Episodes

  • Study: GenZ has access to more sex than any generation in human history. And they've opted-out. [(ES) Subtítulos]

    Study: GenZ has access to more sex than any generation in human history. And they've opted-out. [(ES) Subtítulos]
    Apr 20 2026

    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.



    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit caryharrison.substack.com/subscribe
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    40 mins
  • How a Pudgy Hungarian Autocrat Wrote the GOP Instruction Manual [(ES) Subtítles]

    How a Pudgy Hungarian Autocrat Wrote the GOP Instruction Manual [(ES) Subtítles]
    Apr 19 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.There’s a rule — simple on paper, slippery in practice. Homeland Security is looking to make this the law soon.Some cities — New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago — call themselves sanctuary cities. Which means they are sanctuaries for people in a free country called America. And Washington looks at that and says: Fine. Then your cities no longer exist whenever a passport is needed.So here’s how it’ll work, according to the new DHS: International travelers can still land in those cities — but they won’t be processed there. No customs. No official entry. No clean handshake with the country you just flew into. Instead, the biggest gateways in the country become layover lounges with better branding.You don’t enter where you land. You enter where you’re allowed to be processed.It’s neat. It’s quiet. It doesn’t argue. It just moves the finish line. And if you’re the one traveling? You don’t debate it. You just follow it.Let’s play this out, you traveler, you.Your itineraryHour 0 — ParisNot just a place — this is the last moment you exist as a person with intent. You have a destination: Los Angeles. A clean line across a map. A simple idea.Hours 0–10 — The FlightThe plane hums like a lullaby engineered by accountants. You drift. You believe. Ten hours. That’s what you bought. That’s what they told you.Hours 10–13 — New York CityYou land. And the illusion peels back — slow, wet, unpleasant. You stand in line with the others. The hopeful. The deodorized. The still-human. A voice — calm, disembodied, maybe not even attached to a face — explains: This city is a sanctuary city. It does not align. Therefore… you do not arrive.Not denied. That would imply judgment. You are something worse. You are redirected. And here’s where it gets good — where the system leans in close, breath warm, and says: “We’re not stopping you. We’re improving you.”Hours 13–20 — OrlandoTime loosens. The clocks look decorative now. You sit beneath fluorescent lights that flicker like they’re trying to remember your name. You miss your connection, but it doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels… scheduled. You start to suspect the itinerary isn’t a plan. It’s a ritual.Hours 20–26 — HoustonYou land in compliance. The air tastes like paperwork. There are others here. So many others. All rerouted. All softened. The line doesn’t move — it breathes. You wait long enough to forget why you were in a hurry. Then you’re told, gently: Not here either. Try Dallas.Hours 26–32 — DallasYou don’t question it. You board like it’s your idea. Somewhere between takeoff and landing, you realize your spine has accepted the shape of the seat permanently. You’re becoming… portable. Time is no longer a measurement. It’s a seasoning.Hours 32–40 — DenverSnow falls like static on a broken channel. You sleep in fragments — ten minutes here, twenty there — like the system is rationing your consciousness. A man next to you whispers that he’s been here two days. You know you are just like him.Hours 40–48 — PhoenixHeat. Dry, biblical heat. Your lips crack. Your thoughts slow. Your reflection in the airport bathroom looks like someone who owes money to reality.And then it hits you: you are orbiting your destination. Like a satellite that’s been denied clearance to land. Because the cities built to receive you refused to kneel. And the system — oh, the new system — doesn’t kneel. It reroutes.Then the punchline evolves into something almost erotic in its cruelty. You miss your connection. Of course you do. So they send you to Mexico City.Hours 48–58 — Mexico CityYou leave the United States. Without ever entering it. You crossed an ocean to be told to go somewhere else — and now you’re doing it internationally. You are no longer a traveler. You are a demonstration. For the public to observe. For the news channels to cover and justify for their masters. Then you fly back in.Hours 58–65 — San AntonioAnd finally — they process you. No ceremony. No warmth. Just a stamp. A quiet, almost intimate acknowledgment: You found a place that agrees.Hours 65–72 — Los AngelesYou land. Not triumphant. Not relieved. Just… completed. Like a transaction that took longer than expected but eventually cleared.And now — now — you’re supposed to be grateful. Grateful for the tour. Grateful for the expansion. Grateful that what was once a straight line has become a sacred geometry of inconvenience stretching across continents and egos.Because this isn’t inefficiency. This is philosophy so devoted to its own logic that it will bend space, time, and your spinal alignment before it bends itself.And if you can’t appreciate that — if you look at 3 days of rerouting, reprocessing, re-everything, and still call it absurd — then maybe the problem isn’t the ...
