The Acrobat and the Fly

No, nothing makes sense, nothing seems to fit
I know you’d hit out if you only knew who to hit
And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in.
Yeah, I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in,
Cause I need it now
To take the cup
To fill it up, to drink it slow
I can’t let you go
And I must be an acrobat
To talk like this and act like that,
And you can dream, so dream out loud,
And don’t let the bastards grind you down.

— U2, Achtung Baby, “Acrobat” (1991)

It’s no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest
It’s no secret ambition bites the nails of success
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief
Over love
A man will rise
A man will fall
From the sheer face of love
Like a fly from a wall
It’s no secret at all

— U2, Achtung Baby, “The Fly” (1991)


Maybe because of their popular appeal, or the fact that our society can’t abide a person like Bono with unapologetic earnestness about his beliefs, or because of the band’s retreat into musical weirdness and emergence into arena bombast, U2 has been treated rather uncharitably by modern commentators. But at their best, U2 were mesmerizing. Stylistically, I prefer Unforgettable Fire or War, and for sheer songwriting genius, Joshua Tree remains one of the greatest albums ever recorded.

But where art about making art (e.g., La La Land, Birdman) can sometimes veer toward self-indulgence, Achtung Baby reaches a different kind of peak. It is raw and self-critical, with no attempt at final redemption. I mean, it is melodramatic as all hell, which is kind of the concept of the whole album, but if its arc carries any absolution for the artist, it is that hypocrisy is the universal result of art and not some unique moral failing. Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief.

But in the end, neither the artist’s cannibalism nor the poet’s thievery invalidate their art. You can dream, so dream out loud, and don’t let the bastards grind you down. There’s a narrow lesson in this that goes like, “You can still read Ender’s Game even though Orson Scott Card once ate a Chick-fil-A sandwich.” But there’s a bigger lesson, too: if you go around looking for hypocrisy in your enemies, you’ll always find it. Doing so will always feel good. Doing so will rarely get you closer to truth, beauty or love.


I was recently explaining to a friend and former colleague what I write about on Epsilon Theory. They asked me if it was a behavioral investing blog, and I wasn’t sure how to answer.

In a sense, yes, of course Epsilon Theory is a behavioral investing blog. We believe that humans and the stories they tell heavily influence, and sometimes determine asset prices. And we write about that. But when most people say “behavioral economics” or discuss investment strategies that account for investor behaviors, what they usually mean is “cognitive biases.”  Yes, we write about those things, too.

But except in the way that all human activities are influenced bv the way that our brains evolved to process information, Epsilon Theory isn’t really about cognitive biases. That isn’t because we don’t believe in those biases. Quite the contrary. Instead, it is a recognition that our biased brains are riding on meat puppets that spend most of their time interacting with other meat puppets. Our brains are rarely tasked with drawing conclusions from raw data. Most of the things that matter to us and our lives are social. That means that the stimuli that reach us, the basis for our judgments and opinions, are usually the outputs of other compromised brains, processed through established cultural and social structures.

It is intuitive that understanding and mastering our own biases should mean not only being aware of innate evolutionary impulses, but also understanding how they manifest in social behavior. This is what Ben meant when he wrote about acknowledging our own vulnerabilities to the introduction of memes and Narrative in This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things. We like to think that we operate from internally coherent, epistemologically sound ethical, social and political frameworks. You don’t. I don’t. We don’t. We’re making it up as we go along and we all know it.

It is rarely possible to divorce ourselves completely from the ways in which our human brains are wired to respond to society that is increasingly aware of the ways in which other human brains are wired to respond. We cannot pretend that it doesn’t change anything that companies like Tesla and Salesforce now seek to foster rabid audiences and stabilize their stock price through targeted social media engagement strategies — what we write about on these pages as Missionary activity. We cannot pretend that it doesn’t change the priors that drive how we build investment portfolios that standing governments consider markets to be utilities for maintaining public order and assent, and actively employ communications strategies to establish Narrative around fiscal, monetary and trade policy.

And so it is that in our investing lives, and in our public, political lives, it is very difficult to refuse to play the game. Ours is a Narrative-driven world, and surviving in it means doing more than understanding how our biology predisposes us to cognitive biases. It means understanding how our engagement with social structures and with one another creates new biases and pitfalls altogether, a kind of special susceptibility to brutal logical fallacies. Many of these are so-called ecological fallacies, discussed in an ET note from 2013 that still reads very well.

Ben wrote recently that the memeification of information — the transformation of Emails into Emails! or Lyme disease into Lyme disease! — is a big part of why we can’t have nice things. I want to suggest to you that it is possible to have nice things again. Real conversations with other people that result in real outcomes. Perhaps even a move back in the direction of Cooperative Games from the Competitive Game we are in today. I argued in my essay from last August that this would require a critical mass of well-intentioned people willing to give up on, to lose, non-existential battles. I also warned that you wouldn’t like my advice. In the interest of providing you with yet more unsolicited advice that you won’t like, allow me to outline the four Competitive Game equilibrium-enforcing strategies I think we must give up if we’re going to make ourselves and our thinking less vulnerable to memes, abstractions, tribalism and Narrative.

Know in advance that in a Competitive Game, each of these four is a dominant strategy. To wit:

  • The People Who Disagree with Me are Hypocrites
  • The People Who Disagree with Me are Stupid
  • The People Who Disagree with Me are Evil
  • The People Who Disagree with Me are Controlled

If you give up using these strategies as I will recommend to you, you will lose. You will lose credibility. You will lose standing. You will lose popularity. People will believe you are losing arguments. People will believe you are less intelligent. People may believe you are less committed to ethics, morality and justice.

Wondering where you can sign up yet? Good. We’re going to lose so much, you’re going to be so sick and tired of #losing.

You’re Too Biased to Measure the Impact of Hypocrisy on Credibility

Before we get too far, however, let’s get one thing out of the way: the people who disagree with you really are hypocrites.

I don’t know the people who disagree with you and I don’t need to know. Hypocrisy has been the human condition since Adam proclaimed his holiness by blaming the apple eating on his wife (I mean, it was kind of her fault, if you think about it). But the game of find-the-hypocrite isn’t really about finding gaps between the behaviors people condemn in others and the actions those people take themselves. We all know those exist, and I hope you came here for meatier arguments than, “We’re all hypocrites, so live and let live, amirite?” No, the game is about how we go about quantifying that gap. Who is the bigger fraud, the bigger phony? It’s also about why we seek out hypocrisy in others.

