The United States has been in a civic crisis for decades. It’s not “just about manners,” but the lack of mannerly behavior is a widespread indicator of this problem. And manners are no small thing.

All societies have rules for how we engage with other people in a variety of settings, both formal and informal. Japan has “manners,” just as we do, even though the specific actions the Japanese take to signal good will to other people are different from the specific actions Americans take.

About seven seconds later, he finally offered verbal confirmation that he was aware of my existence: a monotone ‘’Sup.’

In the U.S., especially in Democrat/blue areas, manners are nearly extinct. The death of courtesy is a marker of a much deeper problem:

We no longer prize quality workmanship, functional products, or value for money. We only care about making the cheapest item or importing it from China.

Young people (roughly, those under 40) do not believe they owe work in exchange for their salary. They do not believe they owe even eye contact or vocal responses to customers.

Companies no longer care about customer service or fulfilling orders correctly because they do not have to care.

Americans have no “union,” if you will, of “ordinary consumers” who can exert pressure on big telecom companies or big-box chains. These companies have power because they make things we need, and they know we need them. Because consumers are not organized in a way that can exert leverage, companies do not experience much market punishment or market correction except in outlier cases like the recent kerfuffle over Cracker Barrel’s rebranding.

Best intentions

The story I’m about to tell you is typical and common where I live. This is the normal, everyday, standard experience. Those of you living in heavily blue/Democrat/woke/progressive areas have similar experiences; that’s where the social rot has set in most deeply.

I make a podcast/”TV show” every week. Both high-powered computers that process and transmit video in my home studio were zapped by a power surge. So I had to run to the big-box store to spend north of $2,000 for another computer so my business partner and I can make our show. My business partner ordered and paid online. I went to pick the equipment up. The order included a $2,100 computer and $200 in additional small merchandise like webcams and data cables.

The customer service desk at my local Best Buy had one employee serving another customer. When that customer left, the employee just stood there staring down at his computer. I waited quietly with my hands clasped in front of me. Nothing. He didn’t look up; he didn’t signal that he knew I was there. (I assure you, he did know.)

Gen Z stare

Why did I wait a full minute? Because experience has taught me that most requests for service from an employee are met with bemused detachment or hostility. I thought, “Better to just tolerate this and wait for him to acknowledge me than risk that angry glare because I spoke before I was spoken to.” No customer should have to make these calculations, but today we do.

Still nothing. So I walked a few steps closer. “Noah” (not his real name) looked up at me and gave me the “Gen Z stare,” vacantly gazing at me from behind black chunky glasses that covered half his face. No expression. No change in posture. No greeting. It started to feel uncomfortable.

Noah presented himself in the way that an astonishing number of young staff do today. Noah is the kind of person whose odd and slovenly appearance would have kept him from being employed at all when I was his age (about 20).

He was morbidly obese, as so many people are, but it wasn’t just that — I’m not making fun of fat people. It’s that he wore a skintight shirt that accentuated every curve, including — I’m sorry to write this — his breasts. I’m carrying 30 extra pounds myself, and I don’t walk around in Lycra stretch fabric inviting people to partake visually of every detail of my anatomy. But this is the “new normal” in public for employees today.

First contact

About seven seconds later, he finally offered verbal confirmation that he was aware of my existence: a monotone “’Sup."

I saw my opening and took it. “Hi, there. I’m here to pick up an order that my friend placed online and paid for. I’m having a little trouble pulling up the receipt on my phone, so would you like me —”

“Bar code,” he interrupted me.

That's what he said. Just the two-word phrase “bar code.” Was it a question? A command? A password challenge for access to a secret, actually helpful, customer service counter?

“I’m not sure what you mean by bar code," I responded. "But if that’s something included in the email, again, I’m having trouble pulling it up. Can I give you some other kind of information that would help?”

Smooth customer

I am polite when I do business in public. I maintain a warm tone of voice. A dozen years as a waiter and bartender, a few years in retail, plus two decades counseling grieving people by phone trained me in how to smoothly communicate with anyone, including people who are upset. I know how rude customers can be, so I take care to be friendly and approachable when I’m a customer.

All that to say, I was actively nice to this young man. I’m polite to every staff member of a business I patronize. Far too often, I get nothing back at all, or I get hostility, as I did last night.

“What’s your name?” Noah demanded. I told him.

Staring down at his iPad, he walked into the back room. He emerged carrying two small boxes containing the cables and the webcam. He did not have the computer. He placed the boxes on the counter and continued to look at his iPad without speaking to me or looking at me.

I waited about five seconds before saying, “I think there is more merchandise to this order.”

Notice that I did not say, “You forgot my computer.” I used a gentle, roundabout way to say it because I’ve learned that if you signal that a staffer has made a mistake, they will sometimes melt down.

Noah did not glance up at me. He kept staring at the iPad as he went back to the stock room. He brought out the computer and put all three boxes in my hand. Then, after a few words (I think I heard him say good night in a perfunctory way) he went back behind his counter.

He did not give me a receipt; he did not stamp the boxes to indicate that I had paid for the merchandise. I wondered about this, as the store has a lectern at the exit to stop shoplifters by checking receipts.

Trust fail

Here’s what I didn’t tell you until now: Noah never asked me for a driver’s license or a credit card to prove that I was the Josh Slocum who paid for these items. He made no effort to determine that I was the paying customer, not a thief. What if he had handed it to someone else, and when I arrived, the store told me, “Yes, you did pick these up already because our system says you did”?

At this point, I needed to leave the store to keep my temper. So I just walked out with my merchandise (paid for, but how did they know?). None of the three employees at the shoplifting/receipt-checking lectern at the front glanced at me as I walked by. Two were talking to each other, and the third was running his thumbs over his phone.

This is why we have so much shoplifting. There are no consequences to naked, caught-on-camera thievery.

Gilbert Uzan/Getty Images

Punching out

There are certainly no consequences to employees who are incompetent, rude, and who allow expensive merchandise to simply disappear. They do not get fired. Why would they? Do you think a manager in this Best Buy can’t see how these employees fail to do their jobs? She sees what I see. It’s either that she doesn’t care, or those above her don’t care, so she’s just stopped putting in any effort.

What are we going to do? Is there anything we can do? We don’t have market power as consumers, so that’s out. Government regulation usually brings more problems than it solves, so that doesn’t seem like a good way to go. But this cannot go on.