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    24 mins
  • God, Grant Me a Working Framework for the End of the World [(ES) Subtítles]

    God, Grant Me a Working Framework for the End of the World [(ES) Subtítles]
    Apr 18 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.There’s a rule — simple on paper, slippery in practice. Homeland Security is looking to make this the law soon.Some cities — New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago — call themselves sanctuary cities. Which means they are sanctuaries for people in a free country called America. And Washington looks at that and says: Fine. Then your cities no longer exist whenever a passport is needed.So here’s how it’ll work, according to the new DHS: International travelers can still land in those cities — but they won’t be processed there. No customs. No official entry. No clean handshake with the country you just flew into. Instead, the biggest gateways in the country become layover lounges with better branding.You don’t enter where you land. You enter where you’re allowed to be processed.It’s neat. It’s quiet. It doesn’t argue. It just moves the finish line. And if you’re the one traveling? You don’t debate it. You just follow it.Let’s play this out, you traveler, you.Your itineraryHour 0 — ParisNot just a place — this is the last moment you exist as a person with intent. You have a destination: Los Angeles. A clean line across a map. A simple idea.Hours 0–10 — The FlightThe plane hums like a lullaby engineered by accountants. You drift. You believe. Ten hours. That’s what you bought. That’s what they told you.Hours 10–13 — New York CityYou land. And the illusion peels back — slow, wet, unpleasant. You stand in line with the others. The hopeful. The deodorized. The still-human. A voice — calm, disembodied, maybe not even attached to a face — explains: This city is a sanctuary city. It does not align. Therefore… you do not arrive.Not denied. That would imply judgment. You are something worse. You are redirected. And here’s where it gets good — where the system leans in close, breath warm, and says: “We’re not stopping you. We’re improving you.”Hours 13–20 — OrlandoTime loosens. The clocks look decorative now. You sit beneath fluorescent lights that flicker like they’re trying to remember your name. You miss your connection, but it doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels… scheduled. You start to suspect the itinerary isn’t a plan. It’s a ritual.Hours 20–26 — HoustonYou land in compliance. The air tastes like paperwork. There are others here. So many others. All rerouted. All softened. The line doesn’t move — it breathes. You wait long enough to forget why you were in a hurry. Then you’re told, gently: Not here either. Try Dallas.Hours 26–32 — DallasYou don’t question it. You board like it’s your idea. Somewhere between takeoff and landing, you realize your spine has accepted the shape of the seat permanently. You’re becoming… portable. Time is no longer a measurement. It’s a seasoning.Hours 32–40 — DenverSnow falls like static on a broken channel. You sleep in fragments — ten minutes here, twenty there — like the system is rationing your consciousness. A man next to you whispers that he’s been here two days. You know you are just like him.Hours 40–48 — PhoenixHeat. Dry, biblical heat. Your lips crack. Your thoughts slow. Your reflection in the airport bathroom looks like someone who owes money to reality.And then it hits you: you are orbiting your destination. Like a satellite that’s been denied clearance to land. Because the cities built to receive you refused to kneel. And the system — oh, the new system — doesn’t kneel. It reroutes.Then the punchline evolves into something almost erotic in its cruelty. You miss your connection. Of course you do. So they send you to Mexico