You might think that this strategy would be played out by first looking for the worst actions and then aligning them with incongruous statements of condemnation. Turns out that isn’t exactly the case. Four Yale researchers in psychology published a fascinating study in 2017 on this topic. It’s a well-written, very digestible bit of research based on cleverly formulated questions. A rarity for such papers, I recommend reading the whole thing. It holds a few interesting insights:

  • People attribute more moral value to condemnations of bad acts than to claims of good acts.
  • People will forgive admitted actions that don’t jive with values, but they won’t forgive bad acts that conflict with condemnations of bad acts.

In other words, what people hate about hypocrisy isn’t the immoral act, or even the gap between values and actions. It’s the intentionally false signal from moralizing about the act. And while the paper doesn’t suggest this directly, it is my belief that this aversion is one reason why excessively strong signaling or moral condemnation, when coupled with even suspicions that someone may be acting in conflict with those signals, is so distasteful to many of us. You’ve heard of virtue signaling, I presume.

The gulf between a false signal and simple conflict between values and action may seem like a distinction without a difference, but it isn’t. It matters that our anger about hypocrisy is not the response to a moral failure, but to a failure in ideological signaling. That means that it is an opportunity to assault the credibility of those signaling.

It just so happens, of course, that credibility is one of the most important social signals we send, and one of the ones that matters most in Narrative-driven political, financial and other social and civic markets. The mechanisms of credibility within social capital are so pivotal to influence, wealth generation, capital formation, new lead generation and popularity in general that signaling “I am a credible person” becomes for many of us an objective unto itself. We may complain about Missionaries and their attempts to influence us, but we would all be Missionaries in a heartbeat if we could. For those who have read my piece exhorting us to Make America Good Again (and to stop worrying about being great), you won’t be surprised to learn where I come out on this issue. Those who have built on the sands of cringeworthy credibility signaling may come to a different conclusion.

One of our most potent weapons for winning the credibility game — or so we perceive — is seeking out and identifying hypocrisy in others. We are attracted to assaulting hypocrisy for two reasons. First, it acts as a credibility signal for us. It tells others that we are players in the great game. It tells others that we care about logical consistency and other Good Things. Second, it acts as a credibility reducer for our opponent. It challenges and reduces their believability and standing, and seeks to insinuate that they care less about intellectual honesty and logical and moral consistency. In effect, it is a force multiplier for our arguments, because once we establish that another party has made hypocritical statements, we can summon that spectre again and again to relieve us of the need to dispute further arguments on their merits.

There’s just one problem with this: we are hopelessly prone to bias in our assessments of others’ hypocrisy. Why? Because our anger about hypocrisy doesn’t begin with systematic, objective observation of moral failures or flawed reasoning under our value system. It begins with our selective observation of moral, philosophical or intellectual condemnations made by others — and guess what? We tend to pay a little more attention when someone condemns someone we like or something we believe in. In other words, when someone expresses a criticism of us, our friends, our allies and their behaviors or actions, we are simultaneously inspired to diminish that person’s credibility to protect our ego, and to search for actions that conflict with their condemnation. It’s like handing a three-year old a club and telling him that other boy over there took his favorite toy.

It’s an overwhelming bias that seems so obvious and non-partisan in its pervasiveness when you step back to view it with as much dispassion as any of us can muster. It’s why the political right quickly finds every example of a preening Hollywood numbskull moralizing about some progressive social justice issue right before they end up in TMZ for abetting the abuse of young actors and actresses.  It’s why the political left is lying in wait for any Bible-thumping family values Republican politician to get caught in an ethics scandal. It’s why there are millions of people still penning gotcha pieces on the hypocrisy of Bill Clinton supporters who criticized the moral failings of Donald Trump and why millions of people are still writing pieces on the hypocrisy of Donald Trump supporters who had criticized the moral failings of Bill Clinton. Claims of hypocrisy aren’t about morality. Claims of hypocrisy are about ideology.

But Hypocrisy! the meme isn’t about either of those things. It’s about credibility. And Hypocrisy! the meme is warm, wet garbage. In those rare moments when we are honest with ourselves, we know that the reason we accuse others of hypocrisy rarely has anything to do with a good-faith belief that it justifies devaluation of their opinions or arguments which would often stand on their own merits. Likewise, research tells us it has next to nothing to do with any moral objection on our part. No, we do it because we know that those we disagree with will use this same technique at every opportunity to devalue us and those we agree with. We know that not responding in kind makes us vulnerable.

I saw a lovely anecdote recently from Ethics and Public Policy Center fellow Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry recently, which expresses a similar idea somewhat more succinctly:

My high school best friend’s dad was one of the most talented jazz guitarists of his generation. When my friend was a kid, he asked his dad if he could teach him to play guitar. The dad was of course thrilled. “I’d love nothing more in the world, he said. But first, you’ll have to learn music notation and music theory and chords. Then I’ll teach you to play.”

My friend, being a wiseass, retorted, “Paul McCartney never learned any of that stuff, and it didn’t stop him.” My friend’s dad, being a wise man, replied, “Yeah, but you’re not Paul McCartney.”

Yeah, in the Bible Jesus calls people broods of vipers and whitewashed tombs. And Paul, and the Prophets, and saints, used salty language. Yes, there are times when such language is called for. But the reality of original sin means the odds of you using this language out of pride overwhelm the odds of using it because of the necessities of speaking love in truth.

You’re not Paul McCartney.

Whatever social structure or biological impulse evolved in us to make us respond the way we do to hypocrisy makes us uniquely unsuited to routinely rely on our detection of it as an indicator of anything other than our own bias. Neither you nor I are Paul McCartney (unless you are Paul McCartney, in which case, hello, thank you for reading and what is the weird chord in the second half of the third verse of “Let It Be” when you sing “Mother Mary” because I’ve been trying to figure out what’s happening there for 20 years).