Well, it can, actually. We can become like former Soviet states; hell, we’re already three-quarters of the way there. When I tell stories like these to older people who immigrated from communist countries, they get a pained look and say, “This is what it was like for us, and it’s happening here. But no one will listen to us.”

If you see a way out that I do not see, please share it in the comments.

California may defy Trump with new statewide EV credits

California is once again at the center of the nation’s automotive and energy policy debate. With federal electric vehicle tax credits set to expire this September, the state is considering whether to create its own replacement program.

This would not only affect car buyers but could also reshape the national conversation on emissions rules, vehicle affordability, and the balance of power between state and federal regulators.

With its ZEV mandate and aggressive environmental policies, California is pushing automakers, consumers, and policymakers to adapt — whether they’re ready or not.

The California Air Resources Board (CARB) released a report on August 19 recommending that the state consider “backfilling” the federal credits with its own point-of-sale rebates, vouchers, or other incentives to keep EV sales moving.

The details remain vague, but the intention is clear: California wants to keep its aggressive zero-emission vehicle goals on track, even as Washington scales back related programs.

Emissions mission

But California has been here before. This is not the first time the state has clashed with the federal government over vehicle regulations — and it likely won’t be the last.

California has a unique history when it comes to vehicle emissions. Decades before the federal government created the Environmental Protection Agency, California was already regulating air quality in response to its smog problem.

When the Clean Air Act was passed in 1970, California was granted a waiver that allowed it to set its own stricter emissions standards. Other states were given the option to adopt California’s rules, and some states have done so. Today, 11 states follow California’s lead.

This waiver authority has made California an outsize force in shaping vehicle propulsion. Automakers cannot ignore a market of this size, which means California’s rules often become de facto national standards.

Better red than fed

California’s regulatory independence has not always sat well with Washington. Under different administrations, the federal government has either supported or resisted the state’s authority. During the Obama years, California partnered with the federal government to create a unified fuel economy and emissions program, giving automakers a single set of national rules.

Under the Trump administration, the EPA rolled back certain emissions standards, sparking legal battles with California, which insisted on enforcing its own tougher rules. The state formed alliances with other states and even some automakers to defend its position.

Today, with federal EV tax credits expiring at the end of September and policy focus shifting, California is again stepping into the driver’s seat by proposing its own financial incentives. These ongoing disputes highlight a deeper question: Should environmental and automotive policy be driven by national uniformity or by one state acting as the policy leader?

Forever ZEV?

The discussion over tax credits cannot be separated from California’s ZEV mandate. Under CARB’s plan, automakers must steadily increase the percentage of EVs they sell, with the ultimate goal of phasing out new gasoline-powered vehicle sales by 2035.

This is one of the most ambitious policies in the country, and automakers are scrambling to meet the targets. Some states, such as New York and Massachusetts, have pledged to follow California’s lead, while others remain skeptical. For consumers, this means that vehicle availability will increasingly be shaped by government mandates and not by market demand. Even if gas-powered cars remain popular, automakers will need to balance that demand with regulatory compliance.

Different strokes

The CARB report suggests that any new program would differ from the federal credits in key ways. Instead of tax credits, buyers could receive point-of-sale rebates, allowing them to benefit immediately rather than waiting until tax season.

Incentives may also vary depending on income level, vehicle type, or price, so luxury EVs could receive lower rebates while affordable models get more support.

Additionally, any new program would be tied to yearly funding availability, meaning that if budgets tighten, rebates could shrink or disappear. This approach could make the system more flexible, but it also introduces uncertainty for buyers trying to plan their purchases. In the past, the state of California and other states have run out of money in the EV fund and left buyers with nothing.

Justin Sullivan/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Electric slide

The promise of continued incentives may be welcome news for some California drivers, but the reality is more complicated. EVs still come with challenges beyond sticker price. Even with rebates, EVs are often thousands of dollars more expensive than comparable gasoline cars.

California has built more chargers than any other state, yet many regions remain underserved, and home charging is not always an option, particularly for renters.

EVs also tend to depreciate faster than gas vehicles due to rapid advances in technology and concerns about battery life. Insurance rates are higher on electric vehicles as well.

And let’s not forget a major expense: Electricity rates are rising at double the rate of inflation.

One of the key criticisms of EV subsidies is that they often benefit wealthier households. Data from federal programs has shown that a large percentage of credits went to buyers in higher income brackets because these households are more likely to purchase new cars, and EVs remain disproportionately concentrated in the premium market segment.

California may attempt to address this with scaled incentives, but questions remain about whether the system can truly deliver benefits to everyone. Meanwhile, working-class families who rely on affordable used cars may find themselves subsidizing programs that they cannot realistically take advantage of.

Bowing to the bear

For automakers, California’s decisions carry immense weight. The state accounts for nearly 12% of U.S. auto sales, and when you include the other states that follow its rules, the market share becomes impossible to ignore.

Manufacturers that fail to meet California’s requirements face penalties, while those that comply can earn credits to sell or trade. This system has created an uneven playing field, favoring companies with strong EV lineups.

Tesla, for instance, has profited significantly from selling ZEV credits to competitors in the past. If California establishes a robust new rebate system, it could further tilt the market toward EVs, encouraging automakers to prioritize them even more, take greater losses on each vehicle.

Off the market

At its core, this debate is about whether government policy should drive technology adoption or whether the market should dictate the pace.

California argues that aggressive incentives and mandates are necessary to address climate goals and push the auto industry forward. Critics counter that these policies distort the market, forcing automakers and taxpayers to shoulder costs that may not align with consumer demand. They also warn of unintended consequences, such as reduced affordability, lack of charging stations, and strained electrical infrastructure.

California’s proposal to replace expiring federal EV tax credits with state-funded incentives is the latest chapter in a decades-long story of the state asserting its role as the nation’s automotive regulator.

With its ZEV mandate and aggressive environmental policies, California is pushing automakers, consumers, and policymakers to adapt — whether they’re ready or not.

For some wealthier car buyers, this could mean continued financial support when purchasing an EV, but it also raises questions about long-term effectiveness. For taxpayers, it means another debate about where funds should be directed and increased taxes for residents. For the auto industry, it underscores more losses on vehicles that are designed by one state’s demands.