City.Hours 48–58 — Mexico CityYou leave the United States. Without ever entering it. You crossed an ocean to be told to go somewhere else — and now you’re doing it internationally. You are no longer a traveler. You are a demonstration. For the public to observe. For the news channels to cover and justify for their masters. Then you fly back in.Hours 58–65 — San AntonioAnd finally — they process you. No ceremony. No warmth. Just a stamp. A quiet, almost intimate acknowledgment: You found a place that agrees.Hours 65–72 — Los AngelesYou land. Not triumphant. Not relieved. Just… completed. Like a transaction that took longer than expected but eventually cleared.And now — now — you’re supposed to be grateful. Grateful for the tour. Grateful for the expansion. Grateful that what was once a straight line has become a sacred geometry of inconvenience stretching across continents and egos.Because this isn’t inefficiency. This is philosophy so devoted to its own logic that it will bend space, time, and your spinal alignment before it bends itself.And if you can’t appreciate that — if you look at 3 days of rerouting, reprocessing, re-everything, and still call it absurd — then maybe the problem isn’t the ...
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    48 mins
  • What happens when travel rules quietly change—and the destination is no longer where you land? (Spanish Substitles)

    What happens when travel rules quietly change—and the destination is no longer where you land? (Spanish Substitles)
    Apr 17 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.There’s a rule — simple on paper, slippery in practice. Homeland Security is looking to make this the law soon.Some cities — New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago — call themselves sanctuary cities. Which means they are sanctuaries for people in a free country called America. And Washington looks at that and says: Fine. Then your cities no longer exist whenever a passport is needed.So here’s how it’ll work, according to the new DHS: International travelers can still land in those cities — but they won’t be processed there. No customs. No official entry. No clean handshake with the country you just flew into. Instead, the biggest gateways in the country become layover lounges with better branding.You don’t enter where you land. You enter where you’re allowed to be processed.It’s neat. It’s quiet. It doesn’t argue. It just moves the finish line. And if you’re the one traveling? You don’t debate it. You just follow it.Let’s play this out, you traveler, you.Your itineraryHour 0 — ParisNot just a place — this is the last moment you exist as a person with intent. You have a destination: Los Angeles. A clean line across a map. A simple idea.Hours 0–10 — The FlightThe plane hums like a lullaby engineered by accountants. You drift. You believe. Ten hours. That’s what you bought. That’s what they told you.Hours 10–13 — New York CityYou land. And the illusion peels back — slow, wet, unpleasant. You stand in line with the others. The hopeful. The deodorized. The still-human. A voice — calm, disembodied, maybe not even attached to a face — explains: This city is a sanctuary city. It does not align. Therefore… you do not arrive.Not denied. That would imply judgment. You are something worse. You are redirected. And here’s where it gets good — where the system leans in close, breath warm, and says: “We’re not stopping you. We’re improving you.”Hours 13–20 — OrlandoTime loosens. The clocks look decorative now. You sit beneath fluorescent lights that flicker like they’re trying to remember your name. You miss your connection, but it doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels… scheduled. You start to suspect the itinerary isn’t a plan. It’s a ritual.Hours 20–26 — HoustonYou land in compliance. The air tastes