Fighting with Scissors

It hit 92°F today or 33 °C. That’s about 10 °C (18°F) above the historical June high for Couëron, which usually maxes out between 69–74 °F (20–23 °C). So 10°C and more above the norm, and it’s here all month – so what’s the average?

I’m trying to juggle deadlines—two analytics pieces and a draft that’s been humming around my brain. I’ve had to spend way too much time following U.S. government happenings lately, and that’s not what I want to be thinking if you’re not paid to. There’s a reason I try to keep things light on this substack.

Let’s see what I can actually string together.

All images will be largely unrelated to the matter at hand. It takes a while for me to get images right.

This’ll be a mess.

K

A Day Late & a Euro Short

This will not be a good entry, I think, but I’ve missed one or two and I just got a really bad haircut and so I am not doing a live session today. It’s not that I am so vain about it—but it’s a funny thing I wish someone had pointed out to me: it’s a bit hard finding a barber when you move. At least here in France.

I may even go over there to try and get it fixed, but I dunno. I can never even get around to returning shoes that don’t fit me.

Anyway, I’ve got other things distracting me.

Back on January 20, 2025, the euro was trading at about €1 = $1.042. Fast forward to June 25, and we’re at roughly €1 = $1.160–$1.163. That’s a gain of about 11.3% to 11.6% for the euro—but let’s be clear, that’s a loss for me.

Every cent the euro climbs makes my dollar-stretching life a little tighter. That 12-cent bump means everything from coffee to rent just got more expensive in real terms, if your income (or mental accounting) is still rooted in USD.

And mine is, for the time being.

Good news and bad news should both travel quickly….

Trust, Issues

I’ve been trying to organize the last couple of weeks—stuff I’ve read, started writing, forgot I wrote, re-read, didn’t recognize as mine. I’ll begin a piece and then just… sort of wander off. Mentally.

Not poetic meanderings.

Like losing my list in the grocery store, doing laps while saying the same things you need to get over and over again.

Mustard, eggs, milk, dish soap!

and then forgetting one of those things.

Then getting home and realizing that you don’t have anything to eat unless you get a little weird with the pantry items

Buffering

It started with trying to track stories—crimes, policies, call them what you want—coming out of the U.S. They keep bouncing across borders in ways that feel jagged and unfinished. Every time I follow a thread, another one unravels.

But no, this isn’t about politics. It’s about thought drift. That moment when one idea elbows the next before you’ve had time to finish the first.

Big things are happening, but my brain can’t sort them. No folder. No name.

Just a low-grade hum of unease.

Distracted.

It’s hard to care about structure when your mind’s still buffering three tabs back.

Psychopaths, Headlines, Assholes

I’ve got a stack of half-finished things—notes, drafts, outlines, some dense analysis I meant to polish and post. But I blew my own deadline, and I’m feeling off.

But I have some very interesting drafts if you have any tolerance for half-baked notions.

Like, if you want guidance, I don’t have it right now.

I had a big project due, but I’m not writing about it here. Not because it’s private—just because I’m sick of the topic. And honestly, doesn’t everything feel like gloom and doom lately? I can’t even tell when I’m doomscrolling anymore because the news blur and the actual blur have become indistinguishable.

BREAKING: everything’s a little broken.

They’re not even trying with the headlines anymore. I miss the “You Won’t Believe What They Did Now!” era. At least it had a sense of theatre.

But that was at least 7-8 weeks ago, so that’s done.

Now we’re just watching thieves rerun the same scam, except with more power and less charm. Each new scandal a confirmation: yeah, they’re still stealing. Still sociopaths. Still completely unmoored from anything resembling a conscience.

And no, you can’t trust the tech people - which we never should have.

As someone said (and I am too lazy to find it now, but it’s not my words, but they’re good words):

The tech bros are the assholes that watch the Matrix and they’re rooting for the Matrix.somebody, 2025

And yes, they are doing evil things.

And the worst part? It’s not shocking anymore. It’s just… another thing.

The grift is baked in. These are not mistakes or excesses. It’s design. They’re not just corrupt—they’re proud of it.

And we, collectively, seem unable to yank the controls out of their hands.

But I am also hopeful that this is a kind of last gasp of this kind of horseshit. We need to remain optimistic, not naive, but you can only build a future if you can see it. And I still see a future I wanna have.

So there.

Well, reading this one - why would you subscribe? But maybe you wanna anyway. I love my subscribers

RDV ASAP

Which brings me to the kid who cut my hair today. He couldn’t have been more than 17. I walked in—no appointment, just needed someone to do something to the mess on my head—and he was there, alone, while maybe his dad was out getting lunch.

Pro tip – no RDV and lunchtime are 2 big flags for questionable service in France. This country loves a rendez vous.

TO be fair, it was his older brother that cut my hair last time and did fine work – with no appointment! This kids looks a lot like his older brother.

The little brother said he was thinking about moving to the U.S. One day, maybe soon, to go to school and to play soccer there.

And I just froze for a second. Like—kid, have you heard anything? Do you know what it’s like over there right now? Bad idea, kiddo.

A fight with scissors

But he was sweet. Nervous, but trying. Gave me a truly terrible haircut, like “got into a fight with the scissors” level bad.

The kind of haircut that a kid would walk into my middle classroom with and the kids wouldn’t make fun of him.

That bad.

But I paid him anyway. Full price. Because, I don’t know, he seemed like a good kid.

Decent folks are just trying to get by while the worst people imaginable are already in the cockpit, slamming buttons to see what breaks.

It’s thieves, sociopaths, the ones who treat destruction like a résumé skill. And we’re still debating whether they should be in charge. Or playing catch up with whatever they’re doing.

Oh - and this guy is very likely to die in office and, no, that’s not a good thing.

This must be what it felt like under McCarthy, or Maduro, or Bukele. The juntas in Argentina and Uruguay. The leaders we used to study—now we’re part of the case study.

Anyway. My head looks ridiculous. I think this kid’s sense of depth perception is off somehow.

K

I always wanna hear from you. Anyone else just a little fried this week?

This song has nothing to do with any of this:

Les Chaussettes Noires - Dactylo Rock. (1962)

“Dactylo Rock” (1962) by Les Chaussettes Noires is a short, punchy burst of early French rock. I really like these gusy and their music has aged really well. Singer Eddy Mitchel (the stage name of Paris-born Claude Moine – Claude is not so common a Rocker Name, unless you’re Cloclo, then you can do anything, except change a lightbulb). The song is a mix of heavy American influences, twist-era rhythm, clean guitar licks, etc. The song is about a typist (dactylo, short for dactylographe “finger-writer,” more or less), a bored and overworked office worker who breaks free from her repetitive office routine and finds herself pulled toward the energy of rock and roll. It’s fun, and it captures a moment when French youth were leaning hard into American sounds. You can hear Chuck Berry and early Elvis in the structure and drive. It’s a time capsule – this would have been a bit rebellious when it came out.