As history shows, when California moves, the rest of the country often feels the impact. The next few months will reveal whether the state can successfully design a program that keeps EV sales going without overburdening its citizens with more increased taxes. But one thing is certain: California still has significant power over the U.S. auto industry.

God save the English pub

Forget about the riots, censorship, and the gradual transition into full-blown anarcho-tyranny. If the pub dies, England will truly lose its soul.

Let me explain. We like to drink. A lot. English culture revolves around alcohol, like electrons around a nucleus. Drinking is in our blood. There’s nothing we won’t drink to, no place we won’t pop open a beer.

Elsewhere, an angry Muslim man is suing the Saracen’s Head in Buckinghamshire for its alleged ’Islamophobic’ name and sign.

When commercial air travel became affordable to the working class, the airplane evolved into a flying bar. I once boarded the same plane as a bunch of inebriated women on a hen party to Spain. A drunken woman punching a man on an economy flight to Ibiza is something of a British rite of passage.

Drinking it in

Ours is a country steeped in history, tradition, and strong drink. Like the Irish, we can boast of many an ale-quaffing literary heavyweight. It was Chaucer who made reference to the Tabard Inn almost 700 years ago in "The Canterbury Tales." Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare drank in the George Inn just a few yards away.

The Tabard was demolished in 1873. The George still exists but only as a museum — an apt symbol for our current crisis.

A few days ago, I walked past a place I regularly used to drink. It was like seeing a ghost. A poster case housing thousands of papered-over concert flyers half an inch thick has been ripped down, leaving the exposed brickwork cracked, discolored, and casting an ominous shadow.

From a broken window, I saw that the chairs were stacked on tables, the oak bar counter was gone, and the copper foot rail had been removed from its bolts. The doors were locked, and the loud neon sign that had once welcomed me in like an old friend now sat silently on the ground, gathering dirt.

Poignant pints

Standing there, aghast, my heart sank, and I felt the pangs of nostalgia. You see, It was more than just a pub. It was a repository of memories. Imagine if bricks could tell stories: a place that my friend took me after my first break up. As a young man, it was where I came to know my father as he slipped a pint across the table without saying anything. On late nights, it was where co-workers danced while the jukebox played the Pogues and everyone sang along.

I remember the beer garden where I chatted up a future girlfriend, asking her for a light, and that dimly lit back room where I jumped off a speaker stack into the sticky, beer-soaked floor at my first ever live gig. It’s where my best friend shared his heart-wrenching news that he only had a few weeks left and the place where locals came together to raise a glass in his memory when he was gone.

What ales us

We are losing an average of one pub per day. Since 2020, more than 2,000 have shut their doors for good. Economic factors have played a big part in the decline of the industry. Escalating business rates, VAT, and alcohol duties are causing many pubs to close — one-third of the cost of a pint now goes toward taxes. Landlords have been forced to increase prices due to the escalating expenses. It's predicted that the price of a pint could double in less than a decade. In some parts of London, it has reached 10 pounds. As a result, many people now buy alcohol from the off license (liquor store) and drink it at home.

The culture wars have also played a part. Pubs with names like the Black Bitch, the Black Boy, and the Blacks Head have all been changed due to racial identitarians spouting nonsense about systemic/structural/institutional racism.

Head case

Elsewhere, an angry Muslim man is suing the Saracen’s Head in Buckinghamshire for its alleged "Islamophobic" name and sign. Every time Khalid Baqa walks past the pub in Amersham, he is "shocked and deeply offended" seeing the name Saracen — the name for Arabs and Muslims in the Middle Ages. The 61-year-old Baqa claims that the pub sign "incites violence" and glorifies "decapitating/beheading Muslims." He wants the landlord to pay him £1,800 for the offense. If successful, he plans to target the other 30 British pubs with the same name.

The plaintiff turns out to be a convicted terrorist. In 2018, he was sentenced to four years and eight months in prison for creating and distributing jihadi propaganda. No need to worry; in an interview with the Sun newspaper, he claims to have "stopped all the terrorism stuff now."

Blaze Media Illustration

Ours to save

Defending our culture goes far beyond stopping a mad Muslim pensioner from declaring jihad on a 500-year-old bar. We must fight a true culture war. In order to save pubs, taxes must be cut, grants and subsidies allocated to community-owned pubs, and new planning laws enacted to prevent developers from tearing down historic buildings such as pubs and churches, which serve as important social hubs.

Pubs are where the English laugh, cry, and argue. They bring people together. As a result, they act as an antidote to loneliness and isolation, two of the most insidious and pervasive threats in our time. As I sat in my new local pub, I noticed a young woman and her father befriending an elderly man. Three strangers, two generations bonded over fries and Guinness. That’s what community means. And we are losing it.

The past is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there

Recently, my wife and I spent a night in Milwaukee. I was there for work, and she came along just for the fun of it. We left the kids with our parents and had 30 peaceful hours all to ourselves.

When you are in the thick of raising young kids, getting away for just one night feels like a hard reset or some kind of meditative retreat that leaves you clear in both mind and spirit. It was a good trip, it was a fun trip, it was a reflective trip.

We sat outside on the roof at Benelux in the Third Ward imagining life if we never left. If we never had kids. If we never changed. If we just ... stayed.

We lived in Milwaukee for a few years before we had kids. We rented a big loft with concrete floors and high ceilings. It was just one big, barren, concrete room. The only walls were the ones separating the bathroom from the rest of the place. It was up on the eighth floor; we had a great view of downtown.

We used old shipping pallets to divide the room. We didn’t have any money back then. We still don’t, but we have more than we did. When we moved to Milwaukee, we didn’t have jobs. I convinced the landlord to rent us the apartment without proof of income or proof of employment. I don’t know if it was possible because things were just really different before, because she was just really nice, or because I was just really convincing. It was probably a mix of all three.

Cart blanche

A few weeks after we moved, we found a shopping cart abandoned by a bus stop. We took it home and used it every week at the grocery store. We would push it to store empty, buy our groceries, and then push it, now completely full, back to the apartment again, stowing it next to the front door until next week’s trip. It was efficient and worked well, and I am sure we looked absolutely absurd.

We had a great time there. Those few years in the concrete loft before we had kids gave us a lot of great memories and a great start to our lives together. But going back and visiting was odd. We hadn’t been back since we left years ago, and finding ourselves in the same places completely unchanged as people who have very much changed felt somehow wrong.