like paperwork. There are others here. So many others. All rerouted. All softened. The line doesn’t move — it breathes. You wait long enough to forget why you were in a hurry. Then you’re told, gently: Not here either. Try Dallas.Hours 26–32 — DallasYou don’t question it. You board like it’s your idea. Somewhere between takeoff and landing, you realize your spine has accepted the shape of the seat permanently. You’re becoming… portable. Time is no longer a measurement. It’s a seasoning.Hours 32–40 — DenverSnow falls like static on a broken channel. You sleep in fragments — ten minutes here, twenty there — like the system is rationing your consciousness. A man next to you whispers that he’s been here two days. You know you are just like him.Hours 40–48 — PhoenixHeat. Dry, biblical heat. Your lips crack. Your thoughts slow. Your reflection in the airport bathroom looks like someone who owes money to reality.And then it hits you: you are orbiting your destination. Like a satellite that’s been denied clearance to land. Because the cities built to receive you refused to kneel. And the system — oh, the new system — doesn’t kneel. It reroutes.Then the punchline evolves into something almost erotic in its cruelty. You miss your connection. Of course you do. So they send you to Mexico City.Hours 48–58 — Mexico CityYou leave the United States. Without ever entering it. You crossed an ocean to be told to go somewhere else — and now you’re doing it internationally. You are no longer a traveler. You are a demonstration. For the public to observe. For the news channels to cover and justify for their masters. Then you fly back in.Hours 58–65 — San AntonioAnd finally — they process you. No ceremony. No warmth. Just a stamp. A quiet, almost intimate acknowledgment: You found a place that agrees.Hours 65–72 — Los AngelesYou land. Not triumphant. Not relieved. Just… completed. Like a transaction that took longer than expected but eventually cleared.And now — now — you’re supposed to be grateful. Grateful for the tour. Grateful for the expansion. Grateful that what was once a straight line has become a sacred geometry of inconvenience stretching across continents and egos.Because this isn’t inefficiency. This is philosophy so devoted to its own logic that it will bend space, time, and your spinal alignment before it bends itself.And if you can’t appreciate that — if you look at 3 days of rerouting, reprocessing, re-everything, and still call it absurd — then maybe the problem isn’t the ...
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    18 mins
  • [Espańol] El Neuro-Rapto que Se Avecina Y el miembro del gabinete en el pasillo de al lado que quiere erradicar a la raza maestra

    [Espańol] El Neuro-Rapto que Se Avecina Y el miembro del gabinete en el pasillo de al lado que quiere erradicar a la raza maestra
    Apr 12 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.El Profeta de la Era AlgorítmicaEse profeta tiene nombre, y es Alex Karp—el oráculo cinético de Palantir Technologies.Palantir no solo recuerda dónde has estado. Redacta una teoría operativa de hacia dónde vas. Cruza referencias de tus llamadas a las 2 a.m. Mira de reojo esa descarga cuestionable de 2019. Y luego, con una compostura impecable, envía una factura al Pentágono como si estuviera cobrando por tintorería.Sabe.Predice.Cobra.Karp, por su parte, no se sienta. Oscila. Hay grabaciones—ampliamente difundidas—de él siendo físicamente incapaz de permanecer sentado durante una entrevista. No es nerviosismo. No es carisma. Es algo más cercano a un hombre conectado directamente a la red.No ocupa el espacio. Lo agita.Y desde esta cumbre vibrante del capital de vigilancia, Karp entrega el mensaje: la inteligencia artificial viene por el mercado laboral con la sutileza de una demolición controlada.No estás siendo “disrumpido”. Estás siendo despejado.La mayoría de la gente, sugiere, se dirige hacia la obsolescencia económica. Eres un Blockbuster en la era de Netflix. Un agente de viajes en un mundo que se reserva solo. Un artesano viendo llegar la línea de ensamblaje con una sonrisa y un cronómetro.El Bote Salvavidas (Cupos Limitados)Pero—si resulta que eres neurodivergente, felicidades. De repente eres esencial.Se nos dice que el futuro pertenece a quienes están cableados de forma distinta.