I should be clear about the narrow point I am making, and the point I am certainly not making. From a moral and ethical perspective, there is no particular reason why being biased should prevent us from holding one another accountable for dishonesty, hypocrisy and other flaws. If we only spoke up about injustice and error when we had no dog in the fight, we would comprise an ugly society indeed. But I hope that you can see the difference between the impact of bias on the justifiable use of it as an argumentation technique and the justifiable reference to it in good faith efforts to improve our own behavior or of those who we love, trust and want to grow us with as humans.

Being a Hypocrite Doesn’t Make You Wrong

Even if we can play a mean left-handed bass and believe that we are capable of being even-handed in using accusations of hypocrisy as an element of our political and social engagement, it doesn’t take long to recognize that doing so is frequently counterproductive to the whole point of that engagement in the first place. It’s pretty simple. If what you care about is being considered right and winning those arguments, then the hypocrisy! meme is the right tool for the job. If your objective is to get to a better policy or portfolio outcome, then it isn’t.

The next time you’re looking to bring this tool out in an argument or disagreement, ask yourself: does this person’s false signaling really devalue the argument he or she is making? The data he or she is using to support it? Or is it just a tool I would use to discredit this person so that I don’t have to bother with the whole debate? It’s a bad, biased heuristic.

Consider Warren Buffett, the investing world’s moralizer-in-chief. Here he is on leverage.

Once having profited from its wonders, very few people retreat to more conservative practices. And as we all learned in third grade — and some relearned in 2008 — any series of positive numbers, however impressive the numbers may be, evaporates when multiplied by a single zero. History tells us that leverage all too often produces zeroes, even when it is employed by very smart people.

Here he is in 2003 on derivatives:

No matter how financially sophisticated you are, you can’t possibly learn from reading the disclosure documents of a derivatives-intensive company what risks lurk in its positions. Indeed, the more you know about derivatives, the less you will feel you can learn from the disclosures normally proffered you. In Darwin’s words, “Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge.”

Guess who sold protection on a bunch of munis starting in 2007, not entirely different in scope, although admittedly in scale, from similar trades that sunk AIG around the same time? Guess who, according to research from AQR, has historically generated his returns through effective leverage of 1.6-to-1?

For someone like me, who is convinced that randomness would almost certainly produce a Buffett or two through sheer chance rather than skill, applying the hypocrisy! meme is tempting. I am envious of his reputation, and I hold the good-faith belief that people who follow what Buffett does are focusing on things that don’t matter. I believe that the people who follow what he says about index funds place too much emphasis on costs and too little emphasis on getting the right level and sources of investment risk. It is so easy for me to justify why it isn’t just correct, it’s the right and moral thing to do to throw this guy under the bus for hypocrisy, to try to reduce his influence.

Except he really is an incredibly thoughtful investor with innumerable traits I wish I had, wisdom our world would be worse without, and perhaps the keenest insight into the role of temperament in the success of the investor we’ve seen in the last 50 years. The Competitive Game strategy says to seek to diminish him — to make ourselves the Fly. To kill our inspiration to sing about our grief.

But that’s just the meme talking. The fact that Buffett’s views on leverage and derivatives are insanely hypocritical don’t change the fact that he has a tremendous amount of investment wisdom to share.

Letting Ourselves Off the Hook

Maybe the worst harm this tick has in store for us, however, is the doubt it sows in us. You and I are both hypocrites. There’s a fine balance between internalizing the moral importance of honesty, consistency and forthrightness on the one hand, and not internalizing the hypocrisy! meme in ways that would cause us not to champion causes and values we believe in simply because we know we can’t live up to them on the other. This is a real danger.

In many cases, our hypocrisy is just growth. When I was 23, I put myself at odds with some genuinely nice and thoughtful people I worked with and for. Why? Because I was an arrogant ass who knew that no one could build and code a model as quickly and efficiently as I could, and because I knew that my skills in this area were creating all the company’s value. Except that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t true. I was a stupid kid with no concept of the value of different people and skills. Should I let this moral failure keep me from teaching young analysts today that modeling is a commodity skill? That their real value in an organization will come from cultivating trust, honing temperament, identifying business drivers that matter and becoming better communicators?

In some cases, what looks like hypocrisy is just the reality of a world of contradictions. I’ve written and, yes, moralized about the things investors waste time on, and the things they should focus on more. In these pages, I’ve condemned bad behaviors, like focusing too much time on picking stocks, on picking funds, on fees over other costs. And yet, like many who agree with me on these topics, I still spend far too much time doing each. I’ve spent days trying to figure out if my largely systematic framework for selecting U.S. stocks for our wealth management business is missing something on consumer brands. I’ve spent more time thinking about General Mills and Colgate-Palmolive than I have about things that I know will have greater long-term impact on financial markets and investor outcomes. But I know that these things are important to my clients, too. I know that it matters to them to understand what they own, and why, in a very qualitative sense. And if it matters to them, it matters to me. The hypocrisy that seems so clear in others is not always so cut and dry when we apply it to ourselves with all the details. Our life and work are complicated.

We are complicated, too. Today I relish the trappings of my Texas identity, but it wasn’t always that way. It took me five seconds to decide where I would go to college when the opportunity to escape a small town in southeast Texas presented itself more than 20 years ago. While I can’t imagine harboring that sentiment now, there’s a part of me that can’t figure how much of that refound identity is affectation, a resistance to things I didn’t like about living in the northeast, or an authentic expression of my values. We’re all complicated, conflicted, growing and changing, and there’s no nobility in allowing the hypocrisy! meme to cause us to withdraw from figuring out our own small issues, or helping our communities and societies figure out the big issues.

This isn’t some weird attempt to present hypocrisy as moral, or something we should be more or less prone to forgive or criticize. None of that. It’s awful and you should stamp it out wherever you see it whenever you have the standing with someone to be influential. It is about how you will respond to the tick, the meta-meme of hypocrisy! that seeks to shut off people you would learn from, deepen your falsely held belief in your tribe’s moral superiority, and short-circuit your own brilliance out of false-humble feelings driven by knowledge of your own hypocrisy.