Don't look back

It felt like some strange corruption of memories or maybe like we were somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. Almost like someone might come up to us and ask, “What are you doing here?” It felt like we were taking a detour down some road that’s been blocked off and just looking around for a bit before getting back on the highway again. It was strange and surreal.

Tamer Soliman via iStock/Getty Images

Maybe it’s because life only goes one way. We can’t go back in time. We can’t change the past. We can’t revisit who we were. Maybe in some way, going back to where we lived before feels like attempting to do something we cannot do. It’s like building a replica of some old world city here in the new one. It’s just not right. It’s not as it should be. We can’t go back, and why would we want to anyway?

The path not taken

Well, I don’t want to go back and live life as it was. Walking around there, just us two, talking about how we were then and how we are now, all we could really say was that while we loved being there when we were there and that those memories are ones we treasure still, we are glad we are no longer there. I don’t just mean physically there, either. I mean mentally, spiritually, and situationally there. We very much like where we are now and wouldn’t change it for anything.

We sat outside on the roof at Benelux in the Third Ward imagining life if we never left. If we never had kids. If we never changed. If we just ... stayed. We could have very easily done all that. That kind of life could have happened to us if we let it. The years would have passed at the same rate, we would be the same age, but we wouldn’t be the same. And we both sat there together, slightly nostalgic for who we were — and grateful for who we are today.

Part of the plan

I think that’s how we are supposed to feel. All of it. We’re supposed to love those memories of youth, but we’re also supposed to cringe a little bit at our past feelings or opinions. We’re supposed to not quite respect our past selves. We’re supposed to laugh at how naive we were. It means we’ve grown and that’s a good thing. And we’re supposed to feel kind of weird going back to where we once lived. We’re supposed to feel a little out of step there in that foreign world of the past. We are no longer who we were, that’s the truth, and that’s OK.

The next morning, we left on the ferry to take us back. Watching Milwaukee disappear into the distance as we headed east across Lake Michigan, we were glad we had a day away, thankful for the lives we lived years ago, and happy we were going home to who we are today

We shared interests, humor, and great chemistry ... then she asked about our 'values'

I matched with Jane on OkCupid. Not Tinder (which is for hookups). Not Hinge (which is for hookups with intellectuals). But OkCupid, which is — in the online dating world — a kind of normie land.

That’s where the more ordinary, more boring singles go to meet people they can do boring things with (meet for coffee, etc.).

'You don’t have to live like this. You can just have coffee with a person.'

Jane was above average in looks. She had a job. She liked stuff I liked. She didn’t have pictures of herself doing sexy poses on a yacht. Or sneering and holding up her middle finger to the camera.

She seemed nice. Like genuinely nice. And normal. Possibly sane. That’s a serious win in the online dating realm.

The fine art of small talk

We texted back and forth on the OkCupid app, chatting, getting to know each other.

When our conversation reached a natural lull, I proposed a coffee date for later that week. I suggested a quiet café in the city. She said yes.

For the next couple of days, I daydreamed about our meeting. I felt like even if we didn’t fall in love, it would still be nice to have coffee with a relaxed, easygoing person.

This is often the best part of dating: those moments of happy anticipation, of feeling pleasantly excited about a date.

A surprise message!

But then, on the night before our date, I got a new message from Jane. I thought she was going to cancel. That happens a lot. People get cold feet.

Before I even opened her message, I considered how I might convince her to go through with our meeting. I often got cold feet myself before internet dates. Everybody did.

I would remind her it was just coffee, just a half-hour of her time. And the café was nice. You could look out the window. Why not? You only live once ...

I opened her message. It wasn’t cold feet. She was writing because we hadn’t discussed our “values” in our previous messaging. Shared values were important to her in a relationship, she said. She wanted to confirm that we were “on the same page” in that regard.

Bridge Entertainment Labs

How to respond?

I was surprised by this message. This didn’t sound like the person I had been texting with before. She hadn’t mentioned her values in our previous conversation. She didn’t put them in her profile. That’s why I liked her!

I hadn’t put my values in my profile either. Like what kind of values was she even talking about? Did she mean things like being an honest and upstanding guy? I try to do that.

Or did “values” just mean political positions? Like on immigration reform, or abortion, or mail-in ballots?

This was a tricky situation. I would have to think about it.

Boys vs. girls

The problem was, I’m a guy. When I think of “values,” I think of things like being “good on your word.” Like if you say you’re going to help your buddy move, you help him move. Even if it’s raining.

Or like when you’re a kid and you get in a fight. You don’t try to really hurt the other guy. Once somebody wins, you let up. You act in an honorable way.

Which is different from the qualities women value: compassion. Empathy. Helping people who can’t help themselves. These are also excellent characteristics for a person to have. But they are a little more female-coded.

But what if Jane was thinking of specific things, like she hates Trump and insists that I hate him too? That doesn’t seem fair.

The truth is that men and women approach politics differently. In the past, that was considered a good thing. That was the yin and yang of heterosexual relationships.

I thought back to past girlfriends. Had we always agreed about politics? Of course not. Had it caused problems in the relationships? Not really. In some ways, it made them stronger.

Beware the friend group

I still had to respond to Jane. What should I say? I went back through our original text conversation. There she was: nice, agreeable Jane. Just like I remembered.

So why the sudden need to clarify our values?

I concluded this was probably her friends. Or maybe her co-workers. Or maybe her therapist. Jane had told somebody about our date and they were advising her not to meet me until she had questioned me about my political orientation.

The response

I didn’t know what to write back. I started texting different things but then deleted them. And then I felt sad. Sad for her. Sad for myself. An invisible wall of toxic politics was being forced between us, blocking us from the simple pleasure of meeting up.

I finally texted: “I try not to discuss politics on the first date.” And then I said something like: “You don’t have to live like this. You can just have coffee with a person.”

She didn’t respond right away. Maybe she was thinking about it. I hoped she was.

But then the next morning we were unmatched. She had disappeared. Maybe she had blocked me? Then I felt even more sad. And I felt bad for her.

What could have been

But I still think about Jane. What if she had been the one? In another time, a less political era, we might have met for coffee, gone for a walk, made a connection.

She would put up with my male perspective. I would put up with her female perspective. Like men and women have been doing throughout human history.

Who knows what might have happened?

84-month car loans: Smart move or financial trap?