¿Todos los demás? Aprendan a mantenerse a flote.Una Interrupción NecesariaLa neurodivergencia no es una oportunidad de marca.Es una condición vivida—plural, desordenada, distribuida de forma desigual y profundamente humana. Un término paraguas que abarca el autismo, el TDAH, la dislexia, la dispraxia, el síndrome de Tourette y más. Aproximadamente una de cada cinco personas cae en algún punto bajo ese paraguas.No es raro.No es exótico.Es una quinta parte del sistema operativo.¿Y históricamente? Esa quinta parte no ha sido celebrada. Ha sido filtrada.Sistemas educativos diseñados para la conformidad. Lugares de trabajo optimizados para el contacto visual y la charla trivial. Procesos de contratación que confunden diferencia con deficiencia.El problema no es la capacidad. Es la arquitectura.Los adultos autistas, por ejemplo, enfrentan tasas de desempleo abrumadoras—no porque no puedan hacer el trabajo, sino porque el trabajo se niega a reconocer cómo lo hacen.La misma economía que ahora los llama “el futuro” pasó décadas cerrándoles la puerta.El Evangelio Según la ExcepciónKarp no está solo.Está Elon Musk, quien ha vinculado públicamente su neurodivergencia con su éxito.Está Peter Thiel, quien ha presentado rasgos similares como ventajas competitivas.Una dificultad se convierte en leyenda.Un rasgo se convierte en trofeo.No es defensa. Es una reescritura conveniente.La historia ya no es:“Esto hizo mi vida más difícil.”Ahora es:“Esto es la razón por la que gané.”Mientras Tanto, en el Mismo Gobierno…Entra Robert F. Kennedy Jr.En esta versión, la neurodivergencia no es variación. Es catástrofe.Algo que debe ser rastreado. Explicado. Potencialmente eliminado.Así que ahora tenemos un sistema que dice:* La neurodivergencia es la clave para sobrevivir a la economía de la IA.* La neurodivergencia es una crisis de salud pública.El mismo rasgo. Dos veredictos.Depende de si produce miles de millones—o requiere adaptación.Arriba, es un superpoder.Abajo, es un problema.La Verdadera Línea ConductoraEsto no trata sobre neurología.Trata sobre utilidad.Si una diferencia puede monetizarse, se celebra.Si requiere apoyo, se examina.El mismo cerebro puede ser llamado visionario o defectuoso según el balance financiero.No estamos clasificando a las personas por cómo piensan.Las estamos clasificando por cuán rentable resulta ese pensamiento.Lo Que Realmente Importa (La Parte Poco Sexy)Quita la profecía, las conferencias, los mitos de origen de los multimillonarios, y lo que queda es aburrido—y esencial:* Sistemas que acomoden distintos tipos de mente* Prácticas de contratación que midan capacidad, no conformidad* Escuelas que reconozcan más de una forma de aprender* Una suposición básica de que la variación humana no es un defectoSin coronas.Sin registros.Sin mitologías.Solo infraestructura que no excluya silenciosamente a una quinta parte de la población.La Imagen FinalKarp sigue caminando.Musk sigue publicando.Thiel sigue teorizando.Kennedy sigue clasificando.¿Y el resto del mundo?Sigue siendo medido. Clasificado. Predicho.Alimentado a sistemas que entienden todo sobre el comportamiento—y casi nada sobre la dignidad.La Única Pregunta que Importa¿Este futuro hará espacio para distintos tipos de mente—o simplemente encontrará formas más eficientes de utilizarlas?The Cary Harrison Files is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and...