Now because by reason of those daily sins of which I have spoken, it is necessary for you to say, in that daily prayer of cleansing as it were, “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors;” what will ye do? Ye have enemies. For who can live on this earth without them? Take heed to yourselves, love them. In no way can thine enemy so hurt thee by his violence, as thou dost hurt thyself if thou love him not… In this he is as thou art: thou hast a soul, and so hath he. Thou hast a body, and so hath he. He is of the same substance as thou art; ye were made both out of the same earth, and quickened by the same Lord. In all this he is as thou art. Acknowledge in him then thy brother.

— Saint Augustine of Hippo, St. Matthew’s Gospel, “Sermon on the Lord’s Prayer”


The most painful realization of all in a world awash with Narrative, of course, is that the people who disagree with us are not especially hypocritical or contradictory. It is that they are our brother. Our sister. Made out of the same earth. And probably every bit as smart, upstanding, independent-minded and, yes, flawed as we are.

When we stop telling lies about why we disagree and start telling this truth, we can grapple with the uncomfortable fact that our brothers and sisters saw the same facts and came to different conclusions. As Narratives force us into ever narrower bands of acceptable views on markets and politics, the speech we must tolerate becomes more uncomfortable, and will feel more extreme. It will also feel more contradictory. Friends, if you would end the Competitive Game, if you would triumph over tribalism, you must learn to tolerate some hypocrisy — in yourself and in others. You must embrace the Acrobat and not the Fly. How?

Dream out loud, and don’t let the bastards grind you down.

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Harvey Weinstein and the Common Knowledge Game

I’ve written a lot about the Game of Markets, aka the Common Knowledge Game, most recently in Sheep Logic. The thing about the Common Knowledge Game, though, is that once you start looking for it, you see it everywhere, not just in our investment lives, but also in our social and political lives. The public unmasking of Harvey Weinstein as a serial rapist (that’s the word, people) is an archetypical play of the Common Knowledge Game, and recognizing its dynamics should open everyone’s eyes to how other high and mighty people and ideas can take a fall.

The core dynamic of the CK Game is this: how does private knowledge become  not public knowledge  but common knowledge? Common knowledge is something that we all believe everyone else believes. Common knowledge is usually also public knowledge, but it doesn’t have to be. It may still be private information, locked inside our own heads. But so long as we believe that everyone else believes this trapped piece of private information, that’s enough for it to become common knowledge.

The reason this dynamic — the transformation of private knowledge into common knowledge  is so important is that the social behavior of individuals does not change on the basis of private knowledge, no matter how pervasive it might be. Even if everyone in the world believes a certain piece of private information, no one will alter their behavior. Behavior changes ONLY when we believe that everyone else believes the information. THAT’S what changes behavior. And when that transition to common knowledge happens, behavior changes fast.

The classic example of this is the fable of The Emperor’s New Clothes. Everyone in the teeming crowd possesses the same private information — the Emperor is walking around as naked as a jaybird. But no one’s behavior changes just because the private information is ubiquitous. Nor would behavior change just because a couple of people whisper their doubts to each other, creating pockets of public knowledge that the Emperor is naked. No, the only thing that changes behavior is when the little girl (what game theory would call a Missionary) announces the Emperor’s nudity loudly enough so that the entire crowd believes that everyone else in the crowd heard the news. That’s when behavior changes.

And so it was with Harvey Weinstein. Apparently it was no great secret that he is a serial rapist. Apparently everyone in Hollywood was familiar with the stories. It was ubiquitous private knowledge, and pretty darn ubiquitous public knowledge. I mean, if you’re making jokes about it on 30 Rock, it’s not exactly a state secret.

But there was never a Missionary. There was never anyone willing to shout the information so loudly and so publicly that it became common knowledge. That’s what Rose McGowan did, and that’s the power of Twitter and modern celebrity to establish Missionaries and create common knowledge.

Once that common knowledge was created, once all the private holders of all of Weinstein’s dirty secrets believed that everyone else believed that he is a serial rapist, then everyone’s behavior changed on a dime. His publicists and lawyers and partners and colleagues and board of directors and wife were shocked … shocked! … to hear of his behavior, and certainly would no longer be representing him or working with him or associating with him ever again, even though NOTHING had changed in the information they already possessed. Ditto with Weinstein’s other victims. Their behavior changed, as well. That’s not a knock or a slam on them. In the absence of common knowledge, staying quiet whether you’re an abettor or a victim — is the rational thing to do. In fact, this is what Weinstein and his abettors count on, that their threats and shaming and bribes will set up a Hobson’s Choice for victims. Sure you can go public, but no one will believe you and then we will ruin you. So yeah, go ahead. It’s your choice. Of course no one goes public, because a Hobson’s Choice is not a real choice. Only a victim with Missionary power (and that’s a really rare thing) has the option to not just go public with the story — because simply going public is not enough to change behavior  but to create common knowledge with the story.

What are the broader lessons to take from all this? I’ve got two.

First, there’s enormous economic, political, and social power in being a Missionary, and social media has completely transformed the Missionary creation process just over the past few years. This is why it matters how many Facebook followers you have and how many RTs you get on Twitter. This is why Donald Trump adopted social media so early and used it so prolifically. Twitter in particular is a Common Knowledge platform of great power. Having lots of followers isn’t “monetizable” in the sense of traditional marketing. But that doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly valuable. Put differently, celebrity in and of itself has never been a greater source of political power than it is today. Why? Because Common Knowledge Game.

Second, there’s a lot of ubiquitous private information about powerful people and powerful ideas trapped in the crowd today, just waiting for a Missionary to release it as common knowledge. The more powerful the person or the idea to be brought low, the bigger the Missionary (and platform) required. But nothing’s too big, and once the common knowledge is created, behavior changes fast. My pick for the big idea that gets taken down? The idea that inflation is dead. We all know it’s not true. We all know in our own heads that everything is more expensive today, from rent to transportation to food to iPhones. But it’s not common knowledge. Each of us may believe that inflation walks among us, but none of us believes that everyone else believes that inflation is here.

Not yet.

But we’re only one big Missionary statement away.

