palantir will share in the profits.

That’s the deal. That’s the manifesto. Does this seem fair to you? Because Alex Karp has a ponytail and a philosophy degree and he thinks it’s extremely fair.

The Cary Harrison Files is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Copyright Audiences United, LLC – all rights reserved.

Alex Karp wants your children to go to war. He is very passionate about this. He has published a whole book about it — The Technological Republic — which is the kind of title that tells you immediately this guy has never had to parallel park, do his own laundry, or explain to a draft board why his knees don’t work.

He and his co-author slapped together a 22-point manifesto, dropped it on X on a Sunday like a flaming bag of dog poop on the nation’s doorstep, and among those 22 radiant points of visionary insight was a crystal-clear call: universal national service. A draft. The whole deal. Everyone goes. Everyone shares the risk.

Everyone, that is, except Palantir Technologies, which paid:

Exactly zero dollars — none, zip, goose egg, the big donut, not a thin dime — in federal income taxes in 2025, despite reporting a cool $1.5 billion in U.S. income.

They used a provision in something actually, genuinely, sincerely called the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” — which sounds like the title of a Schoolhouse Rock episode written by a defense contractor — to deduct their research expenses down to approximately nothing. So your kids can share in the risk and the cost, and Palantir will share in the profits.

That’s the deal. That’s the manifesto. Does this seem fair to you? Because Alex Karp has a ponytail and a philosophy degree and he thinks it’s extremely fair.

The Cary Harrison Files is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Copyright Audiences United, LLC – all rights reserved.

Ten thousand years of agriculture, architecture, philosophy, genocide, and the occasional Renaissance—and what does the crown jewel of our species produce?

A generation that’d rather reorganize its Spotify playlists than touch another human being.

This is biology itself—a four-billion-year-old system that survived extinction events, continental drift, and the invention of Crocs—shrugging and going: “We’ll sit this round out.”

The Buffet Nobody Ordered

You were promised decadence. A Roman orgy with better lighting and a soundtrack. Humanity spent ten millennia building toward this exact shimmering intersection of access, privacy, and anonymity—and what did you do with that divine inheritance?

You declined. Not with a bang. With the serene, lavender-scented detachment of someone turning down a second helping of something they never really wanted.

“Maybe later.”

Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Lewis and Clark crossed a continent full of things actively trying to kill them. And you—with your unlimited data plan and a phone that’s basically a neurological vending machine—have crossed nothing. Because crossing things requires putting down the phone.

When Desire Got Audited

Somewhere between Woodstock and the Wellness Industrial Complex, the whole enterprise got reviewed. What was once the most gloriously chaotic thing two mammals could get up to on a Tuesday has been retrofitted into a compliance seminar with optional breakout groups on attachment theory.

And then there’s the thing nobody says out loud.

A bad date can now be published. Permanently.

Membership here sustains public radio

One regrettable evening, one misread signal, one moment neither party handled with grace—and it’s screenshotted, tagged, and indexed by Google within 48 hours. The social contract used to include a statute of limitations on embarrassment. The internet dissolved that clause without mentioning it in the terms of service.

The upside risk is a decent Tuesday night. The downside risk is your professional reputation and a Reddit thread that surfaces every time someone Googles your name.

So naturally, you did the only thing a sensible organism with executive function and a data plan could do. You opted out.

The Cary Harrison Files is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Copyright Audiences United, LLC – all rights reserved.