Car buying has never been more complicated — or more expensive. The average new car price has climbed to nearly $49,000, compared to just under $34,000 a decade ago, according to Kelley Blue Book. That kind of sticker shock leaves many buyers asking: “How can I possibly afford this?”

Dealers are quick to provide an answer: the 84-month car loan.

For years, the buyer will owe more than the vehicle is worth. If they try to sell or trade in the car, they’ll need to pay the bank just to get out of the loan.

It sounds simple at first, but it’s a trap. Spread across seven years, the monthly payments shrink to a number that feels manageable to most people. A $50,000 vehicle suddenly seems affordable when the cost is sliced into smaller installments, but is this really a smart solution, or does it carry consequences that can trap buyers in years of financial frustration?

No accident

The rise of 84-month loans is no accident. Dealerships benefit enormously from pushing buyers into longer financing terms. Smaller monthly payments make it easier for salespeople to convince customers to move up to pricier trims, tack on optional packages, or select luxury features that would otherwise be out of reach.

For the financing office, stretching out the term makes it easier to close deals with so-called payment shoppers — those who focus only on whether they can afford the monthly bill, not the total cost of the vehicle. In addition, a lower monthly car payment improves the buyer’s debt-to-income ratio, which helps more customers qualify for loans they might not have secured under traditional 36-month terms.

On the surface, this seems like a win-win arrangement. The buyer gets the car they want at a payment they can afford, while the dealer locks in a bigger sale. But what feels like an opportunity on day one quickly becomes a burden as the true cost of the loan takes shape. And in the end, you will pay a bigger price.

Costly trade-off

Why? The most obvious issue is interest you pay. When a car loan stretches across seven years, there are far more months for interest charges to accumulate. Only the finance company wins.

Consider a buyer who finances $40,000 at 7% interest with a traditional 60-month loan — they’ll pay roughly $7,500 in interest. With an 84-month loan, that interest expense number climbs to more than $10,700.

In other words, the buyer pays over $3,000 more for the privilege of lowering their monthly bill. For most households, that’s a costly trade-off.

And higher interest rates themselves don’t remain equal. Lenders know that a seven-year loan carries more risk than a five-year loan, so the rate is higher. Over that longer period, economic conditions could change, inflation could rise, or the borrower’s financial situation could deteriorate. To protect themselves, banks and credit unions often attach higher rates to longer loans. That means buyers aren’t just paying interest for more years — they’re paying higher interest rates, and the only one that makes out is the financial institution.

Blaze Media

Much depreciated

The financial pitfalls don’t stop there. Vehicles are depreciating assets. The moment a new car leaves the dealership, it loses about 20% of its value. Within the first year, that loss can climb to 30%.

With long-term loans, the first several years of payments go mostly toward interest, with very little progress made on the loan principal. The result is what’s known as negative equity, or being “upside down.” For years, the buyer will owe more than the vehicle is worth. If they try to sell or trade in the car, they’ll need to pay the bank just to get out of the loan. This forces you to keep the vehicle for a longer period of time or take the big financial penalty.

Warranty warning

This problem is compounded by warranties. Most new vehicles come with a bumper-to-bumper warranty that lasts three years or 36,000 miles, and a powertrain warranty that typically extends to five years or 60,000 miles.

Those timelines don’t come close to covering a seven-year loan. That means a buyer still making monthly payments could face a transmission or engine failure with no warranty protection. They would be paying for expensive repairs on top of paying down the car itself, a double hit that can wreck household budgets. And these extended warranty companies are not worth the money either, which would increase your monthly payment on top of the car payment.

With prices rising for both new and used vehicles, long loan terms are more than just a temptation — they are, for many families, the only way to fit a car payment into the monthly budget.

But while the appeal is easy to see, the long-term risks are just as clear. Stretching a loan to seven years often leaves buyers paying thousands more in interest, trapped in negative equity, and financially vulnerable if their circumstances change. In the event of job loss, medical bills, or an unexpected expense, they may be stuck with a car they can’t afford to keep but also can’t afford to sell.

Making it make sense

This doesn’t mean long-term loans are never justified. There are a few situations where they can make sense. Some automakers offer 0% financing for qualified buyers, which eliminates the concern over accruing interest. Others may find themselves on a fixed budget where the choice is either a longer loan or no car at all. And in cases where a buyer plans to keep a reliable, higher-quality vehicle for a decade or more, the extra interest paid over time may balance out in the long run. You have to be honest and consider the true costs.

Still, for the majority of consumers, financial experts consistently recommend avoiding 84-month loans. The smarter move is to aim for 48- or 60-month loan terms, which not only save on interest but also keep buyers closer to a car’s actual value throughout the life of the loan. Car shoppers should also consider more affordable vehicles, make larger down payments, or explore certified pre-owned options to keep their finances in check.

Cars may be getting more expensive, but debt traps don’t have to be part of the deal. Buyers who look beyond the monthly payment and focus instead on the total cost of ownership will be far better positioned to protect both their wallets and their peace of mind.

The finance manager at any dealer is going to try and close the sale. That’s their job. Yours is to understand just what you’re getting into when you sign a long-term loan.

America's last laugh: Talking shop with the founders of Flip City Magazine

Hannah Arendt famously said that the most effective method to subvert authority is to laugh. Political cartoonists have weaponized wit for centuries. As the influence of print media declined, meme-makers took up the challenge, waging ideological war far more swiftly and efficiently than any politician's speech.

The downside is that the elite frequently lack a sense of humor.

'It's the world that's vulgar. It's a dark, yucky world that has to be made fun of. But that's not our fault.'

During medieval and Tudor England, only the court jester was allowed to mock and insult the king; everyone else was imprisoned, branded, and mutilated, or worse, hung, drawn, and quartered. People in power have eliminated those who make fun of them for millennia, driven by narcissism and non-tolerance of criticism. Since the days of Aristotle and Aristophanes, attempts have been made to silence artists by arrest, torture, and death.

In our own time, the hangman, oubliette, and rack have given way to the digital horrors of deplatforming and cancellation. As effective as these have proven, there's a growing sense that "wokeness" is on the verge of extinction.