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Sheep Logic

These are baby-doll Southdowns, and yes, they’re exactly as cute as they look in this picture. We only have four today on our “farm”, as sheep have a knack for killing themselves in what would almost be comical fashion if it weren’t so sad. We keep them for their so-so wool, which we clean and card and spin and knit. It’s so-so wool because the Southdowns were bred for their meat, not their fleece, and I can’t bring myself to raise an animal for its meat. Well, I could definitely raise birds for meat. Or fish. But not a charismatic mammal like a baby-doll Southdown.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned about sheep over the years. They are never out of sight of each other, and their decision making is entirely driven by what they see happening to others, not to themselves. They are extremely intelligent in this other-regarding way. My sheep roam freely on the farm, and I never worry about them so long as they stay together, which they always do. But if I only count three in the flock, then I immediately go see what’s wrong. Because something is definitely wrong.

That’s the difference between a flock and a pack. A flock is a social structure designed to promote other-awareness. It has no goals, no coordinating purpose other than communication. A flock simply IS. A pack, on the other hand, is a social structure designed to harness self-aware animals in service to some goal requiring joint action — the raising of cubs, the hunting of meat, etc. Both the flock and the pack are extremely effective social structures, but they operate by entirely different logics.

We think we are wolves, living by the logic of the pack.

In truth we are sheep, living by the logic of the flock.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
Cause I’m Mr. Brightside
 The Killers, “Mr. Brightside”

It was only a kiss. Leave it to a Las Vegas band to write the best song ever about the most powerful other-regarding emotion — jealousy. That’s Laurence Fishburne as Othello on the left and Kenneth Branagh as Iago on the right, actors’ actors both.

Gary Coleman:Right now you are down and out and feeling really crappy
Nicky:I’ll say.
Gary Coleman:And when I see how sad you are
It sort of makes me…
Happy!
Nicky:Happy?!
Gary Coleman:Sorry, Nicky, human nature-
Nothing I can do!
It’s…
Schadenfreude!
Making me feel glad that I’m not you.
― Avenue Q (2003)

There’s no way that a grown-up musical with Sesame Street puppets should work, but Avenue Q does. “Schadenfreude” is my favorite tune from the show, as well as the second-most powerful other-regarding emotion that drives our world.

Jukeboxes made a nice comeback when the user interface started showing you what other people had chosen to play, both in the past and coming up.

Once you start looking for the Jukebox Effect — the intentional effort to force you into other-regarding flock behavior — you see it everywhere.

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.

Richard Adams, Watership Down (1972)

I’ve got an unexpurgated print of this card sitting on my desk. A prey animal like a rabbit would find Watership Down unrecognizable. Not because reality is any less dominated by fang and claw, but because the protagonists are protagonists, driven by independent will and self-regarding decision making. It’s a Hero’s Journey, which makes it a great read but poor rabbit socio-biology.

Roy:I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate. All those moments will be lost in time… like tears in rain… Time to die.
― Bladerunner (1982)

The movie Bladerunner was based on the Philip K. Dick novella, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and inherent in the question is the reason we root for the androids over the humans. It’s the same reason we root for Hazel and the other intrepid rabbits of Watership Down. They’re dreaming and striving for a better life. They’re fighters. They have gumption.

In reality, neither sheep nor rabbits nor androids have gumption.

Deckard:She’s a replicant, isn’t she?
Tyrell:I’m impressed. How many questions does it usually take to spot them?
Deckard:I don’t get it, Tyrell.
Tyrell:How many questions?
Deckard:Twenty, thirty, cross-referenced.
Tyrell:It took more than a hundred for Rachael, didn’t it?
Deckard:[realizing Rachael believes she’s human] She doesn’t know.
Tyrell:She’s beginning to suspect, I think.
Deckard:Suspect? How can it not know what it is?
― Bladerunner (1982)

That’s the Big Question. How can we not know what we are? it not know what it is?

Better to live a day as a lion than 100 years as a sheep.

Benito Mussolini (1883 – 1945)

Donald Trump retweet (Feb. 28, 2016)

Really? I’ll take the 100 years, thank you very much. Life is too precious, and this, too, shall pass.

Such a vainglorious statement by such a preening man. Mussolini, that is. Find a film clip and watch how he uses his hands.

Our compliance departments require us to say that retweets are not endorsements. But of course they are.

The copycat phenomenon is real. As more and more notable and tragic events occur, we think we’re seeing more compromised, marginalized individuals who are seeking inspiration from those past attacks.

Andre Simon, head of FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit 2 (Threat Assessment)

Mass shooters are not Lone Wolves. They are Lone Sheep.

Tom Junod at Esquire featured FBI agent Andre Simon in his must-read 2014 article, “A Radical New Look at Mass Shooters.” Three years later and we’re still having the wrong debate, focusing on gun control rather than mental health and intervention. Why? Because the gun control debate has enormous political efficacy for both the Left and the Right, where the mental health debate has none. Steve Bannon’s fondest dream is for Democrats to make Federal gun control a key issue in the 2020 electoral cycle. We are, YET AGAIN, being intentionally shepherded by political entrepreneurs into a pernicious Competitive Game of domestic identity politics.

Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves; be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.

Matthew 10:16

There’s no domesticated animal species that has had more of a reputational fall from grace than the sheep. To call someone a sheep today is just about the worst insult there is. To call someone a sheep is to call them stupid and — more pointedly — stupidly obedient and in thrall to some bad shepherd.

It wasn’t always this way. Jesus isn’t insulting you when He calls you a sheep. The point of all those Biblical allegories isn’t that sheep are stupidly obedient or easily led, but that the healthy life of a willful sheep requires a good shepherd.

Ask anyone who actually keeps sheep. Sheep are weird. Sheep are evolved to have a very different intelligence than humans. But sheep are not stupid. Sheep are not obedient. And sheep are definitely not easily led.

Of course, no one except a dilettante farmer like me keeps sheep today, so all of the Old Stories about sheep and shepherds have lost their punch. They’ve all been diminished through the modern lens of sheep-as-idiot-followers.

Today most people dismiss the notion that good shepherds — i.e., individuals with expertise and wise counsel in some difficult to navigate field like … I dunno … investing — exist at all. And they utterly reject the idea that it’s actually okay not to have a fully formed and forcefully held opinion on anything and everything, that it’s not a sign of personal failure to say “I don’t know” and follow another’s lead.

