It’s not even lunchtime and I’ve already ignored two New Year’s resolutions.
One: my morning snack did not consist of 12 almonds. Instead, next to me on this desk, it looks like Santa Claus gobbled a plate of Triscuits and pre-sliced cheddar cheese. Two: I skipped my 10 am yoga, conveniently checking my watch only after it had started.
Such is life. One resolution I will stick to is starting up the engines of my Substack column, Wheels Up. I’ll be covering how American power, success, and greed lift off. What keeps the chieftains of finance and industry aloft at such astronomical altitudes? What causes sudden death spirals? How do those who stumble from the wreckage, burnt and covered in soot, motor back to second and even third acts?
And, most fun of all, I’ll delve into the rapacious madness that drives these champions of American capitalism to want more of everything: more recognition, more crushing of opponents, more, well, stuff.
Why is there a Newtonian, inverse relationship between money and self-awareness? Put simply, how come rich people make no sense?