The linguistic straightjacket of political correctness is beginning to loosen, and artists are emerging from the shadows, taking a well-deserved breath of fresh air, and finally pushing back against what has become one of the most censorious periods in modern history. After being held down for so long, there’s a lot of work to be done. It’s time to Make America Laugh Again.™️

Flip City Magazine has been reporting for duty since its 2020 founding. And while memes may still reign supreme, the Southern California-based crew aims to skewer pretensions the old-fashioned way — with an honest-to-God paper-and-ink periodical "delivered begrudgingly to your door by your woke mailman."

Align recently corresponded via email with Flip City co-founders and editors Scott and Christy McKenzie, who submitted their replies jointly.

ALIGN: Could you tell us a little about yourself with everyone? Who you are, where you’re located, and what you do? How many people do you have working for you?

Scott and Christy McKenzie: We are Scott and Christy McKenzie, editors of Flip City Magazine, an independent quarterly comics and satire print magazine (described by comics luminary Mike Baron as "funnier than MAD or Cracked"), which we have published out of our remote home office in the Southern California mountains since 2020.

Every issue is packed with TV and movie parodies, comics, stories, interviews that don't insult your intelligence. We've hosted and published over 40 writers and illustrators to date. While we bill ourselves as "America's Last Laugh," we have contributors from Sydney to Scotland to SAF.

Flip City Magazine

A: What inspired the creation of the magazine?

S&C: We were coming off a D-list movie project that went sideways. I needed a project into which I could dump every nugget of gold (or, alternately, flaming turd) idea that passed through my head, and this was the best format.

Smart satire magazines had phased out by the early '90s in favor of men's lifestyle mags, leaving a void that nobody thought was worth filling. I don't think anybody has known what to do, with no reason to revive a passé format just to compete for crumbs with the remnants of MAD, publishing more lifeless corporate comedy and Trump hate.

But to resurrect it as a tool of counterculture, that has value. A free America has to have a satire magazine that's independent and essentially populist.

And it's only going to happen here from the looks of things. We are now, as Cracked editor Mort Todd put it, "the world's only satire magazine," for all "in tents and porpoises."

A: What were your influences?

S&C: Early on, Saturday morning cartoons and color Sunday funnies. Which if you missed out on those days, that was some good times, with your bowl of cereal. Later, Cracked Magazine and MAD, "The Dr. Demento Show" for the funniest songs, and in the 1990s, alternative comics publishers like Fantagraphics. "The Book of the Subgenius" might have radicalized me.

A: Can you explain a little bit about the ideas process? How long does it take to go from pen to page?

S&C: It might take a couple of days to write the better part of a feature or a parody once I've got an angle. "Joker 2" (Vol. 23) was a musical parody with five songs, and I took my time to get it right. Readers who expect to hate musicals said they were pleasantly surprised. A musical parody is a delicate thing that can go wrong in so many ways, much like "Joker 2." I'll pass it on to one of our tremendous illustrator talents like Ben Sullivan or Dangerous Dave MacDowell, and they'll reliably send back something that kills.

A: It’s pretty safe to say a more progressive element of the left has had something resembling ideological dominance over the entertainment industry for the last 10 years or so. Did you find it hard to find an audience?

S&C: We were fortunate enough to have a couple of YouTube advocates early on to get us going.

We initially offered Vol. 1 in digital format or in a short print run, and subscribers overwhelmingly chose print. So there is still plenty of demand for physical media.

However, there are plenty of platforms and influencers on the right who wouldn't touch us. And the reason is that they can't control our message, and many don't want to take any chances at upsetting their viewers or advertisers.

Flip City Magazine

Most notably at the beginning was the Babylon Bee, who dubbed us "too edgy and vulgar" to advertise with them, which is entirely their prerogative. Although at the time, we were fairly clean. It's the world that's vulgar. It's a dark, yucky world that has to be made fun of. But that's not our fault.

People love to complain about the lack of alternative culture but Flip City is actually a solution. It heaps ridicule on people who deserve it, without being preachy. It's the kind of cultural thing that people are literally asking for all the time. And it can be a huge thing and sway hearts and minds if people get behind it, support it, and subscribe. It's just a good old-fashioned, all-American, funny mag, y'all.

A: As a Brit, I envy your First Amendment. My home country is awash with laws and regulations regarding the online regulation of speech. A recent investigation revealed that an average of 12,000 people are arrested each year for sending "grossly offensive" messages on the internet. Have you run into any problems or faced backlash over any controversial issues? Does the threat of cancel culture worry you guys?

S&C: Only subscription cancellations. They seem to peak when we poke the wrong sacred cow. I think our heritage subscribers have been conditioned by now to expect anything and trust us.

New readers aren't sure what they're going to get. They see a slick magazine and assume it must lean left because they've never seen anything else. And I think many are hesitant to believe it could be genuinely funny, despite praise from luminaries like Quite Frankly and James Corbett, because of the right's track record on comedy. So you can't blame them.

A: Do you consider yourself to be an equal-opportunity offender? Are there any targets on the right that you would think would be perfect to send up?

S&C: We've done bits about Dennis Prager and Charlie Kirk, and recently a Conservative Blowhard mini-magazine with columns by Tim Poolboy and Jack Poachposobiec. It's clearly a goof on establishment gatekeepers and "Conservative, Incorporated," as many call it. But it probably cost us some readers.

Sometimes, people don't get the joke and think you're the enemy. Everybody's looking for a tell that you don't agree with them about everything. We don't mind shedding readers, to a point. We want the best and the brightest readers.

George Caleb Bingham: The Jolly Flatboatmen (1846) | National Gallery of Art

A: I’ve read a bunch of your spoof pieces, and I have to say, your parodies special edition had me laughing so much — it was hilarious! With all the endless political pandering and progressive messages crowbarred into mainstream culture, would you say Hollywood has become a parody of itself?

S&C: Thanks! Ben Sullivan is a parody illustrator on par with the greats and really deserves to be recognized. Hopefully, our upcoming print edition of the Parodies will get him more attention.

The industry may be a self-parody, but that doesn't make it beyond parody. As long as it sucks, there will be a way to goof on it. A satire-proof utopia is unlikely in our lifetimes.

A: It's been 10 years since the 2015 Charlie Hebdo massacre in France, when Islamic terrorists shot and killed 12 people for publishing a cartoon depicting the prophet Muhammed. Is there any subject matter off limits?

S&C: We're not looking for that kind of action, though we do make fun of Antifa quite a bit, so we shouldn't let our guard down.