It’s not just the media careers and media business models that are built on the notion of the Constant Hot Take — an unending stream of contrarian opinions expressed in the most incendiary way possible, solely for the entertainment value of contrarian opinions expressed in the most incendiary way possible — it’s the millions of hours that so many non-media civilians will spend engaged on Twitter or Facebook or whatever to construct their own steady stream of Hot Takes and bon mot responses. All tossed out there like bottles into the vast social media ocean, never to wash up on any inhabited shore, lost in some great Sargasso Sea of impotent and forgotten texts.

Why? Why does @RandoBlueStateLawyer with 45 followers spend the better part of every afternoon thinking about his next brilliant riposte to the latest Republican Hot Take on Obamacare reform? Why does @RandoRedStateRetiree spend every evening working himself into a MAGA apoplexy that can only be sated by retweeting his 19,001st Hannity blurb?

To answer that question, I want to go back to the Old Stories. I want to share with you what sheep are really like.

Sheep are evolved to have a specific type of intelligence which has the following hallmarks.

  • Enormous capacity for other-regarding behaviors. Sheep are unbelievably sensitive to what other sheep are doing and their emotional states. If another sheep is happy — i.e., it’s found a good source of food, which is the only thing that makes a sheep happy — then every other sheep in the flock is filled with jealousy (there’s really no other word for it) and will move in on that good thing. If another sheep is alarmed — which can be from almost anything, as bravery is not exactly a trait that tends to be naturally selected in a prey species — then every other sheep in the flock is immediately aware of what’s going on. Sometimes that means that they get alarmed, too. As often, though, it’s just an opportunity to keep going with your own grazing without worrying about the alarmed sheep bumping into your happy place.
  • Zero altruism and overwhelming selfishness. The most popular misconception about sheep is that they are obedient followers. It’s true that they’re not leaders. It’s true that they are incredibly sensitive to other sheep. But it’s also true that they are the most selfish mammal I’ve ever encountered. They don’t lead other sheep or form leadership structures like a pack because they don’t care about other sheep. Every sheep lives in a universe of One, which makes them just about the most non-obedient creature around.
  • The determination to pursue any behavior that meets Hallmark #1 and #2 to absurd ends, even unto death. My worst sheep suicide story? The first year we kept sheep, we thought it would make sense to set up a hay net in their pen, which keeps the hay off the ground and lets the sheep feed themselves by pulling hay through the very loose loops of the net. Turned out, though, that the loops were so loose that a determined sheep could put her entire head inside the net, and if one sheep could do that, then two sheep could do that. And given how the hay net was hung and how these sheep were sensing each other, they started to move clockwise in unison, each trying to get an advantage over the other, still with their heads stuck in the net. At which point the net starts to tighten. And tighten. And tighten. My daughter found them the next morning, having strangled each other to death, unable to stop gorging themselves or seeking an advantage from the behavior of others. The other sheep were crowded around, stepping around the dead bodies, pulling hay for themselves out of the net. That was a bad day.

In both markets and in politics, our human intelligences are being trained to be sheep intelligences.

That doesn’t make us sheep in the modern vernacular. We are not becoming docile, stupid, and blindly obedient. On the contrary, we are becoming sheep as the Old Stories understood sheep … intensely selfish, intensely intelligent (but only in an other-regarding way) and intensely dogmatic, willing to pursue a myopic behavior even unto death.

Why are we being trained to think like sheep? Because sheep are wonderful prey animals. They pay the rent with their fleece, and when push comes to shove you can eat them, too. Plus they’re not helpless prey animals. Sheep are quite competent and rather self-sufficient prey animals, which from a smart owner’s perspective is really what you want. If sheep were truly docile and stupid, then they’d be way too much trouble to keep. Nope, with sheep you can let them wander around all day and do their thing. Just keep them from killing themselves in some really stupid accident and you can harvest them for years and years and years.

How are we trained to think like sheep? By the rewards we receive from our modern social institutions for other-regarding flock behaviors like jealousy (feeling sad when others are glad) and schadenfreude (feeling glad when others are sad), and by the penalties we receive for self-regarding pack behaviors like honor and shame. If you’ve ever kept a pack animal like a dog, you know how clearly they can experience a sense of shame, that feeling when you believe you’ve let the pack down through your personal failure. Sheep have no shame. Not a bit. Shame requires self-evaluation and self-judgment against some standard of obligation to the pack, concepts which would make sheep laugh if they could. Sheep are enormously other-aware, but never other-obliged. They’re high-functioning sociopaths, shameless creatures of jealousy and schadenfreude, which is exactly the type of human most purely designed to succeed in the modern age.

The mechanism for all this sheep training, particularly in our investment lives, is what game theory calls the Common Knowledge Game. Once you start noticing it, you will see it everywhere.

I’ve written about the Common Knowledge Game a lot in Epsilon Theory, starting in the original “Manifesto” and continuing with notes like “A Game of Sentiment” and “When Does the Story Break”. But let’s review this core game of sheep logic one more time, with feeling. So here’s the classic thought experiment of the Common Knowledge Game — The Island of the Green-Eyed Tribe.

On the Island of the Green-Eyed Tribe, blue eyes are taboo. If you have blue eyes you must get in your canoe and leave the island the next morning. But there are no mirrors or reflective surfaces on the island, so you don’t know the color of your own eyes. It is also taboo to talk with each other about eye color, so when you see a fellow tribesman with blue eyes, you say nothing. As a result, even though everyone knows there are blue-eyed tribesmen, no one has ever left the island for this taboo. A Missionary comes to the island and announces to everyone, “At least one of you has blue eyes.”

What happens?

Let’s take the trivial case of only one tribesman having blue eyes. He has seen everyone else’s eyes, and he knows that everyone else has green eyes. Immediately after the Missionary’s statement, this poor fellow realizes, “Oh, no! I must be the one with blue eyes.” So the next morning he gets in his canoe and leaves the island.

But now let’s take the case of two tribesmen having blue eyes. The two blue-eyed tribesmen have seen each other, so each thinks, “Whew! That guy has blue eyes, so he must be the one that the Missionary is talking about.” But because neither blue-eyed tribesman believes that he has blue eyes himself, neither gets in his canoe the next morning and leaves the island. The next day, then, each is very surprised to see the other fellow still on the island, at which point each thinks, “Wait a second … if he didn’t leave the island, it must mean that he saw someone else with blue eyes. And since I know that everyone else has green eyes, that means … oh, no! I must have blue eyes, too.” So on the morning of the second day, both blue-eyed tribesmen get in their canoes and leave the island.