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    32 mins
  • The Day Democracy Flatlined… and Somebody Actually Brought the Paddles

    The Day Democracy Flatlined… and Somebody Actually Brought the Paddles
    Apr 11 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.“Democracy still has a pulse. It’s faint… it smells a little… it may have recently soiled itself—but it’s alive.”Let’s not romanticize this.Nobody’s standing on a marble balcony with a torch. Nobody’s composing symphonies about civic virtue. The patient is wheezing, the gown is open in the back, and half the room is arguing about whether the machine is even plugged in.And yet—against all expectations, against the consultants, against the spreadsheets, against the professional pessimists who make a living embalming possibility—someone reached for the defibrillator.And it worked.Lower Your Expectations (No, Lower Than That)“Lower your expectations… crawl space… the drain beneath the crawl space… only from that posture… can you appreciate what’s about to be described.”Because what happened next will sound absurd if you’re still standing upright.A deep red district—one of those political no-go zones where hope goes to die and consultants go to invoice—flipped.Not with a miracle.Not with a billionaire.Not with a viral meme or a last-minute scandal.With something far more scandalous:“We’re going to get out and actually talk to people.”Yes. That.The thing campaigns claim to do while spending six figures on mailers that land directly in recycling bins.The Blueprint Nobody WantedHere’s the part that should make every professional strategist slightly nauseous:There was a blueprint.It just wasn’t expensive enough to be taken seriously.“It wasn’t going to be flashy commercials… it was going to be hard work.”Hard work. Door knocking. Conversations. Listening.You know—the activities that don’t scale nicely into PowerPoint decks.Instead of treating voters like demographic abstractions or algorithmic prey, they did something borderline revolutionary:“We’re down on the ground level talking to people face to face… see what their problems actually are.”And here’s where it gets dangerous.Because once you actually listen to people, you discover something inconvenient:They’re not as predictable as the map says they are.The Map Is Not the TerritoryThe district looked unwinnable.On paper.In reality?“Roughly a third, a third, and a third… Democrats, Republicans, and independents.”Translation: not a monolith—just a crowd no one bothered to talk to.And when someone finally did?“There was about five to eight percent of Republican voters that went… and a huge portion of independents.”Which is the polite, data-driven way of saying:The “impossible” was mostly a failure of imagination.The Heresy: Talk to the Other SideBrace yourself.This next idea has been known to cause hives in polite political circles.“Don’t be afraid of stepping out into an uncomfortable space… we may not agree, but I’m still going to fight for you.”There it is.Not ideological purity. Not rhetorical warfare. Not performative outrage.Just… honesty.And that honesty—delivered face-to-face, without the theatrical fog—did something remarkable:It built trust.Not the kind you measure in polling memos.The kind you measure when someone who wasn’t supposed to vote for you… does.What Actually WonLet’s ruin the mythology properly.It wasn’t messaging magic.It wasn’t consultant brilliance.It wasn’t party infrastructure descending from the heavens.It was this:“We had to scratch and claw for every single vote.”And this:“You go up and say—what’s going on in your life and how can we fix it?”And this:“People are tired of the chaos… they want real solutions.”No poetry. No illusions. No grand theory.Just relentless proximity to reality.The Quiet IndictmentIf this feels like a revelation, it’s only because the bar has been buried somewhere beneath the floorboards.Because none of this should be surprising.And yet, it is.Which raises an uncomfortable question:If this is all it takes… why isn’t everyone doing it?The Dangerous Conclusion“Democracy… slightly disheveled… still alive.”Alive—but not because the system worked.Alive because a handful of people refused to believe the system was the limit.They ignored the map.They ignored the gatekeepers.They ignored the polite advice to lose gracefully.And instead, they knocked.And knocked.And knocked.Until reality answered.So here’s the uncomfortable takeaway:The “impossible” isn’t some mystical barrier.It’s often just the point where most people stop trying.And the moment someone doesn’t?Things flip.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. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit caryharrison.substack.com/subscribe
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    30 mins
  • The Coming Neuro-Rapture, And The Cabinet Member Down The Hall Who Wants To Eradicate The Master Race