Nobody wants to hear this, but the limits are determined by what people are willing to pay to read. There is no monolithic block of free-speech absolutists. People will weaponize their dollars against you if your hot takes start to annoy them, and they'll go spend that money on Sydney Sweeney jeans just to show you. You could even make the argument that Flip City is being held hostage by the very readers we sought to entertain! For which the only remedy is more subscribers, to loosen the chokehold of these elitists over our content. And now you see how a print subscription is basically a win for democracy.

A: Comedy is a powerful medium with which to challenge elite power. The ruling class doesn't like to be mocked. It is claimed that Stalin sent 200,000 people in the USSR to the Gulag for making jokes about him and the communist regime. In a recent episode, "South Park" turned its attention to Republican Kristi Noem. How do you think leading politicians should react?

S&C: I think a zero-tolerance policy would yield the best results. We're talking FBI raids, enhanced interrogation methods. Find out who they are really working for. Possible ballistic missile strikes on their Culver City studio. Matt and Trey go to CECOT.

Also Stephen Colbert, he should be crushed under our regime's iron fist and his bones ground into powder to fertilize our crops.

A: What can we expect to see for the rest of 2025?

S&C: Our Best of the Parodies 80-page special edition goes on pre-sale starting September 1 on our website, featuring the brilliant work of Ben Sullivan and our send-ups of "The Walking Dead," "Stranger Things," "Star Trek: Picard," "The Mandalorian," "Guardians of the Galaxy," and more! We're also working on new animated cartoons based on our parodies for 2026.

Ride or die: How Ford, Honda, VW, and 3 more got stuck with California's strict emission standards

Electric or gas? The battle over the future of the automobile is far from over. Trump may have killed the federal EV mandate, but California’s still pushing hard for zero-emission vehicles, with a plan to phase out new gas-powered car sales by 2035.

While most of the industry is taking a wait-and-see approach, six major automakers — Ford, Honda, Volkswagen, BMW, Aston Martin, and Volvo — are firmly on Team California, whether they like it or not. That's thanks to contracts they signed in 2019 locking them into the state's strict emissions rules through 2026.

Are Ford, Honda, and the others at a disadvantage, stuck with more costly standards? Or are they ahead of the curve, ready for a future where emissions rules only get tougher?

Bad bet?

California muscle

To be fair, the odds may have looked a little better six years ago. California isn’t just the land of beaches and Hollywood — it’s a regulatory powerhouse in the auto world. Thanks to Section 209 of the Clean Air Act, the Golden State has a unique privilege: It can set tougher vehicle emissions standards than the federal government as long as the Environmental Protection Agency gives it a thumbs-up.

Why? Decades ago, California started battling smog in cities like Los Angeles, and it’s been a trailblazer in clean air policy ever since. More than a dozen states — New York, Massachusetts, and Oregon among them — follow California's emissions standards, impacting about a third of the U.S. auto market.

Back in 2019, things got messy. The Trump administration pulled California’s EPA waiver, aiming to enforce one federal standard for fuel economy and emissions under the Corporate Average Fuel Economy program. This move was like throwing a wrench into the auto industry’s engine. California pushed back hard, and automakers were caught in the crossfire, facing a patchwork of rules. Enter the California Framework Agreements — a deal that would tie six automakers to California’s standards, no matter what happened in Washington.

Locked in

In July 2019, Ford, Honda, Volkswagen, and BMW stepped up to the plate, signing voluntary but ironclad agreements with the California Air Resources Board. Aston Martin and Volvo later jumped on board. These Framework Agreements committed the automakers to boosting fuel efficiency by roughly 3.7% annually and slashing greenhouse gas emissions for vehicles sold in California and its allied states, all the way through the 2026 model year.

Why sign on to such a deal? For these companies, it was a calculated move. The 2019 revocation of California’s waiver created a regulatory nightmare — automakers faced the prospect of designing cars for two different sets of rules. By aligning with California, these six sidestepped potential lawsuits, gained a clear roadmap for compliance, and scored some eco-friendly street cred.

It was a bet that California’s influence would outlast federal flip-flops. But here’s the thing: These contracts are binding, no matter what the feds do. Even when the Biden administration restored California’s waiver in 2022, these automakers were still on the hook for the 2019 terms.

Federal trumps state

Not every company was ready to tie itself to California’s control. Big players like General Motors, Toyota, and Stellantis leaned toward the Trump administration’s push for a single federal standard, hoping to simplify their lives. This split has created a fascinating divide in the industry as well as some potential nightmares.

Imagine the auto market as a chessboard. The six signatories are playing a long game, betting on California’s standards becoming the industry benchmark. Meanwhile, their rivals have more flexibility, aligning with federal rules that might be looser or stricter depending on the political winds.

This raises a big question: Are Ford, Honda, and the others at a disadvantage, stuck with more costly standards? Or are they ahead of the curve, ready for a future where emissions rules only get tougher?

Photo by Bill Pugliano / Stringer via Getty Images

Consumer retorts

So what does this mean for the cars you drive? Meeting California’s standards is no small feat. It demands serious cash for research and development for hybrid systems, electric vehicles, and cutting-edge engines that sip fuel. For Ford, Honda, Volkswagen, BMW, Aston Martin, and Volvo, these costs are locked in through 2026. That could mean pricier vehicles for buyers in California and its partner states, as automakers pass on the expense of compliance to customers.

For you, the consumer, it’s a mixed bag. Cars meeting California’s standards might save you money at the pump with better fuel economy or lower emissions. But upfront costs could sting, especially for budget-conscious buyers. If you live in a state following California’s rules, your car options might differ from those in, say, Texas or Ohio, where federal standards apply. It’s a patchwork market, and these six automakers are navigating it under stricter rules than their rivals.

Read 'em and weep?

California’s ability to set its own standards has sparked heated debates. Supporters say it’s a vital check on federal inaction, pushing automakers to innovate and clean up the air. Critics argue it’s a bureaucratic headache, forcing companies to juggle conflicting rules and driving up costs. The Framework Agreements tilt the scales toward California, proving its influence even when federal policy wavers.

It's not such a great deal for the six automakers who signed those agreements. If federal standards get tougher, they might face overlapping rules. If they loosen, their competitors could gain an edge. The outcome will shape the industry for years to come.