The generalized answer to the question of “what happens?” is that for any n tribesmen with blue eyes, they all leave simultaneously on the nth morning after the Missionary’s statement. Note that no one forces the blue-eyed tribesmen to leave the island. They leave voluntarily once public knowledge is inserted into the informational structure of the tribal taboo system, which is the hallmark of an equilibrium shift in any game. Given the tribal taboo system (the rules of the game) and its pre-Missionary informational structure, new information from the Missionary causes the players to update their assessments of where they stand within the informational structure and choose to move to a new equilibrium outcome.

Before the Missionary arrives, the island is a pristine example of perfect private information. Everyone knows the eye color of everyone else, but that knowledge is locked up inside each tribesman’s own head, never to be made public. The Missionary does NOT turn private information into public information. He does not say, for example, that Tribesman Jones and Tribesman Smith have blue eyes. But he nonetheless transforms everyone’s private information into common knowledge. Common knowledge is not the same thing as public information. Common knowledge is information, public or private, that everyone believes is shared by everyone else. It’s the crowd of tribesmen looking around and seeing that the entire crowd heard the Missionary that unlocks the private information in their heads and turns it into common knowledge.

The important thing is not that everyone hears the Missionary’s words. The important thing is that everyone believes that everyone else heard the Missionary’s words, because that’s how you update your estimation of everyone else’s estimations (why didn’t that blue-eyed guy leave the island? I know he heard the news, too … hmm … but that must mean that he, too, saw a blue-eyed guy … hmm … oh, snap.). The power source of the Common Knowledge Game is the crowd seeing the crowd, and the dynamic structure of the Common Knowledge Game is the dynamic structure of the flock. There’s no purposeful objective that animates a flock the way it does a pack, which is why you famously have people describing the “madness of crowds.” But it’s not madness, and it’s not chaos, either. A crowd is the communication mechanism for the Common Knowledge Game, with clear rules and strategies for playing and winning.

Understanding the Common Knowledge Game has been the secret of successful shepherds since time immemorial, in business, politics, religion … any aspect of our lives as social animals. The only difference today is that technological innovation provides a media toolkit for modern shepherds that the shepherds of the Old Stories could only dream of.

This is why sitcom laugh tracks exist. This is why performances, whether it’s an NFL game or Dancing with the Stars, are filmed in front of a live audience. This is why the Chinese government still bans any internet pictures of the Tiananmen Square protests, with their massive crowds, more than 20 years after they occurred. This is what John Maynard Keynes called the Newspaper Beauty Contest, which he believed (and demonstrated) was the secret to successful investing through the 1930s. This is how Dick Clark built a massive fortune with American Bandstand. He didn’t tell Middle America what music to like; he got a crowd of attractive young people to announce what music they liked (“it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it, I give it a 94, Dick!”), and Middle America took its cues from that. Not only is that all you need to motivate sheep, it’s far more effective than any efforts at direct influence.

This is why executions used to be held in public and why inaugurations still are. This is why Donald Trump cared so much about the size of his inauguration crowd. This is why he’s always talking about the viewership and ratings of his televised appearances. Trump gets it. He understands what makes the Common Knowledge Game work. It’s not what the crowd believes. It’s what the crowd believes that the crowd believes. The power of a crowd seeing a crowd is one of the most awesome forces in human society. It topples governments. It launches Crusades. It builds cathedrals. And it darn sure moves markets.

How do we “see” a crowd in financial markets? Through the financial media outlets that are ubiquitous throughout every professional investment operation in the world — the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times, CNBC, and Bloomberg. That’s it. These are the only four signal transmission and mediation channels that matter from a financial market Common Knowledge Game perspective because “everyone knows” that we all subscribe to these four channels. If a signal appears prominently in any one of these media outlets (and if it appears prominently in one, it becomes “news” and will appear in all), then every professional investor in the world automatically assumes that every other professional investor in the world heard the signal. So if Famous Investor X appears on CNBC and says that the latest Fed announcement is a great and wonderful thing for equity markets, then the market will go up. It won’t go up because investors agree with Famous Investor X’s assessment of the merits of the Fed announcement. The market will go up because every investor will believe that every other investor heard what Famous Investor X said, and every investor will be forced to update his or her estimation of what every other investor estimates the market will do. It doesn’t matter what the Truth with a capital T is about the Fed. It doesn’t matter what you think about the Fed. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks about the Fed. What matters is what everyone thinks that everyone thinks about the Fed. That’s how sheep logic, aka the Common Knowledge Game, works in markets.

So who owns us market sheep? The controllers of any Common Knowledge Game are the Missionaries, and the eternal Missionaries are the political executive and the market sell-side. Politicians and brokers have understood the power of this game for thousands of years, which makes the Street and the White House the constants as you examine the history of American sheepification. But they’re not the most powerful Missionaries of the modern age. No, that honor goes to our central bankers, relative newcomers to the Game, but quick studies all the same.

In his last Jackson Hole address, Ben Bernanke extols the virtues of their “communication tools”, carefully constructed media messages designed to alter investor behavior, messages that he says have been their most effective policy tools to date. Interest rates may hit a lower bound of zero, and asset purchases may lose their punch, but investors can ALWAYS be “guided”. The architect of this new and powerful toolkit? Vice Chair Janet Yellen, natch. Forward guidance and what the Fed calls communication policy are the very definition of Missionary statements, and our utter absorption in what everyone believes that everyone believes about the Fed’s impact on markets IS sheep logic.

Think that the Fed will go back to their old taciturn ways, content to let their actions speak louder than their words? Think again. Here’s Ben Bernanke again, this time in his final speech as Fed Chair:

The crisis has passed, but I think the Fed’s need to educate and explain will only grow. When Paul Volcker first sat in the Chairman’s office in 1979, there were no financial news channel on cable TV, no Bloomberg screens, no blogs, no Twitter. Today, news, ideas, and rumors circulate almost instantaneously. The Fed must continue to find ways to navigate this changing environment while providing clear, objective, and reliable information to the public.