    The Coming Neuro-Rapture, And The Cabinet Member Down The Hall Who Wants To Eradicate The Master Race
    Apr 10 2026
    Disclaimer: Side effects may include laughter and/or anger. Read or watch at your own risk.The Prophet of the Algorithmic Age That prophet has a name, and it’s Alex Karp—the kinetic oracle of Palantir Technologies.Palantir doesn’t just remember where you’ve been. It drafts a working theory of where you’re going. It cross-references your 2 a.m. calls. It side-eyes that questionable download from 2019. And then, with immaculate composure, it sends an invoice to the Pentagon like it’s billing for dry cleaning.It knows. It predicts. It charges.Karp himself doesn’t sit. He oscillates. There’s footage—widely circulated—of him physically incapable of remaining seated during an interview. Not nervous energy. Not charisma. Something closer to a man plugged directly into the grid.He doesn’t occupy space. He agitates it.And from this humming summit of surveillance capital, Karp delivers the message: artificial intelligence is coming for the job market with the subtlety of a controlled demolition.You’re not being disrupted. You’re being cleared.Most people, he suggests, are headed for economic obsolescence. You’re a Blockbuster in a Netflix epoch. A travel agent in a world that books itself. A craftsman watching the assembly line arrive with a smirk and a stopwatch.The Lifeboat (Limited Seating)But—if you happen to be neurodivergent, congratulations. You’re suddenly essential.The future, we’re told, belongs to the differently wired.Everyone else? Learn to tread water.A Necessary InterruptionNeurodivergence is not a branding opportunity.It’s a lived condition—plural, messy, unevenly distributed, and deeply human. An umbrella term covering autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, Tourette’s, and more. Roughly one in five people fall somewhere beneath it.Not rare. Not exotic. A fifth of the operating system.And historically? That fifth hasn’t been celebrated. It’s been filtered out.School systems built for compliance. Workplaces optimized for eye contact and small talk. Hiring pipelines that mistake difference for deficiency.The problem isn’t ability. It’s architecture.Autistic adults, for instance, face staggering unemployment rates—not because they can’t do the work, but because the work refuses to recognize how they do it.The same economy now calling them “the future” spent decades locking the door.The Gospel According to the ExceptionKarp isn’t alone.There’s Elon Musk, who’s publicly tied his neurodivergence to his success.There’s Peter Thiel, who’s framed similar traits as competitive advantages.A difficulty becomes a legend. A trait becomes a trophy.It’s not advocacy. It’s narrative retrofitting.The story isn’t “this made life harder.”It’s “this is why I won.”Meanwhile, in the Same Government…Enter Robert F. Kennedy Jr..Neurodivergence, in this telling, is not variation. It’s catastrophe.Something to be tracked. Explained. Potentially eliminated.So now we have a system that says:Neurodivergence is the key to surviving the AI economy.Neurodivergence is a public health crisis.Same trait. Two verdicts.Depends on whether it produces billions—or requires accommodation.Upstairs, it’s a superpower.Downstairs, it’s a liability.The Real ThroughlineThis isn’t about neurology.It’s about utility.If a difference can be monetized, it’s celebrated.If it requires support, it’s scrutinized.The same brain can be called visionary or defective depending on the balance sheet.We’re not sorting people by how they think.We’re sorting them by how profitable that thinking becomes.What Actually Matters (The Unsexy Part)Strip away the prophecy, the keynote speeches, the billionaire origin myths, and what’s left is boring—and essential:* Systems that accommodate different kinds of minds* Hiring practices that measure capability, not conformity* Schools that recognize more than one way to learn* A baseline assumption that human variation is not a defectNo crowns. No registries. No mythologies.Just infrastructure that doesn’t quietly exclude a fifth of the population.The Closing ImageKarp is still pacing.Musk is still posting.Thiel is still theorizing.Kennedy is still categorizing.And the rest of the world?Still being measured. Sorted. Predicted.Fed into systems that understand everything about behavior—and almost nothing about dignity.So here’s the only question that matters:Will this future make room for different kinds of minds—or just find more efficient ways to use them?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. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit caryharrison.substack.com/subscribe
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    34 mins
  • The Opt-Out Generation

    The Opt-Out Generation
    Mar 28 2026