In the meantime, the six are already gearing up, pouring billions into EVs and hybrids even with lower sales and losses. Ford’s betting on electric vehicles with its new manufacturing processes, Honda’s refining its hybrid tech and continuing its partnership with GM, and BMW, Volvo, Volkswagen, and Aston Martin are trying to figure out how to balance electric cars with what car people want. It's a tough situation.

If you want an electric vehicle, I suggest you move quickly and buy one before the end of September 2025, where the tax credit for new and used EVs disappears.

Why I made a romantic comedy about America's political divide

My name is Erik Bork. I am not a household name.

But if you watched the Tom Hanks-Steven Spielberg HBO miniseries "Band of Brothers," there is a good chance I have already been in your living room. I had the great pleasure of helping to write and produce that series and a few other projects with Mr. Hanks, including "From the Earth to the Moon," about the Apollo program.

Comedy, to me, is the great disarmer. It creates breathing room. I leaned into that and set out to create a story where political opposites are not caricatures, but characters

"The Elephant in the Room" is my newest project. It’s something completely different: a romantic comedy about two strangers who meet without knowing the other’s politics. When they soon find that out, it changes everything. She voted Biden. He voted Trump. And it’s December 2020.

They must decide if their budding connection can survive this divide. And should they give it a chance? Or maybe try to impact the other’s views? That shouldn’t be hard, right?

Erik Bork

Polar exploration

The film approaches this touchy issue with levity and heart rather than arguing and bitterness. By exploring what could happen here, we might invite a deeper conversation about welcoming differences or, at the very least, opening up enough to listen to each other, rather than falling into stalemate polarization.

I was lucky enough to start my career in a kind of apprenticeship with Tom Hanks, helping him bring historical stories to life with meticulous detail. They were stories that tended to be celebrations of a great American achievement, where the stakes and risks were sky-high and success by no means guaranteed.

I see the growing political divide the same way. Beyond the issues we might be passionate about — the politicians and policies we might love and support or fear and loathe — there are human beings “on the other side” who think differently. Are they necessarily evil or stupid? Because that’s what polarization tells us about them. Or do they just have different life experiences, education, news sources, and circles they travel in?

Entrenched like me

I come from one side of this great divide myself. And I have spent years reacting to what those “others” are doing and saying and believing, entrenched in my belief that the only problem was them. That their side is essentially all wrong and my side all right.

But there’s more to it than that. And I’ve learned that I can believe and advocate for everything that’s important to me while also making space to see people in my life with opposing views as human beings who probably agree with me on many fundamental values. And with whom talking and listening openly, while perhaps disagreeing, can be a positive thing for us all.

That’s not happening much online or in the news and media right now. There’s an obvious divide that many of our elected leaders and media seem incentivized to keep in place, where little that’s constructive and has broad appeal can get done and few basic facts can be agreed upon. And we no longer can agree on what America is supposed to mean and what about it should be celebrated and supported.

The great disarmer

The more I looked at how this has evolved and lamented it, I began to wonder: Could characters from opposite ends of the political spectrum share a space without it turning into a fight? Could they still see each other as human beings first? What if there was strong physical and emotional chemistry giving them an incentive to try?

And could I explore this seemingly dead serious issue in that lightest of genres, the romantic comedy? That challenge I gave myself turned into "The Elephant in the Room."

Comedy, to me, is the great disarmer. It creates breathing room. I leaned into that and set out to create a story where political opposites are not caricatures, but characters; a place where disagreement is not necessarily an ending. Nothing is definitively answered, and no one is asked to change their views — including the audience. But a space is made for possibility.

I met Gavin Newsom 20 years ago. He is as slimy now as he was back then.

I never thought I would be running for political office. I had a wonderful career in music, first making jingles for household items like Flintstones Vitamins before getting into video games. It was there that I experienced amazing success with Halo.

I was happy with my career and excited to spend time with my grandkids. But when I saw my congresswoman, Rep. Susie Lee (D-Nev.), stand in the way of President Donald Trump’s agenda at every turn, I decided I needed to step up and run.

Newsom is still the slimiest politician imaginable, and unfortunately for Californians, he was able to get out of San Francisco. We can't let him get out of California.

But still, the thought of being an elected official grossed me out, and that stemmed from meeting a sleazy politician 20 years ago.

In 2005, Halo was presented a star on San Francisco’s Walk of Game. I was honored to be asked to attend the ceremony and accept the award on behalf of our team. It was especially exciting to do so while other iconic games and characters like Mario, Link from Zelda, and Sonic the Hedgehog were being honored with stars, too.

Later that night, I attended a reception to celebrate the inductees, where I met the mayor of San Francisco. As we chatted a while, I couldn't help but notice his ludicrously white, straight teeth and slicked-back black hair held together with a ridiculous amount of hair gel.

We weren't talking long until I was shocked by his shallow thoughts and disingenuous attitude. His responses felt robotic and scripted, and he wouldn't make eye contact. Instead, he scanned the room as if he were looking for someone more important to engage with.

It quickly became clear he was there solely for the purpose of being photographed and basking in the limelight of popular games that were dominating American culture at the time — despite having never played the games himself.

When I got home, I told my wife I had met the slimiest politician imaginable.

"Thank God he’ll never get out of San Francisco," I said to her.

That mayor? Gavin Newsom.

— (@)

Yep, I met Newsom long before he was chasing cameras to talk about Donald Trump and turning the “California Dream” into the “California Nightmare."

Under Newsom’s leadership as governor, California has become dangerous and outrageously expensive as he toys with every experimental socialist policy possible. His dismal governorship resulted in the historic mass exodus of Californians to lower-taxed, lower-crime havens — while making the Golden State a national punchline.

The state is on fire, literally, as we saw with the tragic Palisades and Eaton Fires earlier this year. While people who lost their homes are in regulatory purgatory and unable to rebuild, Newsom is scanning the room, looking for other things to engage with that are far more important for his personal ambitions.

He's fighting the Trump administration's efforts to deport violent illegal immigrants and trying to rig the state's congressional maps to dilute the voices of his own constituents.

As a conservative, I can’t think of a better leader for the Democrats than Gavin Newsom. Running against his failed policies should lead to years of electoral victories for the Republican Party.

But I am sad to see what has happened to what was once a beautiful state. And as an American, I am terrified by what Newsom and his ilk want to do to our country.

Gavin Newsom is still the slimiest politician imaginable, and unfortunately for Californians, he was able to get out of San Francisco. We can't let him get out of California. Our country cannot afford it.