Active central bank Narrative construction in the service of their policy goals is a permanent change in our market dynamics. The introduction of such a powerful new weapon in the Fed’s policy arsenal can no more be removed than mustard gas or tanks could be removed from national arsenals after World War I. Market prices may be mean-reverting, but “innovation” in the service of social control never is.

What do the Missionaries get out of this? What’s our equivalent of wool and mutton? It’s low volatility. It’s the transformation of capital markets into a political utility, which is just about the greatest gift that status quo political interests can imagine. When Donald Trump and Steve Mnuchin talk about the stock market being their “report card”, they’re just saying out loud what every other Administration has known for years. Forget about markets, our entire political system relies on stocks going up. If stocks don’t go up, our public pension funds and social insurance programs are busted, driving our current levels of wealth inequality from ridiculously unbalanced to Louis XVI unbalanced. If stocks don’t go up, we don’t have new collateral for our new debt, and if we can’t keep borrowing and borrowing to fuel today’s consumption with tomorrow’s growth … well, that’s no fun, now is it?

The flip side to all this, of course, is that so long as stocks DO go up, nothing big is ever going to change, You say you want a revolution? You’re a MAGA guy and you want someone to drain the Swamp? You’re a Bernie Bro and you want the rich to “pay their fair share”? Well, good luck with any of that so long as stocks go up. It’s a very stable political equilibrium we have today, full of Sturm und Drang to provide a bit of amusement and distraction, but very stable for the Haves.

And that brings us back to @RandoBlueStateLawyer and @RandoRedStateRetiree, fighting the good fight on Twitter or Facebook or wherever, speaking their Truth to their audience of dozens. They’re smart guys. Politically engaged guys. They’re angry about the mendacity of the Other Side. In another day and age they’d slam the newspaper down on the table and tell the dog what a fool that darn Truman was. Maybe write a strongly worded letter to the editor. But today they are consumed by this modern equivalent of writing a letter to the editor. They are immersed in the world of the Constant Hot Take, morning, noon and night. Why? Because Common Knowledge Game. Because they see a crowd responding to a crowd, and they are hard-wired to join in. Because it makes them feel good about themselves. Because they’ve been turned into other-regarding sheep even as they think they’re being self-regarding wolves.

In the same way that the modern story of what it means to be a sheep — docile, obedient, stupid — is totally wrong, so is the modern story of what it means to be a wolf. We think of a wolf as the epitome of rapacious independence, but wolves, like all pack animals, are far less independent (and far less greedy) than your average sheep. Unlike sheep, wolves can act outside of their group because they’re not consumed by other-regarding behavior, but those actions are ultimately in service to the pack. A sheep always acts within its group, but it’s never in service to the flock, only to its own needs.

Look, I’ll admit that I’m talking to myself as I write these words. I spend WAY too much time on Twitter, justifying it to myself in any number of ways, when in truth it’s the functional equivalent of a meth habit. At least it’s not as tough on the teeth. My wife is hooked on Facebook, my kids on god knows what social media platforms …. I’m not so naïve as to think that the answer to our collective sheepification is just to put the devices down. No, we’ve got to shift the way we use this stuff, not quit it cold turkey.

So what do we do? We stop pretending to be fake wolves and we start acting like real ones. We stop acting like animals of the flock and we start acting like animals of the pack. We reject the other-regarding emotions of jealousy and schadenfreude. Yes, even in our tweets (gulp!). We embrace self-regarding emotions like honor and — here’s where I’m going to lose everyone — shame.

Yes, we need a lot more shame in the world. The loss of our sense of shame is, I think, the greatest loss of our modern world, where — to retweet myself scale and mass distribution are ends in themselves, where the supercilious State knows what’s best for you and your family, where communication policy and fiat news shout down authenticity, where rapacious, know-nothing narcissism is celebrated as leadership even as civility, expertise, and service are mocked as cuckery. Or to put it in sheep logic terms: the tragedy of the flock is that everything is instrumental, including our relationship to others. Including our relationship to ourselves.

Why do we need shame? Because with no sense of shame there is no sense of honor. There is no mercy. There is no charity. There is no forgiveness. There is no loyalty. There is no courage. There is no service. There is no Code. There are no ties that bind us as citizens, as fellow pack members seeking to achieve something bigger and more important than our ability to graze on as much grass as we can. Something like, you know, liberty and justice for all.

Any coin worth having has two sides. A shameless politics has no honor. A riskless market has no reward. Oh, the Missionaries will tell you that there’s honor in the shameless politics and reward in the riskless markets, and for all the high-functioning sociopaths out there I’m sure that’s true, But if you’re not totally sheepified yet, if your goal is still honorable service to your clients or your partners or your family or your nation or your species — whatever your pack may be — then you know that this is NOT true. You know that shame and risk can be deferred or displaced but never wiped clean, no matter how many Supreme Court Justices you appoint and no matter how many all-time highs the stock market hits. You know that a reputation is like a tea cup; once broken you can glue it back together, but it will always be a broken tea cup. You know that the only game worth playing is the long game.

This is the Age of the High-Functioning Sociopath. This is the Age of Sheep Logic. We have to survive it, but we don’t have to succumb to it. How do we Resist? Not by switching out blue Missionaries for red Missionaries or red Missionaries for blue Missionaries. Not by switching out one bad shepherd for another bad shepherd. We don’t have to play that game! We resist by changing the System from below, by carving out local spheres of action where we are relentlessly honorable and charitable, relentlessly un-sheeplike. We resist by Making America Good Again, one pack at a time, which is a hell of a lot harder than making America great ever was. We resist by doing right by our clients, even if that means getting slapped around by supposedly riskless markets and shameless politics. Even if that means losing clients. Even if that means losing our jobs.

A good shepherd once said that whoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. Of course, I also knew a good Dungeonmaster who said that being lawful good didn’t mean being lawful stupid, and turning the other cheek always seemed to be kinda stupid to me. Kinda sheeplike. But then I started keeping sheep, and my perspective changed. Sheep would never turn the other cheek. But a wolf would. A wolf would take a hit for the pack. It’s the smart play for the long game. As wise as serpents, you might say.

It’s time to be wolves. Not as devourers, but as animals that know honor and shame. It’s time to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. It’s time to remember the Old Stories. It’s time to find your pack.

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