    Behold the long-awaited carnival of flesh—electric, frictionless, available on demand like a lukewarm pizza at 2 a.m.—and what does the freshest batch of Homo sapiens do upon staggering into this neon buffet of writhing possibility? They fold their arms like a suspicious customs agent, squint at it the way a cat squints at a vacuum cleaner, and shuffle off to hydrate.You couldn’t write it better if you locked a room full of bitter novelists, fed them gas station taquitos, and told them to hallucinate the death of desire. Generation Z—hatched in a digital terrarium of infinite options, algorithmic flirtation, and pornography so granular it could probably sort your unresolved attachment issues into color-coded folders—has collectively decided that the grand, sweaty, historically inevitable pageant of human coupling is, at best, a scheduling conflict, and at worst, something to screenshot and send to a group chat ironically.Half of ‘em haven’t done it. Not badly, not accidentally, not even in the magnificent, stumbling tradition of every generation before them—people who approached sex the way a golden retriever approaches a sliding glass door: with total commitment and zero spatial awareness. No. This new model of human being has gazed upon the ancient and mandatory rite, the very mechanism by which the species perpetuates itself across the howling void of geological time, and responded with the enthusiasm of a man handed a menu in a language he can’t read. They’ve just set it down. Politely. And asked if there’s WiFi.And honestly? Can you blame ’em?They’ve inherited a romantic landscape that looks less like a garden and more like a legal deposition conducted inside an IKEA. Every potential encounter now arrives pre-wrapped in disclaimers, consent subclauses, emotional impact assessments, and the ambient terror that somewhere, somehow, a podcast will be made about you. What was once the glorious, catastrophic bar fight of hormones—the engine that built the Sistine Chapel, burned Troy to the ground, and gave us approximately ninety percent of all music ever recorded—has been retrofitted into a risk-management seminar with optional breakout sessions and a suggested reading list. Romance didn’t die. It got HR’d to death.So naturally, the kids have done exactly what any sensible organism does when confronted with a seventeen-step consent form and the emotional overhead of a UN peacekeeping mission:They’ve ghosted the whole enterprise.Instead, they’ve turned to the phone. The phone—slim, warm, never moody, never leaving passive-aggressive dishes in the sink—delivers a curated drip of validation, fantasy, and parasocial warmth with none of the catastrophic inconveniences of actual personhood, like conflicting needs, morning breath, or the existential horror of someone else’s opinion about your music. Why risk the chaos of another human being, a creature who contradicts themselves, smells like their choices, and will absolutely cry at the wrong moment, when an app will simulate devotion with the cheerful consistency of a vending machine that always has what you want?Previous generations crossed actual oceans. Wrote actual sonnets. Started actual wars, toppled actual governments, wore trousers so architecturally optimistic they were basically a public health emergency—all in feverish, maniacal pursuit of a roll in the hay that lasted eleven minutes and produced two decades of consequences. These people? They’ve got unlimited access, the entire accumulated erotic imagination of Western civilization in their pocket, and they treat it like a free sample at a Costco: a polite nibble, a thoughtful nod, and then back to the cart.And the new hierarchy of needs—oh, don’t get me started on the priorities. Sleep has dethroned sex like a bored regent dismissing a court jester. Stability—that beige cardigan of all ambitions—has muscled seduction clean off the podium. Mental health, crucial and legitimate in principle, now gets deployed like a diplomatic passport at the first tremor of romantic friction. “Can’t engage in the ancient biological imperative tonight—I’m processing something my therapist flagged in 2019.” Self-care, once a reasonable concept, has become a full-time job with benefits and a five-year roadmap.This isn’t repression. Don’t make that mistake. Repression has heat to it, tension, the coiled-spring promise of eventual explosion—it gave us opera, it gave us the French Revolution, it gave us basically every important novel written before 1960. This is something entirely different. This is colder. More surgical. This is a civilizational shrug. A generation that treats its own libido like a push notification from an app it forgot it downloaded: acknowledged with a glance, then dismissed without opening.And somewhere in whatever afterlife accommodates bloated egos and cocaine habits, the old high priests of desire are spinning like ...
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    Less than 1 minute